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spinchip · 4 months

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Never the Dark

CHAPTER 17

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

warnings: discussion of past child death, drug abuse/addiction

HOW BEAUTIFUL, THESE THINGS YOU DO // IN CASE THEY HELP, THESE THINGS YOU DO...

Tumbling headfirst into another Realm is never a graceful thing.

Wu’s words before he’d sent Zane flying through that portal are playing on repeat- He can see his face drawn and shuttered in sorrow as he splattered the realm tea across the throne room floor, “I am sorry I couldn’t protect you,” He says as the ground under the Ice Emperors feet grows unstable, “I am so proud of all you are, Zane- The white ninja, the first nindroid, my student, and my friend. I hope one day you can forgive me.” Zane has never seen Wu cry before.

the ground vanishes beneath him, and he’s falling.

Nindroid. Nindroid. Nindroid.

NINDROID.

He’s a nindroid. He’s- he’s-

The impact is not gentle. He lands in mud at least, the cushion of it just barely enough not to snap his spine with the force of it. Back first he crashes on the side of a wet hill, a mound of earth slick with muck that he tumbles down until he rolls to a stop at the base in a mess of broken armor and tangled limbs. His mouth tastes like old blood and oil and he can’t think- can’t- can’t calm the utter horror and panic crawling up through his wiring-

Memory floods his processor hot and uncomfortable, his world expanding from a tiny cold pinprick to an unfathomable reality of loss. He didn’t realize what he was missing- couldn’t understand the absence of it. Now it's all he can feel. A gaping chasm opening up in his chest that eats and eats until all that remains is the memory of a good man and the bloody remains of a bad one.

He’s Zane. He’s Zane Julien, Dr. Juliens son- he’s supposed to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He- oh FSM all those people- the krag- Blood blood blood. Blood and ice. A flash of that awful blade when he didn’t feel bothered to freeze, a flash of the blade when he needed to make an example out of the insignificant resistors- no,no, no, he didn’t do that. That couldn’t have been him, please.

He rolls onto his hands and knees and dry heaves. He hasn’t eaten in sixty years, nothing comes up. Everything aches, his body buzzing with the echoes of power that burned out everything that he was. The delicate sensors lining his body are raw and frazzled, overwhelmed with a constant flux of power that leaves his synthetic nerves overworked and raw. It feels like each of the tiny nodes had been scrubbed down to its copper insides with steel wool. His head is pounding as if he were a human who’d cracked open his skull. He’s half convinced if he reaches up to touch his forehead his fingers will turn wet with his coding- spilling out of him like blood.

The staff was gone. Not in his hands. His thoughts- so nebulous and thready while on the throne- connect together again with the humming under his skin contained and the remaining pieces of his sanity back. He feels so dizzy and wrong footed, everything in the world turned on it’s side and it will never, ever be right again. What did he do what did he do-

There. In the dirt, only a few feet away. The staff glows faintly, enticing him.

His body shudders with the afterimage of a constant, brutal ice-burn.

His stomach rolls with the taste of blood.

He lunges for the scroll, white-hot panic overwhelming every sense in his body until he’s got the delicate parchment in both hands. He tears it in two before going back again, rending it to pieces until every drop of that caustic power flickers and dies. He keeps tearing it far past that, until the pieces are so small there’s no chance it could ever be reconstructed. He’d tear it to atoms if he could get a better grip on it. He can still feel it in his mind. He can still feel blood on his hands. What has he done?

His vision is obscured by black spots. The panic and fear won’t subside. The soul crushing agony of who he’d become is suffocating him. He can feel his fans kick on into high gear in a desperate attempt to cool his insides down but it’s no use. He doesn’t even know where he is, if he’s safe-

Did any of the people under his rule ever feel safe? Does a monster like him deserve to feel safe?

Wu didn’t think so.

His chest spits sparks and Zane gasps in pain before his elbows fold and he finally, mercifully passes out.

He wakes up in a cave. That should alarm him, but he’s so exhausted all he does is blink blearily up at the ceiling. It’s still hard to breathe- to move air through his aching, hot insides- but in a different way from panic now. It’s as if he doesn’t have the strength to force his fans to turn. His limbs feel heavy in the absence of the scroll's power and he’s so numb to everything around him. The ceiling above him flickers from the light of a fire. It’s warm, wherever he is. A face appears above him and he can’t focus on it- featureless, smooth, empty.

”Rest.” A voice orders, but there’s a motherly lilt to it that has Zane closing his eyes.

Part of him worries he might die here.

What does he deserve?

The next time he wakes up he’s scrambling out from underneath the blanket of furs cocooning him so he can dry heave onto the floor again, his whole body is trembling in pain. The numbness has retreated and in its place a bone-deep ache that leaves him wrung out and hung up to dry. It’s as if his wires were torn out and ran through a washing machine before being haphazardly shoved back inside. His vision is muddled with black-and-gray splotches, all blurry on the edges, and all he can hear is the sounds of his fans straining to cool his inner mechanisms. He’s deaf and blind and so vulnerable it makes his power source stutter. Fear fades away into pain and confusion- where is he? Why is he here? What did he do? He can’t keep his head on straight to answer any questions. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He hurt so bad he was certain he would die.

A hand rubs circles between his shoulder blades.

The final time he wakes up, he still feels exhausted. Not so bad that he would immediately fall asleep again, but it’s lingering. A thick weariness that lays across his shoulders like twenty pound weights. His skeleton aches and his sensors cramp- despite how lifeless he feels, his body is still wound tight with tension. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking in the green firelight.

He’s laying on his side this time, and there’s a bucket by the pile of furs he’s sleeping on. His head is still pounding and he has to continuously dismiss blaring red WARNING pop-ups from his vision as he struggles to sit up. The amount of effort it takes to get his uncooperative hands underneath him is monumental, his joints refusing to listen to him. A baby treehorn just learning how to walk flashes across his mind, and he almost smiles at the thought. It’s only once he’s vertical and leaning back against the cave wall that he realizes he’s not alone.

They’re sitting just on the other side of the fire, staring at him through the dark eyes of an expressionless mask.

His body is too exhausted to fight, so he simply stares back and tries to measure up the person across from him. His mind races- this was the same mask as before. This person was trying to- to help, “Were you the one who took care of me while I was incapacitated?” He says slowly into the space between them. His words crackle in the fire.

They don’t acknowledge him, simply looking down and continuing to stir a pot set near the fires edge, in the warm pale embers. The air smells sharp with spice and it makes Zane’s weak stomach turn.

He waits for a long moment, “My name is-“

”Don’t care.” Her voice comes out cutting and disinterested.

He wants to ask her more questions, but he bites his tongue. She didn’t seem like she was in the mood to talk, and frankly neither was he. Even mustering up those two sentences was a monumental effort. He allows silence to fall and tries to pool his strength, looking her up and down to try and glean any information.

She’s dressed in thick green wraps and furs, and on top is a set of carefully crafted armor. It’s the same off-white as her mask. If Zane had to guess, he’d say bone considering the texture. The bone of a massive creature, that is. It’s painstakingly carved and sanded down smooth and sharp in all the right places. Fully articulated gauntlets that don’t hinder her work over her dinner, an intricately whittled chest plate and pauldrons, arm guards, shin guards, plated armor sitting over her hips and stomach. Everything is lined with decorative curves and swirls. He doesn’t ask her about it, even if he wants to.

He fidgets awkwardly, looking around the cave next. It strikes him suddenly just how… lived in the place feels. It’s not a temporary camp, but a home.

Below his sleep mat was long pieces of burgundy wood and when he shifts, he feels the tell-tale flex of raised flooring. The fire she cooked in was recessed into the ground and surrounded by stone bricks to protect the wood around it, and a hole has been meticulously chipped into the ceiling to allow smoke to pour out safely. The cave is large, stretching deep and wide and other than her own bed across the fire, the space is filled with all sorts of luxuries and amenities. Furs are spread across the floors like rugs and there’s a space along the wall where sheets of paper are hung to dry- there’s a whole space for paper making, large jars filled with lye and pulp and frames for sifting. Next to that is a station for making paint and brushes. Next to her bed there’s a woven basket filled with rolls of hand-dyed fabrics and sewing supplies and the fruits of that labor are all around the home- pillows in bed, cushions at the table, curtains by the bath and laundry basin, even what looks like a bean bag made from the furry hide of some speckled animal sitting near his bed with a clutter of paper, charcoals, and other art materials pilled messily in a basket next to it.

There’s clearly a kitchen area tucked away in the far corner, wood shelving filled with rows and rows of dried herbs and spices, preserved fruits, breads and crackers and blue rice. A low counter of stone for food prep, Knives, spoons, pots and pans- two cups set out to drink from, two bowls and two spoons. She had everything in duplicate, even the stone table had two cushions on either side for another person to sit. There were more woven baskets, wooden chests, a laundry hamper, dying flowers in vases, and-

To his left, at the foot of the bed, is a stuffed pigeon hand sewn from soft fuzzy fabrics. It’s rumpled and bald in some spots. Well loved.

He blinks and his eyes flicker to the decor hung on the walls. He’s skimmed over them first, not really looking- but he does now.

All of that handmade paper is taped up and filled with child-like drawings of animals and plants and two people holding hands. The most prominent is a drawing of a large, poorly drawn armored woman wearing the same mask as the woman across the fire wielding a sword and protecting a smaller figure from a large monster trying to attack them. In nearly illegible script, with arrows pointing to the two figures respectively, they are labeled “MOMMY” and the other “ME.”

Without thinking, he reaches out to touch one when the woman speaks again.

”Do you eat?” She asks sharply, snapping him back to attention. He blinks, confused, “You aren’t human. Do you need to eat?” She clarifies, sounding almost annoyed.

”Yes, I can eat.” He answers.

She jerks her armored hand towards the table, “Sit.” She orders, taking the pot of soup over to the table and settling onto the green cushion with her legs crossed.

Zane is slow to follow because his whole body still aches. He stops short of the table when he notices the staff of forbidden spinjitzu propped up against the wall. It’s just a normal staff now that he’s torn the scroll off. That feels… wrong. Too anticlimactic. It should have ended another way.

She motions to the seat across from herself and he lowers himself onto the red cushion gingerly, wincing as his knees hit the ground harder than he intends.

In front of him, scratched into the stone in that same childish script, is the name Kiryu.

She serves him a big bowl of the food she’d prepared, covering the name completely. His stomach is still feeling touchy, and the strong smelling food does nothing to entice him to take a bite. He doesn’t technically need to eat, under normal circumstances. Nothing about what has happened is normal, though, and his body is begging for fuel to burn. So he picks up his spoon.

She’s mastered the art of eating under her mask, keeping her face completely covered while she picks at her dinner. It’s mustard yellow, thick, and filled with mystery chunks. When he finally hypes himself up enough to take a bite, he’s surprised at how bland it is. He might actually be able to stomach this. After his first swallow, his hunger makes itself apparent and he starts to eat a little more animatedly than he had before.

The woman finishes first, pushing the nearly-full bowl away and wiping her mouth off on her sleeve, “Do you know where you are?” She says finally, after watching him eat for an uncomfortable amount of time.

He places his spoon down slowly, unsure where this conversation could lead, “No, I do not.” He answers respectfully.

She regards him for a long moment, “You are in the Realm of Madness. You were sent here because you did something terrible, I imagine.”

The world stalls.

“What?” he says blankly. Sure, this place was- was strange, weird, whatever but- of course Wu didn’t send him back! He wouldn’t unleash the ice emperor on ninjago, no- but he thought- why would he think he had any chance at going home? His stomach turns violently against the food he’d just eaten.

“Calm down.” She orders sharply, and he hates the part of himself that latches on to that. The part of him that wanted someone else to tell him what to do.

He balls his hands into fists and consciously moves his internal fans, the equivalent of taking a slow deep breath.

“We all call this place something different. Exile, eternal prison, hell- the kids from Chima have this silly, flowery name for it. Tomb, or something close. Ninjargons the only one that doesn’t call it what it is- a form of punishment.” She stands up, going into the kitchen and taking out two cups and a leather bag, “They only send the worst of us here to suffer. They consider it kinder than death. I used to agree.”

He focuses on the one thing in this conversation that doesn’t make him want to scream, ”Who is they?”

She sits again, popping the cap on the leather bag and pouring a dark spiced rum into her cup, ”Anyone who opposes you. The good people, the ones who don’t have the stomach for blood.” She caps the bag and slides it closer to him, offering.

He can hardly swallow past the lump in his throat, ”I did not want to hurt anyone-“

”Don’t make excuses for yourself.” She says coldly, any trace of maternal inflection replaced by a viscous intolerance for pity. She looks at him hard, “I know what that was.” She nods to the staff by the wall, “I know what you are. That staff in the hands of an elemental master- well, it’s not hard to connect the dots.”

He shakes his head, “no- it was not like that-”

“What, then?”

Zane swallows hard against the accusation in her tone and tries to organize his thoughts, “I- lost my memory, I did not know who I was-”

“So you hurt people.” She finishes flatly. He flinches. “And you were good at it, too. That’s why you’re here. None of that other shit matters, kid- all it comes down to is that you were a monster they needed to destroy.”

There’s no words he can string together to make anything okay.

She lets out a mirthless chuckle, “At least some people had their reasons. No memory, huh? So you did all the things you did… because you could.”

Neither of them say anything for a long time. The fire grows low. She stands up to tend to it, leaving him alone at the table.

”What am I supposed to do?” He asks softly.

”Suffer.” She says bluntly. “Survive. Pay your penance. There are plenty who take the easy way out. I don’t care.” She gets up to tend to the fire.

”Why am I here?”

Another log goes on the fire. She looks up at him like he’s irritating her, “I just told you.”

He winces again before clarifying, “No, why am I here, In your home?” She stays quiet so he adds, “You helped me, and I am beginning to understand that is not something you typically do.”

She snorts at that. Another long pause, “I was there. I saw you fall. Scavengers would have found you in no time and you’d be dead by now.” She motions to his body, “Mechanics are scarce. Mechanics as good as yours even more so. If you want to survive in this place, you’ll need to hide every part of yourself or they’ll tear you apart and barter with your insides.”

A life in hiding. A life in constant fear.

Alarm bells ring in his head, “What do you want from me?” Because he was vulnerable and helpless and if she wanted to rip his head off and offer his hard drive to the highest bidder- well, he couldn’t defend himself.

Part of him wonders- would you even try?

“Nothing.” she answers without hesitation, but there’s no insult at his insinuation. “A few years ago, maybe I’d have killed you myself. Not now. I’m too tired for that.”

He doesn’t understand.

“I am not a kind woman.” She continues slowly, “I never claimed to be. My cruelty cost me everything. Perhaps part of me wanted to do something good in the end- a drop in the bucket weighed against all my transgressions. What good does a monster saving another monster do? I don’t know.” she shifts the embers at the edge of the fire, her voice taking on a contemplative lilt, “and what good have I done you, preserving a life for you here?”

“...Thank you.” he offers.

She doesn’t laugh. He thinks she might want to, “I don’t deserve your gratitude. I have done nobody any good my whole life.”

“I don’t believe that’s true.” Zane argues softly, eyes straying over to the stuffed pigeon plushy again.

She’s follows his gaze. Without a second glance, she stomps out the embers that spread too close to the wall of the fire pit, “You should sleep. Tomorrow you will be on your own.” She adds a log to the fire and places a cover over the top to keep the fire burning longer.

He gets up slowly from the table, making his way across the floor on aching legs before gingerly laying down on his bedmat. She doesn’t take off any of her armor as she settles under her own blankets.

Exile. Eternal prison.

Hell.

this isn't hell. he'd been in hell in the never realm, when he was on that throne. Still, this is a punishment. The worst kind of punishment that could be executed.

Wu sent him here, to this place. He must have believed he belonged here.

Blood flashes in his mind's eye. Exposed organs, death rattles from punctured lungs, bodies thin with starvation after frost killed any crops-

He does belong here.

Monster.

The next morning- is it morning? Zane has no idea- he wakes up alone. It isn’t until he musters up the strength to climb the rocky opening to the surface that he finds her. She’s sitting near the opening of the cave criss cross, with her back ram-rod straight. In front of her is a massive wall of mist, reaching past the clouds in the dim purple-red sky. He doesn’t know what to do other than sit next to her, so he does that.

She doesn’t acknowledge him.

She’s holding a picture in her hand- not a modern photo that he knows, but something older. Something fragile.

“Is that your son?” He asks.

“Yes.” She says quietly. He’s maybe seven in the photo, still so young, with skin so pale it’s translucent and wisps of bright blood red hairs poking from his head. Veins, ribs, and organs are all visible through his skin where she’s posing with him. She’s wearing her mask and holding him close, and he’s smiling at the camera with too many teeth- some sharp and jagged. Behind them is a strange forest- this photo was taken here, in the Realm Of Madness.

“He’s gone now.” She says simply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as much as I am.” there’s nothing else to say, so they watch the day pass.

She reaches up and pulls her mask off.

Her face is bumpy and fuzzy, almost like felt, with a hundred colors overlapping and banding in random waves that follow the raised ridges along her skin. Colors blend and mix in bright, technicolor bursts similar to the sheen on an oil spill- and they move along her face and neck in pulsing flashes like currents shifting on the ocean floor. It looks like someone had taken the way her reflection looked on turbulent water and shaped her skull from it, nothing about her symmetrical or smooth- she has no nose and he can’t find her mouth of eyes, but he knows she has them. They ate together. She lookers at him. Old feathers poke out of her skin in sporadic patches and he can’t tell whether or not shes grown them or simply lost all her others. His processor can’t comprehend what he’s looking at- it doesn’t compute. Every time her tries to formulate an opinion it’s as if he hits a computing error and he has to start all over again.

Her head expands and contracts as if it was breathing.

He can’t stop looking at her. She doesn’t seem to care.

“The Realm of Madness is not a mercy.” She says, her face splitting in half to reveal perfect white teeth- jarring in the mess of the rest of her, “It changes us. I have held on for a long time, But I am tired now, and I miss my son.”

She stands and deliberates for a moment before she tosses her mask and the feather cloak around her shoulders to the ground at his feet, “Take these. I don’t need them anymore. The others of this land call me Birdy- hide in that too.”

”You are leaving?” Zane asks, scrambling to his feet.

”I am the original monster in this realm- I am the first. My suffering is done, and I am going to rest now.” Birdy says, voice light with the relief of an ending, “I’ve paid the price. I’ve paid it all.”

She turns towards that abrupt wall of mist and takes her first step forward, heading straight for the thick wave of release waiting for her.

Zane stands as quickly as he can and follows her with the intent to do- something. He doesn’t know what. What was the mist? What did it do? It sounded like death- he couldn’t just let her do this- a loud red warning pops up in his vision the moment the gas contacts his inner workings.

WARNING ‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽ RADIATION FIELD Processing failure imminent Motor function failure imminent Power source failure imminent RAM failure imminent

PROCEED WITH CAUTION

He steps back and stares into the mist, looking for her retreating back for several moments.

She’s gone.

He stays in Birdy's cave longer than he cares to admit. It feels wrong, but he just… doesn’t know what to do. For nearly a whole week after Birdy's disappearance into the mist, he’d still been reeling from the damage to his body from… everything that happened. His self repair programming wasn’t designed to tackle the mess he’d made of himself, but it should work well enough that he isn’t constantly leaking power and weak.

There was also the minor issue of massive emotional breakdowns he was struggling through every few hours, when he couldn’t stop thinking about everything that happened. He wasn’t exactly at his best. Compartmentalization takes time, and sixty years was a lot to pack away.

He spends most of his time putting away Birdys things- packing up the drawings on the wall in a wicker basket wrapped in leather to preserve the art work, folding old clothes and packing them inside too- there were baby clothes here. Shirts and shoes for toddlers, tunics for a child. He wasn’t going to stay here forever, and the way she spoke about scavengers… he didn’t think any other person in the realm would treat these precious items with the respect they deserved. So he bundles it all up and hides it under the wooden floorboards.

He finds a stash of handmade candles and lights two for Birdy and her son. Hopefully they are both at peace now.

The idea of staying here indefinitely crosses his mind, but he can’t quite bring himself to truly consider it. No matter how much he wants to just curl into a ball and turn to dust here, safe in this tiny little home, his skin crawls at the idea. This wasn’t made for him. The bed he’d been using wasn’t his. Zane was sick of settling into a place that wasn’t his to take- the throne he’d spent sixty years on wasn’t made for him, either. It was already bad enough that he was going to take her mask and her cloak, maybe even her name- but that was different from her home. The things she wore were a disguise, hiding away the honest pieces of herself.

Her home was where she was herself, genuinely. He couldn’t make a space for himself here. It wasn’t right.

Three weeks after everything, he puts on the mask.

It’s hard to see out of, and it feels awkward on his face. It wasn’t hand carved for him, but Birdy's warning sits bright and clear in his mind. He had to keep his face covered- he’d tried cloaking, but the hologram projectors along the nape of his neck and down his back were all damaged too badly and the image came out glitched. He clasps the feathered cap over his shoulder and prepares to venture out into the hostile world he’d found himself in.

Hostile. right.

He needed a weapon, and the only thing here… the only thing he truly felt confident wielding was the staff. Two more days pass before he can bring himself to pick it up. With the scroll gone, it’s just a normal staff with a normal blade that he used to gut a man who made an attempt on Vex’s life-

He slams down his mental shields on that memory before he can taste the blood it left behind. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what you are.

Monster.

A day after that, once he’d found a pale canvas bag and filled it with food, spices, and a few other essentials he might need, he finally steps out of the hole and back into the world.

The wall of mist is still there, calm and steady. He’s not sure what else to do so he just… starts walking. He keeps the mist to his right and travels parallel to it, waiting for the swath of empty flat land to change to… anything else. The world is dim and bland, a colorless expanse of darkness that seems to go on forever. He keeps walking. His mind drifts back to the Never Realm but the memories burn.

He tries to think about something else, but the only other thing that jumps to the forefront of his mind are his friends, and that hurts in a different, just as painful way. He’s not ready to think about them. What would they think of him now?

He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Don’t make excuses for yourself, monster.

He keeps walking.

Two days pass before he sees a forest. He almost hesitates to leave the mist behind… it was ultimately familiar now, a security blanket of sorts. The mist held a threat he knew. The jungle was filled with possibilities, and in a place like this none of them could be any good. He detaches himself from the mist anyway and treks across the broad empty expanse of no man’s land between the two biomes before he steps in a place with deep red trees and strange flora.

He’s always been good with animals, and he attributes that to why he’s able to catch himself before he stumbles right into a predator's strike range. He avoids the tree that trembles with the weight of something massive up in its branches, he turns away from the distant sound of buzzing because nothing good sounds like that, and when he notices a large shape lumbering through the bushes up ahead he presses himself against the red bark and waits for it to pass. He keeps his mind focused on the world around him and doesn’t think about anything else.

That’s when he notices the strange oblong fruits hanging from a coiling vine growing up the side of a tree. They’re orange in color and are covered in thin hair-like protrusions. Zane reaches out and carefully runs the back of his finger over the fruit- the hair is soft and flexible, almost sleek. He grasps the fruit on one hand and plucks it, noticing how it comes off the vine without a fight. He tucks it in his satchel and keeps moving, now with his eyes peeled for more vegetation.

A string of bead-like vegetables here, completely flat speckled fruit there, a corkscrew tuber that’s twisting itself out of the ground. Zane may have been a homicidal maniac for the past sixty years, but he was also a chef. He’d have to analyze his haul later to make absolutely certain it’s edible so that the others can eat-

The sharp stab of pain feels almost physical as his processor stalls. He stops walking, sliding down the trunk of a tree to sit on the soft ground. There is no one else to cook for.

Loneliness crawls up his chest and sits in the back of his throat.

What have you done? He asks himself, staring blankly at the dark forest around him. You have ruined everything.

He doesn’t know how long he stays sitting there before he stands back up and moves on, more subdued than before. He’s been alone before, in the empty space after his father died and before Wu found him. He’d survived that loneliness then. He could survive this too. He was good at surviving. He keeps exploring the forest. It’s absolutely massive, and seems to go on forever- so he just keeps walking.

His internal navigation system is acting strange- it’s keeping track of his movement through the forest, and it seems to continuously loop over on itself even though he knows he hasn’t been walking in circles. It must be broken too.

Twenty six days pass before he comes upon a small camp set up between trees, large swathes of thickets cleared away for enough room for a fire and a few tents. He doesn’t notice that at all, not at first.

What he sees first is a strange animal. Despite his misgivings about the fauna in the forest, he can’t help but move in for a closer look. It had a fat body, broad neck, and a pointed head. It was precariously balanced on four spindly little legs. Stranger still, the long hair along the back of its neck was braided, and the tail sticking out from its hindquarters matched. Thrown over its back was a saddle. It looked similar to a saddle used for a walloper, all leather and straps with a blanket laid underneath for the animals comfort. It made a strange, apprehensive sound as he approached it from behind so he slowed down and stepped along the side so it could see him better. It shifted on its hooves but seemed to calm down when it's dark eyes were able to clock him.

It had strange colors, piebald black and white with a pink nose. Its tall ears pointed towards him, flicking as it sized him up.

He’s not at his best. If he were, he probably would have realized what exactly a saddle means- this animal belonged to someone. If he had realized that, he would have been on the lookout for the owner, and probably wouldn’t have boxed in so easily.

He’s still a ninja through and through, and while he may have been completely enamored by the strange beast he was nervous enough that his processor was still hyper-vigilant of the world around him. A subtle twang, the hiss of something fast-

He jerks his hand back half a second before an arrow whizzes past his fingers, burying itself in the tree directly behind him. He whips around and flicks the staff in his hand to grip it better, preparing for a fight- but the silence that settles after that is heavy and so, so still. There’s movement in the trees around him, at his sides, and when he strains his hearing as much as he can there’s the barest hint of footsteps behind him.

The bushes on the other side of the camp rustle and then part as a woman and a man approach him almost casually. Confident they have the upper hand- which they did. Zane is tense and stiff as they come to a stop in the middle of their camp, sizing him up casually. He wasn’t certain he could fight effectively enough to make it out of this in one piece.

“Hello there, stranger.” The woman says with a lazy smile. Tall, dark skin and salt and pepper hair, covered in a plethora of extra eyes that roll and dart as she speaks.

The massive wolf at her side bares his teeth and looks at Samira like she’s lost her mind, “Let me chase her off, Samira. She was trying to steal Cowie.”

Finally, Zane gets a good look at the man-

He’s not a man at all. Not a human, at least. He was an absolutely massive wolf- taller than Zane by at least two feet with ruddy gray fur. His ears, face, and basically anywhere Zane could see were striped with old battle scars, but the thing that stood out the most was the way one of his arms dragged along the ground, digging gouges in the hard packed dirt with the massive bone shards that spilled out of his skin in even spaces. With his head turned, Zane could see these bone spurs poked out of each vertebrae in his spine as well.

It changes us all. Right.

“Wox, darling, you need glasses.” The woman says airily as she steps closer. Zane backs up as far as he dares with the threat behind him still hidden, but she doesn't pursue any further. She stops walking at Cowies (?) side and she looks relaxed, but her hand is sitting purposefully on the hilt of a wicked looking knife. Zane imagines he doesn’t look too friendly with his staff in an iron-grip, but Birdy had told him pretty explicitly that the people here would gut him if he gave them a chance. She gestures to him, “Where’d you get that mask?”

Wox looks confused for a moment, scrutinizing Zane until he seems to realize that he’s not the original owner of the mask. He’s still glaring at him hatefully and Zane knows he has to stay aware, just in case the guy swings at him with the morning star that makes up his arm.

“It was a gift.” He says truthfully.

She stares at him for a long time. Her eyes make her nearly impossible to read- but it seems she has no problem seeing straight through him, “What’s your name?” She asks next.

He hesitates. Zane… Zane doesn’t feel right, anymore. Not after what he did. He couldn’t use any of his old nicknames either, and he’d sooner take a punch from Wox than tell her to call him Emperor. “Call me Birdy.�� He says finally, awkward and more than a little unsure.

Her jaw works as she mulls that over. “Were you trying to steal my horse?”

Horse. So that's what that thing was. He shakes his head, “No ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s polite!” Samira brightens at the formality before she turns to her companion, “See, Wox, he wasn’t trying to take her!”

“Then what was he doing?” Wox growls, pinning him with a distrustful look.

Birdy feels a little silly and childish as he admits, “I was attempting to pet her.” He nearly cringes at his own words, shuffling on his feet and trying not to look guilty.

Samira grins, and there’s a spark in her eye, “You can pet her.” She says graciously, beckoning him over. She drops her hand from the hilt of her knife, “She can be a little skittish around new people, but if i’m here she should be fine.”

There's a long moment where no one moves before Birdy finally takes a step forward. Despite everything, he was still a sucker for a good pet. He approaches slowly, keeping his eyes on Wox, before he reaches out a gloved hand and runs it down the horse's thick neck. He can’t feel the texture very well through his gloves, but he feels when she presses closer to the touch and he can't help the small smile that blooms under his mask.

“My name is Samira.” She introduces herself kindly, but she’s watching him- looking for any sort of reaction to her name, “Here, pet from her nose up. She likes that.”

Birdy follows her instruction, watching in fascination as the horse makes an adorable whinny sound at the affection.

“I have to apologize for Wox. he can be a bit protective of our things.” She says with a wince, “He means well.”

“It is alright.” He pulls his hand away, “Thank you for allowing me to pet her.”

Samira grins wide at him, with a bit too many teeth, “Of course. It’s nice to meet you… Birdy.”

He inclines his head.

She hums a little, “We’re headed back to Oasis here, soon. Would you like to accompany us?”

“Oasis?”

She smiles that same, too-wide smile. As if he’s playing right into her hand, “It’s a refuge for the people stranded here. I’m like the mayor, you could say. Wox is my second in command and Barath- he’s around here somewhere- is the brains of the operation. We built it so the people here could have a community and a place to call home.”

The look in her eyes feels sickly similar to Vex’s, but Zane shoves that thought away immediately. Vex’s cruelty was too fresh, too raw and recent. He shouldn’t let Vex warp his view of Samira- besides, there’s no cord connected to his head for her to rip out. She couldn’t take his memories. He wouldn't allow himself to become even more of a monster than he already was.

He rapidly runs through his options. They were… extremely limited. Sure, he could decline- and she seemed willing to accept that answer and allow him to leave with no trouble, but then he’d be right back where he started. Alone, walking through this forest without a clue of what to do or where to go, without any knowledge of the realm. Aimless wandering.

Maybe one of his biggest weaknesses is that he craves a purpose.

“If you do not mind my presence, I will accompany you.” He says formally.

Wox snorts roughly, “We’re taking in strays, now?”

Samira makes a motion with her hand and more people come trundling from the forest around them and begin breaking down camp, “I took you home, didn’t I?” She responds with a mischievous smile, then adds, “Besides, he’s not a stray. He’s one of us.” She says with a wide grin.

They only start moving when Barath returns. He’s a strange man, with a pair of thick glasses that only seem to enhance the way his eyes dart around wildly. He’s almost constantly taking notes, scribbling down observations from the world around them. When he first sees Birdy, he cocks his head to the side like a curious dog would and says, “Did you kill her?”

Birdy jerks at the question, “No.” He says, too defensive, “She gave me her mask willingly.”

“That is not like her.” He says simply, squinting at Birdy. A moment passes before he flips to a new page in his little notebook and scribbles down a new note, “I don’t believe you.” He says simply, and walks away before Birdy can say anything else.

He hangs back and tries not to get in the way as people collapse tents and stamp out the fire pit. He would offer to help, but the people here are whispering to themselves and throwing him unwelcoming glances. It seems Barath is not the only one who believes he’d bloodied his hands for this mask.

“You’re quite the sensation.” Samira says as she slings a pack over Cowies back, “Don’t be discouraged by their attitude. It’s been a long while since we’ve had a newcomer sent here.” She looks at him curiously, and Birdy doesn’t realize she’s fishing for information he shouldn’t give.

“I did not mean to make anyone uncomfortable.” He murmurs, all but confirming his recent arrival.

She smiles sharply, “We’re villains, Birdy. Skepticism is in our nature. They’ll come around.”

He shifts uncertainty at the reminder of who exactly he’s surrounded by, and Samira tracks that movement with knowing eyes.

Barath pulls out a heavy looking dial from his bag and holds it up for a moment before he begins walking away from camp, disappearing into the woods. Wox notices immediately, “Oy, wait for the rest of us!” he snaps, and the small party scrambles after him.

The trek though the forest is a strange thing- Barath twists and turns randomly, cuting a strange path through the foliage that Samira, Wox, and the others all dutifully follow. When Birdy checks his internal systems, he realizes the looping path problem he’d been facing is nonexistent now. Samira watches him quietly from on top of Cowie. She’d asked him to stay close to her, and as they walk her eyes stay fixed on him.

She misinterprets his body language, “We’re not walking in circles.” She informs him.

“I know.” He says without thinking.

There’s no reaction from her other than a curious hum, “Do you?”

He wisely stays quiet this time.

Another hour passes before Samira speaks again, “Do you know why we have to take a path like this?”

He shakes his head.

“We call it the evershift.” She says, and proceeds to spend the next few minutes explaining the way this realm is designed to drive a person crazy. Straight lines become circles. The cardinal directions are meaningless. To navigate through this place, you have to understand how the earth shifts. One wrong move, and you’ll be lost. “Barath invented a compass- he doesn’t like it when we call it that, but I've never been mechanically inclined. I’ll call it like I see it. It helps us navigate through this place accurately.”

Birdy redirects more power into his navigation system so he takes on more information, making a map and comparing the way the ground moves so he can begin to travel on his own. It’s a slow process, but now he has an idea of how to start.

“Tell me about yourself.”

He glances at her uncertainly.

Even his hesitation seems to please her, “Alright. I’ll tell you about myself first, hmm?” she leans back, “I was born in Cloud Kingdom centuries ago- I know, I look fantastic for my age. I was, essentially, a daycare worker. I took care of the children of the scribes in the main hall.”

Wox glances back at her but doesn’t comment.

“I saw a great deal of destiny's written… and I came to disagree with the system.” She says lightly, “War, famine, death, sickness- why must we write it? So I started a rebellion. The elders weren’t happy about that, so now I am here.”

She looks at him expectantly, and Birdy hesitates. “I am from… the Never Realm.” He says, stilted.

“Not originally, hm?” She asks, “You don’t speak with the right cadence.”

“...Ninjago has not been my home in a very long time.”

There’s an intrigued light in her eyes, “Just who are you, Birdy?”

“I do not know.” He admits, the truth of it making his circuits curl in sharp pain. He used to be Zane. He used to be the Ice Emperor. Now he was stuck in a realm he didn’t know wearing a mask and hiding in a name that wasn't his. He didn’t know who he was.

“There is plenty of time to figure it out.” She says kindly, and allows him to mull over his identity crisis in peace over the rest of the trip back home.

His first impression of Oasis is that it’s far larger than he anticipated. He didn’t expect this realm to be filled with so many people- were there really this many people banished to this place? All ages, all races, hundreds of people who were so horrible they were exiled to this hell to never return? He follows the group quietly as they pass through a set of large gates and wind around deep halls until the reach the entrance to a stable. Samira dismounts Cowie and greets another woman who was waiting for her return.

“Ila.” Samira smiles as she hugs her friend.

“How was the mission?” Ila asks, the tentacles pouring out of her belly wrapping around Samira in greeting.

“Very successful. We were able to extract four funeral flowers before the mist became too caustic.” She grins triumphantly.

Ilas two toned eyes peek over Samiras shoulder curiously, zeroing in on Birdy.

“And,” Samira adds, “We ran into a new arrival.” pulling away, she motions to Birdy.

He steps closer, “Hello. Call me Birdy.” He offers his hand.

“You’re not afraid?” Ila says in wonder, pushing her curious tentacles down so she can shake his hand with her own.

Birdy was good at surviving, and part of that meant adapting and doing it quickly, “I am not.” he says truthfully, even as her tentacles wiggle free to touch his gloves and the edge of his sleeve inquisitively.

“Ila is my personal assistant and chef.” Samira introduces.

Birdy feels himself perk up, “Chef?”

“You like to cook?”

“I do.” He says sincerely, carefully extracting his hand before Ilas tentacles can wiggle under his gloves and touch bare metal.

Samira smiles at that, “Why don’t you show our friend the kitchen while Barath, Wox, and I take the flowers to the lab for processing?”

That’s how Birdy ends up here, deep within the halls of Oasis palace marveling at the foreign technology set up around the room. Most of it is old, traditional ways of cooking- brick ovens, rooms for drying and preserving meats and spices, fire pits with huge pots and pans, a well dug into the earth that brims with strange not-quite-right water. The only bit of actual mechanical engineering in the room is a massive metal freezer filled with fresh meats and vegetables.

“This,” Ila points at the strange hairy fruit he’d pulled from his bag, “Is called filler fruit. Packed with protein, it’s a good, hearty meal.” They’d been going through the things he’d scavenged in the forest and taken from the original Birdy's home slowly. “Not much can be done with it flavor wise, though.”

She teaches him about everything in his bag that’s edible and some things that aren’t (“It makes for a nice perfume if you soak it,” She says about the strange corkscrew tuber, “But it’s toxic to eat.”) She goes down the line until she stops at a jar of pale purple ground spice, “Oh, this is basically mustard seed.” She sighs wistfully, “I used to make candied fruits using mustard. The kick it adds is divine.”

Birdy blinks before he pushes it a little closer to her, “You are welcome to keep it.” He says sincerely.

She smiles thinly, “You’re very sweet, but I can’t.” She hesitates for a long moment, “Barath hates the taste, so I don’t even keep it in stock.”

Not long after this, Wox appears in the kitchen, “I’ve got your room ready.” He says gruffly, obviously unhappy that Birdy will be staying under the same roof as he is.

“My room?”

“Samira insists you stay as long as you like.” He jerks his chin, “Follow me.”

He falls into a routine here, accidentally. He helps Ila with breakfast and lunch before she has to attend to other duties, he joins Samira at her private table for dinner at her insistence, and he learns all he can about everything the realm has to offer. The longer he settles in, the more irritated Wox becomes. Even Ila starts to subtly prod him about his conversations with Samira- but there’s not much to tell. She’s firmly established herself as a friend and doesn't push for information or say anything uncouth or untoward.

One day, after dinner, she invites him to her office.

She pours herself a generous cup of some type of whiskey, sipping it slowly as they sit in companionable silence.

“It was chaos when I first came here.” She sighs softly, a wave of exhaustion weighing down her shoulders ““There was no community, no society- just violence and lots of pain. You’ve noticed it, I'm certain. We’re all… different, here. Our bodies have been changed by the realm- that is the nature of madness.”

He shakes his head when she offers him a glass, but she’s not offended. “Mutations are hard on the body, Birdy. Uncomfortable at best, agony at worst.” She fishes a key from her pocket and uses it to open a hidden compartment in her desk, “You’ve toured the Jelly farm. You asked me what we were farming… well, I think you’re ready to know. When I first saw a jelly, I watched her use the poison on her lures to take down an undertaker.” She fishes out a small vial made of dark glass, impossible to see what’s inside. “Paralyzed it and ate it right up, and it gave me an idea. She numbs you first, before she eats you. If I could use her poison, refine it just right, maybe I could take that numbness and use it to take away that pain.” She uncorks the vial and tips it over her palm, a small pink marble rolling out to settle over her heart line, “And with a bit of help from Barath, I did it, and I built Oasis around this thing right here. It’s amazing how easy it is to bring people together when pain is out of the equation.” He studies it for a long moment, “That is a noble thing to do.” He offers quietly. “After everything I’ve been through, Birdy… I know pain. I can see it.” She takes a moment to really study him, “You’re in a lot of pain, Aren’t you?”

His throat feels tight and he struggles to swallow. She holds the pill out, “Here.” Samira says gently, “it works on emotional pain, too- and it’ll help you later on, once the chaos of this realm sinks its teeth into you. It will only get worse from here.”

There’s no guarantee it’ll work on him. There’s a possibility it will. Maybe he’ll be able to sleep again, without nightmares- maybe he could think about his friends without his chest feeling like it’s caving in on him. He’d been keeping himself distracted, had been doing everything in his power to keep his mind away from the brutal parts of his life that threatened to tear his heart from his chest. He was in pain. A constant, bruising agony that ate away at his processor in quiet moments that threatened to kill him with it’s cruelty.

Monster.

Suffer.

Penance.

What does he deserve?

He reaches out and slowly, tenderly closes her fingers around the pill and pushes it back towards her chest, “Thank you, but I cannot accept this.”

She looks at him strangely, her expression unreadable.

“Okay.” She says finally, dropping it back into the bottle, “...But the offer still stands. The first one is always free.”

“You’ll have a few hours from the first entrance before the mist induces irreparable delirium and you’ll be too confused to leave.” Barath says jovially, “If that happens, try and make it as close to the exit as you can so I can have someone go in for your body. It’s been too long since I've done a decent dissection.” He says with a bright smile.

“...I will do my best.” Birdy responds.

“Don’t listen to him, you’ll be fine.” a woman to his left reassures him, wrapping thick straps of leaver over her hands.

“No, you should definitely listen to him.” Wox remarks sourly, “He may be a nutjob, but he knows his science.”

“I’ve been in the mist plenty- I’ve got a good feel for it.” Lena continues, “I can get us out before things get to the point of no return.”

This is the first and only time Birdy has seen Samira look anxious, “The flowers are deeper than they’ve been before. Are you sure you’ll be able to reach them?”

Lena frowns at the ground and finishes wrapping her hands, “Just have some of the pinks ready for me when we get out,” She says, her fingers drumming on her thighs at the thought of a brand new sleeve of pills waiting for her. She shakes out the tension in her shoulders and smiles at Birdy, “Ready?”

When Birdy had volunteered to go into the mist, he’d had a good idea of what he was signing up for. He knew this was a risky thing- Samira said there were people who refused to go back in, even if she offered them a cure pill in return. Barath knew it was some type of toxin in the mist that attacked the flesh, preying on organic material with extreme prejudice. He hadn't quite realized it was radiation, and Birdy wasn’t able to explain how he knew that so he couldn’t say much.

What stuck out to him the most about Baraths notes on the graveyard was that it wasn’t so hard on inorganic material. You didn’t get much more inorganic than a robot. Theoretically, he should be able to last far longer than anyone else- even if his own systems were certain he would eventually go down like anyone else. Part of him insists that this doesn’t make any sense- he has to remind himself this is the realm of madness. Nothing makes sense. That was the point.

He inclines his head. Lena gives him a thumbs up and, with Baraths compass in hand, they plunge into the mist.

There’s no talking in the mist- keep breathing shallow and even, and don’t do anything strenuous. Nothing that could move the mist through your system faster than necessary. Absolutely no running. It’s a painfully slow affair. The little flickers of life he sees in the mist is strangely familiar- green grass. Brown dirt. If he were in the height of delirium, collapsed on the ground and struggling to get his bearings straight, he might think he was home again.

He can feel the mist seeping inside his mechanics. It feels strange and unsettling, like fingers brushing over his ribs and internal wires- but so far there’s no confusion, and he doesn’t have that strange buzzing feeling Barath describes as symptom zero. Lena, however, does seem to be feeling something. She keeps shaking her head like she’s trying to flick water out of her ears- but ever the professional, she soldiers on.

Deeper and deeper they trek, and as they walk Lena gets more and more lethargic.

There’s a weight settling over his skeleton too, but he’s still able to keep moving at a steady pace. She has to keep pausing to read the compass, changing directions every now and then into a winding route through the mist. She stares at the compass longer and longer each time, like trying to read text that’s too small. She's shaking her head more often.

The flowers Lena signs to him, pointing at the tall white buds rising out of the mist in front of them. Moving her hand in the proper configuration to convey that message seems to be a monumental task.

You okay? Birdy signs back, worried.

She looks confused, like she’s unable to understand what he said. She just turns around and goes to the flowers without responding, taking out a small paring knife and cutting them free at the base. Birdy follows suit- each cut spits out a fresh cloud of mist, thicker and whiter than the air around them.

He cuts another flower.

Why was he cutting these flowers again? There’s a reason, isn’t there.

Holding three in his hand, he stares down at the delicate petals. They’re pretty.

He blinks and shakes his head hard- he was on a mission. He cuts another before his processor catches up with him and reminds him to check on… on the girl who came in with him. Lisa?

He glances over and for a second he’s not sure what he’s looking at. There’s a lump on the ground. She’s got only one flower in her hand.

The flowers are so pretty. Why were they taking these?

A red warning pops up in his vision and he can't read it, the words too jumbled and wonky to piece together. That doesn’t make sense- his automatic systems weren’t damaged in the fall. Yet, he can’t understand the warning. The mist. He needs to get out of the mist.

When did he get on his hands and knees?

He stands up on unsteady legs and there’s a brief moment of clarity- he had to get out. They both had to get out, now. He stumbles over to Lauren and grabs her around the waist, hauling her up and holding her loose limbed body in his elbow like a football.

“Nn.. no.” She groans, clawing at the ground until she can wrap her hands around the flowers he’d dropped to grab her, “Need… need pinks…” she slurs desperately, clutching the delicate buds to her chest.

“We have to get out of here.” He argues, surprised at how steady his voice was. He still had time. The mist that the flowers spat was concentrated and strong, but now that he’d stopped harvesting them the fog had receded enough to allow him space to think. He has to wait until she’s got the flowers before he can walk, her struggling making it hard to keep his steps straight without falling.

He starts moving while he can think somewhat straight again. He doesn’t have time to spare to study the compass- each passing second threatens him with that looming confusion. His internal navigation is still steady. He has to trust that the mist hasn’t ruined that yet- so he focuses all his brain power into following the path back out. Less twists and turns, now that he’d mapped the way in. he should be able to get them out fast.

He needed to get them out fast. He was okay, he knew that-

Her nose is dripping with blood, bright red and harsh against the pale orange fur on her face. She’s panting and muttering something- Too far. I went too far. I had to- i needed pinks- i need- we went too far- and her time is running out. His arms feel heavy, but he can still carry her. He won’t leave her. He won’t.

Eons pass. It feels like years. Part of him whispers that it would be so easy to lie down, a homesick urge to rest among familiar green grass and dirt. It would feel so good.

He breaks out of the mist into fresh air and his knees hit the dirt again. He drops Lena in a heap on the ground and coughs up white mist until his internal fans run clear again. Thankfully, he still has the presence of mind to shift his mask to keep his face covered while he spits out thick white mucus.

Samiras knees hit the dirt beside him, “Birdy-” She reaches for him but he sits up, batting her hand away.

“I am fine. Tend to Lena.” He says roughly, swaying in place.

When he looks at her, she’s wide eyed in shock, “You can still form sentences?” She asks, awed.

“How long were we in there?” he asks.

“Twelve hours.” She whispers, “Every other team was unable to return before they hit eight.”

Samira insists he and Lena both ride Suncup back to Oasis even if he argues that he’s fine to walk. Halfway back, he’s grateful for her forcing him on the saddle. His head is still pounding, but he’s mostly happy that being up on horseback makes it easier for Samiras and Wox to field Baraths burning desire to poke and prod and interrogate him on exactly why he was so unaffected by the mist. He can’t think of a suitable lie with the exhaustion still weighing him down, so he’s grateful for the obstacles between the two of them. It also gives him a chance to monitor Lena- she hadn’t woken up yet, and her nose was still dripping blood on Suncups gray coat, but she was alive.

Barath wasn’t certain she’d make it back. They just had to monitor her until they could get her to Oasis’s infirmary. As long as everything went smoothly, Birdy was sure she’d be okay. Her vitals were stable.

This is the Realm of madness, and he’s part of the ninja. That’s a double whammy that ensures nothing will go smoothly.

He’s pulling Suncups reigns before he really even processes that everything has gone to hell, yanking the horse off the beaten path and into the underbrush. He whips Suncup around a tree and into the foliage and leaps off, pulling Lena with him and tucking her in the roots of a massive interwoven bush before he rushes back out to help the others.

It looks like a sand eel, almost. The same massive, gaping mouth and tiny eyes, but that’s where the similarities end- the rest of it is thick with fat, it’s twelve legs segmented and hairy and ending in long thick claws for climbing trees like a sloth. One wouldn’t have been bad, but six had dropped around them. Pack hunters. Wox smashes one on the side of the head with his mutated hand and it’s skull cracks and gives- a gruesome sight as blood splatters across the floor.

Barath is standing off to the side dodging debris and eagerly taking notes in his little booklet, more interested in documenting the creatures strange chittering communications than stopping the ambush. The handful of other warriors that’s accompanied them are trying to beat back the rest of the horde to little effect.

Samira jumps to the right, rolling across the dirt as the largest of the beasts attempts to flop its body on top of her- it’s preferred hunting method, it seems. Crushing its prey to death with its massive weight. She leaps back to her feet, turning around too slow- she doesn’t expect it to roll.

Birdy throws himself across the clearing and into Samiras side, the two of them sliding across the ground out of range of the beast's death roll. Birdy is back up in record time, and a wave of vertigo rolls over him. The mist is still lingering in his system- but there’s no time to breathe. The eels are eager to eat, and they don’t care for a fair fight. The alpha zeroes in on Birdy and charges, massive muscles bunching under it’s thick skin with deadly intent.

He hasn’t used ice since the Never Realm. He couldn’t bring himself too- it had been a tool of oppression for so long that the idea of even forming a snowflake made Birdys skin crawl. There was no other option here, though. Not with the beast bearing down on him, not with how weak he still was. He’d have to run after this, take off away from the group- if they’d kill him for his mechanics, there was no telling what they’d do to use his powers.

He reaches deep in his chest, in the cold space that’s always been there-

He flings his hand out. He’d freeze the ground. Their claws were too wide and flat to grip ice. Without traction, it wouldn’t be able to fight. None of them would. That had to be enough. So he draws up from that well deep in his heart and prepares himself to run and hope that Lena will be okay-

-And nothing happens.

The world stutters to a stop.

Ice, the one constant in the past sixty years- the one thing he could truly rely on, even in his darkest moments. His faithful companion during the good at the bad. It didn’t respond to him anymore. The cold chill in his chest is a echo of something he used to have. There’s an empty cavern inside him that expands suddenly, like realizing it was there has allowed it room to breathe and now its crushing his power core and all his internal wiring with the nothingness growing inside him. It stretches down his arms and legs, out to the very tips of his fingers until he is a hollow husk of a man who used to be someone important. Every piece of his body feels fragile and thin, everything he is suddenly a threadbare piece of cloth so thin and insignificant one wrong move will crumble him to dust. He is powerless.

He is alone.

It’s autopilot that saves him and Samira both. The deep set need to survive has him springing away from the beast's path, arm looped around Samiras waist to drag her with him, and it’s his one stroke of good luck that he’d been in front of a tree when the thing charged him. It smashes into bark and it squeals in pain, blood running from its mouth in thick rivulets. It begins to claw up the same tree it’s just dented with its head, chittering a strange song that has the four remaining beasts all pull back. The alpha scrambles up the trunk and leaps across the canopy, the rest of its pack scurrying after it until there is only their little scouting party and the fading crackle of shifting tree branches left.

Mourning has become such a constant part of his life here that he should be able to shelve the loss of Ice and continue on as normal, but he can’t. It feels so much more visceral than what has happened so far- he’d lost everything. Why this, too? Why?

What have I done?

What does a monster deserve?

Suffer.

He swallows down the scream that threatens its way up his throat. He needed to distract himself, he needed to put this away for a moment when he is alone and can fall apart in peace. he can't think about it. he's good at not thinking about things.

He stands up and looks to Samira, who’s already up and briskly brushing the dirt off her pants. Birdy jogs over into the woods where he’d left Suncup and Lena, pleasantly surprised that the skittish horse hadn’t booked it the moment they’d dismounted. He offers the horse a shaky pet before he eases Lena out of the bushes he’d hid her in and back onto Suncups back, leading the two of them back to the main path. Another party member had been injured, and Birdy insists he ride with Lena the rest of the way back to town.

It’s a quiet, somber affair now- everyone on edge, prepared for the next attack that never comes.

Ila waits for them in the stable, and when they arrive with injured she rushes out to fetch the nurses to help. Birdy accompanies Lena to the medical wing- he’s not sure why. He feels responsible for her now, after protecting her. He just had to see it through to the end. He has to make sure she was okay, after everything. They allow him to sit with her after they check her over.

Two hours after they finally make it back, Lena wakes up.

“How are you feeling?” Birdy asks quietly. The room is lit with only a few candles, and Lena still squints against the brightness.

“Did we get the flowers?” She asks instead of responding, whispering it the way people with strep throat whisper. He remember how raw his insides felt after the mist- it would be doubly worse for someone not so mechanically inclined.

“Yes, you did.” Samira answers for him, stepping into the dark room at the perfect time.

Lena straightens up at the sight of her, “My payment?” She asks with a weak smile, eyes flashing with need. Samira produces another of those black vials and hands it over to Lena, who struggles to pop the cork so she can pour all six pills into her palm with a happy sigh.

“As for your payment…” Samira turns to Birdy with a tight frown, “Not only did you get the flowers, but you saved Lenas life and mine. I… owe you.” She bites out the last two words, like it’s agony to say it. Like she wanted nothing less than to offer those words.

By his side, Lena gasps.

“So,” Samira continues, pulling out a small leather bag, “I am going to give you this. Then we’ll be even.” She tosses him the bag.

He catches it automatically, curiously opening the top to reveal an oblong black pill. “Samira, I do not want any painkillers-”

“It’s not a painkiller.” Lena says, voice dripping with longing.

“You survived the mist longer than anyone else ever has.” Crossing her arms, Samira looks away, “There was another like that- his trips to the mist changed him faster, damaged him far more quickly than the rest of us. That’s what happened to you too, isn’t it? You haven't been here the same time as the rest of us, but if you ran into Birdy then you were by the mist. You’re mutated, and it’s far along.”

Lena leans forward, “It’s the cure.” She says reverently, “It takes away the chaos and the pain. It returns you to who you used to be, before this realm destroyed you.”

He looks down at the little pill. So unassuming for the respect it demanded, for the amount of good it could do.

But he was a robot, and he didn’t need it. He was a monster, he wouldn't deserve it.

He picks up the glass of water by Lenas bedside and holds it out to her, dropping the pill bag onto her lap, “Take it.” he says simply, “I do not want it.”

He’d be a fool to ignore the way Lenas face twisted with pain each time she moved- her skin was thick and heavy from the realm, and it weighed so much it threatened to slough off her body each time so moved too quickly. She was covered in silver-white striped stretchmarks under her fur and scars from where her skin had gotten so heavy it’d torn free from her muscles underneath. Her tail was docked halfway down- it’s grown too heavy and had dragged along the ground to the point it was raw and weeping blood too often for her to salvage it. Leather wraps, tight clothes, anything compression helped- but eventually her body would grow so heavy that she wouldn’t be able to move. With the cure, she could be okay for a while longer.

“No!” Samira snaps angrily, immediately taking a dangerous step closer, “You can’t just- give it away. That was my repayment to you, for what you did for me.”

Lena scrambles to take the pill before Samira can make a move for it, swallowing it dry before following it with a hasty gulp of water.

“You gave it to me, so it is my choice what I do with it.” He argues back.

Samira snarls, “That is not how it works. I didn’t do anything for you, now! I still owe you!” she waves her hands around angrily.

“I do not care about repayment!”

“That doesn’t matter!” She lets out an explosive breath, pinching the bridge of her nose like fighting an oncoming headache, “Fine. fine! I’ll repay you some other way!” she spins on heel and storms out of the room, a vacuum of fury being sucked out with her.

Birdy stares after her, confused and irritated. He didn’t want pinks, he didn’t want the cure!

“Thank you.” Lena says quietly. He turns around to face her- her skin hasn’t changed much outwardly, but there's a blissed look of relief relaxing the constant furrow of her brow. A pink pill is missing from the pile in her lap too, “I owe you.”

He feels a fresh bubble of frustration well up his chest, “No, you do not.”

She relaxes back onto the pillow in her bed, “Yes, I do. That’s how it works here. You do something for someone, and they owe you- the bigger the favor, the more you can ask for. For a cure pill, I’ll give you whatever you want… anything you ask.”

He rests his hand lightly on hers, the anger fading into exhaustion, “I do not want anything from you.” He says quietly.

There’s a long moment of silence, “I have to repay you so… I’ll let you in on a secret, okay?”

“You do not have to-”

“Samiras the bad guy.” She mutters softly, “She wants you to think she’s this reformed philanthropist, but that’s not true. She wants control. It’s all she’s ever wanted, and this is how she gets it.” She begins to languidly put the leftover pills back in their case, “Pinks are painkillers, yeah, but they’re also the most addicting thing you can put in your body. It only takes one, and you’re dependent on them- everyone wants one all of the time, and Samira controls the production. She and Ila are the only ones who actually know how to formulate them, so no one else can replicate it. Oasis isn’t a town, it’s her territory- and there’s a price to be paid by everyone who steps food on her soil.”

“A price?”

She shrugs, “food, spices, textiles, labor- all of it is promised in exchange for pinks. If we don’t comply, we don’t get any. It’s how she maintains control- and no one has any dirt on her, so no one can leverage anything to change the status quo. Ila is completely loyal to her, so if Samira is killed I think she’d let this place burn before she blabbed. No one can do anything but live by her rules.”

“Samira has never owed anyone a serious favor… until you. I imagine you won’t be able to get anything too outrageous, but it’s the principle of the matter. Everyone will know she owes you before long, and that’s not a good look for her. If people realize she's not infallible they'll start to get ideas.”

She pins him with her brilliant gold eyes, her gaze intense and focused, “You need to be careful, Birdy. You have a target on your back now- she’ll go to great lengths to discredit you and lower your reputation. You might even be in an ‘accident’ soon… you’re in the lions den, kid.” She smiles at the irony of that statement coming from a lioness, “Don’t let your guard down.”

“And maybe, if you can… get out of town.”

#ninjago #ninjago never the dark #zane julien #ninjago oc samira #spinchip fic #child death #drug abuse #addiction #this is a heavy chapter !!!!!#word count wise and content wise #rip og birdy #blood #death #sorry zane !

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elen-aranel · 3 years

Text

Golden/Alone

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I am aware that today is Thursday; this was longer than I expected! Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: violence, references to violence, drug use (kind of), minor character death WC: 7.3k words Tag list: @jusvibbbin - to be added to my Pike x Reader Taglist please let me know <3 A/N: The Engineer is back! And why does she go on away missions? WHY? I genuinely had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy!

“If I were piloting, Number One, I would have flown us through the eye of that storm cell. We would have gotten here quicker,” Chris jokes to Number One as they unstrap themselves from the co-pilot and pilot’s seats, respectively.

“And that is precisely why I was flying and not you, Captain. We may have been slower, but I got us here in one piece.”

“Lieutenant, back me up here. My flying was great in that speeder on Eloma.”

“You kept us ahead of our pursuers, yes sir,” you say with a smile.

“And staying ahead of pursuers is not a valuable skill in an atmosphere like this one where we are not being pursued,” Number One states with some finality, as she presses the control to open the back of the shuttle and extend the ramp.

You are on Caylara, for what you hope will be a boring mission. The captain and Number One, along with security officer Ensign James, are here to open negotiations for Caylara to join the Federation.

You are here because of the atmosphere – it is notoriously difficult to traverse. You can’t transport living things through it, unless you want them to be merged, dead, or both, and even flying through it is a challenge because of the electrical storm layers. There are windows of time when it’s safer, when shuttles and communications can get through, and windows when they can’t.

At Louvier’s instruction you had prepared a shuttle (and a backup – you don’t like to take chances) to travel through the atmosphere. Standard procedure for Caylara was to have an engineer accompany the shuttle to perform any repairs needed on the ground. You had tried to argue your preparations were good enough that you wouldn’t be needed, but Chris had seen straight through you.

“You find diplomacy boring and you don’t want a repeat of Eloma. That’s what’s really going on here, isn’t it?” His mouth had twisted into that smile you found irresistible, and even though you pouted, adopting your best puppy-dog expression, he had just laughed. “It’s all right. I won’t make you go to the reception. I won’t even make you wear your dress uniform. You can stay with the shuttle.”

You hang back as the captain and Ensign James pass you, Chris brushing his hand against yours as he passes. You smile a little, and get your tricorder out – you need to check to make sure the shuttle didn’t get damaged and will be all right to make the return trip. You look down the ramp as you scan, seeing the Caylarans for the first time as their delegation greets the away team.

They are very tall. You estimate the shortest is well over two metres and they tower above the away team, even over Ensign James who is tall for a human. But given the slightly lower gravity of Caylara their height isn’t surprising, you think. They have skin varying from very pale through to olive toned. Their faces are smooth but they have scales around their hairline extending down to the rest of their bodies. Well, their hands, at least. They are wearing long robes.

Your tricorder beeps as the away team starts to move away; there seems to be a charge buildup in one of the EPS controllers, but that’s all and it’s an easy fix. You pop the relevant panel and discharge it, without shocking yourself for once, and replace the panel.

Then there’s nothing left to do but wait. The reception is due to last two, perhaps three hours – short enough that you’ll be able to make your return trip through the atmosphere with time to spare before the current window closes.

You’ve brought some reading, of course, but first you want to get to the bottom of why the EPS controller picked up a charge. You take it as a personal insult, really – you were sure you had accounted for everything from the data you were given to prepare. However, when you compare the preliminary data with the scans the shuttle took as it went through the atmosphere you can clearly see the discrepancies. You’re puzzled for a moment – but of course you had enhanced the sensors to the latest specs when you adapted the shuttle, and you don’t know how old the original readings you were working with were. You almost wish Chris had piloted you through the storm cell; then you would have more data to work with.

You busy yourself combining the shuttle’s readings with your existing model, and calculating how much it was off by. After some time you are pretty sure you’ve got to the bottom of where the charge came from, and you modify the shuttle so that it doesn’t happen again.

You also think you may be able to make predictions with your new model, and perhaps refine your timings for the atmospheric windows. The Caylarans know the timings pretty accurately, but you aren’t at the stage of sharing data on that level as yet.

You run a new set of scans, and frown – there’s only ninety minutes until the window closes. You compare with the original estimates and—

Hang on. When did it get so late? You were supposed to be on the way back by now.

“Shuttle Hubble to away team? Come in please?”

Silence.

“Shuttle Hubble to Captain Pike?”

More silence.

Silence when you try to call Number One and James, too.

“Enterprise to Hubble. Come in, please.”

“Shuttle Hubble here, Lieutenant Spock. I was just about to call you – I have lost contact with the rest of the away team. They should have been back here by now, but they aren’t.”

“I have also tried to contact the captain but to no avail. Three unknown craft have appeared in the system, and have locked weapons on to us and the planet. They are not responding to hails. I have placed the Enterprise on yellow alert and raised shields. We cannot get a sensor lock on individual life signs through the atmosphere, and—”

“They’re firing some sort of energy weapon!”

“Taking evasive action!”

“Lieutenant, I—” Spock sounds uncharacteristically strained as he’s interrupted by what sounds like an overloading console.

“I understand. I’ll look for them. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Enterprise out.”

That’s it, you think.

You’re on your own.

You take a deep breath: what do you need? Communicator. Tricorder. Emergency medkit.

Phaser.

You put the medkit in a backpack, and since there’s space you add a water bottle and some emergency rations. You clip the tricorder to a utility belt, and holster the phaser, set to stun. Your communicator goes in your pants pocket; you’ve got your usual tools in your jacket.

Then you remember your terrible luck with communicators, so you grab a spare and shove it in your backpack. That should do it. You can’t carry the kitchen sink and you don’t have time to keep second guessing yourself.

Okay. Plan: find the away team, bring them to safety.

You exit the shuttle and shut the ramp – you don’t need strangers damaging it.

You take in your surroundings next. The shuttle has landed in the grounds of a large building, elevated on a hill in the middle of a city. It’s only three or four storeys high, but quite wide, and you think it extends back a long way. There are decorative metal accents spaced at regular intervals – lightning conductors, you realise, as you head toward the most important looking doorway – you see burnt grass at their bases. This building isn’t tall, but it is the tallest around; the atmosphere must affect Caylaran architecture, you think.

There’s no one around, which surprises you; shouldn’t there be guards?

You push the door and it opens with a whisper. Inside is the most ornate room you have ever been in. The walls are gold coloured stone, there are dozens of columns in mottled golden marble, and there are decorations finished with real gold leaf everywhere. There are bronze statues and hundreds of warm coloured lights. The ceiling is as decorated as the walls, and the whole effect is beautiful. Imposing. Stunning. Overwhelming.

But again, no one is here. You get your tricorder out, but you can’t resolve anything. Perhaps something is blocking the scan? You look at the stairs. The steps are high, designed with Caylarans in mind, and go up before dividing. There are flights down, too. There are corridors to the left and right, and you have to take a moment to weigh all your options. The largest doors are ahead, though, up the main staircase and over. Perhaps that’s where you would take guests that you wanted to impress?

You think back to what you read on Caylara in your mission briefing as you climb the stairs. Their head of state is Crown Princess Nanren, but although the title remains the same, a princess many generations ago passed laws to end the hereditary monarchy. Now a new crown prince or princess is elected for life when the previous one dies, and you think they have an elected senate too.

Beyond that, you don’t really know anything, you think as you reach the top of the stairs. You cross the landing, trying to stay aware of your surroundings. And as you look down the stairs, you lock eyes with the first person you’ve seen.

A guard is sitting on the ground next to the doors. He’s armed, and the stairs in front of him show signs of having been fired on. But he’s slumped back, his green-blue swirled eyes staring up at you.

“Why’s it so dark? I can see you in the dark. Why did you bring the dark with you? You shouldn’t—” he tries to lift his weapon, and you draw your phaser, but his head lolls and he closes his eyes, dropping the weapon in front of him.

That was unsettling.

You proceed slowly down the stairs, but he doesn’t move again. You kick his weapon away and get your tricorder out. You’re not a medic, this isn’t a medical tricorder, and you don’t know much about Caylaran physiology, but you do have field medic training and you can see that something is terribly wrong. You scan him, and then the air. It seems like there are traces of a molecule around that your tricorder program flags up as having features in common with known hallucinogens. It didn’t flag up on your general scan so it’s probably dissipated enough that it won’t affect you, but still you wish you’d put on an EV suit. There’s no time to second guess yourself now, though.

You put the tricorder away in favour of the phaser, and you gently push the next door open.

If you thought the foyer was large, this room is even larger. It’s all gold again, and should be as beautiful, but it looks like there’s been a fight in here and furniture is in haphazard piles on the floor. It makes you think of playing forts with your cousins in your grandparents’ house as a child. You’re not a strategist but you can easily see that these piles aren’t much better than that – they provide barely any cover.

You pick your way over gilded chairs and past carved wooden tables inlaid with gold, keeping an eye out. About a quarter of the way into the room, under a table with two chairs on top you see a Caylaran. She looks young, wearing what looks like it could be a staff uniform – it’s a plain warm toned brown dress with an embroidered hem, far less fancy than the delegates who had welcomed the others of your team. She’s staring straight ahead, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. She pays you no attention as you kneel down by her.

“What’s your name?” You ask, softly.

“My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen. My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, then the Genai are going to kill me.”

She smiles broadly as she finishes her little song, still staring vacantly straight ahead, and you shudder. You shake her shoulder and she blinks, slowly, but she doesn’t move.

You straighten up, thoughtfully, wondering what the Genai are. Some sort of bogeyman, or an alien race? Not that it matters.

Next you find a pair of guards, asleep, holding hands. You move their weapons out of sight and continue through.

But then you find a dead Caylaran. He looks like someone important, but his red robe embroidered with a golden floral patten has a scorch mark right in the middle of his chest. You’re not sure if that killed him, because there’s a pool of blood beneath him too. Either way, you think as you close his grey-purple eyes, he probably didn’t deserve whatever it was. You take a moment to pay your respects before moving on.

You don’t find any more dead bodies in this room, but you find several more Caylarans, either sleeping or talking nonsense. One male asks you where your flowers are, and tries to give you some from a fallen flower arrangement, but most of the rest are just scared.

You think they probably have good cause, as you push another door open. You pick it because the largest number of guards were close to it, so you figure it probably leads somewhere important.

It leads on to a stair well, small but lavishly decorated with tapestries, depicting Caylarans standing in outdoor scenes, sometimes with animals you don’t recognise. They deaden the sound of your footsteps as you climb the tall stone stairs.

Then two things happen: you pause as you notice one of the hangings is moving a little at the bottom, as though in a breeze. And then you hear voices above you.

“She’s not up here,” says a female voice, annoyed. Lucid.

“Well she’s definitely not down there.” The second voice is male. Defensive. “I’ve got a message from Alara. She wants us to look again.”

“Fine. But I want it noted for the record that this is a waste of time,” the first voice says, sounding suddenly quieter – she’s probably passed through a doorway.

“Like anyone cares, Nerela,” the second voice says. You risk a peek up the stairwell. You don’t get a good look as the second person disappears through the door, but they are definitely not Caylaran – he has blue skin.

You lean against a tapestry. There are aliens here, separate from your away team. There are aliens in orbit, too. The odds are good that they’re the same species. And “she” must be the crown princess. But what are they planning?

Regardless, you still need to find your people. It’s been half an hour; you could get back to the shuttle faster if you went straight there, but there isn’t much time left in this window.

You eye the tapestry again. You’re definitely not going to follow the aliens, and this breeze must be coming from somewhere. You push it aside.

This door is the first plain thing you’ve seen in the building. It stands slightly ajar – hence the breeze – and it’s painted beige to match the stonework, but otherwise it’s featureless. It swings as quietly as all the other doors when you push it, but it has some kind of bolt on the other side. Interesting. You try to work it, but you can’t. You think of the tools in your jacket; you could probably figure it out, but no. There’s no time. You push the door to, making sure it’s as shut as it can be, and continue.

You must have entered the service part of the building, you think, as you walk along a corridor. This is functional and plain, like the door. You feel a little more comfortable here; if you’d been interested in fancy, you would have joined the command track. Or Diplomatic Corps. You get your tricorder out again, but it doesn’t show you anything still and you didn’t expect it to. But then you approach a door, and hear whimpering from the other side.

You have your hand on your phaser as you push the door open. It’s dark compared to the rest of the building; there is a small window but there’s not much light coming through the Caylaran atmosphere right now. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust, then head toward the whimpering.

The room is small; some kind of office, perhaps? There’s a desk in the room, and behind it—

“Number One?” She’s crying. Number One is sitting on the floor crying, hair a mess, dress uniform dirty, cradling Ensign James in her lap.

You can barely believe it, but you squat down, reaching for your tricorder. You can see James breathing, at least. You look around, but Chris isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Number One?” You scan them both. They both have traces of the drug in their systems, but a lot less than the guard you scanned earlier. As your eyes adjust you can see though that James has hit his head; there’s blood in his hair and on Una’s uniform. He’s also been hit by a energy discharge, but to the side.

“Una? What’s wrong?”

“I failed everyone. I didn’t protect my captain. What first officer doesn’t protect her captain? They’re going to throw me in the brig. They’re going to court martial me. I lost my captain, and he’s dead, I—”

Suddenly you’ve had enough. You slap her, hard. “Number One!”

“Lieutenant! What did you just—”

“Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I—you—” You breathe. “Are you all right?” You strip your backpack off for your medkit. You’re going to need to try to bring Ensign James round.

“I—I’m not sure. I don’t know what happened; everything was normal and then suddenly it wasn’t. I was so scared, Lieutenant. It was—I can still feel it. But it doesn’t feel like me.” She shakes her head, eyes still a little wide, and you pass her the water bottle. She takes a drink as you inject Ensign James with a hypospray. He starts stirring immediately, which is good, but you still think he needs a proper exam to rule out any brain problems.

“Una, you’ve got fifteen minutes to get back to the shuttle with Ensign James. There are alien ships attacking the Enterprise, and I’ve seen aliens here too. I think they may be called the Genai. You go down the corridor, down the stairs, through the big room, through the foyer, and out. Do you think you can do that?”

“Back to the shuttle. Genai.” She shakes her head again, blinking a few times. She squares her shoulders. “Yes, I think so. I can. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find the captain. You can tell the computer to run on autopilot, if you need to – I updated the climate model, so the computer should be able to handle it.”

Together you help Ensign James to his feet.

“Do you have your communicator still?”

“I don’t,” James is still groggy as he pats himself down.

“I do,” Number One brings her communicator out and opens it. “Number One to Enterprise, come in please.”

Static.

“I think there’s a blocking field throughout this building. The tricorder isn’t working for some things either. You’d better get going.”

“Good luck, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks. You too, Commander.”

You put your medkit away as Number One and James leave. You’re relieved that they’re both okay, and you’re confident in Una, now she recognises her fear isn’t hers.

Back in the corridor you check the door to make sure Una shut it. You push it, but it’s locked. Weird. You could probably unlock it, but you don’t want to go that way anyway.

You turn your back on the door and continue along the corridor. Number One had said the captain – had said Chris – was dead. But he can’t be. She wasn’t, and you think she only had blood from Ensign James on her uniform. But... what if he is?

If he is, you do your duty as a Starfleet officer first. Find his body. Survive. Get out of here. Then mourn him second.

You pass three locked doors on the corridor, but the last opens to more stairs. Still functional, but just going down this time. You go down, listening, hand on you phaser.

Back on the ground floor – you think, but it could be a mezzanine level – there are several rooms that are open.

You go into the first one, hand still on your phaser. It’s a bedroom, and there’s a Caylaran male cowering in the corner, wearing the service uniform.

“Have you come to end it?” He asks, staring past you. You don’t answer, but your heart aches; you think he means his life. The next room is empty, bed neatly made up.

You listen at the door to the third room, and you think you hear breathing. You push the door open slowly. You don’t see anyone at first, but as you head into the room you see the edge of a gold robe, protruding out of what must the en-suite. You think you’re getting a feel for Caylaran fashion, and this is easily the fanciest thing you’ve seen so far. The robe is made of gold fabric, whereas all the others you’ve seen have been colours embroidered with gold. This one has gold and silver embroidery, and multicoloured gemstones picking out the centres of the flowers.

“Crown Princess Nanren?” Your pitch your voice low. Gentle. You remember how Chris spoke to you on Earth in the past, when you were panicking, and try to convey that calm, that confidence, to her. And in that moment you know you can no longer focus on looking for him. If this is the crown princess, more hinges on you looking after her.

“Crown Princess? I’m a Lieutenant from the Enterprise. From Starfleet – the Federation. I’m not a dream or a nightmare. I’m here to help. Will you come out?”

“The Genai are here. They’re going to kill me. I—I can’t—”

“We will find somewhere you can call your people. I will look after you. We will call in your people and they will deal with the Genai.” General Order One doesn’t apply here, you think. Not if the Genai are already interfering. Not that you care about diplomacy anyway. You’ll do what’s right now, and face the consequences later.

“I don’t—Why aren’t they here already?”

“I don’t know, Crown Princess. But we will figure it out. Please trust me.” You put all your belief into your tone, all the hope you still have left... and she steps forward.

She looks every bit the princess. She is tall, even compared to the other Caylara you’ve seen, and her dress is as exquisite as you expected from the tiny part you’d seen. You wonder, briefly, how many she has like that and how many months, perhaps years, it took to sew. She has a gauzy golden cloak hanging behind her, also embroidered, and her dark hair is braided and pinned up into an elaborate style. The only things that are not Princess-like about her are her purple-blue swirled eyes. They are wide, and anxious.

You recall your briefing notes, and bow. “Princess,” you say, staring at the floor.

“Arise,” she replies, and there’s the ghost of a command tone there. Good.

You straighten, looking up at her again, and pause. This is not how you dress if you might need to make a run for it.

You exhale, surveying the room. It’s a bedroom – a staff bedroom.

“Princess, I can get you out of this, I think. But first... you need to change.”

You find staff robes in the wardrobe that fit her, even if they’re a touch short. And sensible shoes. You have to sit her on the bed to take her hair down, but, you reflect with a little smile that she can’t see, taking her pins out is not unlike taking tiny components out of a circuit board.

“You get used to it, you know,” she says as she stands after you’ve finished. “The pomp and ceremony. The robes. People expect it of their princess, and you get used to it.”

“They are lovely,” you say, following her gaze to where her robes are hung up. “But we should get moving. Where can we call your people?”

“That sort of thing is in the wing on the other side of the Room of State,” she says. Right. The other side of that big room. Of course. And there’s a locked door between you and it.

Even so you retrace your steps. She’s much faster up the stairs than you, and you think bad thoughts about differing alien physiologies. But then, she would find the chairs on the Enterprise a bit small, you think. And the beds.

Soon you’re on the corridor with the door at the end, and you finger your jacket’s zipper as you get closer – it’s time for you to brush off your lock-picking skills. You hope the lock is easy like the ones on Eloma.

But the princess pushes the door and it opens with a whisper.

You can’t say anything. But you thank your lucky stars for small favours.

“Let me,” you say, as you approach the bottom of the stairwell. “If anything happens, go back the way we came.” You look the princess in the eye and she nods.

You crack the door open the tiniest bit, and you hear a voice.

You turn back to the princess, reach out and take her hand. You know it isn’t protocol but you squeeze gently, feeling the scales on her skin and a ring round her finger, hoping the touch will keep her calm.

You push the door open again.

“—everywhere. Yes. Me personally. I don’t care what you—yes I know scanners aren’t working. I wish you hadn’t got voice comms back. But she’s not here; she must be on your floor. Fine, Nerela. She could be in the south wing. No don’t come down here, you idiot. Go round. Ugh. Put Yaima on. Yes tell Nerela she’s being a pain. No, they’re still with our vessel, so she can’t be in the garden. It’s the storm cycle; of course we can’t—To the East, yes. I’ll see you there. But tell Nerela she’s done after this. No I don’t care. Alara out.”

You hear footsteps stalking down the room, getting closer. Your heart is in your mouth, one hand on your phaser, as you hold your breath. The steps falter slightly... and then they continue. You stay frozen until you can’t hear them anymore, then you give it a minute after that before you move the door.

The Room of State has changed since you saw it last; almost all the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, apart from a chair cushion in the middle of the floor; that’s what made Alara miss her step.

You take a step forward, and the princess follows, still holding your hand. She gasps, and you follow her gaze; at the end of the room are rows of Caylarans, lying on the floor. You look around, but the coast seems clear. You take your tricorder out one-handed, and you scan them. From here you can pick out their life signs – they may be unconscious but they’re still alive.

“They’re okay. They aren’t dead. Probably stunned with an energy weapon.” You feel the princess relax, and you drop her hand. “We can take care of them later. You need to show me where to go.”

She nods, and you follow her across the room and through the door on the other side. You have time to check on the way across: Number One and James aren’t there. Neither is the captain.

The stairwell on the other side is like the first, except this has paintings rather than tapestries, and your footsteps are louder as you climb.

“I don’t know who any of them are,” the princess says, looking at the paintings on your way up. “I suppose I should, but... they’re not my ancestors, I suppose. Just... predecessors. In a way.”

You resist the impulse to shush her.

On this stairwell a painting opens to the service corridor. You take the lead going through, but the corridor is empty. And when the princess shuts the door, you hear its lock click.

You walk along the corridor, listening carefully, but you can’t hear any signs of life. You have to hustle to keep up with the princess, but you push a couple of doors as you pass them. They’re both locked.

The stairs down at the other end of the corridor carry on further than they do on the other side, and your calves are beginning to ache when you reach the bottom. Your discomfort doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It’s cooler down here, and you think you must be underground. Some kind of bunker.

“My real office is in my suite. My ceremonial office is downstairs, but this”—she opens the second door you reach—“is for emergencies.”

The office is dark as you go in, but she presses a control and it lights up. You close the door behind you and look around. Unlike the other rooms off the service corridors, this one is lavish once again. The wallpaper has gilded highlights, and the desk is made of a golden brown hardwood and is intricately carved. There’s no window since you’re underground, but the light fittings are made of bronze and remind you of the statues in the foyer. You realise the room is probably this nice in case the princess needs to do an emergency broadcast – her surroundings will still look the part.

The princess sits at the desk, pressing her palm to a sensor. A computer apparatus lifts up, and she enters some commands. You walk round the desk and stand a little way to her side, as a Caylaran man appears on the screen. His expression is blank, confused.

“Is this some kind of joke? At such a time? Using Princess Nanren’s—wait—”

He frowns, tips his head to one side.

“Your highness, is—is that you? The Genai—we were sure they’d killed you. That’s what they said. And the blocking field is on so we couldn’t scan—we had no idea—I—” He closes his eyes and bows his head.

“I am so sorry, your highness. I didn’t want to risk your people on a dangerous mission with no intelligence if you were already dead. But I should have trusted in you, and not believed the Genai without proof.”

Staff robe or not, Crown Princess Nanren straightens up and looks every bit the princess once again.

“Arise. Guard Leader Daymen, I am glad to see you. Please do not apologise; the time for analysing our decisions and learning from this situation is not yet here. First I must survive, and you must take back the palace. The Genai are still here; they have a vessel in the garden and people throughout the palace. Our people have been drugged; most are in the Room of State, but there are likely others dispersed through the palace.”

“They have three vessels in orbit too, I think,” you say, quietly.

“They have vessels in orbit too, although”—she presses a control, and a little data window appears—“they won’t be able to send any reinforcements through the atmosphere for a few more hours. What do you need to retake the building?”

“I will bring my guards now, highness. If you could turn the blocking field off it would make things safer, but—no. You are the most important. Enact the safe-room protocol, and remain where you are until we secure the building.”

“I may be able to lower the blocking field. But I shall keep safe. Do you have any news of our Federation guests?”

“Their shuttle left before the window closed. I was unable to talk to their ship at that time, but...” his expression goes thoughtful. “We use a limited range of communication frequencies. The Genai in orbit could have blocked them.”

You nod to yourself; the Caylaran frequencies had been in your briefing, and they were very different to Federation ones. The blocking field in the Palace was wide-band, but it would take too much power for a block like that over a bigger area. Much more sensible to just block the Caylaran frequencies.

“Thank you. May the skies protect you, Guard Leader.”

“May the skies protect you, highness.” He bows once again and cuts the connection.

“Lieutenant, thank you for all you have done for me so far. May I ask this last favour?”

“To take down the field? Of course, your highness. What do I need to do?”

She slides a ring off her finger and hands it to you. It’s a very narrow band of gold with a small red stone set on it. It’s big for you, though, so you slip it on to your thumb.

“You can use that to gain access to the systems. The security office is down the corridor to the right.”

“Lock the door behind me, your highness.” You smile as you turn to go.

“May the skies protect you, Lieutenant.”

“And you too.” You go through the door, closing it behind you. You hear a loud thunk a moment after you do; it sounds like more than a lock – probably blast doors. At least she’s safe, you think. Even if that means you’re alone.

You wonder about Chris, and where he could be. You have to hold on to hope, don’t you? You can’t think... no. You mustn’t. Instead you think about what he would do in your place. You think he’d be cautious. You’re nearly at your goal, but if you don’t succeed people could get hurt if the Caylaran Guard can’t tell who is who, or where they are. You’ve heard people complain about security officers being trigger happy; you think it’s probably the same for the Guard.

And you’re in a strategically important part of the palace; you don’t know how many Genai there are but they’ll probably find this area eventually. You draw your phaser, and make sure you walk quietly.

There is only one door left between you and where the corridor splits, when you hear a voice. The door opens a little, and you freeze. The voice is familiar – one of the Genai.

“—last time, no. I genuinely, and I am completely sincere on this, do not care what Alara thinks. Not even a tiny little bit! She missed this entire section! Yeah whatever, Yaima, you go tell her what I said. But when I find the Queen—Crown Princess, whatever, and she doesn’t, she’s the one that’ll get fired, not me! Nerela out!”

The door slams open, and Nerela stomps out. It’s her or you, but you are ready and she is not. Her black eyes widen as she sees you, and her weapon is in hand, but before she can aim you shoot. She grunts as she falls back, stunned.

Happily, Genai are shorter than Caylarans, although Nerela is wearing high heeled boots which make her look taller. You drag her back into the room she came out of, take her weapon and communicator and leave her lying in the recovery position. You shut the door behind you and it clicks a second later.

You shake your head; the doors are one mystery too many. You put Nerela’s weapon in your phaser holster, and tuck her communicator into your belt. Then you head to the right, toward the security office.

The first thing you notice as you push the door open are the screens. Dozens of them. The second—

“Chris?” He’s frowning, pointing a phaser at you. He looks at you like he can’t believe his eyes. Like you’ve stepped out of a nightmare.

“Chris it’s me. I’m real. I’m really here.” You take a careful step through the doorway, keeping eye contact with his bloodshot blue eyes, letting the door close behind you.

“You don’t need to be afraid any more.” You think about what Number One had said. “This fear... it isn’t really you.” You stoop down and put your phaser on the floor. You take Nerela’s weapon and put that on the floor too. And as you do, something clicks into place in your mind.

“Chris, you’ve been helping me, haven’t you? Locking doors to keep me safe? To help me get where I needed to go?”

“I’ve been so... afraid. I—I needed to keep her—to keep you safe.” He relaxes his grip on his phaser a little, and you reach for your tricorder.

“You were drugged, Chris.” You scan him. “Number One and James are safe, they got a lower dose than you.” A much lower dose, you realise, looking at the numbers. “I sent them back to the shuttle and they returned to the Enterprise. I’m going to end all this, get us home. But I need you to stop pointing that phaser at me.”

He looks at his hand, holding the phaser, then back at you.

“But is she—are you real?”

Your heart melts for him. You haven’t said these words, but you’ve felt it for a while. And—you worried, you genuinely worried, that you would never get to say them. This may not be the moment you planned, but he has to believe you.

“Chris, I love you. I’m real.”

“I—” he drops the phaser, and it clatters to the floor. The next thing you know you’re in front of him, arms around him, holding him. You can’t think; you can speak. You just hold on, letting your body feel his warmth, his solidity. You may not have been drugged, but you had been so afraid

. After a moment he puts his arms around you, too, and you just stay there for a moment more. Holding him. Letting him hold you.

As much as you’d like to forget everything else right now, you still have a job to do. You pull back, take hold of his hand, and look at the security console. You can see feeds of the Room of State, the foyer, the other rooms you’ve been in, and other places, too. Beneath the monitors is a schematic; this is how Chris was locking and unlocking the doors, you realise. But how did he have the credentials to do so?

You look at the desk and see a ring like the one the Crown Princess gave you, nestled in a groove.

“How did you get that?” You ask.

Chris frowns. “I was in that big room, but I was so afraid. I came through the door. Went upstairs. Along the corridors. Looking for somewhere safe enough. I got here and the Caylaran... we struggled, he tried to shoot but I took his weapon.” You follow his gaze to an energy weapon on the ground. “Then he ran. And I stayed. I could see everything. Not get caught out. And then I saw you.”

You squeeze his hand, and work the controls with your other hand. There is a glyph that looks like a shield; you turn it off. You check your tricorder – finally you can detect life signs. Both Caylaran and Genai. As you do, Nerela’s communicator chirrups to life.

“Nerela? I swear, if this was you—! You have the worst timing! The Caylaran guard are here. Put the blocking field back up immediately. That’s an order! Nerela? Nerela, answer me! Ne—”

It lapses into static for a moment. Then silence.

“The Guard are here, Chris. As soon as the atmosphere clears we can go home.”

When you return to the Enterprise you go to the captain’s quarters. You know he won’t be there, but you need the sense of his presence. His smell.

Chris had to stay on the planet to complete the original negotiations and help deal with the Genai; the drug’s effects had faded by the time the atmosphere was passable again, and you’d got some water and rations into him. Spock came down and stayed, but you had only left Chris because he ordered you to.

You have a shower, put on one of his sleep shirts, and curl up on the sofa under his throw blanket to write your report.

“Sweetheart?” You wake up to Chris kneeling in front of you, hand on your shoulder. His hair is damp and he’s out of his uniform. Your brow creases for a moment – you don’t remember him using that endearment for you before.

“Chris,” you say, stretching. Pushing the throw away, and leaning into his touch. “You’re back.”

“I am.” His mouth quirks into a smile. “There was a lot to sort out; it seems the Genai and the Caylara have a dispute over a world on a system between them. The Genai thought if Caylara joined the Federation, we would take their colony from them. They thought if they disrupted the negotiation and killed Crown Princess Nanren, either we would give up, or the Caylarans would be too afraid to continue.” He moves his thumb along your shoulder.

“Spock put the fear of God into the Genai in orbit. I’m not sure how,” he adds, at your incredulous look, “but they and the Caylarans have requested mediation. And now the Genai want to work towards joining the Federation, too.”

“I wish they’d chosen to talk to us first,” you say, frowning. Thinking of the dead Caylaran. “These breakthroughs always seem to come at such a cost.”

“They do,” he says, gathering you into his arms. Holding you against him.

You stay in his arms for a while, just breathing. But eventually he pulls back, and moves to sit beside you.

“You were amazing today. You’ll be getting a commendation, but Crown Princess Nanren wanted me to convey her thanks, too. You saved her life.” He reaches into his pocket, then leans forward and fastens a chain round your neck. It’s delicate, golden, and from it hangs the ring that she had lent you for the computer. That you had given back before you left. “She wanted you to have this. But she thought a necklace might work better.”

You shake your head, taking hold of the ring. “Saving her was as much you as me, Chris. Locking those doors.”

He looks at you, thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I—I have never felt fear like I did today. Now I look back at it I can tell it wasn’t real, but at the time, seeing you on those screens, moving with purpose, helping our people and the Caylarans... you gave me hope.”

He pauses, blue eyes meeting yours. Hand reaching out to touch your face.

“When we were down there... I remember what you said to me. I love you too.”

You lean forward, meeting him for a kiss, gentle at first but it goes passionate almost immediately, both of you pouring your feelings for each other into the connection between you. You didn’t know it could feel like this, you think, before he pulls you into his lap and thoughts flee away.

“Lieutenant, I want to thank you.” Number One says, sitting at her desk. “I was not myself down on Caylara, but you did yourself proud. You saved us.”

“You’re welcome, Commander.” You smile. “I’d say any time, but right now I’d be happy if I never left the ship again.”

“That being said, if you tell anyone—”

“If I tell anyone you were crying, I can expect to spend the next month of duty shifts degaussing the transporter with a microresonator?”

“Oh that’s a good one. I must remember that. Yes. You will be degaussing, Lieutenant.”

“Understood.”

#writer wednesday #Christopher Pike #Christopher Pike x Reader #Captain Pike #writings of the girl from outer space #fanfic #fanfiction #Star Trek Discovery #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #The Engineer's Adventures

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ectonurites · 3 years

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Conner Kent in Suicide Squad/the Infinite Frontier era: wtf is going on

Alright lads hello I just need to type out some theories/thoughts about what’s going on with my boy Kon right now. This is more for myself than anything else (just trying to organize my thoughts) but since some of y’all like to hear me talk about comics (and some of this discussion has already been happenin in my inbox) I figured i’d format it and put it on here too! its like 4k words and written over the last few days mostly at 3am. sorry <3

this is basically just me going like

Also fair warning that like, I can be wrong and misinterpret things just as much as anyone else can, like I use panels to support why I think what I do but a lot of this stuff is subjective/complicated to understand so like... in general somethings should be taken with a grain of salt, especially because exactly what changes to the universe were made by Death Metal/Infinite Frontier haven’t been super super clearly defined yet. Also sometimes comic writers make the most random nonsensical shit happen, so I as a fan am also allowed to theorize about random nonsensical shit.

But to start: let’s backtrack!

Many months ago when Infinite Frontier was first announced they dropped some promotional art, and I remember being a little confused because. Well:

(Variant Cover spread for Justice League (2018) #59)

(Variant Cover spread for Superman (2018) #29)

Notice how Conner is back to his Teen Titans 2003 look up top, but in his YJ 2019 look at the bottom? This seemed weird to me! But then they announced that Conner would be part of the Suicide Squad ongoing title, in the T-shirt look, so I wrote this discrepancy off in my brain as ‘oh I guess that cover was just the last hurrah for punk Kon’ and moved on with life.

In Suicide Squad right away we learn he’s very much so there against his will:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #1)

Which corroborates more or less what we were also shown in Future State: Suicide Squad, although admittedly it tells... a slightly different version of the events. When I first saw both of these together I just chalked it up to being a bit inaccurate as it’s shown as a memory in Future State:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Issue 2 we saw him in action with the Squad, trying to do his best to still be a hero despite the team, but things get a little more interesting in the following issue. It starts off with an account of his history

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

This page gave me a few immediate red flags, mostly minor things that had to do with coloring, so more irl problems than things to take seriously in-universe (Kon’s pants are the wrong color in the first Superboy shot, and Bart’s Impulse costume is in Kid Flash colors instead of the correct Impulse ones) but then also it just bugged me the phrasing “he joined Young Justice” when he was a founder of the team, he didn’t join it he made it with Tim and Bart.

But again, chalked that stuff up to just.... writers/artists being inconsistent/unaware of things that they should be aware of, or even Nocturna just not being specific with details. But it did still strike me as a little odd considering the very accurate use of villains in those same shots, Scavenger who was a reoccurring bad guy from Kon’s solo days and showed up basically nowhere else (even holding the Spear of Lono and everything!) and Billy/Harm (Greta’s brother) from Young Justice.

But then a few pages later we got this:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

Which is interesting. My first instinct was to think he’s being drugged w kryptonite or something thats leaving him hazy/out of it, but my thoughts on that have kinda changed, we’ll get there in a bit. But in general the context of ‘something’s wrong’ made the slight discrepancies on some details of his own history make more sense.

I also want to then bring up the next part to this story, the crossover issue in Teen Titans Academy.

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

So a few things. Does it feel weird to anyone else that Conner Kent, a known previous Titan who literally has a framed picture of himself in a case there, would set off alarm sensors like that? Wouldn’t he be... recognized as a Titan not an intruder by their sensors? Interesting! Anyways.

He looks really pained looking at that picture, and sad, and almost frustrated, which ya know makes sense and hurts my heart because he misses them! He misses his friends and being happy.

But, importantly for a criticism I wanna make thats less theory related and more just me bein annoyed at Tim Sheridan, that’s a picture of Conner. Right there. That’s Superboy, on display at Teen Titans Academy, so the people who frequent this building would know who he is and what he looks like and be able to recognize him, he’s even in the same outfit and everything. Alinta recognized him at the end of Suicide Squad #3.

So why does only one person during this big fight then comment on his presence?? Why doesn’t it get a bigger reaction???

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

And after the fight we don’t see any on panel moment of Wallace going up to the staff Titans (who weren’t present for the fight) and saying like “HEY NIGHTWING UHHH SUPERBOY WAS WITH THE SUICIDE SQUAD?” we just see him talking with his friends upset about Crush leaving. We see Alinta talking to them but we don’t see the exact dialogue. So I do just wanna take the writer by the shoulders and shake him a little bit and ask WHY because that just feels like... something you’d wanna address on panel! This is like the first time since joining the squad that Kon’s at all in contact with people from his life before Waller got involved, I feel like not addressing those people’s reactions to it/not discussing it at least a little bit on panel (especially when Conner CAME UP in the previous TTA issue, Dick brought him up and everything!!!) is a really odd choice. Maybe it’ll happen next issue and i’m just impatient, but who knows. Anyways, gripes with Sheridan aside, lets move on.

I wanna bring up how Conner... doesn’t really respond to Wallace’s question? At all? Except to just fight him off, not even an attempt at a ‘Sorry’ or anything? (the ‘Ha! That all you got?!’ seems to be coming from Culebra not Conner, although the placement of the bubble is vague enough it could be that it was supposed to be Conner? but it seems more like what she’d say, especially as she’s grabbing Emiko like that) That just feels weird. It feels off. In general he speaks so little in Suicide Squad #3 and this issue. Tbh it almost feels like he doesn’t really recognize Wallace which I mean I suppose they never exactly met (they would have theoretically during Death Metal, basically all past/present Titans were together for a while during that), but Kon’s been back in existing long enough he’d have a sense of who current heroes are anyways.

But right, so, lots of little things that feel weird... that gets us caught up to the most recently released comics... but in this household we look at solicits as they drop. Which gives us some info on what’s coming up a few months ahead of time, albeit without full context obviously. Issues #4 and #5 don’t mention Conner in their descriptions or show him on the covers at all, because there’s just other plot things going on, so ya know seems things will be quiet for him for a bit.

But then we got the August solicitations and oh BOY it’s a doozey for him! And some things start to kinda connect perhaps!

I want to just take a moment to look at that specific wording. “The teen calling himself Conner Kent” I’m probably reading too much into it but that feels deliberate, like why wouldn’t you just say ‘Conner Kent’? Usually these kinds of descriptions are trying to keep a low word count, not add in extra words that don’t need to be there. It makes it feel like that’s a name he’s using that... doesn’t actually belong to him.

So the theory I want to propose (that has been floating around already) is that based on these covers and the description, and how the Conner we’ve been seeing in Suicide Squad apparently talks about his own personal history like he’s ‘reading a wikipedia entry’ and had little response to people he should be aware of like Wallace and apparently isn’t recognized as a Titan through a bio-scan and also bearing in mind those initial promo arts with two separate looks at the same time for him... I think we're looking at a situation where the Conner in Suicide Squad so far has actually been a clone of original Conner (like... like he’s Match 2.0 or somethin) the whole time, that’s just not aware he’s not the original.

Now that’s the base theory I wanna work with and build off of, but there’s MANY different directions that could go in/ways that could work.

For example, one idea is that the Conner we saw in #1 who was chained up is the original Conner, and he’s been being cloned and held captive, so everything else with Conner in Suicide Squad so far has been this Match 2.0

Another idea could be the original Conner in #1 is also the Conner in #2 who Waller had then commented wasn’t ready during the mission in Arkham and had zapped with a lil Kryptonite, and after that moment she took him off the field because his spirit hadn’t been broken enough to be obedient (as he was a lot quieter in Issue #3 & the TTA crossover compared to #2, and #3 is when the Nocturna thing with the history happened)

Or it could even be original Conner in #1, then in #2 was one clone that wasn’t ‘ready’ that after that point she stopped using him, and switched to a diff clone for #3, because like that first cover did show a LOT of clones. That could be more just ‘artistic interpretation’ or something, covers sometimes do exaggerate/mislead, but it also could indicate we’re looking at a lot of clones.

(Suicide Squad (2021) #2)

With all of those in mind I also wanna bring up this little bit from Future State Suicide Squad:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Again Future State is a ‘possible future’ so stuff from it isn’t set in stone, but the idea of ‘she still has his YJ 2019 outfit somewhere’ makes me think it could be something along the lines of like, Clone!Conner finds original Conner and frees him and he gets back his YJ outfit, which could lead to like the imagery on that variant cover/the idea from my very first part of this post where I was talking about Kon being shown in both outfits in different places.

Alternatively entirely from all that, another option is that she maybe got ahold of what was needed to clone Kon, but doesn’t even have the original Kon in her possession. (again with the Future State thing, she could be lying since elsewhere in Future State we did also see a copy of YJ 2019 Kon’s costume in one of the Jon-focused Future State comics in a display case 🤷‍♂️) Which could also lead to that confrontation on the variant cover & the promo art thing... and could also explain why we have seen nothing about anyone looking for him, because in that sort of scenario he wouldn’t have even been missing in the first place.

There’s a lot of possibilities! It’s still too early to solidly know anything, but I feel pretty confident we’re entering another cloning related plot with our Clone Boy so it’s... ya know. Clone time. On the one hand it’s annoying because god we have done clone/multiple Kons plots before. We’ve done them so much.

BUT on the other hand, I think it could be interesting to use this situation to tie into some older stuff from pre-reboot that I can see some connections to, because due to Infinite Frontier altering the world and people’s memories it’s all technically fair game storytelling-wise again (and like, the use of Scavenger specifically in that flashback way above, who’s not a super well known villain in general, makes me think maaaaybe the writer did do some of their Kon homework)

Something also just dawned on me that i’m not quite sure what it means but still is worth mentioning: The Conner here in Suicide Squad is back in his Teen Titans Vol. 3 outfit, and his history as he tells it stops during Teen Titans Vol. 3. And doesn’t... mention when he died? It feels like it... stopped before that, because like I feel if he was telling his life history (even the wiki version LMAO) the part where he died and came back would be pretty important to bring up?? And Nocturna specifically says that he didn’t explain how that stuff from TT Vol. 3 then led to him in his current situation. That’s a pretty big gap (like uhhh everything from resurrection until he got lost on Gemworld + all the rest of the Young Justice 2019 stuff?) So like.. there could be something funky going on here that has to do with that.

Similarly when he flashes back in Future State: Suicide Squad to his past it also goes right from Teen Titans Vol. 3 to the current Suicide Squad run? Like I get it’s one page so they can’t show that much, but the fact that there’s now two places that flash back to that same specific time period and nothing past it until the Suicide Squad feels just... noticeable! Not concretely indicative of something, but noteworthy.

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Like...this almost has me thinking maybe it could be something where like, they tampered with his dead body and cloned from that? BECAUSE, for those of you who may not be familiar with how Kon’s resurrection (during Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds) worked, when he came back there was time travel involved! He was brought back to life in the future (like. Legion of Superheroes era) because it was a process that took that thousand or so years to work/heal him (essentially because of his hybrid dna the process that healed Clark when he had died back in Death of Superman/Reign of the Supermen in the 90s just took a lot longer, but its the same Kryptonian healing chamber thing) meaning when he came back to the present alive again, his dead body was still also in the present just in it’s process of healing. Meaning especially if we’re bringing back stuff from before the reboot, Kon likely has his dead body just vibing out there while he’s goin around living life 🤷‍♂️

SO them doing something related to that could explain the choice to put him back in the T-shirt (since thats what he wore in the era his brain would be caught up to if we’re relating this to when he died) and why he’d recognize himself in a group photo with Bart, Cassie and Tim but maybe not someone like Wallace who didn’t exist back then. I don’t know, this branch of thought is still half baked. Will maybe come back and elaborate on this later. But I’m now really thinking there might be a connection to the early Teen Titans Vol. 3 era specifically because of it being referenced twice in stuff with this Suicide Squad.

ANYWAYS moving on, this is probably a shot in the dark and I only thought of it because I just was reading 90′s Superboy, but right away when thinking about ‘Amanda Waller’ and ‘Cloning Kon’ I was reminded of some stuff about the circumstances around the first clone that was made of Conner: Match.

(Superboy (1994) #35)

Match was created by an organization called ‘The Agenda’, that was after a while primarily under the control of The Contessa, Lex Luthor’s ex-wife, aided by Amanda Spence who had a personal grudge against Kon bc her dad was Paul Westfield the guy Kon was originally cloned from (before the Lex/Clark retcon). They were the big bad guys of an arc called The Evil Factory in Superboy (where Cadmus personnel got replaced with clones) which also then tied into the Sins of Youth event over in Young Justice (Remember how Match was posing as Superboy for a while there? yeah). After those plot lines finished the Agenda was pretty defeated (Amanda Spence was still out there and came back later but still) and... who got their hands on the remaining Agenda tech?

(Superboy (1994) #87)

Why none other than Amanda Waller herself!

If they re-canonized pieces of this (which also tied into Young Justice which ya know, YJ 2019 was all about re-establishing stuff from YJ even before Death Metal happened soooo) it would totally make sense for Waller to have complete access to the exact technology used to clone Conner before.

Now, a thing to consider here though is what happened to Kon after he’d been cloned that first time, where his DNA got all destabilized by the process (and he needed to go through a procedure with Roxy as a genetic template to keep him together, which was how he got stuck at age 16 for a while). This was something where he was fine for a period of time before the side effects began to kick in. Now, I think it’s worth mentioning that was also back in the days where he was not yet Lex & Clark’s clone, but still Paul Westfield’s. So there could easily be a ‘now that certain Kryptonian genes have kicked in as he got his newer powers it doesn’t destabilize him the same way’ reasoning or something along those lines to avoid this problem. Alternatively, it could be an interesting thing to embrace rather than retcon away, especially if we’ve been seeing Clone Conner in action and Original Conner hasn’t been in our focus, things could be wrong with him that we just don’t know about.

Another branch of thinking that I think is even MORE a shot in the dark but could be interesting (or again even related to what I just said, could be a combo of things) is if this somehow ended up related to those clones that were reverse engineered from the remains of Match from the very end of Teen Titans Vol. 3

(Teen Titans (2003) #99)

All of them were then taken down with Kryptonite and killed in battle (by Rose & Damian)

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

But like... idk man if Waller got her hands on those corpses or even just the data from Dr. Caligan that he extracted from Match to make them... that could also be a potential way to make some new Conner clones, and that could be why the bio-scan thing at Titans Tower wouldn’t work properly because of the thing he says above about it not being a “complete match’

One thing I don’t think is the case, but has been brought up to me, is stuff with New 52 Kon. I’ve talked extensively about New 52 Kon in recent weeks because I read through all his stuff, but the thing that makes me shy away from him being part of this situation is the fact that... he’s not interchangeable with Kon the way I think some people think he is. He wouldn’t visually be recognized as Original Kon because he is literally on a genetic level a separate person. They’d prob look related, sure, like they’d pass for brothers because they both have Clark’s DNA, but New 52 Kon has Lois’ DNA and Original Kon has Lex’s. New 52 Kon would likely look more like Jon, rather than Kon. Lois specifically commented in an Action Comics issue that Kon had some resemblance to Lex, even. So like, things like Wallace recognizing him or him looking at his own matching reflection alongside the group picture at the Tower... those wouldn’t happen the same way if this was New 52 Kon.

Now I think it coooould theoretically be possible for Waller to have gotten her hands on that future N.O.W.H.E.R.E. cloning tech that had been used to make New 52 Kon, like I wouldn’t rule that out. Because she knows where the remains of their bases are as shown in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #16-17, and like, Harvest is dead so she could easily just send teams out there to gather shit if she wanted.

Onto some other things I don’t think are actually related but that I was reminded of/wanted to address:

I feel i’d be a bad timkon fan if during all of this discussion of past stories with cloning Kon I didn’t even bring up Tim’s cloning attempt stuff, but I think it would ultimately be unrelated. His tech was stolen from Luthor, and his attempts didn’t succeed because he was trying to build from scratch without Cadmus’ the data about how they altered the DNA from the original process.

(Teen Titans Vol. 3 #34)

Then that initial cover for the annual really reminded me of part of the Hollow Men story from Superboy Vol. 5 just with like... Kon in a room full of copies of himself. I don’t think this story would be related either because it was more magic Tannarak stuff rather than regular cloning, but ya know. It’s the imagery.

(Superboy Vol. 5 #9)

It also really reminded me of the stuff from Hyper-Tension which was hypertime stuff not cloning but again just... visually.

(Superboy Vol. 4 #62)

In general I don’t think we’re EVER gonna see Black Zero or any of these multiverse Superboys again LMAO.

To try to sum up all of this in a way that might make sense here’s kinda a... flowchart of some of my main ideas for what the cloning situation could be/how the logic could work. Again this is borrowing stuff from across continuities because Infinite Frontier means theoretically anything’s fair game. (Also I don’t think I mentioned this earlier but I do mention it in the chart, but I think it’s also reasonable that Waller could get her hands on Cadmus tech if Cadmus is like properly made canon again. She just has funky government connections!)

Also I just now thought of this now several hours after I already made the chart and I don’t wanna remake it so sorry not incorporating it there but I remembered there was also that bit during House of Kent where Clark took Kon to the Hall of Justice and they were running some tests on him, so I’m thinking it’s also possible Waller got ahold of that data/that might be how she found out about Kon in the first place for this timeline. And they indicated that there was something wrong with him there, where he might eventually lose his powers or something, so maybe she tried to do cloning stuff to be able to have a copy of Superboy in his prime or something??? before that started kicking in. I don’t know, just more things to consider:

(Action Comics (2016) #1028)

ANYWAYS in conclusion: there is clone fuckery of some sort happening, I’m curious where it’s gonna go, and I just want Kon to be okay.

If you actually read this uhm. props to you bc this probably makes no sense to anyone but me its just word vomit <3

#this is very long! and disorganized! i am sorry #this doesn't have one theory abt things it has like. many #its basically just brainstorming/spitballing ideas #i could also be entirely off base! with much of this! i just feel i need that disclaimer #grandpa max is god? i go to church now #i need a kon talk tag bc i swear i write more analysis stuff like this for him than anyone else

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supersilversleuth · 3 years

Text

I Know You Won’t Believe Me (But Sometimes I wish You Would) by SuperSilverSpy

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roman Sionis, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2021, Angst, Dick Grayson DID NOT fake his Death, I know I’m not really touching on it in this fic, but it’s important I say that, Post-Spyral, Miscommunication, Betrayal, I mean, Perceived Betrayal, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Protective Dick Grayson, injuries

Summary:

“Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.

“Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”

Dick resisted the urge to laugh, or explain himself. There wasn’t much to explain anyway, not without revealing secrets that he would rather die protecting. Instead, he forced his expression into something more like shock, and resignation, deciding to play this role to the end. He could feel the instincts of manipulation and deception settling back over him like a very familiar blanket. Playing spy for a while had given him the opportunity to hone those skills. If there was any beneficial thing that could be taken away from that whole experience, it was what good he could now do with the abilities he’d enhanced during that time.

OR Dick is forced to pretend to betray Jason in order to protect the Red Hood’s identity

No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

Part 5 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 3,462 Chapters: 1/1

Dick was tracking down a lead in the northern part of Blüdhaven, snooping around in various warehouses. It was the part of Blüdhaven that was closest to Gotham, so really Dick should’ve known better than to think his day would be uneventful.

As it was, he was surprised by the sight of the Red Hood tying up the exact criminals Dick was looking for.

Jason had tensed, glancing up, hand going for his gun—when Dick pushed the creaky warehouse door open to take a peek inside—and then, when Jason realized who it was, the hand went away from the gun, and the eyes away from Dick, but the tension remained. Jason continued about, tying the criminals up, studiously ignoring Dick’s presence as he did so.

“Hood—” Dick started.

“I’m just finishing up, Officer ,” he said mockingly, “They’re all yours when I’m done.”

“I—They’re Black Mask’s people, do you have any intel about what they’re doing in my city?” “Not much,” replied Jason, tone clipped. “You?” “I have a little, maybe we could arrange a time to go over it? This case is clearly turning out to be a problem for both of us—”

“Nope, that’s not how it works,” Jason cut him off, “You haven’t been forgiven for your last f*** up yet. Maybe we can trade information later, if I ever decide to trust you again.” Dick winced, stepping back. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair then, Hood. I’ll have some people come this way to put these criminals back where they belong.” “Where they belong is a big, ugly a** community grave,” Dick heard Jason mutter behind him just as he walked out the door.

-- A few days after the Hood incident, Dick was heading home after a long day of writing reports and studying casefiles. Being a detective was certainly not all excitement 24/7. Most of the time he was sitting around, wishing for more time in the field.

That particular day, he was distracted, thinking about a very complicated case that had been stumping him for longer than he’d like. He should’ve known better than to take that route home, though it probably wouldn’t have mattered—whoever wanted him was professional enough to have all the streets around the precinct covered.

Ah, chloroform, he didn’t miss it. It’d been a while since he’d last had it pressed against his face. He supposed he was due for a run in with the stuff. The chloroform appeared at the same time as the wrenching of his arms behind his back, and the restraining of his legs. Dick tried not to fight too hard, he was still Detective Grayson, a civilian by vigilante standards, afterall. He had to keep up appearances. For that reason, he also pretended to fall unconscious long before he actually did. He’d built up an immunity to the drug of course, but that could only work with him as Nightwing.

When Dick woke up, he found himself face to face with Black Mask. The man sat behind a desk, with Dick, sitting, bound to a chair in front of him. With a start, Dick realized that Roman must’ve been watching him while he was unconscious. Dick suppressed a shudder.

“Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.

“Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”

“I don’t know who the f*** that is,” Dick said, thinking about the actions of several of his coworkers for reference on how to act like a dirty cop.

“Don’t lie to me,” snarled Roman. “My people know you spoke with him at the last operation of mine that he busted.”

Ah, so that’s how he knew. One of the thugs must not have been fully unconscious during Dick’s conversation with Jason the other day.

“Look man, I’m just his source guy sometimes, and he doesn’t even like me very much lately. So I don’t know what to tell you. Just let me go, and we can call it a day.” Dick made himself fidget, as if he was nervous about the threatening crime boss sitting across from him.

“So what? You don’t have anything for me? Maybe I should just torture you until you die, how about that?”

“N—No,” Dick made himself stutter, “I—I can still help you...for a price.”

“Even now, you argue for your checkbook,” Roman chuckled, “The world goes ‘round, and dirty cops never change.”

“What can I say,” Dick smirked, “The Hood didn’t pay me enough. I’m sure you’ll be different…”

Roman smiled at him, a dangerous smile that said he couldn’t wait to use him up and leave his body in a ditch.

Dick smiled back.

Jason got an alert that the alarms at one of his safehouses had been tripped. It wasn’t one of his favorite safehouses or anything—in fact, it was due for a restock, but he knew it would be better to check it out as soon as he could anyway.

He swung through the air, making his way through Crime Alley to where he knew the safehouse to be. Any intruders in his territory would be dealt with, crappy safehouse or not.

He found that much of his security system had been quietly disabled…except for a single, simple sensor. Whoever did this wanted him to come here.

The door to his safehouse was ajar, and Jason carefully pushed it open, peering through the crack.

His lights were on, and there were the sounds of ransacking and breaking glass.

Jason grabbed the guns from his hips, and slammed open the door.

There stood Dick, out of uniform, surrounded by several of Black Mask‘s people.

Jason snarled at the sight, thoughts of the man’s betrayal swirling through his mind.

Dick’s eyes widened, shooting a pleading look at him as if trying to convey something. Jason ignored it in his anger.

“Let’s go! He’s here!” yelled Dick.

“Traitor.” He growled darkly.

Something flickered in the traitor’s expression, before smoothing out as if it had never been there.

Jason didn’t think. He just lifted his guns, and fired.

Unfortunately, they were rubber bullets, and he’s pretty sure he only managed to clip the lying b****** in the leg.

He did manage to take down at least three of the others before the rest escaped quickly through the window.

“So, I guess Hoodie really isn’t on your side after all,” said Roman, pacing.

“I—I don’t understand what happened,” Dick sputtered, feigning fear, “I disabled all of his security, he wasn’t supposed to show.”

“That’s because I had one of my people purposely sabotage you. I needed to make sure you weren’t still on his side. This,” he said, putting his hand on Dick’s leg where the bullet hit him, “is the proof I was looking for.” He pressed down, Dick gasped as if in pain. It really didn’t feel nice.

“W—What?” He said in indignation, “Of course I’m on your side, that guy hates me.”

“So I’m told.” Roman said, uncaring. He dug his fingers in.

“Stop!” Dick strained against the ropes binding his hands behind the chair.

The man let up, briefly, “You got the package I sent you to get?”

He was referring to the fake intel Dick had promised was stashed in Hood’s safehouse, intel that he had planted while no one was looking. The moment Roman plugged that thing in, Oracle would have complete access to all of the crime boss’s servers. “Yes, of course! Don’t forget to plug it into a high powered computer, I’m sure it’ll require a lot of decryption…”

Roman waved his hand, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, my people have it covered.”

“I’d like my payment now,” Dick said, glaring at him.

The man grinned malevolently, “You’ll get your payment, when I let you go and the Hood goes after you. The people he captured have quite the story to tell.”

Dick slid a look of fear onto his face.

Jason didn't even give him the chance to explain.

Not that Dick was surprised about this, of course, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

Roman had released him onto Gotham's streets, and sent several of his people to tail him. Dick of course, was not supposed to know about that particular detail, but it's not like the low-level thugs had any actual expertise when it came to anything, least of all properly tailing a person.

Ah, so this was one more test, to confirm that he was truly against the Hood, before Roman dared plug in the USB. So it was best that Jason's first reaction upon seeing him was to lash out anyway, and Dick didn't even get a moment to get a word in before Hood was slamming him into the ground.

Well, it seemed these days the only reliable fact was that his family no longer trusted him. It was a good thing he needed Jason to beat him up for the operation, then. Internally, Dick sighed, he wished it didn't have to be like this. He hated lying, detested spying, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes there's no time for debate, and often the situation called for the best solution, not necessarily a good one.

Jason always acted on his emotions, it was something about him that never changed. It was reliable qualities like that, that Dick had been trained to notice, to exploit when needed. Dick did what he had to do, Jason did what he wanted to do. Many times, Dick had had to shoulder the burden of doing what was needed, even if it hurt those around him. He would gladly carry these responsibilities for the rest of his life, if only his siblings didn't have to, if only his family lived.

And so, Officer Grayson fought with the Red Hood in a back alleyway as the man spewed curses about him and how he couldn't trust someone who'd betray him just to meet their own ends and not even think to tell him about the undercover op—

Dick, of course, was still being watched. So he fought like a random inexperienced police officer, not like Nightwing, professional vigilante.

Jason didn't seem to notice.

"Is this the new you then? Huh? You stab us in the back at every chance you get, all for a supposed “mission”? Is this Dick the spy then? Is that who you are now?"

Dick dodged a fist, got kicked in the knee. It’s probably just the pit rage, he reminded himself, another thing I can count on.

"You know, I didn't think you of all people would pull something like this the first time, I don't know why I didn't see it with this one, you'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now."

Jason punched him in the stomach, causing him to sink further to the ground.

"I don't even know if I'd grieve again, if I found out you were dead. How would I know it wasn't just another lie that you failed to mention to me?"

Dick was just glad his tails were too far away to hear what Jason was saying.

"Do you have any idea what Black Mask is capable of? Have you forgotten who the f*** he is ? You can't just go undercover to work with him against me, without telling me!"

His little brother sounded so upset, Dick only wished he had time to explain.

"Whatever happened to communication? Is that a foreign concept to you spies? And here I thought we were actually family."

Jason headbutted him right in the face, breaking what Dick was pretty sure was his nose. He could feel the sticky warmth of blood on his face, flowing over his lips, past his chin to drip to the ground. Dick's vision blurred, and he collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself, he had to play it up, afterall. Even though the wounds inflicted were mostly just surface ones. They had an audience, and Dick could not fail to perform.

Above him, Jason scoffed, as if he could see through Dick's pretending. Still though, DIck could see his hands shaking, could see as the pent up energy within his little brother's body drained, tension leaving his shoulders. In a moment, Jason was gone, and Dick closed his eyes, giving into the exhaustion of having had to pretend to be someone he wasn't under very stressful circumstances for the past few days. It was alright, nothing...Dick...couldn't handle...

Jason felt drained. He hadn't felt that angry since well...the last time Goldie had pulled something like this.

The feeling of Dick’s face against his fist was quite familiar by this point. Each time he’d done it blurred together, echoing in his mind as green tinted his vision.

Jason made it back to one of his safehouses, somehow. He wasn’t sure when he got there, or how, but when he finally came back to himself, it was to the sight of a familiar kitchenette.

He felt too restless to sleep, but too exhausted to do anything productive at the same time. He didn’t trust himself to go out as Red Hood. In this state, he was a danger to anyone around him.

Jason’s mind raced, even as his body collapsed on the couch. He turned the tv on, letting himself get lost in some random sitcom.

He needed to calm down, probably do something like think things through. Though Jason knew that he was most likely going to just go about his day tomorrow, as if today hadn’t happened.

Always running away, still that same self-preserving street kid who only knew how to survive. Well, it’d worked for him so far, minus the dying part of course.

Hours later, technically into the next morning, Jason’s comm beeped. What could Barbie possibly want at this time of morning? Not even villains were awake at 6:00am, usually this hour was sacred.

“Hood?”

Well, apparently not anymore.

Sighing, Jason brought his finger to his ear, “Yeah? How’d you know I was awake?”

“Unimportant,” she said, all business, “I need you to check on Nightwing for me.”

Jason’s mind blanked, and then he scoffed, “You kidding me?” His voice was shaky. “What the f*** did he do this time?”

Oracle had no time for overly dramatic interbat-relations.

“A few hours ago, Black Mask’s servers went online, Dick’s code caught my attention. I was able to get every little bit of data ever entered into one of Mask’s computers. It was more than we’ve been able to get from him in years. Dick’s work really was genius. I tried to get in contact with him, but his trackers aren’t working, his phone’s out of the picture, and I can’t find him on any camera. I’m worried he went undercover without a backup plan for when Mask figured it out.”

Jason attempted unsuccessfully to tamp down his feelings of guilt and concern.

“Alright O, I’m on it.” He croaked, already heading out the door.

Adrenaline flowed through his veins, spurring him on.

His earlier hate had fled, leaving behind nothing but cold determination. He was angry at his brother, sure, but he didn’t want the guy to die… right?

And if what Oracle said was true, then it just might have been worth it for Dick to do what he did, just maybe.

Jason headed to where he’d last seen Dick.

He found him about a block away from where they’d fought, being tortured in a rundown warehouse.

If it weren’t for the screams, Jason probably would have passed it and not even known.

Black Mask stood over Dick, who was bound to a table. Goldie was missing his shirt, and his torso was littered with burns and bruises. His feet were bare too, Roman was in the process of whipping them.

For the second time in twenty four hours, Jason felt the anger rise and the pit take over.

The emotion was stronger this time, more powerful, Jason thought distantly.

There were about thirty thugs surrounding Roman, guarding the man’s sadistic torture session.

Jason drew his guns, and tried not to think about the last time he’d used them to pistol whip Dickie across the face.

The first five thugs went down quickly, the next ten following right behind them. Jason reloaded. Some part of his subconscious aimed for kneecaps and non-lethal areas. The pit aimed for whatever was convenient. Nevertheless, if Jason had been paying attention, he’d have noticed that not one of his bullets missed a target.

By the time he’d made his way through all thirty of them, he had two loaded guns left, though they weren’t the same ones he’d started out with.

Roman had fled sometime during the action, like the coward he was. Jason was halfway out the door to find him when he heard a sound from behind him.

It was Dick.

Jason startled, hurrying towards his brother's side. The anger once again drained from his body.

Dick’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, they looked at him without seeing. But as Jason neared, something foreign came into them: fear.

Jason dropped his guns on the floor, trying not to think about how he’d never seen Dick look at him like that.

He bent to untie his brother from the table, and Dick flinched away from him, unintelligible noises stumbling out of his throat.

“Shh, Dickie, it’s alright.” Jason said frantically, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

He finished removing the last of the restraints just as Dick passed out from what was likely incredible pain.

Jason efficiently cleaned and bandaged his brother’s wounds, feeling numb. Dick’s body was covered in scars, the recent--but not too recent ones were what caught his attention. Jason didn’t want to think about when Dick must’ve gotten them.

Instead, Jason thought about something that had been bothering him before, little details here and there that he had missed. Namely: Dick hadn't been wearing his Nightwing suit during all of their interactions in the past few days. In fact, he'd been dressed quite like a detective.

It dawned on Jason in a moment, and he felt horrified. Dick had been a detective that day in the warehouse with Black Mask's people. Back when this all started.

Jason's mind was racing when Dick groaned, eyes cracking open, "Wha—Jay?"

"Yeah, it's me Dickie. I'm here."

"What—What happened?"

Jason sighed, "What do you remember?"

Dick's brows furrowed in thought, "I...I had to go undercover..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jason asked.

Recognition flashed in his brother's eyes, He seemed to be getting his energy back.

"There was no time, Roman kidnapped me, I had to play along."

"But—there had to have been some time you could have explained the situation to me…"

"Would you believe me if I had?" Dick's gaze was piercing.

“I—yeah, okay, that’s fair.” Jason paused, “Were you going to tell me that you went undercover to save my a**? Or were you just going to keep letting me hate you?”

Dick was silent.

Jason continued, “I mean, sure. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed you. But maybe I would have. You weren’t even going to give me the choice.” Something occurred to him then. “We didn’t give you the chance to explain about Spyral…was that situation similar to this?”

Dick sighed, “I’m not up for having this conversation right now. Maybe later, after I wake up.”

He burrowed further into the couch, closing his eyes.

“One more thing,” Jason said, unwilling to let it end just like that. “Those scars…”

Dick’s smile was bitter and darkly amused, “You didn’t think playing spy was all fun and games, did you? Everyone was out to get me. See here?” Dick half-heartedly lifted up his arm, “A cannibal took a chunk out of it. Congratulations, you’re the first to notice.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason murmured to him, long after he’d fallen asleep.

The two words were long overdue.

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bimboamyrose · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic (Ch.4 )

First two chapters

Previous (Ch. 3)

Ch. 4: Stubborn

The evening was spent organizing Amy’s closets. She’d tasked Metal with handing her clothes hangers from across the room as she straightened up her wardrobe and later did the same for him as he stacked her tools back up on the high shelf of her storage space. At least his telescopic arm was coming in useful, even if he could do little more than stand still to avoid losing his balance.

The dreary day gave way to a clear, chilly evening. Amy invited her house guest to sit on the porch with her for her nightly routine of sipping hot chocolate and stargazing. Glistening snow contradicted the beachy atmosphere, thick white blankets draping over palm trees and obscuring sandy ground. It was perfectly tranquil, silent but for the gentle mechanical whirring of Metal’s body.

Amy sat on a lawn chair wrapped tightly in a velvety blanket, knees to her chest. “If Tails isn’t available to fix you tomorrow, maybe we can at least try to repair your foot so you can stand upright.”

Metal had planted himself on the seat next to hers. The contrast between his disturbing, sharp figure and her endearing and petite frame was as striking as the scenery. He crossed his busted leg over his good one, assessing the damage to his foot. He was not confident a self-repair would be successful, but it was always a possibility. He turned to her and nodded. Amy’s gentle eyes mirrored the starry sky. The calmness in Metal turned to a moderate excitement at the charming sight and it seemed almost to remind him of something.

“So, Metal, do you remember anything? Like, at all?”

He ripped himself out of his enchantment to process her question. Searching through his fragmented memory turned up thousands of inaccessible files. What little was left held mostly primary data with snippets of information. He found pictures and short bios of people he didn’t recognize and the name “EGGMAN” plastered across a repair protocol. Searching for that name just brought up several more corrupt files.

Metal reached for the tablet-sized whiteboard that was sitting on the garden table in front of them. He wrote down “VERY LITTLE” in his neat, mechanical handwriting and showed it to Amy.

She gazed directly into his eyes now, hoping to find some indication of whether Metal Sonic was being truthful in his unchanging eyes. “Do you remember me?”

Amy had asked him earlier if he recognized her and he denied it in his haste. But spending a few hours with the girl teased his memory like a word at the tip of one’s tongue; Metal was sure he knew her somehow. “FAMILIAR,” he wrote finally.

“Familiar, huh?” Amy finished her warm drink, setting the mug down in front of her. Not surprising, all things considered. But what does he really know? She noticed that Metal was quickly erasing his tablet and writing something new. Amy couldn’t keep herself from gasping when she caught sight of it again.

“WHO IS EGGMAN?”

She jerked the other way, hiding her shock. Does he remember that he works for Eggman? It must be part of his programming or something. I need to tell Tails. She decided to bluff. “Let’s, uh, see if we can find out. I think it’s time for bed.” She shot out of her cozy seat and back into the house before the cold could nip her.

Metal Sonic sat unmoving for a moment, perplexed at her sudden gesture. He propped himself up, tablet still in hand, as he drug his feet through the threshold of the backdoor and slid the door closed as gently as he could manage. He watched Amy toss her blanket over the back of the couch, then adjust and smooth it so it looked only partially like it was thrown there haphazardly. A strange maneuver.

“So, uh, you can go into sleep mode I guess?” She didn’t have the slightest idea what robots did at night or if he even needed to recharge. She was met once again with Metal’s unwavering stare; though it didn’t seem so spooky after the day they’d spent together. “Do you sleep?”

Metal simply nodded. He didn’t exactly sleep, but his instinct was to sit idle for a few hours to conserve energy. He was beginning to find that a close-enough answer would be satisfactory.

Amy was surprised but also relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about him all night. “Oh- Well, is the couch okay?”

He came over and lowered himself onto the sofa, sitting upright and nodding.

“Okay, well- goodni-” Before she could finish, Metal’s eyes had gone dark. I guess that solves that. There was nothing more to do but turn in for the night.

-----------------------------------

The following morning, Amy was startled out of her usual groggy walk into the kitchen when she noticed Metal Sonic’s sharp form sitting at the kitchen table, staring solidly out the back door. She’d expected to have to wake him up or something but it looked like he had been there for some time. He turned to face her abruptly and her heart jumped once again.

“Oh, you’re awake- good morning.” Amy chuckled awkwardly. “Have you… been up long?”

Metal nodded. The morning sunrise activated his sensors. It was closer to 8 AM now and he’d been doing little more than sitting since dawn.

“Sorry, must have been boring.” Amy made her way past him and into the kitchen to make her quick breakfast of toast and coffee. Metal seemed to stare at her the entire time, which made her self-conscious. “I... don’t eat much in the morning,” she explained anxiously . Not sure why he’d care…

Metal Sonic had been analyzing Amy’s every move for the past several minutes. He spent his time awake pondering on the wistful feelings he’d experienced as they sat on the veranda late last night. The exploration of his memory was in vain and he instead tried to force himself to remember, but it was no use. Why was she so familiar? Perhaps observing her would jog his memory.

She took a seat across from him, eating uncomfortably as he looked through her. Amy tried her best to smile. “So, is there anything you’d like to do this morning?”

The robot finally broke his fierce concentration to respond by pointing at his left arm socket.

“Ah…” Amy answered hesitantly. “Tails hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

He pointed down toward his foot instead.

Amy inhaled deeply, nervous about the prospect of trying to make repairs herself. But she had said they could try, so she agreed dubiously. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Metal turned his attention from her to the glass door where some movement caught his eye. Amy followed his gaze, spotting a small bluebird landing on one of her lawn chairs.

“Wow, it’s rare to see them out in the cold. I guess spring is around the corner.” Amy smiled warmly at the sight. It had been an unusually long winter and the small snowstorm that passed the night before wasn’t exactly indicative of the cold subsiding. Yet the evening frost now began puddling over the otherwise tropical scenery. It was always the coldest just before seasons changed. She turned back to her guest enthusiastically. “Let’s fix that leg of yours!”

Optimism soon turned to frustration, however, as the tangle of wires and bent hinges that held the robot’s foot in place confounded her. The neat little workstation she’d set up on her kitchen table was now a messy array of tools and bolts. She’d managed to worsen the damage in the process, but any time Metal would make a sound or reach toward something Amy would huff and snatch tools out of his hand. Getting annoyed himself, Metal finally resolved to pull his entire leg away to keep her from making it any worse. Amy refused to let go of his foot, however, and the last of the wires that were holding the appendage in place finally snapped, severing his foot off his body completely.

“Ugh- look what you made me do!”

Metal let out a series of high and low beeps that were meant to offend. She returned that with a sour look.

“I told you to sit still! Ugh!” Amy shoved the severed foot into his grasp and stomped into her bedroom. Metal could hear crashing as she grumbled and pushed things around her storage closet roughly. The girl stormed back into the room with an enormous roll of duct tape and knelt back beside Metal. “Give me your foot, I’m fixing this for good,” she demanded.

Metal emitted a low grumble. He held his foot above his head, out of her reach.

“You think I can’t reach up there?” Amy stared for a moment, challenging Metal. Then she suddenly shot back up and lunged for his hand. “Quit being stubborn and let me fix it!”

He was the stubborn one? Enraged, he extended his arm up towards the ceiling, playing keep away. She tugged fruitlessly on the telescopic cable.

“You wanna lose another arm?!”

Before he could make a response, Amy’s communicator rang from the other room. They both turned their attention in the direction of the jingle. Amy let out a frustrated sigh and tossed the roll of duct tape aside to answer the call as Metal watched her disappear wordlessly past the door. While she lingered there for a few minutes, he pulled his arm back and sat silently once more. He looked from his dismembered foot to the shiny duct tape and back again. He supposed it would be better than nothing.

Amy sauntered back into the living room area with her nose up. “That was Tails. Lucky for you, he’s an actual engineer and he can actually fix you.” She crossed her arms defensively.

Metal Sonic rolled his eyes but reluctantly offered his foot back to her.

“Did you just- You’ve been sitting here expressionless for a whole day and the first emotion you show is that?” She snatched his foot out of his grasp. “Unbelievable.” Amy continued muttering under her breath while she taped his leg and foot back together. “There! Not that it matters, Tails is about to fix it anyway,” she scoffed. “At least it won’t fall off on the way there…”

He looked down at his “repaired” foot. It did seem to at least be attached to him, which was marginal improvement. Metal stood up slowly, attempting to disperse his weight evenly. It was a bit shaky and he couldn’t exactly bend his ankle, but he managed to limp around rather than drag his foot behind him.

“Well?” Amy looked at him inquisitively.

Metal reached for the little whiteboard that he’d left on the kitchen counter. He set it in front of him and scribbled something down quickly, holding it up for Amy to see. He turned away as he did, seemingly embarrassed. “THANK YOU” it read in slightly less neat handwriting than usual.

Amy’s cheeks puffed when she saw it. Her face flushed and she, too, avoided eye contact. “You’re welcome.” She pouted, her cheeks growing ever warmer as she realized what an outburst she’d had. “And, you know… sorry,” she finally added.

Stubborn, Metal Sonic added to his description of Amy Rose in his memory bank. Temperamental. He looked back down at his foot, noticing how neatly she had wrapped the tape around him- smooth, with no folds or creases. Well-meaning, he appended. The fix wasn’t perfect but it was certainly more comfortable than the alternative. Thoughtful.

Amy composed herself, releasing a deep sigh. “Grab your jacket and your arm. Let’s head to Tails’ place so he can get you fixed up for real,” she smirked. She knew her solution was janky, but genuinely hoped it would at least help keep him together.

Metal Sonic complied with this. He found his arm strewn into the corner of the storeroom and gave Amy a bit of a side eye, knowing she’d knocked it there in her earlier rage. She pretended not to notice this. He was about to head out the front door when Amy stopped him. “You’re not going to wear your jacket? I know you don’t get cold, but…”

He looked to the coat rack where he’d placed it the evening before. It didn’t agree with his telescopic arm when it was extended so he opted to remove it before helping Amy clean up her closet.

“I’ll help you get it on if you want.”

He nodded back, dropping his other arm momentarily as she slid it over him and zipped the front. Amy smiled at him then with unexpected warmth.

She was musing silently about his change in character. Overnight, Metal went from a nightmarish enemy to a placid houseguest. Amy thought he could be reprogrammed into becoming her ally, but was now realizing that this robot with all his hinges and bolts was a bona fide person. She’d always thought he was angry by default, encountering him only in battle or other tense situations; but seeing how Metal could become elated and annoyed and show gratitude gave her hope that he wasn’t just an emotionless machine to be modified. Instead, he was a potential new friend.

#thanks to yall who are reading! please feel free to leave comments i love reading them #or message me if that's more comfortable for u #metamy #metal sonic x amy rose #metal sonic #amy rose #sonic fanfiction #sth #unfamiliar #ch 4

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dreamingofmilk · 5 years

Text

Anesthesia

Synopsis: You've been assigned to give Thor a check up after his surgery. Who would have thought anesthesia would affect him this way?

Word Count: 1486

Warnings: mild smut

"Y/N you're needed in exam room 200."

You sighed, "There goes my break." You threw away what was left of your lunch and made your way to the second floor of the stark tower, the Avengers private hospital level.

Once you got there you grabbed the patient chart. Your manager, Kelly, was waiting outside of the room. You raised an eyebrow, "What are we dealing with here?"

"Patient underwent surgery successfully, but is still feeling the anesthesia. He just needs a routine check." You nodded and glanced through the chart, scanning over the name and a bit of the medical information before your eyes flew back to the name. Thor Odinson was in the hospital?! You were surprised paparazzi weren't busting the door down.

"Thor?!" You whisper yelled.

Kelly smirked. "Why do you think I called you? You're the only one I know who won't fangirl around him. The last thing the hospital needs is a sexual harassment charge."

Joke's on you Kelly! Y/N thought. You loved Thor the most of all the Avengers. His looks obviously, but his personality even more. He was goofy and kind, and loyal to a fault. You just didn’t let your interest in him show at work. Hospitals are breeding grounds for gossip, especially amongst the other nurses, so you tried your hardest to keep your name out of anyone's mouth. This would be a dream come true. You get to not only meet your favorite 'celebrity', you get to treat him. Kelly really came through clutch!

You shook off as much of your nerves as you could. Fan or not, you were going to make sure Thor got the best care possible, from you or anyone else that crosses this threshold. Once you’d gotten your bearings, you knocked softly on the door. All you heard was a grunt, so you opened the door and quickly realized that all of the photos and Youtube videos you’d seen of Thor didn’t do him justice.

The man was absolutely massive! The hospital bed barely contained him. His feet hung off the edge and his arms hung from the sides of the bed. He seemed to be awake, but he wasn’t quite lucid. What drugs could they have possibly used that worked on a fucking god?

You cleared your throat and greeted him. “Hello Mr. Odinson. My name is Nurse Y/N, I’ll be giving you a check to make sure everything went well with the surgery. Is that ok?”

The only answer you received was a grunt, so you moved forward slowly and put on your gloves and equipment.

“Ok Mr. Odinson, Can you sit up for me please?”

He righted himself before you could reach out to assist him. So he must be somewhat coherent, you thought to yourself. You grabbed your blood pressure cuff and did your best to wrap it around his massive arm. It just barely made it. “There we go. You’re going to feel a bit of pressure on your arm.”

Thor chuckled, “Which one, the one between my legs? I already feel plenty of pressure there. You’re very pretty you know. Makes things kind of hard for me, shame on you.” His speech was slurred, but you understood every word he said. You couldn’t even stop your eyes from glancing at the area in question, and the bulge there was just as massive as the rest of his body. You shuddered at the thought. How the hell could anybody take that beast?

You didn’t respond to him out loud though. There’s no way you could have a casual conversation about his dick, or the fact that it was getting hard. You'd just pretend you didn't hear him. The blood pressure cuff creaked as it tightened around his arm, no doubt straining to stay intact. You double checked that the velcro was secure and carried on with your examination.

"Blood pressure looks good. Now I need to check your heartbeat."

Thor nodded slightly. And sat up a bit straighter. You moved it to his chest, the sensor looked like a toy compared to his broad chest. His heartbeat started at a normal pace, but it gradually sped up. You were worried something was amiss until he spoke.

Thor groaned quietly. "You smell so good." He reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist. Suddenly his face was buried in your neck. It took everything in you not to let out the nastiest moan you had within you. You pulled back slowly as Thor moved his large arms to wrap around your waist. His eyes were glazed, but there was much more awareness there than you thought.

"Mr. Odinson, I need you to calm down so I can get an accurate heart rate." You gulped.

His eyes dropped from yours to your lips. You felt your body clench when he bit his bottom lip and slowly brought his eyes back to yours. No one should be able to put that much sex appeal into a look while doped up on anesthesia. This man was dangerous.

He smiled, "How is any man supposed to be calm around you? I'm sure humans fall at your feet."

"Definitely not happening." You looked away in embarrassment, a humorless laugh fell from your lips.

He scoffed, "Then they are weak or stupid. I am neither. I know beauty when I see it."

You were taken aback. You knew you were attractive, but you didn't consider yourself especially beautiful. And the way he said it, so casually, like it was an accepted fact, just made it that much better.

You couldn't look at his face, you were too flustered, but Thor wasn't having it. He lightly grabbed your chin and pulled your face up until your eyes met. His eyes were so piercing, it felt like they were slicing you open and looking at your bare soul.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward. There was only an inch of space between you and you could pick out all of the little details in his face. The flecks of green in his eyes, how unfairly long his eyelashes were, how soft his lips looked.

He grinned, like he knew exactly where your focus was, "Y/N, when I get you alone…" He paused and let out a soft groan while shifting slightly, still quite unbalanced from the anesthesia. "We'll be so good together. I'll make you feel so good. Thunder doesn't only cause pain, sweetheart."

You couldn't fight the shiver that ran through your entire body. Thor was lowkey kinky! You were definitely trying to find out just how deep that kinkiness ran, but you had a job to do. "My only concern is your health Mr. Odinson." There we go, a safe answer.

Thor scoffed, "You forget I'm a god. I can smell you, Y/N. My health isn't your only concern. Don't worry though. As soon as I sleep this off, I'll take care of your other concern. You'll have to keep that uniform on, I quite like it." He grips your scrub clad ass tightly and thoroughly. You let out a soft whimper in response to his groping.

He groaned as his hands squeezed your ass cheeks, "Have you ever felt every nerve ending in your body go off all at once?"

You moaned from his rough treatment, "No, that's not medically possible."

He tsked and pulled you closer. His hand moved down slightly and his middle finger brushed against your core and he sent a shock that started at your clit and radiated through your entire body. You could feel your toes curl and your scalp tingle. You quickly reached out and grabbed his biceps as your knees gave out. Thank god these rooms were soundproofed. The moan you let out was definitely loud enough to be heard through the hallway.

Your eyes flitted up to his, "What the hell was that?!"

He licked his lips and smiled. You felt your panties dampen. “You'll find out soon. The doctor says I should be released later today once the sedative has worn off. I'll take care of us then.”

Thor presses a soft kiss on your lips, so fleeting you thought you imagined it, until you felt a sharp stimulating zing on your lips. You gasped and pulled back looking at Thor in shock, the lightning blue in his eyes slowly dissipating with a huge smirk on his lips.

A minute later he was sleeping, snoring without a care in the world. Like he didn't just promise to blow your back out.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

You weren’t sure, but you made a mental note to ask Kelly for a day off tomorrow. You looked back at the large mass of god in the bed and bit your bottom lip, your body still tingling with remnants of thel electric shocks.

Better make it two days.

Taglist:

@aislinnsilver @wawakanda-btch @chaneajoyyy @marvelmaree

#milkfics #milky fics #milk fic #thor x reader #thor #thor fic #avengersfanfic #avengers fanfiction #imagines

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rimmers-swimming-certificate · 4 years

Text

Red Dwarf fanfic - Comatose (19/19)

Here it is finally

Sorry to be so late posting this. I know I said Friday, but stuff happened, and... well, it’s here now. The final part. Enjoy!

Lister waved a hand over the sensor by the door, and it slid open. Rimmer didn’t seem to have moved since earlier that afternoon when Lister had left. He was still sitting at the desk, positioned to give himself a good view of the room’s display monitor. He sat leaning forward in his chair, gaze fixated on the screen, which displayed black text on a white background. It looked like a scan of a study textbook, which made sense actually, since that was exactly what it was.

The desk in front of Rimmer was empty. When he had used to study, when he had been alive, his desk had been filled with study paraphernalia. There had been brand new pens, pencils, and highlighters lined up like soldiers standing to attention, there had been notepads purchased from the onboard shop, titled with study topics in Rimmer’s beautiful calligraphy, but completely empty of notes. Later, as the exam approached, learning drugs and other illegal study aids might appear.

Now, Rimmer couldn’t study that way anymore, and there was nothing but an empty desk. Rimmer stared at the screen with a glazed look in his eye, lips moving silently as he read the words on the page under his breath.

Quietly, Lister moved behind him and looked at the screen over his shoulder. It was about as interesting as he had expected, which was to say, not at all. “Good book?” he asked.

Rimmer flinched in surprise. He turned to shoot an irritated look at Lister before returning his attention to the screen. “Whatever it is you want, Lister, bother me with it another time. I’m busy.” He sighed. “Oh great. Now you’ve made me lose my place.”

Lister shrugged. It wasn’t a particularly long page, it didn’t look like it would be too much effort to find it again. “Can we talk about something?” he asked

Rimmer turned to glance at him again. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Talk about what?” he asked.

Lister didn’t say anything. Instead, he folded his arms and waited for Rimmer to notice the ‘H’ on his forehead that definitely hadn’t been there earlier that day.

“Lister, what?” Rimmer asked him, clearly exasperated. “And must you stand right there? You know I don’t like people lurking behind me.”

“I’m not lurking,” Lister told him. He took a step to the left, placing himself no longer directly behind Rimmer, and continued to wait. Rimmer continued to be oblivious.

After a moment, Rimmer gave an exasperated shake of his head, and turned back to the screen. He raised a finger into the air in front of his face and began to move it slowly from left to right as he scoured the page for his place. “I don’t remember any of this,” he said. “Holly, did you turn the page without me telling you to?”

The page disappeared completely, and Holly appeared on the screen instead. She shook her head from side to side. “No, ‘course not. You’ve been staring at that same page for half an hour, how do you not remember any of it?”

“Holly, go away!” Rimmer told her. He waved his arms in a ‘shoo’ motion. “How am I supposed to study when you keep appearing like that?”

“You did ask a question,” Lister said. “What did you expect?”

“And you can smeg off too,” Rimmer told him. “This is hard enough as it is, and you’re really not helping. What’s next, Cat turning up? Kryten deciding it’s the perfect time to polish the furniture?”

Lister sighed. This was getting nowhere. “Did you notice anything different about me?” he tried.

With Holly gone, the screen once again displayed the text book, and Rimmer continued to point with one finger, not taking his eye off of whichever word he was up to. “Yes,” he said. “Now that you mention it, I do. Did you finally have your annual bath? I know you missed it while you were in your coma.”

Lister rolled his eyes. “No, smeghead. I’m…” He shook his head. Sometimes it was better to show than to tell. He reached across to tap Rimmer on the shoulder, then hesitated. Rimmer didn’t do well with unexpected physical contact, and the last thing he wanted was for him to run off again.

At the sudden pause in conversation, Rimmer’s pointing finger dropped from the screen, and he turned to see what was happening. His gaze immediately fell on Lister’s hand hovering awkwardly in the air a few inches from Rimmer’s shoulder. He frowned in confusion. “Er, Lister? What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Lister grinned nervously and allowed his hand to drop to his side. “I mean, I was going to tap you on the shoulder,” he admitted, “but I changed my mind.”

Rimmer frowned. His eyes moved from Lister’s hand to his face. His gaze settled just above eye level, and his eyes widened in surprise as he finally saw it, and realised what was going on.

Lister folded his arms. “You’re not the most observant of people, are you Rimmer?” he said. “How many times did you look at me before it finally clicked?”

Rimmer didn’t reply. Instead, he continued to stare at Lister’s forehead with a shocked expression on his face. His mouth moved silently, not forming any words, as though he was trying to think of something to say.

Lister spread his arms a little awkwardly and grinned nervously. “Surprise…”

“You…” Rimmer said. He continued to stare with an expression of confusion and shock. “You’re…” he tried again.

Lister shrugged and nodded. “Yeah.”

Without taking his eyes off Lister, Rimmer got to his feet. He reached out a hand, moving slowly and hesitantly, as though he didn’t quite trust what he was seeing, like he thought it could be some kind of a prank and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He jabbed a finger into Lister’s chest, then recoiled in shock the moment he made contact. “What happened?” he asked. Suddenly, his eyes were wide with concern.

Lister frowned. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? What happened? Was it something to do with the head injury? Did you have another seizure? What did the medi-comp say?”

Oh. Oh no. Lister shook his head quickly as he tried to find the words to explain that Rimmer had misunderstood, that Lister had decided to do this for himself, that nothing bad had happened. “No, I…” he began.

“Are you… Is your body still alive? Or…?” the question trailed off into silence, as though he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

At that last question, Lister immediately stopped shaking his head and nodded instead. “Yes,” he said quickly. “It’s… I’m still… I’m fine. Relax, Rimmer, nothing happened. I just asked Kryten to put me back into a hologram for a couple of days, that’s all.”

Rimmer’s concern turned back into confusion. “What?”

“My body’s down in the medi-bay. Kryten’s going to keep an eye on it for me, but he says it’ll be fine for a couple of days if he just puts it on a drip and makes sure it gets fluids.”

“Wait?” Rimmer said. “You mean to tell me you did this on purpose?”

“Well…” Lister shrugged, “yeah.”

“Right.” Rimmer shook his head. “So, do you want to tell me what the smeg you were thinking?”

Lister hesitated. He had reasons, good reasons. He just wasn’t sure how Rimmer was going to feel about them. “I thought it’d be nice,” he said.

“Nice?” Rimmer shook his head. “For who, exactly?”

Lister shrugged. “You. Me. Both of us, really. I thought it might be like a little holiday; you know, a couple of days on the Costa del Smeg.” He smiled nervously.

The moment he said it, he knew he had done something wrong. Rimmer’s expression became unreadable. “A holiday?” he repeated. “A holiday? Well, I’m glad you found being a hologram so much fun, Lister, but quite frankly, that’s a little insulting.”

“It wasn’t the ‘being a hologram’ part that was…” Lister broke off and frowned. “Hang on, what? Why is it?”

“Because this is my life,” Rimmer told him. “Or the closest thing I have to it, anyway. I don’t have the option of switching back and forth between human and hologram. I’m stuck like this. Forever. So forgive me if it doesn’t exactly seem like a holiday to me.”

Smeg. It occurred to Lister that he should probably have thought about what he was going to say to Rimmer instead of just winging it. Or maybe given him some kind of warning instead of just showing up like this. He sighed. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that though. And come on, Rimmer, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought you’ve been a bit on edge recently, and maybe you were missing being able to touch someone.”

He reached out slowly, making sure that Rimmer could see what he was doing, and placed a hand carefully on his arm. Rimmer looked down at it, then placed his own hand on top of it. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I haven’t been ‘on edge’, Lister, and if I have it’s because I’m trying to study, and people keep interrupting me. I was perfectly okay before you were a hologram, and I’m perfectly okay now you’re back in your body. You didn’t have as much of an effect on me as you seem to think.”

“Right,” Lister shrugged. “Fair enough. So, how come you’re still holding on to my hand, then?”

Rimmer looked down at his hand for long enough to confirm that it was indeed still touching Lister’s, then pulled it away and folded his arms, knocking Lister’s hand free. “You can’t just do this, you know,” he said.

“Why not?” Lister asked.

“Well, I mean, of course you can do it, because you did. But you shouldn’t. Is it even safe? What if something went wrong?”

Lister shrugged. “What could go wrong? It’s safe. Kryten said so.”

“Well that’s me reassured,” Rimmer said sarcastically. “If the resident lavatory attendant’s happy with it, I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, it’s nothing important, only your mind.”

“Aww, Rimmer, I didn’t know you cared,” Lister said. “Relax. We never had any problems before, and we’ve done it quite a few times now.”

“Yes, but all those times we only did it because we had no other choice,” Rimmer reminded him. “We switched your mind for Carol Brown’s because we thought the ship was going to blow up. We placed you in a hologramatic copy of your body because you’d been in a coma for half a year and we didn’t know whether you were ever going to recover. It’s very delicate technology, it’s not some video game that you can log in and play whenever it takes your fancy.”

“Okay,” Lister shook his head. “Fine. So what about the time I lent you my body? Or the time you stole it and did a runner? Or the time you stole Cat’s for that matter? They were all totally necessary, no-other-choice type situations were they?”

Rimmer looked away. “Look, we already established I did some things I’m not proud of back then. But that’s no reason to put yourself at risk now, is it?”

“I’m not,” Lister told him. “It’s safe, honestly.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Smeg! It is. I’m not an idiot, Rimmer. I wouldn’t do it if it was dangerous.”

Rimmer stared at him for a moment, thoughtfully. “Okay, fine,” he said. “But even if it is totally safe, I don’t…” he shook his head, turned and paced across the room and back. “I don’t get it. Why would you want to subject yourself to that? What’s the point?”

It wasn’t as much of an ordeal as Rimmer seemed to think. Of course, it was going to be a lot easier knowing that he could return to his body any time he wanted. As Rimmer had reminded him, he didn’t have that luxury. But that was one of the reasons Lister had done it. “I told you the point,” he said. “Because I thought it’d be good for both of us.”

Rimmer shook his head incredulously. “Right. So, what’s the plan? You’re a hologram for a couple of days, and then what?”

“What do you mean?”

Rimmer walked across the room, putting a short distance between them, then turned around to look at Lister. He took a couple of steps closer, but remained at a distance. “Okay, look,” he said. “This stays between us, alright?”

Lister frowned. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m only telling you this because you’ve got some idea what it’s like. I don’t want you blabbing to Kryten, or worse, to Cat, about it.”

“Yeah, okay Rimmer.” Lister folded his arms and nodded in agreement. “I won’t say a word. What?”

“You’re right,” said Rimmer. “I have been a bit on edge.”

Lister did his best not to smirk. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Rimmer, but that’s not exactly the best-guarded secret in the universe. I think they might have noticed.”

“Yes, well you’re right about why, too.”

They already knew that as well. Of course, they already knew because Lister had already told them, but that had been before Rimmer had asked him not to. He decided not to share that particular piece of information. “Okay.”

Rimmer sighed deeply and sank back into the chair behind the desk where he had been trying to study. “It’s been… difficult. Readjusting. I feel like I did when I first died… well, when I was first a hologram. I mean, it’s not quite as bad, because I already know how to deal with a lot of the things I used to find frustrating, but it’s bad enough.”

Lister nodded. “So you are missing it,” he said.

“No. Yes…” Rimmer shook his head. “Yes, of course I am. But that’s only part of it. What’s worse is I keep… reaching for things. Forgetting, just for a second. And every time I do, It feels like…” he broke off and shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, it’s not like I was able to touch anything other than you. It’s like being able to touch anything at all has just confused my brain. I was used to being a hologram, and now it’s like I’m not anymore.”

Lister winced. He placed a hand on Rimmer’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Sorry,” he said.

“So, maybe you’re right. Maybe it would be nice to experience physical contact again. In fact, not ‘maybe’, of course it would be. But when you finish your ‘holiday’ and go back to your body, what then? I go back to not being able to touch again. How does that help anything?”

“Because then I’ll do it again,” Lister told him. “We could make it a regular thing. Every couple of months maybe. Or more often. Once a month?”

Rimmer shook his head. “And every time you do it, it’ll only remind me of what I don’t have. It would be easier if you would just let me get used to it again.”

Lister frowned. “Get used to what? Not being able to touch anything ever?”

“Yes.”

“That’s no way to live, Rimmer. Not when you don’t have to.”

Rimmer got back to his feet. “But I do have to,” he said. “And it never bothered you before. You were perfectly content with the way things were for years before any of this happened. Five years, Lister. Not once did you try to do anything to make it better.”

Lister sighed. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t get it then. And anyway, I never even knew this was possible until it happened.”

“And if you had known, I’m sure you’d have been first in line to volunteer, wouldn’t you?” Rimmer said sarcastically.

Lister didn’t reply.

“No, of course you wouldn’t.”

“Because I didn’t get it then. I do now.”

“Right. So you’re doing this out of some kind of a misguided sense of obligation.”

That wasn’t it. Lister shook his head.

“Yes you are. I don’t want that. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

Lister shook his head again. “I don’t,” he said. He did, a bit, but he didn’t think that would be a useful thing to say. “Look, Rimmer, this is as much about me as it is about you.”

“How is it?”

“Because I miss it too!” Lister blurted.

Rimmer frowned dubiously. “You do? Don’t be ridiculous, Lister. You have a completely functional body, well, apart from the taste buds. Don’t pretend you miss physical contact.”

Lister shook his head. “I don’t,” he said. “But I do miss being able to touch you.” He cringed internally as he heard himself say that. A year ago, he would have been horrified at himself. Now, it was just a fact. A really embarrassing fact, but since they were sharing…

Rimmer frowned.

“I keep waking up in the middle of the night and reaching for you,” Lister continued. “And then I remember that you’re not there, and that even if you were, I wouldn’t be able to touch you.”

“Yes, well that’s what being a hologram is like, Lister. That’s what being me is like all the time.”

Lister sighed. He sat down heavily on the bottom bunk, which didn’t move under the non-existent weight of his hologramatic body. Unconsciously, his hand moved to his forehead and he brushed the smooth surface of his ‘H’ with the tips of his fingers. “I know it is,” he said. “It sucks.”

“Yes, well that’s what I’ve been telling you for years.”

“But what I don’t get is, here’s a way to make it suck less. So why aren’t you jumping at the chance?”

“Because how long would it last for?” Rimmer asked. “I mean I’m sure you’d start off meaning well enough. You’ll do a few days now, maybe do it again in a month or so, and then again. But then, eventually something will happen on the day you were planning on doing it, and it’ll get put off.”

Lister frowned. “What could happen?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Anything. There’s always some crisis or another around here. Some life threatening disaster or minor irritation, whatever it is, it’ll mean you have to put it off.”

“That’s fine, I could just do it another time,” Lister told him.

“I knew you’d say that. Just do it next week or something, only something else comes up and it gets put off again.”

Lister shook his head. “Rimmer, the only time any of this is going to happen is in your head.”

“Not necessarily, and what if it keeps happening?”

“What, every week?”

“And before you know it, it’s been a year since you last got around to doing it, by which time you’ve forgotten about the whole thing and just got used to things being the way they used to be, so you don’t bother.”

Lister had to give it to Rimmer, he had a very good imagination when it came to crappy things happening to him. “I won’t do that,” he promised.

“No, you probably wouldn’t,” Rimmer agreed. “Knowing you, most likely you’d realise it’s been a year, feel bad about it, and turn up here as a hologram again, just as I’m getting used to the idea that it’s over. And after that, then you’d never do it again.

Lister stared at him in disbelief. “Smeg. You really think I’m selfish scum, don’t you?”

“It’s nothing personal, Lister. I assume that about everybody. It’s just common sense; always assume the worst, and they’ll never let you down.”

Lister rested his head in his hand and shook it from side to side. “Look, I promise I won’t do that, okay? I swear.” Lister said.

Rimmer sat back down at his desk. and began trying to find his place again. “You can’t possibly know that, Lister.”

He supposed that technically that was true, but he definitely didn’t intend to do that. Rimmer was staring intently at the display monitor again, lips no longer moving as he read, but attention definitely focussed there. Too focussed there, actually, to the point that it looked as though he was putting all his efforts into looking like he was reading.

Lister sighed. One last try, and then he would give up. If Rimmer really didn’t want it, he wasn’t going to force it on him. “Come on, Rimmer,” he said. “Don’t be like this.”

“The only thing I’m being is busy, Lister. I have an exam to revise for.”

“But you can do that anytime, right? We’re the only ones here, so it’s not like the promotion board are around to set an exam date. I’m sure you can afford a break.”

Rimmer shook his head. “I’ve already set the date,” he said. “If I’m not ready, I’ll have to wait another six months. And I’m not due a break. Not until…” He stopped and sighed loudly.

“Until when?” Lister asked.

Rimmer scowled at a piece of paper that had been blu-tacked to the wall at an awkward angle with a single blob of blu-tack. Lister could see that it contained a badly drawn grid in smudged pencil on white paper. Each square of the grid had something written in it, but the sides of the paper were beginning to curl into the middle for want of a few extra pieces of blu-tack, making it difficult to see the squares at the sides. “I don’t even know when I’m due a break, actually, because I had to rely on the skutters to make a revision timetable. I ask you Lister, how am I supposed to learn anything when my revision timetable looks like that?”

Lister got up from the bunk and leaned in to examine the timetable on the wall. Granted, the handwriting wasn’t as neat as Rimmer’s had used to be, and sometimes strayed over the lines, but then he had seen actual printed books where the writing wasn’t as neat as Rimmer’s had used to be. Rimmer’s revision timetables had always been colour coded, this was strictly monochrome, and there was definitely no shading growing increasingly dark as the exam got closer, but it looked as though it would do the job. He shrugged. “Looks okay,” he said. “I mean, considering we’re talking about robots that can’t even figure out how to pick up a jigsaw piece without a half hour’s coaching.”

“It’s a mess,” Rimmer complained. “Look at it, and tell me what I’m supposed to be revising right now. You can’t, can you? You can’t even tell whether I’m supposed to be revising at all. For all I know, this could be my scheduled recreation time, and I could be missing it because of their shoddy timetabling.

Lister shrugged. “They only do what…” he began, then stopped. They might only do what they were told to do, but that didn’t mean that any errors were necessarily down to the one giving the instructions. The skutters could be maliciously literal. “Why do you even need a revision timetable anyway?” Lister asked. “Don’t you just revise the stuff you need to know?”

“Yes,” Rimmer told him, “But I need to come at it in a structured way.”

“I never bothered with a revision timetable,” said Lister.

Rimmer fixed him with a withering look. “Well you wouldn’t have, would you? When have you ever revised for anything in your entire life?”

“Hey! I have!” Lister told him.

“When?”

He thought about it. “When I did the chefs exam,” he said.

“You failed!”

“Yeah, but I still revised. And when I was at school, I took all my exams there.”

Rimmer nodded, “But you told me you failed them too.”

“I did. Doesn’t mean I didn’t revise for them though, does it?”

“It means you didn’t revise very effectively. Maybe a revision timetable would have helped.”

It occurred to Lister that it would be very easy to say something cruel at that remark, something about how much good it had done Rimmer, the nine times he had failed his exam despite his perfect, colour coded timetable and impeccable handwriting. He didn’t. Instead, he shrugged, and reached for the piece of paper tacked to the wall, intending to redistribute the blu-tack so that at least Rimmer could see it.

His hand passed through it, the tips of his fingers sinking into the wall. The unexpected lack of contact with the wall threw him momentarily off-kilter, and he stumbled half a step forward before he managed to balance himself.

“Forgot about that aspect of your ‘holiday’ did you?” Rimmer said with a tight smile.

Lister shoved his hand in his pocket, embarrassed.

“That serves you right, you know,” Rimmer told him.

Lister grinned. “Yeah, probably. I was trying to help you out, for the record.”

“Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me Lister, I’m supposed to be studying this for another half an hour.” Rimmer hesitated. “Or another half a day. It’s not clear.” He looked back to the screen. “Holly, next page please.”

The display turned to another almost identical looking screen and Lister sighed. He felt very silly. Like some idiot who had made himself into a hologram in the hopes of getting a hug.

“Ok, yeah,” he said. “I’ll ask Kryten to transfer me back.”

Rimmer flinched; a small, barely perceptible movement. He turned to look at Lister. “What?” he asked.

“Back to my body,” Lister clarified.

He saw Rimmer’s eyes flicker from the screen, to Lister and back again several times, before finally settling on Lister. “But you’ve only been a hologram for five minutes. You said a few days.”

Lister folded his arms. “That was when I thought you might stop revising and do something fun. If you’re just going to be sitting there reading the whole time, what’s the point?”

“But…” Rimmer said. “I mean… you’ve done it now. You might as well stick with it for a bit.”

“Stick with it?” Lister shook his head. “Why? You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to.”

Rimmer sighed. “Yes, well. That’s true. All of it. But since you’ve gone and done it now, hadn’t you might as well just stay as you are?”

Lister sighed. “Why?”

“Because… Well, because…” Rimmer folded his arms, unfolded them, then folded them again, then sighed. “Because I want you to,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Rimmer told him through gritted teeth. “Well done, you win. I’d just appreciate a bit of notice next time, please.”

Lister hadn’t been trying to win anything, but he would take his victories where he could find them. “So, you want there to be a next time as well, do you?”

Rimmer sighed. “Of course I do. You don’t have to rub it in. A bit of notice this time would have been nice too, by the way. I mean, you must have known when you got up this afternoon that you were going to do this. You probably knew last night too, since I know for a fact that you never come up with schemes within the first few hours of waking up.”

“Schemes?”

“That’s why you were acting oddly last night, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t acting oddly,” Lister told him. He cast his mind back to the night before, searching his memory for anything that Rimmer might have seen as odd. “Was I?”

Rimmer shook his head in disbelief. “You didn’t have anything to drink, for a start,” he said. “Ever since Kryten told you you could drink again, you’ve barely stopped. And you went to bed early. Well, early for you. And before that, you were asking me a lot of strange questions, about how I was feeling and things. So yes, you were acting oddly. In fact, you’ve been acting progressively more oddly for the past week.” He frowned as a thought appeared to dawn on him. “Wait, did you decide to do this a week ago?”

Lister shrugged. “Might have.”

“And in all that time, it never occurred to you to tell me about it? Maybe run it by me, see what I thought to the idea?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Lister told him.

“Well, I don’t like surprises,” Rimmer told him. “I never have.”

That shouldn’t have surprised Lister, actually. Rimmer wasn’t exactly known for his spontaneity.

“Come on,” he said. “Everyone likes surprises. Well, good ones, anyway.”

“Not me,” Rimmer told him. He shook his head. “Not since my seventh birthday.”

Lister sighed. “I know I’m going to regret asking, but what happened?”

Rimmer got up and walked across the room in a few steps, then stopped, turned, and walked back. “It’s a long story,” he said.

Lister shrugged. “Rimmer, you know you’re going to tell me eventually. I’m like a dog with a bone with this stuff. If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to keep asking you until you do.”

“Fine.” Rimmer paced the room again. “It was my birthday. I’d just turned seven years old, and I was so excited, but all day long my parents pretended to have forgotten. It was okay though, because I could tell that something was going on. They were whispering about something, and whenever I walked in the room, they would stop. My dad even came home with a cake from a local bakery. The one that made the best cakes. The ones for really special occasions.”

Lister chewed on one of his fingernails as he listened.

“I played along with the ruse, of course,” Rimmer continued. “Acted like it was just an ordinary day and I had no idea they were up to anything. I did my homework, I helped my mother tidy up the house so it would be ready for everybody arriving. I didn’t once mention that it was my birthday. Anyway, It turned out I was right, something was going on. Do you know what it was?”

Lister shook his head. “Normally, I’d guess a surprise party,” he said. “But judging by all the build up, probably something else.”

“No, you’re right,” Rimmer said. “It was a surprise party, it just wasn’t for me. It was for my brothers.”

“Eh?” Lister frowned. “Rimmer, no matter how many stories you tell me about your childhood, I’m never going to stop being baffled.”

“It does make sense, actually,” Rimmer told him. “My birthday fell very close to the end of one of the Ionian school terms. We’d all brought our report cards home the week before, and my brothers had all finished at the top of their classes. So as a reward, our parents had decided to throw a party for them. They invited a few kids from each of their classes, got a cake, hired a bouncy castle, played games. Unfortunately, I wasn’t doing quite as well academically at the time, so I didn’t deserve a celebration.”

Lister scratched at an itch on the back of his head and tried to think of any way that the story could possibly make sense. “Okay,” he said. “But why'd they do it on your birthday?”

“Well, they didn’t,” Rimmer explained. “Or at least they didn’t intend to. It turned out they really had forgotten my birthday. It was very funny. We laughed about it afterward.” He paused. “Well, they did.”

“That’s horrible,” Lister told him.

Rimmer shook his head. “It wasn’t as bad as all that,” he promised. “My brothers let me join in with their celebration, which was rather sporting of them considering I really hadn’t earned it. But the whole thing left me with this fairly deep-seated distrust of surprises.”

“Yeah,” Lister told him. “I can see why.” He sat back down on the bunk. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Rimmer said quickly. “It was a long time ago. I’m totally over it now. Totally.”

He definitely wasn’t. “Okay, well I’ll tell you next time,” Lister promised him. “Or, ask you. Make sure you’re up for it.”

Rimmer shook his head. “No, surprises are absolutely fine,” he said, “But just make sure you let me know in advance what they’re going to be, and when you’re planning on doing them, and then make sure I’m happy with the arrangement before you go ahead.”

Lister rolled his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“Right,” said Rimmer. “I think that’s probably enough revision for today anyway. Did you have anything planned?”

“Not really,” Lister told him. “I was just going to wing it,”

“That’s you all over, isn’t it, Lister? You don’t like revision timetables, you don’t schedule your surprises properly, and then you make yourself into a hologram with absolutely no plans for what to do next.”

“I wouldn’t say no plans,” Lister told him.

“No? Go on then.”

Lister shrugged. “Well, remember when you kissed me?” he said. “Twice. And the second time, it kinda felt like you meant it. I thought it might be good to see where that went.”

“What?” Rimmer looked nervous suddenly. “What do you mean?”

“Relax. You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to. I’m just saying that if you did want to, I’m okay with that. More than okay, actually.”

“Right.” Rimmer tapped his fingers nervously on his own thigh. “So that’s it, is it? That’s your entire plan for this weekend?”

Lister shook his head. “No. I don’t have a plan. That’s what I’m saying.”

“And what if I don’t know if I want to do that?” Rimmer asked him.

“I guess you’ll figure it out,” Lister told him. “One way or another.”

“And if I do figure it out, and I decide that no, I don’t want it to go anywhere? Then what?”

Lister frowned. “What do you mean ‘then what’?”

Rimmer folded his arms. “What I mean, Lister, is if I were to decline your invitation, would you immediately change your mind about this whole idea? Are you doing this only under the assumption that I’m… interested in you, and if it turns out that I’m not, will you suddenly lose interest in me?”

“What?” That hurt, actually. “You really do think I’m scum, don’t you, Rimmer?”

“You know I do. Don’t change the subject.”

Lister sighed. “Look, whatever you want, it makes no difference to me.” he hesitated, then shook his head. “Okay, no. I mean, of course it makes a difference to me but I’ll still want to do this anyway. If you still want me to.” He sighed. This wasn’t going well. “You know what, it might be easier if you weren’t interested, because if you are then sooner or later someone’s going to have to tell Kryten and Cat what’s going on, and I don’t want it to be me.”

Rimmer fixed him with an incredulous stare. “You genuinely don’t mind, one way or another?”

“Well…” Lister shrugged. “I mean, the other stuff would be nice, I’m not gonna pretend it wouldn’t, but I’ve done without it for long enough that I should be used to it by now, right?”

Rimmer frowned, then gave a half smile. “Maybe you were. Until someone went and reminded you. It looks as though I might have done the same thing to you, that you did to me.”

Lister thought about it. In a way, Rimmer was right. “Revenge?” he asked.

“Not intentionally,” Rimmer assured him. He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lister shook his head. He reached for Rimmer’s hand and took it in his own. His thumb traced a slow circle on Rimmer’s palm and he took a half-step closer. “Don’t be sorry.”

Rimmer swallowed, then nodded. “I suppose this makes us even,” he said.

“It’s not a competition, Rimmer. It’s just…” Lister shrugged, “It’s just whatever it is. I guess we’ll figure it out as we go. I mean, we’ve got plenty of time.”

Rimmer nodded. With his free hand, he took hold of Lister’s other hand, interlacing their fingers. “Incidentally, Lister,” he said. “If we do take this any further, and for whatever reason we do have to tell Kryten and the Cat, I absolutely and unequivocally nominate you to be the one to do it.”

Thank you to @norwegianpornfaerie for beta-ing this fic!)

#red dwarf #red dwarf fanfic #my fic #dave lister #arnold rimmer #rimmer/lister

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notchesandbullets · 4 years

Text

House Hunting [Oneshot] Modern AU

Words: 3.5k

"Bat-Ears, hurry up, we're going to be late!!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming, just hold your horses."

"What is that, Hak?"

"Dunno, Princess. Extra cargo?"

"Hak, I wasn't talking about Jae-ha."

"Yeah, Hak. That's so mean."

"You'll live, Droopy-Eyes. Oy, Bat-Ears, what the heck are you doing?"

The troublemaker froze in place at Hak's deep baritone. They were all supposed to be heading over to the guys' dorm to meet up with Yoon and the others before carpooling to the houses their realtor was taking them to see.

Yona and Calista were busy getting ready, having accidentally overslept and missed their alarm. Jae-ha and Hak drove over, and insisted on driving them even though the latter had said his sister would probably be content walking.

He wasn't going to let her walk, it was several miles.

Hak was going to come alone, but Jae-ha had insisted. He was very tempted to kick the green-haired man out at the stoplights all the way over here, but resisted for both the girls' sakes, knowing Yona would most certainly not talk to him for the rest of the week and that he wouldn't be safe from his sister's rage.

The dark-haired man crossed his arms across his broad chest and raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"What?" Calista mumbled innocently.

"I haven't seen you in months and this is what you look like?" He shot back incredulously, stunned by her appearance. Despite how outrageous it was, it looked good.

She had just gotten back from a trip overseas.

Her black hair had been cut asymmetrically and tinted. The dark blue glinted as the sunlight hit it, and made it look like it was moving on its own. Her style had changed too, and he chalked it up to the readjustment period.

It always took each of them a bit to adapt back to the culture here, and his sister was no exception.

Her style was usually so casual and comfortable, but this time, she was sporting a tank top, leather jacket, a miniskirt, fishnet stockings and combat boots.

Calista flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Don't like it, don't look." She flaunted over to his car, a Koenigsegg Agera S, that the gang had recently bought him for his birthday.

He claimed it was too much, but by the way he was eyeing it as it sparkled in the sun, they all secretly high-fived in the background knowing that they had made the right choice.

"Let's go!!" She cheered, calling shotgun before Jae-ha could.

The four arrived at the guys' dorm, the rest of their friend group waiting in anticipation outside. Yoon sternly instructed them into the family van he had borrowed from his adopted dad, Ik-soo, that he had lent to them for the weekend. They often took road trips with their extended family in it, so they knew the best layout everyone was comfortable with.

Hak was the driver with Yoon as the navigator. In the first row, Yona sat next to Zeno and in the one behind was Jae-ha and Kija. That left Calista along with Shin-ah in the backseat, which was more cramped than the other rows.

Not that she minded, but she would never say that out loud. Though, she could've sworn she heard his breath hitch when he saw what she was wearing.

"Road trip!!" Zeno cheered.

"We aren't going anywhere, kid." Hak shot down, rolling his eyes humorously.

"Road trip!!" He still cheered, not put off in the slightest.

Yona giggled, joining in on the golden-haired boy's contagious excitement before he roped her into a game of, "Annoy-the-driver-until-he-gets-so-irritated-he-pulls-over-to-smack-them-but-sees-his-cute-girlfriend-and-decides-not-to."

Jae-ha and Kija were engaged in an intense conversation about martial arts styles and modern day use of concealed carry, though it was a bit one-sided, the intelligent portions only coming from Kija while the other basically made noises of agreement or disagreement.

The latter tended to be more frequent and louder.

"I just think it's a bit counter-intuitive." The white-haired man argued.

"Oooo, White Snake is using big words now." Hak mocked from the front seat.

"Will you beasts shut up?!" Yoon spat harshly. "And you, you're supposed to be focusing on the road."

Hak nodded calmly. "Yes, mother."

"I DON'T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO YOU!!!"

Calista hid her face in her hands, overwhelmed by all her friends. It had been so long since she had seen them. She was so worried that the ease would be gone when she returned, but to her surprise, they were ecstatic to see her.

She had been gone on a top-secret mission for the past couple months. They all worked for varying branches of the military, organizations kept under cover in case things went sideways, and needless to say, all of their work was done in the dark.

If everything went right, the world would never know what they prevented from happening.

Which brought them to their current situation. They needed a house to live in.

It was getting increasingly harder to live on the campus of the college they were all attending when they got called to work. By living together it would also allow them to relax a bit once they got back home, not to mention, they could fortify it any way they wanted.

Security cameras, laser sensors, the most high-tech gear that Zeno and Yoon could get their hands on would be rigged to expose any unfortunate soul who just tried to rob them.

Calista and Hak's grandpa had a lot of pull with the school board, since he was very high up in the government.

He was funding the whole thing.

Rumors had spread quick when they first started college, picking up from their last years of high school. Their band of friends were known as The Dragons all around the local area. Most people were under the delusion that they were a mafia and Calista never could contain her humor at the notion.

The most ridiculous one they had ever heard was that they were running an illegal drug operation. Only one of them had ever touched drugs before for recreation, since sometimes their covers needed them to use, and Jae-ha got clean pretty quickly when he saw how distressed Yona was.

It wasn't just her that was bothered, but everyone else did a better job of hiding it.

Truth be told, they were all gifted, academics coming easier to all of them ever since they started work for the government. Yoon was the youngest, only fifteen, but he was especially bright, even before everything happened.

He had earned his spot in college with them, getting the highest marks out of all of them, putting the rest of them to shame.

Hak pulled the van up to a huge mansion, not too flashy from the outside, but certainly big enough to hold the group of eight.

They all eagerly clambered out, and Calista tripped over her feet in her haste.

Shin-ah grabbed her arms and steadied her easily. She grinned up at him in thanks, throwing a cheeky wink over her shoulder as she sashayed over to Yona, linking their arms together.

She shared a look with the redhead, and they shot off, racing to the entrance.

They threw open the doors to the house, the others not far behind and began exploring every inch of the place eagerly. Yoon hung back, conversing with their realtor about the prices and amenities of this one in particular. It was lavish, with french doors, a sun room, several huge bedrooms and five bathrooms.

Hak wandered around, looking for his girlfriend. As he rounded around the corner, she jumped out, scaring him. He grabbed her, lifting her up with ease.

Hak placed Yona on the kitchen counter and she giggled, looping her arms around his neck as he stood between her parted legs. He tucked his face into the crook of his neck and she carded her fingers through his dark hair.

They had just recently become a couple, both ironically confessing at the same time and needless to say, their group of friends couldn't be happier for the two of them. It had happened when he had returned from his latest mission, which had nearly gotten him killed.

Yona had been beside herself with worry since she was the newest recruit of their elite squad, quite handy with a sniper. When she had heard the news of his condition, she had run down to headquarter's hospital, barreling through all the security.

Though, Calista had supposed that was because no one wanted to tell the boss the wrath they incurred from the lethal group of eight by preventing them from seeing him, so they opted to let her pass.

And the good news was, he was going to make a full recovery. He just had to take it easy for a bit and was not, under any circumstances, allowed to go on any more missions for the time being.

"Ewwwww, gross!!"

The two sprang apart, only to see the edgy girl flash them a grin, the blue-haired man behind her.

"Just kidding."

Hak shook his head at her, a smile creeping up on his features. It widened as he took in the sight of Shin-ah's arm causally slung around her shoulder.

"Okayyyy, we're leaving." Calista announced, swiftly turning on her heel. She recognized that look in her younger brother's eye, and it only meant trouble. "C'mon, Shin-ah, let's go!!"

Running up the marble stairs, he let go of her temporarily as she scrambled to the upper floor, darting in and out of all the bedrooms at lightning speed.

"They have a balcony?!" He chuckled under his breath as he heard her shriek. "Yoon, we're so getting this one!!"

Calista was leaning over the high railing as much as she could, the sight of empty land taking her breath away.

"Be careful..."

She turned around with a small smile as she saw the worry swirling in his golden eyes. Stretching out a hand to him, he took it without hesitation, weaving their fingers together. She tugged him to her and he automatically wrapped an arm around her waist so that she didn't fall.

Smacking his chest lightly, she teased. "I'm not that clumsy."

He gave her an amused look and she threw her head back, laughing.

"Okay, okay, maybe I am sometimes."

His expression didn't change and she poked his cheek.

"Admit it, I'm only like that sometimes." She insisted.

"All the time."

"Shin-ah!!" Calista admonished, raising a hand to playfully hit him again.

He caught her wrist easily, pinning it to the railing firm enough to keep her from moving, but not enough to hurt her. She smirked up at him challengingly, stretching on her toes to whisper, "Catch me if you can."

She broke out of his hold, ducking underneath his arm and racing back downstairs. Yoon was at the door with his hands on his hips.

"There you are!!" He followed her out as soon as she cleared the doorway. "We've got two more to see!!"

Shin-ah caught up easily with her, and Calista realized that they would be sitting in back together. He slid in after her, tapping her thigh lightly.

"Got you."

She shook her head furiously. "Nope, doesn't count."

His eyes flickered to the side purposefully as the next one came into view and the van slowed down.

"Inside?"

"Inside."

Once she was through the entrance, she shot off, Shin-ah immediately tearing after her. Calista could faintly hear Yoon's annoyed shout as they all broke off again in different directions.

She analyzed her surroundings quickly and sprinted down the corridor flooded with beams of sunlight streaming through the large windows.

This one had an older feel to it, and she was certain that Kija and even Jae-ha would love this one. The maple floorboards were worn with use, but it added to the charm. The house had a specific charm to it, one that resulted from the antiques and velvet curtains.

She heard Yoon calling for them to leave for the last one and she saw blue hair as she zipped around the corner. Reacting instantly, she slid between his legs, riding the spiral railing all the way down to the ground floor.

She hopped off, out of breath and made a break for the van.

Shin-ah was panting just as heavily as she was when he got it a second after she did, catching everyone else's attention.

"Bat-Ears, what the heck are you guys doing?" Hak questioned emotionlessly from the steering wheel, having a feeling this was another one of her spontaneous competitions.

"Nothing..." She drew out smugly.

"Is it a game? Please allow me to partake!" Kija exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air excitedly.

Yona turned around in her seat, eyes shining. "Can I play, too?"

"Yona, sit down." Yoon instructed sternly, not even having to look back at her to know what she was doing. The redhead pouted but did as she was told.

Zeno popped up. "What is Miss Notch and Seiryuu playing?"

He had a habit of nicknaming them when they were all young, and ever since then, it just kind of stuck.

"It's basically tag." Calista said simply. "Whoever gets tagged last, wins!!"

"Absolutely not," Yoon retorted. "We're supposed to be here to look for houses, remember? Not wreck them."

"We'll be careful, Yoon!!" Yona pleaded, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

He held out until they got to the last one, caving when a chorus of begging erupted upon their arrival.

"Alright, alright!! Just don't break anything!!"

"Wait, so who's it?"

"I don't know, but RUN!!!"

"HAK, DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!!!"

"What are you gonna do about it, Princess?"

"Yah, Thunder Beast, keep the flirting to a minimum, you already got the girl." Yoon's eyes glinted mischievously.

"Shin-ah's it!!" Calista announced through the noise, coiling her body like a spring. "Ready, set, go!!!"

They took off, even Yoon, and spread out. It was a simple tactic.

Three on the ground floor, three more go to secure the basement and one scouts the upper level.

Calista called dibs on the upstairs, hiding in a wardrobe in the master bedroom. He would be expecting her to be running, so she pulled a different card. She heard the shouts of her friends getting caught downstairs and couldn't help giggling hysterically as Yoon's angry yell cut through the brief silence.

Shin-ah was incredibly fast, not as fast as her of course, but pretty darn close.

A gasp ripped from her lungs in surprise as the doors to the space was flung open, flooding it with light. She squealed as her wrist was grabbed and she was pulled out. Before she knew it, her back was bouncing on the king-sized mattress as her captor loomed over her.

"Gotcha." Shin-ah murmured, pecking her nose softly.

She blushed, biting her lip absentmindedly as her eyes roamed over his heaving chest and broad shoulders.

"... Don't look at me like that..." He mumbled shyly.

Calista raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who's looking like they want to devour me."

He nearly growled. "It's because of these..."

Elastic material snapped against her thigh and her jaw dropped.

"Don't tell me... you like these?"

He pulled back as she sat up.

Calista drew a leg up slyly, watching the way his eyes wouldn't leave her legs.

"You've..." His breathing got heavier the more she moved it up until she crossed them. "You've never worn them before."

She shrugged, smirking. "Never had a reason to."

He bit back a groan, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. His chest rose and fell as he fought to keep himself in control, restraint slipping away from him by the second.

Calista's breath caught in her throat as his hands slid up over her fishnet-clad thighs, squeaking as he squeezed them gently.

"So soft..." He whispered quietly. "You're so soft."

She patted his shoulders, hearing Yona call for them. Shin-ah leaned back reluctantly, but didn't peel himself from her side.

Calista chuckled, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her level. Whispering a promise in his ear, his eyes first went wide, then darkened.

Then, the pair walked hand in hand downstairs where everyone else had gathered. Their realtor was taking them on a tour of the house, listing off the various characteristics that made this one different from the others.

Now that they were done with their shenanigans, she finally took a minute to take in the house. It wasn't as big as the other two, but she actually liked it better. It felt more homey than the others, and she wondered if her friends felt the same about it.

It was furnished, but that made it easier for her to envision their own furniture in it, with their own creative spin on it.

It was still very lavish.

A large living, dining, and family room on the first floor. The foyer was exceptionally well done, a crystal chandelier hanging in the hall. Upstairs, there was a master suite and three huge bedrooms in addition. A loft made up the extra space on the second floor, and it had windows from floor to ceiling, filling the entire open-space concept home with brilliant light.

The house came with three and a half bathrooms, and a fully finished basement. The patio out in back overlooked the acres of land that came with the house, perfect for a training ground. The trees provided a natural fence and were spread out for miles.

Yona's eyes were shining and Hak braced himself against the door frame as their realtor asked them the big question. Jae-ha was busy admiring the trellis, which, in it of itself, spoke for him since he was disinterested in the other mansions. Calista could tell just by glancing at him that Kija was on board, that man wore his heart on his sleeve.

Zeno was content with all of them, but especially with this one judging by the speed he was bouncing at was nearly inhuman.

Shin-ah's normally shy gaze was filled with wonder and excitement and Calista nodded once in approval to Yoon. The pretty boy's face split into a wide grin, extending his hand out to the kind lady who had shown them around all day.

"We'll take it."

As they filed out of their future home, Calista hummed to herself until her fingers were intertwined with calloused, but gentle ones.

Shin-ah swung their hands back and forth and she beckoned him closer until only he could hear her.

"We agreed the last one tagged is the winner, right?"

He nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Winners get a prize, don't they?" Calista's silver eyes gleamed knowingly and he nodded again, slower this time.

Pressing herself against him when he didn't make any move to push her away, her eyelashes fluttered shyly.

"Well then, since we've been dancing around this for so long, maybe my captor would be kind enough to give me a proper kiss. What do you think?"

Bonus Ending: Since they were out all day, and a considerable distance away from the city, the group opted to drive to the local town and grab dinner. Actually obtaining the food proved to be easier said than done.

"Jae-ha, stop pushing!!"

"Not my fault!!"

"Zeno wants food!!"

"Zeno will have to wait."

Wailing pierced through the air and Hak desperately tried to fix his mistake.

"Bat-Ears, stop laughing and help me!!"

"No way, you're on your own, Marshy."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Zeno, I didn't mean it!!"

The crying ceases immediately.

"Mister didn't?"

"No."

"Yay!!"

Yoon slapped a hand against his forehead. "You all give me a headache."

#akatsukinoyona #akatsukinoyonafanfic #oneshot #modernau #shinahxoc #jaeha #kija #hak #oc #yona #yoon #zeno #fluff #shenanigans

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

1166+ 1154. “Do you think I'm ashamed of my interest in you?” “I thought you didn’t want me.”

This was prompted by the wonderful @anxiousmessofaperson! Thank you for being this patient, I like this story far more than the other one I wrote. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Nines, why do you keep doing this?’, Connor asked, reinserting a bolt to his lower arm and taking to the torn cables next. Nines watched him in silence. ‘I mean, what did Reed ever do to you that deserves this loyalty? He repeatedly says he hates androids, that he doesn’t need you, that he would be better off alone. He even tried to trash you once!’ ‘I know’, the RK900 whispered. ‘And still you stay with him. Why?’ ‘I’m his partner.’ ‘That’s no explanation!’

‘I know.’ Nines repeated. ‘God, Nines, I don’t understand you. I can only repeat over and over again, that I’m here for you. Just say the word.’ ‘Thank you, Connor.’ Nines didn’t understand it either. Connor was right: Gavin hated androids. And he used every chance he could get to show him. Still, Nines stayed. He truly didn’t know why.

Connor worked on his arm in silence, then gently allowed the hull pieces to slip back into place. ‘There. As good as I can fix it. You should really let yourself be looked over sometime.’ ‘I will’, Nines promised without planning on actually doing it.

The android walked back to his desk, pulling down his sleeve again and putting on his jacket. ‘And? Did the plastic put a band aid on your booboo and kissed it alright?’, Gavin laughed from the other side as he sat down. Nines didn’t answer and interfaced with his terminal to download any new data. ‘Hey, answer me, tin-can!’ Nines still remained silent. Until the man stood up, walked around to sit on his desk and cup his cheek. ‘Oh, did I do something wrong, toaster?’ Nines pressed his eyes shut as if the contact hurt and froze all over. ‘Remove your hand’, he demanded forcing his voice to stay calm and collected. ‘Aww, and what if not?’, the human teased and had the audacity to brush his thumb against his skin and squeeze a little. Nines’ lips quivered in anger and he grabbed the man’s wrist with just a little too much force. ‘I said: remove your hand.’ ‘Hell, okay, fine. Phcking androids.’ As Nines let go Gavin pulled his arm back holding his wrist. ‘Goddamn android doesn’t know his place’, Gavin muttered as he walked back to his chair. ‘You do know I didn’t want you, right? I don’t need you and I never will. You should watch your back or something like that arm may happen again.’

Nines looked up at the human. That… That wasn’t true, right? His arm had been mangled by the door being closed on him by the criminal. Gavin couldn’t be the one responsible for that, could he? The Detective smirked. ‘I could have pulled you further back, just saying. If you want my help, work for it.’ The android shook his head and retracted his hand from the terminal. ‘Detective, I won’t put up with any more of your harassment and I expect you to have my back just as much as I have yours.’ ‘Yeah, right, why should I care for a damn tin-can?’ ‘Why should I care for a mere human? I don’t need you either, Reed. But I still would like to keep you as my partner as you are competent, and I don’t want to have your death on my file.’ ‘Wow. Makes you feel real welcome.’ ‘Then you know how it feels’, Nines said deadpan. ‘The Captain wants to speak us.’ The android stood up and walked up to the glass cube, Gavin staring at him disbelievingly and then following him.

‘Reed, Nines? I have a new mission for you. We need people undercover in the Red Circle. You two have been investigating them for over three months now. I think you are the most qualified to do it. Gavin, you will be a driver for them. You will find out their different locations and report to us. Nines, you are an android send from a rival gang, the Hawks, that plans to merge with the Red Circle. Gavin is supposed to be from your gang as a sign of good will. More information will be in your files. I expect you two to work together. I don’t need any more “accidents” or fights between you two. You will meet with them tomorrow. Any questions?’ ‘No, Sir’, Nines reported, and Gavin kept silent. ‘Gavin?’ ‘Hmm? Yeah, sure, fine. Can we go now?’ ‘Of course. Dismissed.’

‘Hey, tin-can? I would like to talk to you in private for a moment’, Gavin spoke up as soon as they were outside the building the next day, Gavin in casual clothing and Nines looking smarter. ‘Of course. What is it, Gavin?’ The man looked around for anyone that might see them, then took the android by the lapels and pushed him hard against the brick wall. ‘Listen here, droid, if you use this as a way to get your revenge, I will kill you. Fowler and the mission be damned, if you use your position as some way to pay me back, I will kill you. I can do worse than allow harm to get to you.’

Nines made a show of rolling his eyes. ‘Gavin, you may have forgotten, but I’m not you!’ He pushed his hands against the man’s chest and send him staggering backwards. ‘I don’t try to make this a living hell for everyone that isn’t me. And I agree. Fowler and the mission be damned. But my condition is that I will make sure we both get out of there alive if things go wrong. Because that’s what partners are supposed to be!’ ‘Are you saying I am incompetent?’ ‘Yes! Yes, that’s what I’m saying. You are incompetent to work with other people. It wouldn’t hurt you to look out for others or maybe, just maybe, actually help them!’ ‘Oh, so that’s what it’s all about! I thought you were Cyberlife’s best. Since when do you need help?’ ‘Gavin. Fuck off. I don’t need your help, but it would be nice to have it. Any idiot would understand that, but apparently to you it’s quantum physics or something. Let’s just get going. I acknowledged your threat and chose to disregard it, okay? I won’t change you anyways.’ ‘Damn right.’

They drove up to the factory they had watched for the last months, telling the armed guard disguised as a worker their story and the secret word to be granted entry and they were past the gate. They were greeted by a few other guards in disguise, telling them to exit the car and follow them to the boss. Nines was sure to scan every last one of them and send the identifications back to the DPD as soon as it had compiled.

They were led through the factory hall that was converted into a small chemistry plant. The factory was filled with tanks, pipes and strainers. Industrially produced drugs in a building everyone knew had been abandoned long time ago and never found another owner. Everyone knew there were illegal activities taking place under this roof, but no one could get a grip on them. Whenever they had enough material and evidence to act, they had moved their whole equipment to another place. This might just be their chance of finally setting an end to the Red Circle.

Up a final ladder to an overhanging office, they stood before the boss of the Gang. Frederick Burton, a chemical engineer, who lost his job in 2036 due to alcoholism. He didn’t look like it now. Maybe he even was clean again. Nines couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that the man in front of him looked like the most ordinary, easiest to miss person he had ever seen. Definitely no one you expected to be the leader of a gang that had a firm grip on half of Detroit.

As soon as they entered, the man stood from his chair and opened his arms in a jovial gesture. ‘Ah! You must be Richard and Jared Clark! The Red Circle welcomes you and I hoe you had a pleasant journey over here?’ Nines threw him a smile. ‘We had, Mr. Burton. We hope there will be a bright future for our both… companies.’ The gang boss laughed. ‘Oh, directly to business? Where has the time for pleasantries gone, I wonder…’ ‘Pleasantries don’t make money’, Nines said confidently. He was playing a bigwig in the Hawks after all, he had to keep in character. ‘Yeah, true’, the man nodded. ‘A shame money is everything that counts, nowadays, huh? Loyalty, Friendship, a gang you can trust…’ ‘I assure you the Hawks are to be trusted. We wouldn’t be showing our faces to you if we didn’t mean what we said. It is in the best interest for our gang to merge with yours. The police are already pressuring us, and we need the safety you can guarantee. In turn we offer you our labs and loyalty.’

‘Yes, the Hawks are to be trusted’, the gang boss said wandering behind his desk. ‘And the police really are sneaky bastards.’ He waved the guards behind Nines and Gavin and they closed the door. The android kept calm, but a quick scan showed Gavin’s hand were sweaty and his breath just a bit faster than normally. ‘That’s why I wonder why the Hawks send us new people to negotiate when they merged with us a week ago. And why two people who didn’t exist before and the Hawks don’t know show up just after we threatened a secret informant for the DPD into spreading false information. It may be that the only RK900 ever that is a Detective at the 5th precinct and the only Detective that could have made it Captain, but has far too many disciplinaries to ever make it Lieutenant, have heard of that very information and decided to go undercover for a bit? A shame that didn’t work, huh?’

Nines was ready to activate his whole arsenal of tactical routines but kept calm. So, they had been unveiled. It had been a trap all along. That was fine, shit happened. They could still get out of here alive and report to Fowler. In fact, they could do that right now. Nines huffed and dropped his stance, seemingly the most relaxed person in the room. ‘You did your research, so much is-‘ He had wanted to play on time, to keep smug till the very end and provoke a fight they could use as a distraction to run. But from one moment to the next every system of his was about to be fried. An overwhelming signal flooded his sensors. He saw white, heard nothing but static, smelled and tasted everything at once and felt as if he was burning. His transmission to Fowler and the call for backup was overlapped by the same attack. A scrambler. More advanced, but still primitive technology. It did the trick though and Nines dropped to the floor, unable to move or send any signal to his body. It may as well had been an EMP, as much as it interfered with his systems. His only chance at survival was to enter stasis, being completely vulnerable to anything happening to his body. ‘Goodnight Nines.’ Strangely enough, his last thought before entering stasis was Gavin.

He booted back up to a flurry of warnings and damage reports. He set his filters to only vital information and was met with his legs compromised but still working good enough to walk on, his left arm missing, and his hull damaged in multiple areas. The scrambler had brought disorder to his software, even deleted a few addresses and access to a few programs. But his scanner was still active and unharmed. He was lying in a landfill outside of Detroit. It had been used by Cyberlife to dumb androids once. A logical place to dispose of an android. He sat up, looking around. He hadn’t been alone during the attack…

‘Gavin!’ He shouted it across the landfill not thinking about the consequences should someone hear him. ‘Gavin? Are you here?’ He scanned for human life signs while standing up. ‘Gavin, please!’ ‘Nine…’ It was weak and very quiet, but Nines picked it up. He was at his feet in a heartbeat and tried to get over to where the sound came from. ‘Gavin? Gavin, talk to me!’ ‘Plashh’ He was interrupted by a cough, but the shaking floor gave him away. Nines quickly sunk to his knees and pulled away the rusted android bodies from the spot. He had to dig through the android corpses to finally reach Gavin and pull him out. He had been buried by the mass of metal and plastic and was finally able to breath lighter. He was badly bruised and had at least one broken rib. ‘Can you walk?’, Nines asked. ‘I think so…’, Gavin answered coughing after every laboured word. The android didn’t hesitate to pull an arm around the man and help him up. ‘Wha- What are you doing?’ ‘Getting us out of here, idiot.’ ‘Why… are you helping me? Why not… leave me behind?’ ‘You talk too much’, Nines refused to answer. He didn’t know for sure either. It was the right thing to do, but after what pain Gavin had put him through maybe he should use the opportunity to get rid of- no. No, he wasn’t like that. He would get them both out of there alive. ‘Must be something wrong with your programming, tin-can’, Gavin laughed through the cough. ‘You taking interest in the well-being of someone who hurt you so much. Maybe a bit masochistic, don’t you think? Must be phcking embarrassing.’

Nines sighed, half carrying the human over the landfill to the next street to find a passer-by who could call them an ambulance. ‘Do you think I'm ashamed of my interest in you? In my wish to care for someone and be cared for in return? That is something so utterly human and you are apparently lacking it.’ ‘Because it’s useless. You will never be cared for.’ ‘Then what is this right now?’, Nines asked, sounding exhausted. His legs were not happy about the added weight. ‘That’s what I’m asking myself. What do you think you get out of this?’ ‘I hope that if I just keep this up, you will finally realise you don’t have to work against me not to be hurt. Because I will stay with you. I will help you. My willingness to put up with you after everything you did to me should be evidence enough.’ ‘Heh, you just want to get some friendship out of this?’ ‘Yes. Is that so difficult to understand?’ ‘You have no idea, Nines. Honest people are phcking rare. Normally they just search for a way to get to know your secrets and use them against you.’ ‘I do not, Gavin’, he sighed, repositioning Gavin’s arm that had slipped a bit. ‘I hope one day you realise that.

They came to the street and Nines looked out for someone to ask for their phone. His connection to the android network had been disconnected by the scrambler. There was no one around, but he found an old payphone he could make a call with. Then he helped Gavin settle against the phone while they waited for the ambulance.

‘Will you come with me?’, Gavin asked silently. ‘I thought you didn’t want me’, Nines teased gently. ‘Shut up. I still don’t want you. But I may have realised I need you.’ ‘Of course I will stay with you Gavin.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #I really didn't like the other one #it was kinda the same atmosphere but with Nines being given to Gavin to babysit by Kamski and he ordered Nines to stay in some broom closet #Nines would have been a machine then #and one day Gavin wouldn't come home and he would deviate to go search for him #and either he would have been in hospital or like this in an undercover mission gone wrong #but it just didn't work #like the prompts didn't fit and Nines was too naive etc. I just hated it #Today really hasn't been my day #Or week #But thinks will get better they have to #Now to my victory gummy bears I earned them taking till phcking midnight to finish one damn story I'm a mess #But a proud mess

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duhragonball · 4 years

Text

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (133/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[30 October, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

After much soul searching, Wampaaan'riix decided to travel into Federation space. His homeworld of Yetitan wasn't a member of that interstellar alliance, but he felt an obligation to its founder, the Super Saiyan Luffa. Before she had become the Federatrix, even before she became the Legendary Super Saiyan, she had made the very un-Saiyan decision to spare his life, a debt he could never truly repay.

From what he could tell by the news coverage, the Federation had become a target of a large band of Saiyans who objected to Luffa for her "un-Saiyan" characteristics. She had been joined by a second large gathering of Saiyans, who only seemed to tolerate her as long as she helped them fight the first group. And so, the Federation had become the battleground for a Saiyan civil war. This was what urged him to journey into the war zone. It galled him to think that such a noble and honorable Saiyan should be so thoroughly despised by her own kind. Though a proud warrior, he doubted that he could be of much help against such powerful enemies, but Luffa had shown him that there was honor to be found in other things besides mere combat.

The others had contacted him on Yetitan, mostly to fill him in on what was going on, or to ask for his advice on difficult matters. He was never sure what to tell them. It seemed wrong for him to offer suggestions while so far removed from the situation. Sometimes it seemed that it didn't matter, as if they only wanted him to listen, but it still bothered him. And so, after discussing it with his family, and making the ritual preparations for a potential battle, he loaded up his small cruiser and left Yetitan, bound for the Federation border.

The hardest part was convincing his son Dewbaaac'nogg not to join him. The boy had become a fine young man, in spite of his irreverent tone and his hero worship of Luffa, but he had his own warrior's path to follow, and Wampaaan'riix didn't want to distract from that. Perhaps if there was a chance of them getting to fight alongside Luffa against a horde of enemy troops, then he might have reconsidered, but she was so far beyond Yetitan power that the two of them would only get in her way.

The second hardest part of his journey lay at the end. Wampaaan'riix wasn't sure how much trouble it would be to actually enter Federation space once he arrived. His working plan was to try to contact the Yetitan Embassy on Woshad, or to simply hail Luffa's star-yacht and rely on her authority to clear the way. All he knew for sure was that he didn't dare to cross over without permission. Their fleet would assume he was a Saiyan invasion craft and blast his ship to atoms at first sight.

And yet, when he did arrive at the border, he found the situation surprisingly peaceful. A border patrol spotted him on their long-range sensors and contacted him. After a brief-but-thorough verification of his credentials, they escorted him to Woshad. The planet's defenses were on high alert, but he found nothing to indicate a war. His attempts to contact Luffa's ship failed, and just when he began to wonder what had happened to her, he received a response, an encoded transmission from Dr. Topsas through the Federation subspace network.

"I've decided to join you," Wampaaan'riix told him. "Give me your coordinates, and I can rendezvous with Luffa."

"I rather doubt that," Topsas replied. "You may join the rest of us on Planet Despye if you like, but Luffa and her ship have left Federation space."

Beneath the shaggy white hair that covered his face, Wampaaan'riix's jaw dropped.

*******

[31 October, 233 Before Age. Despye.]

Miqann was Despye's sixteenth-largest city. It boasted one of the few restaurants on the planet that specialized in Bigreenese cuisine and al fresco dining. There, Wampaaan'riix found Dr. Topsas, who brought him up to date on the war.

"I should have come here sooner," he grumbled. "Not that she needed much help with her counterstrike, from the sound of things. But at least I could have wished her well."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wampaaan'riix," said Dotz, who sat with them. She was a humanoid fortuneteller dressed in flowing purple clothes and beaded ornaments. "If I had forseen your arrival, I could have told Luffa about it before she left, and she might have waited for you."

"Dotz, we just met an hour ago and you've already apologized to me four times," Wampaaan'riix said. "Let me assure you, I'm not so easily offended."

"Sorry," Dotz said.

"Perhaps Luffa did expect you to come here," Dr. Topsas suggested, "and she hastened her departure accordingly. You know how she despises long goodbyes."

"Maybe so," Wampaaan'riix said. "I take it she just dumped the three of you on this planet and sped off without a word."

"Just the two of us," Dotz said. "Zatte went with her."

"What?!" Wampaaan'riix said, nearly shouting.

"Sorry," Dotz said again.

"Come now, Wampaaan'riix, you cannot be overly surprised to hear this," Topsas said as he sipped from a mug of hot cider. "You know how devoted Ms. Zatte is to Luffa's cause. She's more like a disciple than a wife to her sometimes."

"She's still her wife, doctor," Wampaaan'riix muttered. "I left both of mine on Yetitan, and I wasn't even planning to fight anyone. With all respect to Zatte's combat prowess, she'd be completely outclassed in a battle like the one you described."

"I am quite sure that point was brought up," Topsas said. "But even if Luffa didn't want her to come along, I suspect Zatte would have sneaked back on board the ship anyway. In marriage, one must bow to the inevitable, but I suppose you know this twice as well as the rest of us."

Wampaaan'riix gave a knowing grunt in reply.

"Um, well I've never been married," Dotz said, "but... well, I think it's romantic. They make a nice couple. Even when they're arguing you can tell how much they care about each other." She poked at her half-eaten dessert for a moment before adding: "I'm sort of, you know... well, it's nice that they've got the ship to themselves. I always felt like I was in the way all the time."

"In the way?" Dr. Topsas's pedipalps began to move in a certain way, though no humanoid was likely to interpret his body language with much success. "My dear, nothing could be further from the truth. They've always spoken very highly of you."

"Well, yes," Dotz said, "but... I'm sure they were just being polite."

"'Polite', my foot," Wampaaan'riix said. "Zatte told me about how much you helped out with ship's operations. She said you even piloted the thing a few times."

"Only because there wasn't anyone else who could do it," Dotz said. "They were busy sometimes, and--"

"And you were helping," Topsas insisted. "To say nothing of your psychic predictions. That alone has made an enormous impact on this war."

"And Topsas told me you helped him sort the drugs in the yacht's sickbay," Wampaaan'riix added.

"Well, it wasn't that difficult," she said. "Anyone could have done that, he just needed an extra set of, um, hands."

Topsas was cradling his beverage in two hands, and he now raised three more over the edge of the table. "On the contrary, Ms. Dotz, I've worked with a number of interns who have trouble keeping up with me. You ought to go into nursing, assuming the fortunetelling business should out of favor."

"Well... but... thank you," Dotz finally said, after struggling to find a response. "I'm sorry, I don't take compliments very well. I just... I take my abilities as a given sometimes. Luffa kept praising me for predicting when the Jindan cult would strike next, but she was the one who had to go there and fight those battles. To me, it might as well have already happened."

"Zatte also told me you were trying to enhance your ability," Wampaaan'riix said. "I didn't know seeing the future was something that could be improved."

She shifted in her chair somewhat awkwardly. "I, um, I didn't know either. But I've had a blind spot when it comes to Luffa's personal future. Something always blocks me when I try to see what happens to her specifically. That's why I don't know what will happen at Nagaoka. There won't be any more Saiyan attacks here for a long time to come, but I don't know if that's because she'll win or lose. I've been trying to fix that, and I'm made some headway, but not when it comes to her future."

"Then it's no mystery why Luffa respects you so much," Wampaaan'riix said as he took a sip from his stein. "She's the most driven person I know, and she finds inspiration from the drive of others. It's like she feeds off of it."

"That's nice of you to say," Dotz said. "But really, I was just trying my best to fill the gap left behind by Keda."

"Keda?" Topsas asked.

"I... I never knew her, but it didn't take long for me to see how important she was to all of you," Dotz said. "I'm sure having me around instead of her was painful, and... well, I wanted to do what I could to make that easier. I know I could never replace her, though. She was like a little sister to them."

"Yes, she was," Topsas said wistfully. "It's been... Ninth Eye, it's been almost three years now since Keda died, hasn't it? I still find it hard to believe that she's really gone."

"What happened to her?" Dotz asked.

"An enemy tried to destroy the people of Planet Extraliga," Wampaaan'riix explained, somewhat reluctantly. "While Luffa fought him, Zatte attempted to disarm his weapon, and when she was injured, Keda sacrificed herself to save her, and everyone else on Extraliga."

"Oh," was all Dotz could think of to say.

"It was very difficult for them," Topsas said. "And for their marriage. I recommended a counselor for them, though I don't know if they actually made much use of him. I think Luffa's crusade against King Rehval and his cult has helped. Or perhaps it merely provides a convenient distraction."

"I should have been there," Wamaaan'riix said. "On Extraliga. Even if I couldn't have helped... better to have died in Keda's place..."

He leaned back as well as he could in his chair. The chairs at this establishment were barely designed to accommodate his nine-foot-tall frame, and he didn't want to test their limits, in spite of his mood. "I envy you, Dotz. And you too, Doctor. At least you've been able to help Luffa in these past few months. All I have is my strength, which might as well be nothing against the kinds of battles she's been in."

"One does what one can," Topsas said. "Luffa has always spoken of you with great esteem."

"I thought it was so simple," he said as he stared off to his left. "I wanted to go out in the universe and test my abilities in real combat. Then I ended up meeting the strongest warrior in all of creation. After that, nothing seemed quite so cut and dried anymore. No matter how strong I get, no matter what I may achieve, there will always be some stone left unturned. Some path not taken. I can fight alongside Luffa, like Zatte's doing now, or I could die a hero like Keda, or I can stay at home and see to my family, but never all at once. No matter what I choose, I'll have to leave something undone. It'll never feel like enough."

"Would you really want it to be enough?" Topsas asked. "I've seen how frustrated Luffa has become, whenever she thought that she had reached the limit of her abilities, or that there were no new challenges to overcome. Imagine if you could do it all, Wampaaan'riix, or that you had already done it all, many years ago. What would there be left for you?"

"You're right," Wampaaan'riix said. "I've always known that was the way of things, but I feel as though I've only begun to understand that. When I was younger, I didn't consider that there would be some failures that couldn't be undone, or opportunities that could never be chosen once they were past. Or debts that could never be repaid."

"I know what you mean," Dotz said. She seemed relieved to have some common ground with the hairy giant. "Luffa saved my life too. Well, maybe not my life, but I'd still be in a coma if not for her. Wait, she did save your life, didn't she? I can't remember if you already told me that or not."

"We were opponents in a deathmatch tournament," Wampaaan'riix explained. "Luffa wouldn't transform for another several months, but she was already far more powerful than any Saiyan I had encountered before. She basically toyed with me, just to test her abilities. Then she read my mind, just to see if she could."

"You mean she didn't always have that ability?" Dotz asked.

"No," Wampaaan'riix said. "Later she admitted to me that she had no idea what she was doing. She had advanced so rapidly in such a short time. She would get badly hurt in each round of the tournament, and Dr. Topsas here would heal her wounds so she could fight again. When a Saiyan recovers from near-fatal injuries, their battle power increases dramatically. So by the time she had advanced to our match, she had gone through several cycles of this. Her senses were so keen that she could tell what I was going to do just from sensing the way I used my ki. So she thought if she got close enough to touch me that she could see through my entire fighting style. And it worked, except she also saw my memories and emotions. She experienced for herself my fear of dying, and the regrets I had in what I thought were my final moments, and so she decided to let me live. Then the tournament organizers tried to have us both executed."

"Mercy was against the rules, you see," Dr. Topsas interjected.

"And so Luffa had to fight them and shut down their operation," Wampaaan'riix explained. "She was offended at the idea that they would try to stop her from sparing me."

"Huh," Dotz said. She rubbed her thumb under her lower lip as she digested this story. "Well then... when you put it that way, I guess you sort of saved me too."

"Eh?" Wampaaan'riix asked.

"Well, um, it's just that, Luffa used her telepathic powers to bring me out of the coma," Dotz said. "But she only knew she had that power because of her fight with you. So if it hadn't been for you, she probably wouldn't have even tried to help me."

"I... I suppose you're right," Wampaaan'riix said.

"And Luffa wouldn't have gotten to that level at all if it hadn't been for you, Doctor," Dotz added. "You've helped me a lot, but that's another one I owe you."

"Think nothing of it," Topsas said. "I was merely plying my trade that day. Just another shift of putting people back together again."

"It's more than just that," Wampaaan'riix said. "Luffa really admires you, Doctor."

"That's right," Dotz said. "I guess you've really been working hard to heal her quickly for all of these battles. I think lately, she's only been worried about getting hurt because of how much extra work it'll take you to fix her up."

Topsas took another sip of his cider and made a motion that might have been an arachnoid version of a shrug. "That little mammal is my nemesis, you know. Always daring me to find new ways to mend her wounds. I could write a book on Saiyan medicine after all these years. Or I could, except I'll likely be too busy operating on her when she returns from Nagaoka."

"You're like a father to her, Doctor," Wampaaan'riix said. "You know that, don't you?"

"I gave her away at her wedding," Topsas said. "At her request. The thought had occurred to me."

"Hmph. Just making sure."

"Well you may take this as confirmation," Topsas said. One of his eight hands reached into the pocket of the sweater that covered most of his cephalothorax, and he withdrew a datapad. "It seems Luffa has decided to play this surrogate child role to the hilt, and meddle in my affairs. She's arranged a transport to take me back to my home planet."

"Your son already tried that, didn't he?" Wampaaan'riix asked.

"Yes, and I missed the transport because I chose to focus on Luffa's care," Topsas said. "She must have found out about this, and decided to take matters into her own hands. Or her own feet, I should say. I believe her exact words were: 'If you're not on that ship when it leaves, Doc, I'll kick you all the way there myself.'"

"Are things bad with your family, Doctor?" Dotz asked.

"Not at all," he said, somewhat surprised by the question. "I would have made my way home eventually. I fully intended to go back very soon, after things had settled down here. But no one has the patience for a fellow to make his own itinerary. At least this will improve Luffa's reputation among my brood."

"Well, I'm sorry to see you go," Dotz said. "But I think it's for the best. You've done so much for the Federation and these people just by looking after Luffa. When do you leave?"

"Not for another three weeks," Topsas said. "That should give time for Luffa to return, or at least send word. I for one, do not mind long farewells."

"Heh. You remember how she left us on Bigreen?" Wampaaan'riix asked.

"Naturally," Topsas said. "That was why I chose this restaurant to meet. Very much like the one we used to eat at, isn't it?"

"What happened on Bigreen?" Dotz asked.

"Luffa saved the planet from an evil wizard," Wampaaan'riix said. "As it turned out, it was the same evil wizard who menaced the planet a thousand years before. 'Hamon,' I think his name was."

"Hamey," Topsas corrected.

"Right, that was it," Wampaaan'riix said. "He was no match for Luffa, except she refused to fight him in her transformed state. She was still getting used to it, and thought the form was unnatural. Her ancestor, Chanisp, defeated Hamey the first time, and she wanted to win the same way. Then she found out that Chanisp had been Super Saiyan like her. Once she came to terms with that, she made short work of Hamey."

"Then that Janso fellow approached her about a mercenary job on Gwarthos, and she couldn't wait to get back on the move," Topsas said. "A few awkward 'thank you's', and she was off. But it was comforting to see her so enthusiastic again."

"Yes," Wampaaan'riix said. "I was tempted to join her, but I got more than my fair share of action from that battle with Hamey. I knew if I tagged along, I'd be reduced to a spectator."

"I think she would have enjoyed having you along, for what it's worth," Topsas said.

"Maybe so, but at least Keda had something to do, even if it was just managing her finances," Wampaaan'riix said. "No, I'm a warrior, and Luffa has that market cornered. I'll pay my respects to her when the battle on Nagaoka is over, but then I'll head back to Yetitan, where I belong."

"I just hope all of you stay in touch," Dotz said. She looked down at her plate and went back to poking at her dessert. "It's sad to see you all go your separate ways, even if it's to be with your families. You're so much like a family with each other."

"Surely you mean to say 'we', Ms. Dotz," Topsas said. "You're as much an accessory to this madness as the rest of us."

"That's right," Wampaaan'riix said. "You don't get off that easily."

She looked up at them both, and started tugging at the edges of her shawl with her free hand. "Me? Oh, no," she said. "I could never be... the rest of you, and Keda... I mean, I'd like to think of you all as friends--if that's okay--but--"

"Ms. Dotz, you really must cease this one-sided rivalry you have with Keda. She was a dear friend and will be sorely missed, but that is hardly an obstacle for you to overcome. I have 47 sons and daughters, for example. Keda was very much like a sister to Luffa and Zatte, and you have been as well."

"Really?" Dotz asked. "I mean, I'm so much older than they are, and..."

"Then you're an older sister," Wampaaan'riix said. "Hells, Zatte even said as much to me during a subspace call. They were both only children growing up, and their mothers died when they were young. They almost didn't know what to make of you at first, but it didn't take them long to enjoy having you around."

"I apologize," Topsas said. "Perhaps I should have mentioned this to you some time ago. I just assumed that you knew how they appreciated you. Listening to the three of you chatter like Camelian pelicans, it seemed like you all understood."

Dotz was overwhelmed. "I just... I'm sorry, maybe I did know, but I didn't want to believe it. Didn't, ah, want to get my hopes up, in case I had the wrong idea."

"And Luffa calls me modest," Topsas groaned. "Nonetheless, I'm sure they'll be pleased to have you back on board when they return, if that's what you want. And Wampaaan'riix and I may drop in on you from time to time."

"I'm not so sure," Dotz said. "I mean, you've all been so kind to me, and I'll never forget it, but, um... I don't know that I'm meant to stay in this situation. I feel like I need to move along, like the two of you are about to do. The only trouble is, um, I'm not sure what I need to do with myself next."

"You had a life before Luffa rescued you," Wampaaan'riix said. "It's only sensible that you return to that."

"No," Dotz said. "Fortunetelling was a job, not a life. The only family I had was my mother, and she passed on a long time ago. There's nothing waiting for me back home, not really. Besides, I'm not sure I'd want to go back to telling fortunes, not after all of this. It seems too small somehow."

"Then perhaps this is an opportunity," Topsas suggested. "You stand at a crossroads in life. And before you say it, let me promise you that one is never too old to travel a new path. Trust one who knows from experience."

She raised her fork and opened her mouth, as if to argue, then stopped, and smiled instead. "Okay, maybe you're right. I've been thinking a lot about what Luffa said at the Federation Council meeting we went to. She killed that general for saying all those terrible things, but... well, I'm not sure that was the best way to deal with that. I think Luffa wants to help out people who've been mistreated or marginalized, but if she uses too much violence to do it, it could spark a backlash. And her opponents can't fight back against her, so they'll take it out on the people she wants to help. If, uh, that makes any sense."

"It makes sense to me," Topsas said. "Your abilities are nonviolent, so perhaps you can find a different way."

"Well, the problem is, I'm not sure if I can or not," Dotz said. "My clairvoyance has improved a lot since I met Luffa, but I still feel like there's a lot of work I need to do. I'm not sure if it's right for me to just try to dive into anything without a plan."

"Then perhaps it would be best if you spent some more time with Luffa and Zatte before striking out on your own," Topsas said. "I'm sure we'll all meet again someday, and by then you'll tell us all about how you managed to untangle this particular knot."

"No," Dotz said after a long pause. "I'm sorry, but I don't think so. I'd need to get out my cards, do a proper reading to make sure, but... this place, the two of you. The vibrations feel very... solitary to me. I don't think the three of us will ever see each other again."

An awkward silence followed this declaration. Suddenly, they each became very aware of their surroundings. The rustle of the breeze through the bushes surrounding the tables. The clinks and scrapes of dishes and flatware from the other diners. A Bigreenese waiter chatting with a customer several yards away.

"I'm sorry," Dotz said. "I, uh, have a way of sucking the life out of a party sometimes. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why don't you come with me?"

Dotz looked over to Wampaaan'riix, who was now extending his massive hand towards her. "Excuse me?" Dotz said.

"I'm inviting you to come back to Yetitan with me," he said. "It's a very cold planet. Most humanoids find it too cold for their liking, but our language has a hundred words for 'cozy', so I think we could make your stay comfortable. And my son would be thrilled to meet another one of the Super Saiyan's comrades."

Once more, Dotz was too amazed for words. "You... I... You mean, live on your home planet. To stay?"

"Not forever, but for a while at least," he said. The fur on his lower face ruffled in such a way to indicate a smile underneath. "My culture has a very honored tradition of self-development, Dotz. I know it mainly from a martial arts perspective, but you may find our ways useful for honing your mind, or your spirit, or whatever else it is you use to see into the future."

"I... well, why not?" she said. With a newfound confidence, she placed her hand in his. "At least it gives me a place to start."

"You wouldn't be trying to cheat fate, would you, Wampaaan'riix?" Topsas asked. "If Dotz is correct, then perhaps it's a ill-advised for us to try to stick together any longer than necessary."

"Not at all, doctor," he said. "I owe a debt to Luffa that I can never repay. So maybe the answer isn't to save her life, but to help someone else instead. And if that lets Dotz help others in turn, then so much the better. If you and I may never see each other again, then so be it, but I only just met Dotz. If this is the only chance for me to get to know her, then I'd like to make the most of it. Besides..."

"Yes?" Topsas asked.

Wampaaan'riix chuckled. "I, for one, enjoy long goodbyes."

NEXT: Nagaoka.

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #dr topsas #wampaaan'riix #dotz #despye #*sigh*

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eeveevie · 5 years

Text

dirty wastelander phrasebook

Madelyn and Deacon find themselves in quite the predicament after being captured by Gunners and must rely on an old Railroad secret Deacon bullshit—the Dirty Wasteland Phrasebook.

For them, it was just a regular ol’ Tuesday.

x - x

This was so not prompted, and is completely self-indulgent and full of all the things I have always wanted to write for myself lately and that makes me the happiest. I hope you enjoy, even if you don’t go here. Also, if you aren’t familiar with Monty Python, please watch this sketch or a lot of the references made here will not make any sense.

Deacon x Agent Charmer (Madelyn Hardy)

1713 words (under a cut) | Ao3

The last thing Madelyn expected to happen to her that Tuesday—was it a Tuesday? One could hardly tell anymore post apocalypse—was to be abducted. Stowed away in some dingy storage room with her hands behind her back, blindfolded by what was likely the most dust infested piece of cloth possible. At least Deacon was there with her—though she wasn’t so sure of that being a positive, considering their circumstances.

All she remembered was stalking Boston Commons, heading south towards the hospital—in hindsight a terrible idea. The entire street had been flooded with Gunners, crazed and ready to protect their territory from anybody who crossed into it. Deacon had been yelling, taunting them with his battle-cries as he ran towards them, Madelyn scrambling to reload her laser rifle as fast as she could. All for what? So they could scale the old medical center and install one of Tinker Tom’s sensors on the dilapidated roof? That would all be a tad difficult now—one gas grenade and rifle stock to the temple and it was lights out.

From what she could tell when she readjusted to the waking world, Deacon was tied to the opposite chair against her back, their chest, arms and wrists occupying the same binds. When she shifted, she felt him resist, tugging her a little too sharply so her spine hit the uncomfortable plastic backing of the seat she occupied.

“Ow,” she hissed. Matter of fact, everything in her body ached. One look at her Pip-Boy would likely tell her she was in desperate need of a stimpak and probably some RadAway too. That is, if she knew where her Pip-Boy was.

Deacon shifted, one of his fingers sneaking through the gap in the chairs to poke at her back. “Oh good, you’re alive.”

“I think I’d rather be dead,” Madelyn groaned, still wincing as she raised her head to get a better look at their surroundings. It was the standard ‘bad guy’ holding room—tools on a workbench, junk and trash, and the most awful lingering scent of flesh and blood.

“With a hit to the cranium like that, I’m surprised you aren’t,” he muttered. She felt his head tilt against hers with a gentle bump, a difficult task for him with their height difference, even when sitting and restrained. “You alright though Charmer?”

She sighed, pushing back in her own little gesture. “A massive headache but…yeah,” she smiled and despite it all, almost wanted to laugh. “Thanks Dee. Some shit we’ve found ourselves in, huh?”

He decided it was the perfect opportunity to chuckle. “I’ve been tied up under worse situations,” he stated. “Come to think of it, under much better ones too.”

The nearby door slammed open, two Gunners making their way in. A woman dressed in an old military jumpsuit, and a shirtless man with a bandolier strapped across his chest, the two clearly sent for guard duty.

“Oh will the two of you shut up?!” The one with the bandana shouted, clearly tweaking on some kind of drug—jet, psycho—Madelyn could see it in the wild way he was waving his plasma pistol around. But she also noted the glint of green on his wrist and narrowed her eyes—her Pip-Boy. Now she was alert and her blood got pumping.

Deacon couldn’t resist taunting the man, even though they were woefully unmatched. “Why don’t you make me?”

The male Gunner grumbled while the woman laughed. “Where’d that damn gag go?”

Madelyn stifled her own laughter, wondering if they had actually had to silence Deacon at some point—and if he had found a way to remove it even with his hands behind his back. “You’ll have to find a different way to gag me, big guy.”

“Fuck you!”

Deacon hummed. “Something like that.”

At that, she couldn’t resist and choked back a laugh, pursing her lips so the Gunners wouldn’t take out their frustration on her. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could tell Deacon was beaming. He curled a few of his fingers around hers as the Gunner guards began to pace.

“Come on man,” the rugged military woman urged the other man to back off. “The boss man wants these two alive for ransom. Something about this one,” she gestured to Madelyn. “Being valuable or sumthin’”

“What am I, canned cram?” Deacon mumbled under his breath. As the Gunners fussed over something frivolous, he squeezed his grip around her hand. “This is the part where we escape,” he spoke in a soft whisper, head craned towards her.

Madelyn turned but all she could see was the glimmer of his sunglasses out of the corner of her eyes. “Please enlighten me on how we are going to that.”

Deacon snickered as if she had just cracked a good joke—he seemed to find comfort in her dreary, cynical tone. “It’s time for us to use a Railroad classic. The Dirty Wastelander Phrasebook.”

Even though she knew that it is was more or less one of Deacon’s bullshit creations, she also knew it was sometimes best to humor him. She had learnt his ways, knowing that one day one of his lessons would come in handy—that Tuesday would be that day.

“Operation Cramalot?” she inquired, feeling him excitedly grip her hand. “Or do we want to skip the musical numbers this time?”

He was chuckling, shaking the both of them with his laughter. “Charmer, you know—”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the male guard stomping over again with a snarl, smacking Deacon across the face with an echoing slap. After quickly rebounding, his only reaction was to stay amused, accentuating his words. “Do you have a cigarette? My hovercraft is full of eels.”

“What?” the Gunner growled. “The fuck you talkin’ about cigarettes for?”

While the woman in the corner howled, entertained by it all, Deacon took the time to nudge one of his fingers against the small of her back, signaling her. Madelyn focused her attention on the female Gunner, watching her every movement while she felt her partner nimbly pull at the cords at their wrists.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Deacon asked, voice high-pitched and full of sarcasm. The restraints came looser still. “Bouncy-bouncy?”

The Gunner shook her head, holding her stomach as she continued to laugh. “I think the boss hit this one too hard—he’s lost it!”

Madelyn decided it was her turn. “If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” she eyed the female guard, batting her eyelashes, knowing she was laying it on much thicker than she ever would—but at this point she was well aware the other woman was under some kind of influence and wouldn’t notice. Plus, she had a codename to live up to.

Deacon, meanwhile, had loosened their ties enough to the point that they could make their move, but they would need to time it right. He tapped her once more, this time finding the teeniest sliver of skin where her shirt had ridden up—that was definitely on purpose, the flirt. “You have beautiful thighs.”

Finally, the other Gunner moved towards them with her arms crossed, obviously suspicious of the two. Madelyn stayed focused, steadying her breath and responding to Deacon’s signal. “Drop your panties, Dee, I cannot wait till lunchtime.”

With that, the two jumped up, scream-laughing as they tackled their perspective guards to the ground, not stopping until the sound of energy blasts signified their gruesome ends. All in another day for a wastelander just trying to survive, Madelyn supposed. Though, she wasn’t just another wastelander, but dwelling too much on those thoughts never did her any good. Instead, she wiped the blood and sweat from her brow, sighing as she pushed herself up from the ground.

She turned around just in time to find Deacon already standing with a satisfied smile. “I believe this belongs to you?”

Madelyn was all too pleased as she snatched the Pip-Boy—her Pip-Boy from him, quickly securing it back into place on her left wrist. She dusted off the grime and dust from the screen, sighing when the mechanism recognized its true owner, swiftly alerting her to her many injuries and her location. At least they weren’t too far away from Goodneighbor where they could rest up and get proper medical attention.

“Please fondle my bum—am I using that one right?” she asked.

Deacon chuckled, nodding as he readjusted his sunglasses and pompadour wig. “You do the Railroad—me proud Charmer. I could—”

She eyed him, tilting her head slightly at his pause. “You could…what?”

Come to think of it, he been cut off earlier too. But Deacon wasn’t that easy of a nut to crack and his smile hardly faltered. He gave a little inconspicuous shrug and she suddenly felt a surge of adrenaline and all sense of sensibility fly out the broken storage room windows. She could only hope she was reading the moment and perhaps his signals correctly.

Without much of a second thought, Madelyn reached out to grab him by the shirt collar, yanking him down and closing the distance between them. He was still smirking when their mouths met, lips threatening to stretch into a grin before they finally responded to her kiss instead. She slid one of her hands and hooked it around his shoulder, bracing herself against him as his arms wrapped around her waist, the two clumsily bumping into the nearest wall.

Only then did she pull away with a small gasp of air, staring up at him in surprise—she had acted on impulse, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to do that, been thinking about doing that for months. They were still staring at each other with somewhat agape expressions, tangled in each other’s arms when he breathed out, the goofiest smile on his lips.

“My nipples explode with delight!” Deacon exclaimed—not quite using the handbook phrase correctly.

Madelyn snickered, tears of laughter prickling at the corners of her eyes at the hilarity of it all before pressing up on her toes so that she might kiss him again. “I figured you might say that.”

leave a 💙

#fallout 4 #deacon #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #agent charmer #otp: my hovercraft is full of eels #THAR BE KISSING HERE ATTN THAR BE KISSING HERE #BUT ALSO LOTS OF SILLY SELF INDULGENCE #i've now established this is a parallel universe to the one where she romances danse but anyways #fanfic #monty python jokes #i am so proud of this ;___;

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 34

Okay, we finally hear from our saboteur, and why she did it.

Once Conor was escorted from the room to wait in the corridor, I braced myself for what was to come. Where the other members of the Council had their assistants standing behind them to locate and send them relevant information, I was surprised to see my sister standing behind my chair. “It’s temporary, until we can find someone else to fill the role,” she responded to my questioning glance.

Translation: I don’t trust anyone else to be here right now. “What did you have to promise to be allowed in here?” She had previously injured herself pretty badly trying to break down the door between her and the woman who would shortly be standing in the room with us.

“No assaulting her, no talking to her, I can’t even walk on the same side of the room where she will be,” Tyche rolled her eyes and sighed before perking up. “But, if she comes over here, I’m allowed to take any action necessary in defense of myself or my sister.” A shiver trailed down my spine at the feral and bloodthirsty grin on her face.

Time to change the topic. “Did you really have to sedate Conor?”

She just shrugged. “He was shouting, and it was upsetting you even worse than you already are. When your nose started bleeding like that, I thought you ruptured your sinuses again. I would have sedated you if I was one-hundred percent sure it wouldn’t have reacted badly with the medications you’re already on.”

“Fair enough.” Wait. “What d’you mean, rupture my sinuses again?”

“Short answer is: your sinus cavities were crushed when you were assaulted, plus internal soft-tissue damage. At one point while you were unconscious, your blood pressure spiked hard enough that several of the blood vessels in there ruptured because they hadn’t healed enough. Noah induced a coma to keep that from happening again. You almost both drowned and exsanguinated, which I didn’t even know was a thing, but they got you right again.”

I shook my head carefully. “When am I going to get the full list of what all needed fixing?” I gestured to my head.

“After the trial, which is about to start,” she shushed me, nodding to the opposite side of the table.

Some cruel trick of fate, or possibly putting my sister as far as possible from her potential victim, had placed me directly across from the space where Arantxa would stand for her trial. I tried to remind myself that, while I would have to face my attacker and traitorous former friend, she would also have to sit directly across from the person she failed to kill. There was at least a little sense of drama from whoever decided the seating arrangements. Eino called for us to stand as ‘accused’ was ushered into the room. Once she was escorted, hands bound and head held high, to the empty space, the charges against her were read.

“Arantxa Bidarte,” Eino intoned. “You are here on trial for the charges of attempted murder of a sentient being, conspiracy to commit murder of a sentient being, conspiracy to sabotage a rescue vessel, and conspiracy to exterminate the human race. Evidence of your actions has already been provided to those present. Under Galactic Law, which we have chosen to exercise here, you are allowed an interval of time equivalent to no less than twenty Terran minutes, unless you waive the minimum, and not to exceed six Terran hours in which to make a statement in your defense. After your statement has been given, you will be questioned in regards to the crimes of which you are accused. Do you understand what will take place here?”

“I do,” she answered crisply.

“Council, be seated,” Eino allowed. I noticed that Arantxa was forced to remain standing and had not been provided a seat. I made a mental note to ask about it later. Once seated, he nodded once more at Arantxa. “You may begin.”

Head still high, she looked around the table before her gaze fell on me. She had the decency to look ashamed once she saw the purple and green splotches making up much of my face. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council,” she began. “I stand here today accused of several atrocious acts against this ship and the community within it. I was caught in the act of one such act by two of the Councillors in this room, and I am sure you have already spoken with the others involved while I was convalescing, so I will not insult your intelligence by claiming innocence.”

“Humanity is a plague,” she spat, her tone changing from one of righteous dignity to one of disgust. “We made the planet we came from unlivable. We gave priority status to the rich, the same people who exploited Earth’s resources for profit, again and again. Hundreds of species of plants and animals, none of which did anything to deserve what we did, were driven to extinction when we stole and destroyed their habitat. When the Global Parliament was instated, we told ourselves that everything would be better.”

“We lied. We lied to ourselves, to those who trusted us to lead them, and to any future generations. The only thing that changed was that we spent all the time we previously used to wage war on each to wage war on our own planet. The sheer amount of processing and production of materials needed to complete the Icarus Project caused irreversible climate change. More animals driven to extinction, more plants. Millions died from heat waves, droughts, floods… and we promised it would be okay! We told ourselves, over and over, that we could fix it by solving the problem of overpopulation. A new world, we said.”

“An entirely new world for us to destroy and exploit. And again, the rich were given priority, allowed to leave the planet they convinced us to ruin in the first place. We could not allow that; yes, Earth was already past the point of supporting our lives, but we could not allow humanity to spread like a virus to other worlds, drive whole new species into extinction. So yes, we sabotaged the ships headed to Goldilocks. And yes, we fully expected it to cause all global power and information systems to go dark. Humanity was supposed to die on that planet, quarantined to protect any other species out there.”

“But even then, as Councillor Reid has summed up so well when recounting waking on the Ark for the first time, we can’t even die properly. Instead of the inevitable decline that a plague deserves, our gracious hosts have decided to spread us around to the rest of the known universe. How kind of them! Imagine my horror waking up here, realizing that all the hard work my people had done was for nothing! Ten thousand plague-bearers, chosen for how robust we were and being taken to a new world to grow like a bacterial culture. Everything I had worked against, coming to fruition.”

“I was not the only one, as you already have discovered. I was assigned as an Administrator, and cultivated a relationship with Tyche Reid.” I could hear my sister growling from behind me. “Imagine how fortuitous it was for me when I was assigned to her sister, the newest member of the Council. I knew the gods were smiling on me when I was given a perfectly solid reason to have access to human staffing for every portion of the Ark. I already had a friendly working relationship with Sophia’s sister, and further ingratiated myself into her little so-called family at every opportunity. Ridiculous woman just adopts people,” she scoffed. I felt like I was being stabbed; I realized that part of me still hoped that our friendship had meant at least something to her, but here she was practically admitting I was nothing but a tool she had used.

“Yes, my conspirators and I made a plan to hopefully destroy the ship, or at least throw it off course far enough that we would have time to take more drastic measures. No one anticipated the Ark would immediately drop out of FTL when the sensors went offline. Then, that damned pilot was on board. How did a pilot who was supposed to be dead get on board this ship!? Can we not just die properly!?” she practically shouted before taking breaths to calm herself. “Even drugging everyone on Level One could not work properly, because Tyche Reid had to be allergic to a drug that has been in use for centuries, and that damned idiot pilot wouldn’t fucking eat!”

“And then,” she blew a harsh breath out through her nose. “Then, Sophia had to start figuring things out, connecting all the dots. As soon as I heard her talking to herself in the shower, I knew something had to be done. It was already known that someone on Level One was responsible, thanks to the slip up with the drugged food being found out. If she reasoned out that I was primarily the one behind all of it, she would have stopped us. I realized no one would ever suspect me; I was her best friend, her sister, and all that nonsense. Yet again, she wouldn’t just die. Oh no, she fought back, and by the time I thought she was dead, they had to walk in while I was trying to get my hand out of her fucking hair.” She gestured at Xiomara and Grey before shaking her head. “You have to understand, we cannot be allowed to spread into the universe. We are death incarnate. We killed a planet that, by all rights, should have killed us first. We wiped out several entire animals on our home world that should have eaten us alive, but we domesticated them and killed off the rest. Being allowed to start all over again is a mistake. Please do not allow this.”

I was stunned. She had just admitted to acts of global terrorism, two attempts at genocide on humanity, and two attempted murders. And she wanted us to listen to her?

What the actual fuck.

Looking around at my fellow members of the Council, their faces betrayed the same thoughts. She apparently saw the same thing, because she started speaking again. “Do not discount my words because of my actions. Instead, take my actions into evidence of how barbaric we are, deep down. Take into account Derek Okafor’s actions against me, as well; if a kind, shy boy can deliberately inflict pain, deliberately break bones, what does that say about humanity? Tyche Reid, as well, in regards to her attempted actions when her sister was injured: instead of waiting by her bedside, her first instincts were to attempt revenge and damage herself in the process. We are savages,” she growled.

Grey Hodenson was the only person who could unclench their jaw long enough to speak. “Do you have anything further to say, Ms. Bidarte?”

“There is nothing that will convince you people,” was the response. “So, no.”

Grey nodded and stood. “Under Galactic Law, intended victims of the accused who are aware of the crime committed are allowed to speak. Miys has waived their right to such a statement due to need for impartiality, which is customary for their kind. Sophia Reid, would you like to make a statement?”

I took a deep breath to brace myself before nodding and standing. “Do I have the same time constraints as she did?”

Grey nodded. “We cannot stop you before twenty minutes have passed, and you may not exceed six hours.”

“I won’t need six hours,” I shook my head. “I doubt I will need twenty minutes.” I turned my head to where the fuming accused stood. “Arantxa Bidarte. You were one of the first people I met on this ship. We worked hand in hand for several months, two parts of a whole. I welcomed you into my home, shared my family and dreams of what humanity could become with you. I watched one of my dearest friends fall in love with you, with no reservations. Yet you stand here today, admitting that it was all a lie on your part, that you used us.”

“As much as that hurts – and it does, worse than being cut in half did – what hurts even more is knowing that you listened to nothing that we talked about in all that time. The entire reason that Noah and their people tried to save humanity is because they saw something worth saving. I do not deny that the wealthy and corrupt held power for too long, and that is a mistake we have all recognized. You yourself said to me that you thought I would be a good leader because I did not want to lead. Maybe that was the problem on Earth; we allowed those who wanted to lead to take the reins, but that is something that we can fix, if we have the chance that you want to deny us. See, for all the evils that you stand there accusing our entire species of, there are amazing things that we have accomplished as well. We always try to better ourselves, to learn from our mistakes. You mention Derek’s reaction to seeing what you did to me, but you cheapen it. Derek is not a vicious monster, like you try to make him sound. Despite the fact that he doesn’t like touching people, he overcame that to protect his family rather than stand there helpless and watch me die. That’s not barbaric. Tyche’s actions as well: she was willing to injure herself to make sure you could never hurt me again, and from what I understand she hurt herself pretty badly.”

“Yes, we made our planet unlivable, but we are trying to learn as much as we can to prevent doing that once we reach Kepler 442b. How can you have spent so much time around Conor and not noticed how we are trying to adapt our plants to Kepler’s environment, if and only if the native vegetation will not sustain us? And all of it is being engineered to prevent it from becoming invasive and killing local species off. Animals will not be released into the wild, not even the aquatics, for the same reason. Giang’s people are trying to create sustainable structures that require minimal natural resources. But all you see is what you want, that we wrecked one planet and presumably will wreck this one. No one on this ship wants that to happen, except you. We just spent a decade surviving a slow apocalypse that you admit you caused, on an already dying planet, because the rich and wealthy left us nothing. We are so much better than you think we are, and we deserve the chance to prove that.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #science fiction

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 5 years

Link

Summary:

“When did the mark show?” Jason asked.

“I got it when I was born, they must’ve been older than me.” “That must be.” “Do you want to have a soul mark too one day?” Jason doesn’t hesitate, “No.”

or, Tim has a soul mark, Jason doesn't.

Click the title to read on AO3, and click Keep Reading to read here~

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Word Count : 4k

As a 12-year-old boy, Jason should’ve been in bed by now. But being a 12-year-old boy on the poor side of Gotham, rules like that don’t apply to him.

Meeting fellow kids roaming these streets doing suspicious things is common, but none of those kids actually fortunate enough to have a camera that pristine looking. That’s when Jason spots a little boy, can’t be older than 10, snooping between the alleys. Clothes too tidy and smelling too nice to be a kid from around here.

On the little boy’s sight is –holly mackerel- a batmobile!

“Hey, you’re gonna swipe that?” Jason says to the boy, who jumps a foot back right away, holding his camera protectively.

“I can’t give you this camera!” the boy stammers.

“I don’t steal from other kids, I was talking about that,” Jason nods to the fancy car’s direction.

The kid looks at the fancy car, then at Jason, then at the car again then at Jason with even a more twisted look like Jason’s crazy.

“You’re about to steal the batmobile???”

“Nah, just the tires.”

“Wha—No!”

“Well, I gotta eat, and you can’t stop me.”

“Wait! It’s armed, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Hm, armed huh? If it’s a vigilante’s car, then at least it got motion sensors.”

“Yo-You’re right, it’s about around two-meter radius,” he informed.

Jason looks at the little pip-squeak in a smirk, “Now you’re helping me?”

The kid is just as surprised, then he mulls over it before shrugging.

“It’s not deadly, it’ll just send a signal to Batman. Plus, I bet he must have a lot of spare tires. So, get that bread,” the kid nods, then smiling mischievously, “If you can.”

Jason scoffed, “Oh, it’s on.”

Jason grabbed his box of tools and walks in, moving his feet quickly and stops, then another feet then stops, mimicking the movement of a mouse, and Jason knows exactly how those nightmare rodents move. The sensors can’t possibly alert every movement, not in this part of the city where small creatures and rodents are an epidemic.

When he finally reaches the car, no alarm triggered and alive. He quickly works with the tires and takes it off in record time. He walks back to the little alley with the heavy and sweet tire on his shoulder. He drops it beside the kid’s face who has a hanging jaw. Jason bows and waves his hand.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here next week!”

“Will you?” the kid asked excitedly.

Something about the little kid’s cute face, his face is clear and pale, making the blush on his face pops out... that it makes Jason smile.

“Of course, since it’s my turf, but first, you’re gonna tell me why a rich toddler like you doing in this part of town.”

“Toddl- wha- I’m 12! I’m no toddler!”

Jason is perplexed to hear that too, “There’s no way a small kid like you is the same age as me!”

The kid lands a punch on Jason’s arms, and it only felt like a flutter more than a punch. His cheeks puffed angrily and Jason feels like he could squee, the kid looks like a little hamster.

“I’m twelve!” the kid declared again, now in fury.

“Alright alright, you’re twelve,” Jason raise his hands in surrender, “Still, you’re not from around here, are you? I don’t think you should be here.”

Because with that cute itty bitty face, soft-looking hair and big blue eyes, predators or human traffickers or pedophiles would kidnap him in a flash.

Not that Jason never brushed against the risk, not that he feigns ignorance from the disappearing of fellow pickpockets around his age.

“Well, you can’t stop me! I’ve been going here since I was 9! And I’m fine,” the kid counters with puffed chest and confidence.

Jason doesn’t hide his mortified awe for the little kid. Nine fucking years old around these parts, alone, in the middle of the night, and still alive. That is idiotic and suicidal, but he’d be lying if he doesn’t admit that this kid is a mad lad with balls of steel.

Other privileged kids wouldn’t even walk these roads in daylight just by the sight of the hobos, prostitutes, drug dealers, drug users passed out on the streets, and the smell of something that just died.

“Stop you?” Jason chuckled, “Nah, if you been doing this since you’re 9, you earn my respect.”

He put an arm around the small frame, his fresh smell of baby powder feels comforting and a stark difference from the stench around him.

“Now, you gonna tell me what you’ve been doing and how you’ve been doing it, because I don’t believe in miracles that you survive here that long.”

++++++

The kid’s name is Tim, Tim Drake, that Tim Drake as in the millionaire. A millionaire kid going to the most crime-infested part of town. If he had met someone other than Jason, man, Tim with that cute face would’ve been kidnapped as soon as a predator sets eye on him.

It’s not that Jason cared, but he told Tim that Jason should accompany him when he’s out on crime alley... To steal more tires, of course for the tires, in case Tim ever bumped into the fancy car again.

Somehow that’s not the most shocking thing about Tim.

Oh god, Tim was not the badass rebellious prince from the city of lights that Jason had originally thought. Because why else a Drake would go wandering about at night at the most dangerous place of the most dangerous city? Jason admired Tim because he was a goddamn rebel despite that cute little innocent face and his privileged background.

Turns out the kid is just a furry fanatic.

“Batman is not a furry!” Tim screamed, bet he wakes up the whole neighborhood with that shrill voice.

“He dresses up a part animal and part man, that’s anthropomorphic enough to be considered a furry!”

Jason likes to mess with Tim, likes to see him flustered like this. All pouty and blushing. When he smiles, it’s like looking at a baby giggle. Soft, round and dangerously adorable that’ll make any person melt.

Tim takes off his jacket suddenly, for whatever reason it was. Maybe the exhaust from the air conditioner’s condenser on the rooftop they’re hanging out on is too warm for him.

A strange mark on his shoulder peeking through the neckline of his shirt, and Jason feels his heart hammered against his ribs.

“You... You have a soul mark??”

“Oh, this,” Tim looks over his shoulder, “Yeah, I do, you?”

Jason shakes his head. He looks at Tim meekly, “Can I see it?”

Tim looks taken back, and it makes Jason wants to retract his request, but then Tim pulls his neckline sideways till the base of his shoulder. The mark on Tim’s shoulder is a red outline of a diamond and a bird silhouette on the inside. It’s pretty big for a soul mark, almost as wide as a clenched fist.

A soul mark means that you have someone that’s destined for you and suppose to be perfect for you. That someone has the same soul mark in the same position as yours. Not everyone has them, but sometimes you don’t have them because they’re not born yet, or they had died.

“When did the mark show?” Jason asked.

“I got it when I was born, they must’ve been older than me.”

“That must be.”

“Do you want to have a soul mark too one day?”

Jason doesn’t hesitate, “No.”

+++++++++

Jason looks up to the sky that night, waiting for someone. The stench of oil still stuck on his body and mostly his hand even though he washes them clean. A vigilante drops to the ground in front of him. Dressed in a black and red bodysuit, and ‘R’ logo on his left chest, and a fluttering black cape. His black domino mask covered the eye area, perfectly following the silhouette of his face, it’s the new Robin.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Jason said amusedly, and see the masked vigilante flash a cheeky smile.

“I suppose not.”

He’s still so little, but look at him go. With that smug smile, cart-wheeling like a champion gymnast, parkouring from building to building without fear and beating crimelords twice his size. Jason knew Tim was a badass the moment they met.

“You ready to go?” Tim asked.

“In your costume? Is your boss gonna like that?”

“Fuck Batman,” Tim suddenly snapped.

“Whoa, Timmy you good?”

“I’m fine!” Then two seconds passed, “I’m not,” he said softer this time.

Jason pressed his lips and frowned thoughtfully.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, let’s just eat?”

Tim lights up right away. He knows Tim is just as happy as him to hang out again. It’s been months since they see each other. They haven’t met for a while after Tim said he needed to be Robin.

They bought sloppy joes from Jason’s favosite stand because the vendor sells it dirt cheap. Tim, with all the new strength on his lanky arms, wrap Jason’s torso and lifts both of them up with a grapple to the top of the roof. Tim smiled smugly when Jason was surprised, amazed, and incredibly in disbelieve how Tim can just lift Jason up.

Jason is a bit bigger than Tim, though undoubtedly Tim must’ve gained strenght from the intense training, Jason is still heavier.

After sharing Jason’s awe to Tim and letting Tim boast about it, they sat by the edge of the roof. It takes Jason back to sit on the roof with Tim.

“I was worried about you,” Jason stated between bites, and it makes Tim stop and darts a look at Jason, “Scared the shit out of me the entire time you’re gone after you’re off to be... that.” Jason nods Tim’s way, looking at the entire suit.

“You? Scared? I never would’ve thought, you’re a pretty ballsy kid too,” Tim bites in the sloppy joe, and the filling spilled over to the side. “You didn’t look scared when I told you back then.”

“Because I know it’s pointless to try to stop you. You’re so dead set on it. Besides, you’re free to do whatever you want. Your life, your decisions, who am I to stop you?”

Jason muses to the time when Tim told him he wanted to be Robin because Batman is not ‘stable’ after the first one become Nightwing, whatever that means. Jason doesn't know why Tim should care about stuff like that, but Tim did, and that’s basically all there is to it for Jason to know.

Ever since Tim said he needed to be Robin, Jason was worried but mostly doubtful. But Jason has seen the glint in Tim’s eyes, filled with determination and resolve. Saying anything against it would’ve hurt Tim. So, Jason pretends that he’s not bothered by it.

“That’s the first time I heard that,” Tim said.

“Heard what?”

“Someone telling me to do whatever I want.”

Jason then hit by a realization that only struck now, becoming Robin must’ve been the one thing he wanted to do. Jason knew about his parents being strict about the family business and all, and how they often not in the house. Leaving little Tim alone in that big fancy house.

Well, technically Tim is not that little Tim he met the first time anymore. They’re grown up a little.

“Batman’s gotta be more chill though, right?”

“Ugh, he has even more rules for me to follow.”

“What? The rule-breaker himself? What a joke,” Jason playfully scorned.

“He said it’s for my own safety, but I don’t know, sometimes I think he’s just doesn’t trust me, or maybe I’m not as good as the first Robin and—Eek!”

Jason quickly gets a hold of Tim’s arm before his friend can finish that sentence. He’s glaring, but not at Tim nor is he the cause of it.

“You are, the most badass little brat I had ever met, and you’re scary smart and also a fast learner. If anything, maybe he’s afraid you’ll outsmart him!” Jason doesn’t mean to compliment, love him or hate him, he’s spitting facts.

“Yeah right,” Tim dismissed it, but his sheepish smile and the pink tint on his cheeks means that Jason’s words serve its purpose.

“Just give it time, Tim. You’re one strong-ass fucker,” Tim chocked on his bread and spits out a chunk from his mouth, but Jason continued, “And I bet he’ll see that soon, and he’ll be wrong to ever handicap you.”

Tim clears his throat. Now his face is all red, almost like his suit, “Wow, I didn’t know that’s how you see me.” Tim cracked a smile and bumps his shoulders with Jason’s

“Just saying the truth.” Jason glance away, chomping down on his joes.

“I think you’re cool too, Jay.”

Jason feels his ears burn at the nickname, it’s really been too long since they have met. Jason never forgets that name, but he never knew that he missed being called that name, how familiar it sounds with Tim’s voice, like a friendly call home. Nostalgic, safe, and so dear to him.

The night feels warm.

“Oh, I’m cool huh?” Jason accepts it, he knows he’s pretty cool.

“Mhm, at first I wanted to ask you to be Robin.”

“Me?” Jason says incredulously, “No way.”

“But it would’ve suit you so well! You’re strong, you’re street smart too.”

“Then why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“Because it’s not just a whim. It would’ve meant asking you to be a vigilante, risking your identity and adapting into a different life entirely. And it’s dangerous, and life-threatening, I don’t want to ask you to sacrifice yourself because of my wish, so, I did it myself.”

Tim puts it out simply, flatly, like a friggin’ walk in the park. But not to Jason, it hits him like tons of bricks from the fiftieth story that’s he should’ve seen coming. What Tim does is dangerous. Those supervillains won't see him as a kid, but an enemy. As strong and agile as Tim is, those monsters can easily snap Tim in two.

A shudder runs down his spine.

“If it’s that dangerous, then I should’ve stopped you too,” Jason beats himself over it.

“C’ mon, don’t say that now, you were so supportive a minute ago,” Tim joked.

But Jason snaps, “But you could’ve died! You could’ve gotten an injury and then...”

Stupid. Jason is so stupid sometimes. Why bother with that now? Why even say those things to Tim? Of course Tim knew the risk before taking that damned mantel.

Jason looks at Tim, his face is so young but his resolve and stubbornness of his choice makes him look way more mature than his age should’ve allowed. It’s not fair.

There’s nothing Jason could’ve done. This is the path that Tim chooses, along with many others that he will take. It’s a path different from where Jason is walking. It feels like that one day they’ll walk even further apart until they can’t see each other across the road anymore.

But what can Jason do?

“You better not die, or I will dig your grave, revive you, and then kill you myself.” Jason is joking, but mostly serious. His hands feel cold and clammy at the possibility of finding Tim’s death on TV.

Tim wraps his shoulders with a strong arm and a firm squeeze.

Tim doesn’t say anything, he’s just there. His pretty little head perched on his shoulder. His raven black hair is damp and smell of sweat, but there’s the faint smell of baby powder, and Jason feels calm because of it. They lean on each other until the night is too cold and Tim had to leave.

That itself speaks volumes.

Again, Jason couldn’t do anything to what Tim has chosen for himself, even though it will inevitability mean that they’ll be walking separate ways.

++++++++++++

“Boss, need anything else from me before I go?” Jason pulls his head from the car’s hood and closed it, seeing his boss just walked out of her office.

“No, you go ahead boy, I know it’s Friday,” she giggled knowingly.

The owner of the car repairs is a friendly old woman that looks like she would bake you cookies with milk while hearing your stories and give good advice. Mrs. Knope is not that at all.

She’s a capable mechanic with magical hands that can revive any vehicle there is. Jason learned a lot from her, also indebted to her a lot for giving him a place to stay and a place to work for the last two years and counting. She also can’t cook for shit, so Jason’s cooking might’ve earned him the job and place more than his skill.

Jason nods in gratitude her way and runs upstairs to his room to change into something cleaner.

Every Friday, he would meet with Tim, whether it’s as Red Robin or Tim Drake-Wayne, doesn’t matter to Jason, Tim is Tim no matter the alias and last name.

Tim bailed on him for a month now because of a case. Today is different though, Jason has to meet him today. It’s Tim’s birthday. Jason got a present for him that he’s been keeping for a while.

They met mostly at nights, maybe it’s a force of habits to do so.

But Jason doesn’t mind. He gets a bonus of Red Robin sometimes, and the night is quiet, fewer people would recognize the famous Drake-Wayne. They got their time for themselves.

“Hello stranger,” Tim snoops behind him when Jason is on the way to their usual diner. He’s getting good at quietly snooping around quietly.

“Hello yourself stranger.”

The diner is quiet at this hour. It opens 24 hours and it’s their favorite place to eat breakfast food at night because they serve breakfast lunch and dinner no matter when you order them.

Jason ordered a burger, Tim ordered pancakes with coffee.

Tim is usually very tired when they meet, hence the habit of always ordering coffee. But he’s been awfully gleeful since they walk in here.

“Okay, spill it out,” Jason said, rolling his eyes.

“No! You first,” Tim rejected, and his doe eyes open wide in anticipation.

What face is Jason making now that Tim said that? Well, not that he minded.

“Happy birthday, Timmy,” Jason pulls out a flat rectangle from the inside pocket of his jacket and slide it in front of Tim.

Jason thought Tim knew about his birthday, thought it was the reason why Tim is all giddy. But he froze in surprise to see the blue striped box laying on his part of the table.

He turns those clear blue eyes at Jason, who feels nervous now.

“Oh, damn, it is my birthday, I forgot!” Tim cheered and tears the wrappers to pieces.

Jason’s heart thumps when Tim finally sees inside the box, bracing for any reactions at all. Any.

Tim takes it out of the box. Those powerful fists that had cracked some bones unclench and lifts what’s inside and hold it out preciously.

It’s an old comic book. An old series that’s long discontinued. Tim had all the volumes, except one.

“Volume 16 Yu Yu Hakusho...” Tim whispered under his breath, and opened it not too wide, careful not to crease the area near the binding. Tim’s face went from disbelieving to a tearful smile.

Jason doesn’t understand what’s about the manga that Tim likes so much. It’s about a middle school student who died and came back to life and became a supernatural detective. Okay, he understands why Tim likes it, but not to a point to obsess over it enough to make his eyes all glassy in tears.

“How?” Tim says in overdramatic mirth, “How did you get this? I went far and wide and auction to auction but never got it.”

“Coincidence. I moved into my boss’ place, his grandson used to come over for the summer and left a bunch of stuff. I was tidying things up when I found that thing pressed between neglected homeworks. I asked my boss about it, and I bought it from the grandson.

“Oh man,” Tim hugs the comic book to his chest, “Thank you, this is awesome.”

Tim gave him the happiest gummy smile. It’s been a while since Jason gets to see Tim that way. He’s been drinking too much coffee and getting too wrapped up in his nightlife. Jason got a little heart attack whenever there’s a villain on the loose or an alien attack and see Red Robin pops in with young justice.

It’s no easy feat being a vigilante, Jason knew, but Tim’s a perfectionist, and that’s what Jason worries the most. He keeps his grades up, and somehow, now at 17 years old, he’s working at Wayne Inc. And then have a night job protecting people of a city with one of the highest crime rates? Unbelievable.

Tim is amazing, but Jason knows Tim is spreading himself too thin.

“You know...” Tim says, finally looking away from his comic, “My birthday is tomorrow actually.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to meet you tomorrow.”

“Why is that though?”

Oh yeah, why is that? Huh.

“Let's meet tomorrow and hang out then! Meet when the sun is out once in a while, sounds good?”

“Just the two of us?” is the air conditioner working? It suddenly feels warmer, damn global warming.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!”

Jason didn’t plan this, but his mind is already listing places he wants to take Tim tomorrow. He can’t help the smile creeping upon his face.

“Cool,” Jason says uncoolly.

“So, where do--” “About my--”

They said and stop simultaneously.

“Your turn, what about your news?” Jason rests his face on his hand, enjoying the blushing Tim all excited. His blue eyes twinkle like sunlight on the sea waves. Smiling carelessly with excitement showing his perfectly tidy teeth. Tim looks as happy as if he’s twelve again. Before the vigilante life, before adulthood, before his parents died. It makes Jason happy to see Tim happy.

Tim bites his lips and leans forward, putting his palm on the side of his lips like he’s about to say the biggest secret he has.

“I found my soulmate!” Tim cheered in a secretive whisper.

“Oh, dude that’s awesome! When?”

“Like a few weeks ago on this mission I just finished, it’s... but you have to keep it a secret okay?”

“I’m no tattletale, I’m bringing this to my grave, c’ mon spill so I can judge this person.”

Tim smiled offendedly at Jason’s joke, and leans forward even closer across the table and whisper to Jason’s ear.

“It’s Superboy.”

“That’s... You mean th-!”

“Sssh! Keep quiet,” Tim giggled like a lovestruck teen, wait, he is.

“How did you find out?”

“When we’re fighting a pack of robots, and his shirt torn open. And I was... gosh I think I froze for a second. We’ve been partners for years, we also had met at a gala when Bruce adopted me, multiple times! I practically knew him forever. I confessed right away. Bruce doesn’t like it for some reason, but whatever.”

“You took my advice huh?”

“Yup! I can do whatever I want. I like Superboy, he’s cool, and we get along well, and we’ve been dating for a few days now. And... he’s just really great.” Tim’s face melts into a blushing soft smile.

Jason smiles too.

“You look happy, Tim.”

Tim looks at Jason with his sincere blue eyes, with that bright smile directed at him, but not for him, “I am.”

They chat some more until Tim has to go home.

Then they walk to separate ways. Tim towards the city, and Jason to the dark alleys.

Jason waits for two hours. Text Tim that he can’t meet him because his boss needs him to work tomorrow urgently. Says his apologies. Says one more happy birthday. Says simple best wishes.

Then Jason lay on his bed. For a long time, he doesn’t fall asleep. Despite how tired he is, his mind cruelly up all night long, thinking of things he can’t change.

#jaytimweek #jaytimbingo2019 #soulmate au #soul marks #anxiety #soulmate aversion #hand holding #danger #childhood friends #fluff and angst #tbh that's eveyfic of mine yeah i'm unoriginal #jaytim fanfic #Civilian!Jason #Robin!tim #RedRobin!Tim #not canon compliant #happy birthday to Jason #emocel's

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winterverses · 5 years

Text

Walking Wounded - Chapter Eighty-Two

Anne shuddered and started awake, breathing hard, grabbing for her neck. A ridge under her fingers calmed her enough to take in her surroundings. An isolation room. The sterile white walls of the med bay. Was this the Enterprise? Anne pushed herself up, noting that she was in one of those damn scrub gowns again, and ignored the alarms that started to go off.

Where was Jim? She tore off the sensors attached to her and headed for the door.

Dr. McCoy was immediately there, blocking her way. When she tried to step around him, he caught her arm, holding her in place. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Where’s Jim?” Anne asked, letting him hold her for the moment. If she wanted to get free, she would. He could not keep her, not if she wanted to go.

The arm didn’t hurt, although it was very tender. They must have fixed it again. McCoy held onto it, looking down at her with a dissatisfied expression. “The Captain is fine. He was released hours ago. You’re not supposed to be awake yet-- he was going to be here to see you when you woke up.”

Anne relaxed a little. “Good. As long as he’s okay.”

“We need to talk,” McCoy said. “In private.”

Knowing what was coming, Anne shrank in on herself. “Can I at least have some clothes first?” she asked.

McCoy’s expression softened. “Go get back in bed. I’ll bring you some clothes and your hairthings.” He let her go, slapping the cutoff for the alarms before he walked away.

Anne didn’t want to have this conversation. Should Jim be a part of it? It wasn’t his, but she was with him… As she walked back to the bed, she considered asking Dr. McCoy what he thought.

Was she going to stay here?

Could she write anymore? It had been so long since she’d been able to feel the words...

Using that question to distract herself was easier than thinking about the upcoming conversation. Still, when McCoy came back, holding an armful of clothes and things, she knew she couldn’t escape it. He stepped outside like a gentleman, letting her get herself fixed up as much as possible, and only came back in when she invited him.

When he did, he sat down on the bed beside her. “You were given a contact drug when you came in to Justice that day,” he said bluntly. “It was a counteractive for your fertility inhibition. That was why Claudia saw those anomalous hormone levels when we were testing you.”

Anne remembered her fright when the man had grabbed her arm. “Did they find him?” she asked.

“Him, and others, although we still haven't found the doctor that set all this up. He might have shipped out. There was a whole crew that Loche had been using to smuggle out his captives and other things. Commodore Paris had been hunting them down for months, but they were organized very well. Each individual man knew very little about the whole operation. But, since we got the big one, the little ones are a hell of a lot easier to catch.” McCoy settled back, crossing his arms. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about, though.”

“I’m pregnant,” Anne said. The thought of it was frightening, nauseating. “Is it really mine?”

McCoy nodded. “Yours, and his. A boy. Jim told us what to look for. That doctor was thorough-- even put a backup in stasis inside you if the first one didn't pan out.” His lip curled in disgust.

Anne’s lips felt cold. What the hell was she going to do? “I don’t want it,” she said, her voice toneless. “I’d be a terrible mother. Why would I want to pass on the things my mother did to me?”

“Now, that’s something you should be discussing with Claudia,” McCoy said gently. “But starting from where you are, you have some options. We can get rid of it. It can be like it never happened.”

Anne thought this over. Just wiping it clean and pretending it had never happened was very appealing. Wasn’t that what she always did when something went wrong?

That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t the kid’s fault, just like it wasn’t Lilla’s fault.

She suddenly straightened. “I want to talk to Hikaru and Ben,” she said.

McCoy thought this over. ��I see where you’re heading with this,” he said. “It’s not a bad idea. Not here, though. You’ll need a powerwall or a holo so that Ben can join in.”

“We can talk in Jim’s room,” Anne said. “He won’t mind.”

Shaking his head, McCoy said, “He should not be involved in this discussion, and if you use the Captain’s room, he’ll insist on it.”

“Why not?” Anne asked. “If I already know what I want to do, it’s not like he’s going to change my mind. And I’m not having it. No way.”

“If he gets involved, he’s going to feel responsible. And do you really want him feeling responsible for your kid when you’re long gone?” McCoy said.

“I… I don’t know if I’m leaving,” Anne murmured. “He asked me to stay.”

There was a short silence as McCoy absorbed this. “After all that talk about how you needed to be alone to write, after what that pointy-eared freak was saying about how it would not be compatible with shipboard life--”

“I don’t know, okay?” Anne cried. The thought of staying here was… frightening. It would be giving up her freedom. It would be giving up her comfortable loneliness.

But it would also be gaining friends who would do just about anything for her, and she would do the same in return. And someone who cared for her.

It felt like a trap with teeth made of love. It felt like the world’s softest, most comfortable chains.

“I don’t know,” she said again, her voice wavering as she tried not to tear up. “But if Hikaru and Ben want him, he’s their child, not mine, and Jim will know where he came from. If he’s present for this talk, that’s fine. He’s going to find out anyway.”

McCoy sighed, scowling at the medical equipment around them. “You do have a point. He can be there, but I’ll tell him-- no, you’ll tell him, to keep his damn mouth shut. He’s got no part in this.”

Swallowing hard, Anne nodded. “That’s reasonable,” she said.

McCoy shook his head. “All right. Go on up. Your permissions are probably all still in place. I’ll request an immediate conference with Sulu and we’ll go from there.”

Standing shakily, Anne said, “Don’t you dare tell Jim. I don’t want to talk about it with him.”

McCoy knew what she meant. Not the pregnancy, but whether she would stay. “Not on my soul,” he said, an unhappy little smile lingering on his lips.

The halls were so familiar. She barely even had to think to navigate her way through those shining black and white hallways to the Captain’s cabin. It was so… routine. Everything on the ship was so familiar. When she stepped into Jim’s room, however, she had an unpleasant shock. All of her things were gone. Of course, they were in the apartment. It felt… unwelcoming, though. As if her presence here had been erased. Anne picked up a padd and sat down on the couch to figure out where they were. They were almost back to Yorktown already, and she wouldn’t have to put up with this for long.

As she had known, Jim was the first person to show up. He walked over to her, sitting down beside her, and gathered her up against him, burying his face in her hair. “Hey, tiger,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair.

Part of her wanted to pull away, and the other part of her wanted to just melt up against him and maybe start crying. She couldn’t do that, not when they were going to talk about this thing inside her. “Do you know what this is about?” she asked quietly.

He relaxed a little, catching her reserve and knowing there was a reason for it. “Bones didn’t say. Just said you needed to meet him and Sulu in my cabin.”

Anne took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to firm up her composure. “He wasn’t bluffing, mon étoile. I am pregnant, and I do not want him. If Hikaru and Ben want it, I will give him to them.”

Jim sat back, searching her face. “It’s… he’s yours?” he asked. Anne nodded. “And… his?”

“Yes,” Anne said. After a moment, she asked, “Can you live with that?”

If he had said no, she might have changed her mind. Maybe. But he didn’t. “If he’s their kid, he’s their kid. Demora would love a brother to beat on.”

Anne gave him a brief smile. “Dr. McCoy says you are not to have any part in this discussion. And… I’m sorry, but I need some space. If you’re holding me, I might…” Her voice wavered, and she stopped, trying to master it.

Jim slowly pulled away, watching her with concern. “Got it.”

Anne suddenly laughed, looking down at her hands. “Après cette conversation je risque vraiment de perdre la boule.”

He probably didn’t understand exactly, but he caught enough to know that it wasn’t good. “We’re coming into Yorktown in an hour. Can you hang on until we’re home?”

“I think so. But… if you’re too nice to me, I’ll lose it,” she said.

“Do you want me to call Claudia?” he asked.

“No.” She closed her eyes, then reached out, holding his hand. “I think this is all I can handle right now. Is that all right?”

He grinned crookedly at her, squeezing her hand gently. “You got it, gorgeous.”

When McCoy and Hikaru came in, they were still sitting that way, talking softly. Jim looked up, then hit some of the switches on the holoprojector. “Let’s get Ben in on this before we start talking,” he said.

McCoy scowled. “You don’t get to have a say. You’re only here because she wants you here.”

“I get it, Bones. I’m not going to interfere. It’s none of my business and I’m okay with whatever happens.” Kirk leaned back against the couch, his hand finding Anne’s again.

Hikaru sat down, looking at the both of them, his gaze lingering on their joined hands. “I’m still in the dark here,” he said, sitting down near Jim.

McCoy crossed over and sat down with Anne. Immediately, she stood, meaning to head to the synthesizer. “Would anyone like some tea? Water? I’ll get some biscuits--”

Jim reached out to touch her hand, a laugh in his voice. “It’s all right. Go get some if it makes you feel better, but I think we’re fine.”

Anne hesitated, then crossed around McCoy to go to the synthesizer. When she’d brought back the tea and biscuits, Ben was on the holo. Anne passed around the plate and teacups, and everyone took a teacup and maybe a biscuit, if only to be polite.

Once she’d sat down, McCoy said, his voice quietly sardonic, “It’s your play. You might as well lay down your cards.”

Anne watched him for a moment, then nodded and looked to Ben and Hikaru. “I’m pregnant against my will and I do not want the baby, but I don’t like the idea of termination. Do you want him?”

Both Ben and Hikaru stared at her, processing this. Finally, Ben asked, “Are you… are you all right?”

Anne smiled a little. “Mostly. I will be, I think.”

Hikaru glanced over at Jim, then back to Anne. “Is he…”

As delicately as she could, she gave them the truth. “Lilla’s half-brother.” And then, because she knew the meaning of Hikaru’s glance, she said, “There’s no question of it. Dr. McCoy confirmed the genetics.”

They were silent again for a moment, looking at each other, and at her. Hikaru relaxed a little, glancing again at Jim. “This is pretty sudden. We need some time to talk it over.”

Ben gave Anne an embarrassed little smile. “We were finally making headway with Ethics over Lilla. I don’t know. We hadn’t thought about three kids.”

Hikaru looked at him. “We really need to talk about it. Can you give us some time to make the decision?”

Swallowing hard, Anne said, “Yes. But…” Her voice started to tremble. “I’m very uncomfortable with this. I’m not sure how long I can last.”

Hikaru nodded sharply. “Then the best thing to do would be to find a surrogate immediately. Regardless of our decision, there’s no reason for you to carry him. Especially under the circumstances. We can help with compensation, if you like.”

A bit of tension left Anne. “I’ll have Mason start looking. There’s no need to worry about her compensation; I’ll take care of it.”

Ben nodded, concern evident in his broad face. “This is a lot to handle. If there’s anything we can do--”

“It’s all right,” Anne said softly. “I’ll be all right.” If only because she had to be. Jim squeezed her hand gently, and she looked over to him, wishing she could just lose it and be done with it. His half-smile coaxed an answering one from her, however, and she looked back to Hikaru and Ben. “If you want, I can come over tomorrow to help with Lilla’s paperwork. We don’t have to talk about this unless you want to.”

“That would be really great,” Ben said, but his smile was more worried than he meant it to be.

“We’re not going to ask what happened in there,” Hikaru said. “In case you were wondering.”

Jim finally spoke up. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. It’s not pretty.”

Hikaru nodded. “Got it. Sir, we’ll be reaching Yorktown within the next half hour. I should return to my station.”

Jim glanced over at Anne. “I can stay if you need me.”

Shaking her head, Anne smiled wryly down at her teacup. “I think Dr. McCoy and I have some discussion to have about the process of getting this kid into a surrogate.” McCoy laughed briefly, humorlessly.

Jim nodded. “All right. Call me if you need me.” After one last squeeze of her hand, he stood, Hikaru following him out to the bridge with a last warm look at his husband.

“A boy would be nice,” Ben said quietly. “We’ll see. Hikaru and I will talk about it. But take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Anne said, making herself smile. Ben nodded, and cut the transmission.

McCoy reached for another biscuit. “I’m not an expert here, but I’ll tell you what I know,” he said.

Sipping her tea, Anne held it together and listened.

The process was simple enough. It could be done in a few hours. McCoy knew some of the doctors in Yorktown, and could recommend someone to do the procedure. It was all very dry and clinical, and Anne was incredibly grateful for that. It helped her keep it at arm’s length. Eventually Anne tried to call Mason, but for some reason got his answering service. That was troubling, but Anne shrugged it off, instead taking notes on the padd as to what her requirements should be.

Too soon and not soon enough, they were docking at Yorktown. Jim sent a message saying he’d had someone scout for them-- there was no crowd. Perhaps now that Loche was dead, his women would stop harassing them with the press. McCoy left her with a frown and a promise that she would see Claudia within the next day.

For a few moments, she was alone. For those few moments, she sat very, very still and forbid herself from screaming.

And then, relief. Jim was back. Anne stood immediately. “I need to go home,” she said.

“We’re going. I don’t need anything here.” Jim gave her his arm, and she took it gratefully, leaning into him.

Thank whatever gods there might be for him. If not for him, she wouldn’t have survived the roaring, thunderous emotions threatening to overturn her control. She responded automatically to anything he said, concentrating more on the feel of his arm, the warmth of him, the comforting sound of his voice.

As they exited the docking passage, a familiar figure caught Anne’s eye, tall and dark, more commanding than handsome. Mason. She had to blink a few times, reasserting to herself that he was actually there as he approached. “Jim,” she said weakly.

It only took one look at Mason to raise Jim’s hackles. He said nothing, but he pulled Anne closer to his side, stepping a little in front of her as if to take the brunt of whatever Mason was going to do.

“Ms. Hardesty,” Mason said, inclining his head. “Captain Kirk.”

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Jim said. “We’re going home. Now.”

Mason raised one disdainful eyebrow at Jim, and then turned to Anne. “I didn’t travel all the way here just to be brushed off by your current fling. You employ me for a reason, Ms. Hardesty, and if you wish to continue to employ me, you must pay attention to what I say.”

It was too much, finally. Anne felt her tenuous grip on her emotions slipping. “Drop it, Mason,” she said sharply, forcefully enough that Mason was taken aback. “We’ll talk, yes. I promise you that. And I’ll listen. But right now, I just want to go home and scream until my fucking throat bleeds.”

By the time she finished speaking, she was drawing stares. She wasn’t quite yelling, but she was louder than she should be, and she could feel her hands clawed as if to swipe at him. Jim’s hand on her arm felt more like it was holding her back than supporting her. Mason just stared. She’d never spoken to him that aggressively before, and she’d definitely never started readying herself for physical aggression.

Jim pressed closed to her side, murmuring in her ear. “We’re going home, gorgeous. It’s all right. We’ve got an aircar waiting, and all we have to do is get into it and go.” He continued his soft murmur until Anne started to relax, then settled her arm back on his and took a step in the direction of the aircar stands.

Mason started to speak, then abruptly stopped, changing his tactics. “I apologize, Ms. Hardesty. Clearly you’ve been through a terrible time, and I’m adding to your trouble at the moment. I will send you the location of my lodgings, and when you are feeling up to it, I wish to meet with you and discuss measures of protection for you. In the meantime, I am, as always, at your disposal, and you have only to ask me for anything you require.”

Anne could feel herself settling, her body relaxing. “We’ll talk soon, yes. If I need you, I’ll call you. And stop the comments about my ‘fling’. I don’t want you talking that way about someone who almost lost his life to save mine. Again.”

Mason’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, and he looked to Jim. “If that is the case, I owe you more than an apology.”

Jim’s mouth twisted, but he took it gracefully, just nodding to Mason. “We’ll be in contact,” he said shortly, leading Anne away. After they’d gotten into the aircar, Jim laughed once, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you keep him around,” he said. “He’s a complete asshole.”

His humor drew a little answering humor from her. “Yeah, but that’s a good thing sometimes. When I wasn’t so all over the place, I could just let it slide. It didn’t bother me.”

“You’ll get there again,” Jim said.

They rode the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, one that Anne used to move closer to him, letting herself melt into his side. He encouraged it, his arm around her, perhaps knowing that the trade was either closeness or speech, one or the other. When they finally got into the elevator and stepped through the door to the apartment, Anne felt a weight lifting from her, and her control slipping again.

“I’m going to go to the garden,” she said quietly.

“Do you need me?” Jim asked, just as quietly.

Apparently that was the cue to fall apart. “I don’t know. Do I?” Anne asked, her voice trembling. “He told me I lured you with helplessness. Did I do that? You keep rescuing me. Am I doing that on purpose? I don’t feel like I am, but he was right about so many things and… I just don’t know. Do I need you? Is that why you’re here? If I stopped needing you, would you leave?” By the time she paused to catch her breath, she could feel tears on her cheeks. She couldn’t look at him. “Isn’t that how it started? Isn’t that why you wanted me? I told him it wasn’t true, but…” She couldn’t finish.

Drawing her into his arms, Jim pressed her against his chest. “All the best lies are built around a grain of truth. Isn’t that what they say? Helping you was part of why we got together, but that was a circumstance, not a reason.” He laughed quietly, and it reverberated under her ear. “Besides, you’ve been rescuing me too. Don’t forget that.”

At that, Anne really did start to cry. “Why are you so good to me?” she choked out through sobs, her face pressed against his shirt. “I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “Just because you don’t know how to deal with it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.” He was so warm and solid against her, his arms around her feeling like a shield that would protect her...

Anne could stand it for only so long. Soon she pushed away, walking toward the kitchen, the garden, wiping her streaming eyes with the heels of her hands. She felt him hesitate, and then he followed behind her, a little more slowly. The tomatoes needed to be picked. The orange tree needed the smaller fruits pinched off. The herbs all needed water. They’d only been gone for a few days, but she needed to check all the plants, to make sure she still knew them.

As she did her rounds, Jim sat near her, watching, helping, sometimes asking a soft question. This should have been a private thing-- she was still crying through most of it. But it didn’t seem to matter. He paid no attention to it, and so neither did she. Sometimes her tears fell into the pots. That was fine. That tiny bit of salt wouldn’t hurt any but the most delicate of the seedlings.

And she did have seedlings. The tiaré plants were sprouting, most of them. That, more than anything else, lifted her out of her mood. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the tiny little leaves fighting their way up through the soil. It felt familiar.

“What are those?” Jim asked softly.

“Those are the ones Nyota and I planted.” Anne turned a watery smile on him. “I wasn’t sure they would take hold.”

“Why wouldn’t they, with you taking such good care of them?” Jim teased. “You’ll have to get her over here to see them.”

“I will. When I’m a bit…” She shook her head, still smiling, tears still falling. “I’m going to be a wreck until this thing inside me is gone, I hope you know that. At least I don’t remember how it got there. He did whatever while I was unconscious. This time.” She laughed quietly. “I’m sorry. Every time I get things together, something happens and I fall apart again.”

“I think that’s justified,” Jim said, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. “The last year of your life has been hell. As long as you pick up the pieces, I don’t think you need to worry about falling apart for a while.” He paused, then said, “If you want, I’ll contact Mason and get him going on the surrogate thing. The sooner it’s done, the better.”

“I don’t know if he’ll listen to you,” Anne said. “He might. It’s hard to tell with him. And I don’t think he likes you.”

That surprised a laugh from Jim. “Gee, I had no idea,” he said, chuckling.

“It can be very hard to tell with him. He definitely sees you as someone important, or he wouldn’t be such an ass to you,” Anne said, feeling his humor lift her spirits even more. “But yeah. Call him, I guess. And I’ll verify whatever he needs.” Shifting over, Anne leaned against him, feeling the light-baked brick beneath her, the sweet living coolness of the plants around her and his solid warmth against her, his body comforting and familiar. Jim wrapped an arm around her, settling her against him, heedless of the dirt and debris of her gardening. “Actually, I think it would help a lot if you made that call. I can do it. I could do it. But if I don’t have to…”

“I don’t mind. It’s just a call. He’s the one doing all the work.” He paused, then asked, “If Sulu and Ben don’t take him, what are you going to do?”

Anne hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d been avoiding it, to be honest. “Adoption to whomever fits the criteria, I guess. It’s not like I could do it. I’d be a terrible mother.”

Jim was still for a moment, then said quietly, “Nah. You’d be a lot better than you think, except for one thing.” He squeezed her gently against him. “You don’t want it. That’s the sort of thing you shouldn’t do unless you really want it. But other than that, you’d be fine.”

For some reason, that was reassuring. The whole thing came with complicated feelings and issues, like duty and biology and purpose. It was kind of nice to know that someone thought she’d be good at those things, even if she didn’t want to. It was also nice to be told she was capable of it, then told that didn’t mean she had to do it. “Have you ever wanted kids?” Anne asked.

Jim was quiet for a long time before speaking. “My dad had already been a father for a few years by the time he died,” he said. “He was a year younger than me when he crashed the Kelvin. He was so young. I always sort of wondered… if he stayed with my mom because of Sam at first. I could never ask her something like that, you know? He was a hero. She loved him with all her heart. But sometimes it’s like he was so perfect that he had to have a flaw somewhere that didn’t show. Maybe he only stayed at first because of Sam. I don’t know. I can’t ask him, and whether it’s true or not she says they were in love. I would never question that.”

“And you’re bringing all that with you into the question,” Anne said softly, trying to coax rather than interrupt.

“Yeah. And then my stepfather… I figured it would never come up, really. I’ve never been that serious. If it happened, I’d want to be there. I wouldn’t want my kid to grow up thinking his dad didn’t care enough to stick around, or that he’d done some stupid noble thing that got him killed… Kids don’t get things like that.” He laughed, and leaned his cheek on the top of Anne’s head. “But that’s not my life. My mom was in the fleet, and that’s the only reason she was able to stick around my dad. She couldn't even bring Sam along. I can’t imagine living like that, or trying to raise a kid on board a ship, even if the Enterprise had the facilities. Or doing it like Sulu-- he talks to Ben and Demora every day we’re within range. He’s there as much as he can be. And when he’s home, he’s a great dad. So is Ben. But I can’t imagine that. A kid should be the most important thing in your life, shouldn’t it? I’d have to quit the fleet, and I can’t do that.” He lifted his head, looking down at her. “I guess it’s a little different for me. I don’t have to worry about all the physical stuff, what happens to your brain and body and all that. I don’t want a kid because I’d have to give up my life for him. I guess it’s a bit more academic for me.”

“Yeah,” Anne said. “I’ve been so busy just fighting to be me that I can’t do it. I couldn’t just decide to stop being me and start being Mom. I’d be giving up everything.” She looked away, smiling wryly. “I think in the end we have the same reasons. Mine just come with a lot more fear, and yours with all that guilt and obligation and all.”

Jim nodded. “Yeah. That sounds about right. We’ll just have to make our mark in other ways.”

“You’ve got a pretty damn good record going already,” Anne laughed. “I’m going to have to step it up if I want to keep up with you.”

“Do we have to get into a philosophy argument now? Because I’m warning you, I’ve gotten my practice with Spock. So tell me, what’s worth more, existence or happiness? I’ve saved a lot of lives, but you’ve probably made just as many of them happy. Is existence really worth that much without happiness? How do you measure something like that? Are we going to add up all the minutes of the lives of everyone I’ve saved-- starting from after I did it, of course-- then add up all the minutes of happiness you’ve given people with your books-- there’s what, nine of them now? How do we account for intensity, or quality?”

By the time he stopped for breath, Anne was snickering. “All right, all right. God, couldn’t you just be a meathead that I could think circles around? Mais comment ça se fait tu es si parfait?”

“Shut up. You start speaking French, and I start thinking about dragging you to bed,” Jim teased.

“Cher, mon beau, mon trésor, mon amant, mon coeur, mon ciel étoilé,” Anne taunted. It was too hard to resist when he said ridiculous things like that. He was begging for that kind of reply.

In hindsight, she should have expected him to be serious. “Or we could just stay right here,” he said, his hand curving around her waist as he leaned into her with his shoulder, bearing her down to the ground.

Anne let him press her, weirdly shy in spite of her words. It felt as if he’d be touching her for the first time again in some strange way, as if her body wasn’t hers but would be made so with his touch. “I’ll get you dirty,” she said, holding up her dirt-smutched hands, the crescents of her fingernails black with soil.

“Then you’ll just have to keep your hands off. I don’t mind. That means I can do whatever I want,” he said between tiny kisses along her jaw. And that was so much better than anything else she could be doing, so much safer and more pleasant and just all around superior to any other possible pastime that she fell into it without another whisper of hesitation. Problems could wait. Everything else could wait. Right now she just needed to feel him.

#Jim Kirk/OC #James T. Kirk/OC #fanfic #star trek #dark romance #star trek fanfiction #Star Trek: Walking Wounded #ST:WW

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