#anyway back to comms i disappear to until tomorrow's prompts..

[smokbeast]

"Best Friend"

#dcatober24 day 1

[jgvfhl]

THE NUMBER LADS ARE STILL HERE!!

Some of these chapters might be uh... less than consistent with the actual chronology of TCW but that's what they get when they don't air the episodes in order! (Read Part 1 and Part 2!)

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Leafs

ARC-5555 = Fives (duh) = high fives

ARC-1409 = Echo (honorary number lad) = BetterDomino

CC-6666 = Sixes/Death = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = RedBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

Trees had almost forgotten about the Numbers meeting. Honestly, the only thing reminding him of the day of the week was his own internal clock. A lot had happened, okay? Geonosis was never “fun” for anyone, and he was just glad it was over. His general and commander had both nearly died there--which was only a first for Commander Offee, because that had been the second campaign to Geonosis, and that wasn’t even including the damn brain worms--kriffing sithspit he needed a nap.

But a nap would wait until he could tell the others he was okay. Fortunately, he’d set a reminder for it, so at least he wouldn’t be getting half a dozen comms from Sevenset or Do-si-do about being late. The rest of his squadron was sound asleep by the time the meeting was supposed to start, so out of courtesy, Trees walked to the mess hall, which, at this time, was all but empty. One or two others milled about, looking just as exhausted as Trees felt. He took a seat in one corner, setting the holoprojector on the table and waiting for the transmission to start.

And trying not to fall asleep.

Sevenset started the meeting, Fives and Echo standing beside him like they had last month. They were approaching graduation by now, weren’t they?

“Hey, Trees,” Sevenset smiled.

“Hi.”

“How was bug world?” Fives asked.

Trees gave them a deadpan stare. “How do you think? I’m sure your friends in Torrent have plenty of stories.” The 501st had also been on Geonosis--their Commander Tano had been with Commander Offee onboard the medical transport infested with kriffing brain worms.

Echo smirked. “Yeah, we heard General Skywalker and Commander Tano threw Captain Rex off a building.”

“They did what?” Loops had appeared just as Echo had started speaking.

“Yeah, they’ve done it a lot, apparently,” Fives nodded.

“Kinda sad I missed it,” his batcher said.

“Devastated.”

Trees blinked slowly. “You aren’t. Believe me.”

Sevenset chuckled. “Yeah, you look like you’re falling asleep over there.”

Trees rubbed his face. “Yeah well,” he sighed, resting his chin on his hand, “when your general and commander nearly die twice on the same campaign, and somehow it involves mind controlling parasites, you’d be a little tired.”

The other four all raised their eyebrows at him. Before they had time to ask questions, however, a third hologram appeared. Trees recognized Do-si-do instantly, sitting at a table instead of in his cockpit like normal. But next to him was a new face--as it were. Judging from the glasses on the table and the shifting lighting, they were at 79s on Coruscant. Lucky bastards.

“I found zero!” Do-si-do announced happily. The man next to him gave a little two-finger salute.

Right after that, two more holograms appeared, which made Trees blink and sit up a bit straighter. He was used to Commander Sixes by now--honestly, he was--but after years of training to recognize COs and react accordingly, it was hard to shake the urge to go to attention. But the commander wasn’t the only one joining. Judging by the dull fuschia color of his armor, this was number four, from the Nova Corps.

He looked like he would rather crawl under a rock. Trees had felt similarly upon being press-ganged by Sevenset and Do-si-do to join them.

Sevenset’s face lit up at the two new holograms. “Commander!”

“Stow it, ARC,” came the immediate gruff reply.

“We’ve got two ARCs now,” Do-si-do was quick to point out, tapping the pauldrons of the man next to him.

The commander looked at the newcomer, then looked back at Sevenset. “He knows who I mean.”

“Indeed I do,” the ARC in question answered. “But hey! Two whole new numbers!” Trees couldn’t help the small smile forming on his face. Sevenset’s joy was contagious. “What do we call you guys?”

“I’m Zero,” the man next to Do-si-do replied. He had dark green paint over his armor, --maybe now Trees could convince Sevenset to change his name in the group chat to something other than Green Bean. His pauldrons were both green, and there was an inverted chevron visible over his grey chestpiece. Zero’s head was shaved on both sides, leaving a wide strip of curls down the center, and a tattoo on one side that Trees couldn’t quite make out from the hologram. He also caught sight of wide loops set into his earlobes. This guy almost had Sevenset beat for aesthetic.

They all turned their attention to the marine, who shrank back minisculely from his holoprojector. “Uhm…” He looked like he’d bolt at the next opportunity.

“It’s just your name, marine,” the commander prompted.

Instantly, the man answered, “Fours. I’m Fours.” Fours looked almost regulation from where Trees was sitting. It was hard to tell over hologram, but there might have been the remnants of a dye-job in his short hair, but it was too overgrown to be recognizable. The Nova Corps really didn’t get much time off. The armor they could see on him had vertical stripes painted over each shoulder, ending mid-way down his chestplate, as well as one down the center of his chest, and stripes down each shoulder bell.

Sevenset beamed at them both. “Well, welcome to the party. I’m Sevenset. I see Fours has already met the charming Commander Sixes.” The rest of them introduced themselves one by one, with Sevenset mentioning Echo’s “honorary number status” briefly.

“So… what do you guys actually do in these meetings?” Zero asked afterwards.

Several of the older members shrugged. Sevenset answered, “Eh, just chat. Or… I dunno, spread gossip.”

“They’re largely useless,” the commander said plainly.

Trees smirked at Sevenset’s eyeroll. “Yet, you keep coming to them, Commander,” the red ARC reminded him.

Do-si-do added, “He’s actually never missed one since you dragged him into it.”

Trees could confirm that--he often kept tabs on attendance just so he knew when to be worried if someone missed out. But he also wanted to keep watching Sevenset and Do-si-do taunt Death.

Zero and Fours both looked surprised, although Fours’ expression was a bit harder to read. He was still pretty on-edge. “How did you get Commander Death to join, anyway?” Zero asked, swirling the contents of his glass.

“Sheer willpower,” Sevenset answered smugly.

The commander crossed his arms. “I’m actually waiting for your last functioning brain cell to die from lack of stimulation. It’ll be funnier on camera.”

Fives and Do-si-do both burst out laughing--a problem for the latter, who had just taken a mouthful from his drink and consequently sprayed half of it across the table. Echo and Loops simply had huge grins on their faces, an expression Trees found mirrored on his own face. Sevenset had a sort of strained smile as he waited for Fives and Do-si-do to recover.

“I’m touched you have so much concern for me, Commander.”

“Oh, I’m concerned, alright.” The remark made Fives and Do-si-do break up again.

The commander was definitely warming up to the group, even Trees could see it. He would probably never admit it, but since his first meeting, he’d thawed a bit. Trees almost wished he could have seen their first meeting on Kamino, just to know how close the commander had been to wringing Sevenset’s neck. For old time’s sake.

Once the laughter had died down into smiles, Zero looked to the two batchers standing with Sevenset. “When are you two graduating, anyway?”

“Next week!” Fives announced, beaming with pride.

“Yeah, we get our new gear tomorrow,” Echo smiled.

“Which means this guy,” Fives added, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “is going to stay up all night reading about it, right Echo?”

Echo shrugged his arm off with a well-worn scowl. Trees frowned a little. “Hey, reading up on the kit isn’t a bad idea. I did it. I’ll probably do it again when Phase Two comes out, whenever that’s gonna be.”

Vindicated, Echo folded his arms and lifted his chin at his brother, who rolled his eyes. Zero tipped his glass towards them. “Well, you survived this long. Have fun next week.” He drained what was left of the drink, then slid the glass to the center of the table. Trees really couldn’t wait for leave… he needed a drink after Geonosis. And not just the stuff the boys managed to sneak onboard.

“Hey, Zero,” Loops spoke up, leaning forward a little. “Why haven’t I heard much about the one-eigteenth?”

A good question. Trees knew rather little about Zero’s legion, aside from knowing it was in the Seventh Sky Corps along with the 501st and the 212th. He didn’t even know which Jedi led it.

“Probably--” The green ARC started to answer, then something out of frame caught his attention, and he held up a finger. He stood up and they heard him shout, “Incident! Off the ceiling! Troll, stop helping!” He leaned down. “Hang on.” Then he disappeared out of frame.

“Is someone actually on the ceiling?” Fives asked, looking to Do-si-do for answers.

The pilot nodded, his attention directed upward. “I don’t know how he did it. But he did.”

“Okay, so Torrent should never meet them,” Echo said. “I think we’d watch as the captain went grey from stress before our eyes.”

Fives grinned. “I dunno, it could be fun.”

“No, it would be fun,” his brother agreed, “right until you blow something up and get yourself and others hurt. Then Kix would have your balls.”

“Worth it.” Echo looked between Sevenset and Fives, who had both spoken, then rubbed his face with both hands.

Commander Sixes shook his head. “Never have these problems with my boys.”

Zero returned a minute or two later, another drink in his hand. “Okay. Sorry about that, someone got a balloon stuck in the rafters, and Incident thought it was a good idea to retrieve it.”

“Did he get it?” Loops asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Because he got a reward for climbing to the ceiling to get it, and he’ll probably try it again later.” He took a drink. “Anyway. One-eighteenth. We’re pretty small for a legion, which is probably why you haven’t heard of us. One company of the two-twelfth is probably most of our troops.”

“Who’s your General?” Echo asked.

“General Veekah Bala.” He got mostly blank stares and couple heads shaking. “Yeah, well. She’s pretty awesome. Togruta, double-bladed lightsaber. Kinda young, like Skywalker, but…” He paused, like he was looking for the right words.

“More sane?” Fives offered. Trees smirked. Skywalker had quite the reputation.

Zero shrugged. “I guess? Dunno, maybe she’s just crazy in a different way.”

“What do you guys do when you’re that small?” Loops prompted further.

“Special stuff--kind of like Rancor, actually. The demo jobs, the stealth missions, that kind of stuff. Each company has a specialty.”

Do-si-do bumped their elbows together lightly. “What’s yours?”

“I’m in Whisper Company. We do stealth and recon and stuff like that. Firebolt is our demo team--that’s… where Troll and Incident are.” He cast a glance towards the ceiling.

Motion drew Trees’ eye to Fives, who had leaned over to whisper something to Echo. Echo thought for a second, then shook his head, a small smile on his face. With Torrent’s reputation, they might like Firebolt, from the sounds of it.

“The other two are Blitz, who hate clankers and bugs more than anyone I’ve ever met, and Enigma, who have made it their sworn mission to hack General Grievous,” Zero finished.

“Hack him?” Sevenset repeated, voicing the confusion on the others’ faces. Except for the commander, because his helmet was still on.

Zero sighed, scratching his head. “Yeah, I dunno. They figure because he’s a cyborg, they can hack his cybernetic parts, right? They’re obsessed. The general totally enables them, too. The Enigma hazing ritual is to hack into a B1 as fast as you can.”

Trees’ face scrunched up slightly. They just kept battle droids around for initiation? That… didn’t seem safe. He and Fours seemed to have similar skeptical reactions to it, but Fives and Echo were nodding along like it made perfect sense. Trees was so glad to be in the 41st.

“What about Whisper?” Loops wanted to know.

Zero just smiled slyly and held up something so they could see. Trees recognized it. Most pilots he’d met had a lucky charm of some kind, either painted on their armor, or their ship, or it was an object they kept with them at all times. Do-si-do had the latter kind: his charm was a dark brown rock with a hole through the center, always in his utility belt. But suddenly it wasn’t.

Do-si-do’s eyes went comically wide for a second, then his hand was flying to the empty pouch on his belt. “What--hey!”

Zero put the stone on the table and slid it to him. “That’s what we do.”

“Steal stuff?” the pilot shot back, snatching the stone up and clutching it to his chest.

“We always give it back.”

Do-si-do was still frowning darkly as he carefully replaced his charm in his belt.

“Huh,” Sevenset nodded. “You guys sound pretty cool. Shame I only learned about you now, honestly.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, we’re usually out of the way, anyway. You know what that’s like, right, Fours?”

The marine stiffened at the sudden attention, and at the subsequent attention from everyone else. Poor guy. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, hey, how’s that mission with Death going?” Sevenset asked him, looking between the marine and the commander. “That’s how he found you right?”

Fours nodded. “Yeah. It’s… good, I guess?”

“They needed the help, that’s for sure,” the commander added. “Although, Bacara’s doing a pretty good job without the general around.”

Trees nodded, remembering General Mundi had assisted on Geonosis, and likely hadn’t been cleared to return to the Nova Corps yet after the assault. Some of the others looked a little lost, though. He reminded them.

“How long do you think he’ll be out?” Fours asked quietly. Trees couldn’t tell if it was genuine concern behind the question or curiosity.

He shrugged. “No idea. I never actually saw him, he was with the two-twelfth most of the time.”

The commander made some nonverbal reply to that before adding, “Well, at least he’ll be coming back. Geonosis has done worse before.”

He would know. Trees had looked him up after his first appearance, just like he had done for them. Commander Sixes had taken part in the first assault on Geonosis over three years ago. As Trees had dug a little deeper, he’d discovered almost nothing but casualty reports in connection. The commander had lost all but three of his original unit that day. Of the three left, two had died in combat, and the third just had a lot of “unknowns” in the report. That might explain the prickly shell of a personality.

Yeah, well, there weren’t brain worms the first time, Trees thought, rubbing his face tiredly. He then realized he’d spoken out loud when the guys who hadn’t been there first balked at him. Whoops.

“Brain worms?” Loops repeated, recoiling, his nose scrunched in disgust. Fours had a similar, though silent, reaction.

“Should’ve had Blitz Co there,” Zero remarked, barely fazed by the revelation.

The commander was oddly silent.

Trees shook his head. “Yeah, well, I’m tired, so I’m gonna turn in. Make sure you add Fours and Zero to the comm link.”

Sevenset nodded. “Will do, Green Bean.”

Trees leveled a deadpan stare at him. “Zero’s green too, get creative. And you’re not the only ARC now, ‘ARCBoi with five i’s,’” he told him, then clicked off the holoprojector.

-------

RedBoiiiii: [image file]

RedBoiiiii: LOOK AT THE NEW ARCS LOOK AT THEM!!!!!

Double Trouble: Yes!! Congrats, guys!

d0nut man: yay! nice paint

high fives: hey how’d you get that so fast??

RedBoiiiii: i know a guy :)

Fives+1: thanks do si do

high fives: echo what is your name

Fives+1: *long sigh*

RedBoiiiii: lol you can change it if you want. i’m the only one with the power to change other people’s names bc i created the chat

BetterDomino: got it

high fives: hey

Double Trouble: oof

d0nut man: hey my buddy Pixel has a handprint too

d0nut man: but he sprays paint around his hand instead of putting the paint on it to make the shape

high fives: oh neat

d0nut man: what’s yours for echo?

BetterDomino: captain rex put a handprint on my original kit on our first mission

high fives: in blood

RedBoiiiii: BLOOD???

BetterDomino: not human blood to be clear

Leafs: and that makes it better???

Leafs: oh maker’s sake, sevenset, really? Leafs?

RedBoiiiii: >:3

BetterDomino: it was rishi eel blood

d0nut man: oh okay

Double Trouble: that tracks

Double Trouble: oh does this mean you’re heading back to the 501st?

RedBoiiiii: yes :’((((

high fives: yeah we got back a couple hours ago

RedBoiiiii: i cri

DEATH: sack up sevens, kamino has enough water without you adding to it

RedBoiiiii: why do you only come into these chats to roast me?

DEATH: you keep standing in firepits

Double Trouble: ouch

high fives: commander sixes sir

BetterDomino: oh no i saw his face

high fives: that was amazing

BetterDomino: aaaaaaand fives has a new idol

high fives: hey echo you wanna come down off your bunk and say that?

BetterDomino: nope im all comfy

Leafs: kick his ass fives

high fives: >:)

Loopy: okay well you guys have been busy

Loopy: oh! Congrats domino the kits look awesome

RedBoiiiii: LOOPS!

BetterDomino: thanks loops!

Loopy: hi sevenset, how are those burns treating you?

RedBoiiiii: what burns

DEATH: you know

Loopy: yeah those :)

RedBoiiiii: ah

WELL IT'S BEEN A SIZZLIN' SECOND SINCE I POSTED PART 2 but that's okay :) Life has been a bit hectic, and also I forgot. Also!! Zero belongs to my dear friend @23-bears and the 118th lads and General Bala have their own blog: @118th-special-forces. Go say hi! And yes, I have part 4 written, so hopefully it won't be another EON between chapters 😬

@blsmjoon @nintendolover13 @darth-void @glubtheflyingfish @peacefulwizardfox @theultimatesandwich @alamogirl80

[tsarisfanfiction]

Fallen Through (Bit 1)

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, John, Gordon, Virgil

More @whumptober-archive, more exhausted Tsari not getting the entire thing written before falling basically asleep, so there’ll be a part two to this at some point to round it off because if I try to write any more tonight you’ll just get gibberish.  Today’s theme was “you will go down with this ship”, using the specific prompts fallen and trap door.  I’m fairly sure there’s an ask in my inbox about this; I’ll respond to that when I get the rest of this written.

I’m gonna hold off on archiving this one on FFN/AO3 until it’s fully written, because this section will probably need some tweaking, too.  Luckily I have tomorrow off work, so maybe I’ll get this done then alongside tomorrow’s...

“Be careful, Scott.”

John’s voice held a cautionary warning, as though he thought Scott needed to heed what he was saying.  He did, of course – he always listened to John, because not listening to John ended in disaster… which was something he remembered the hard way whenever he didn’t listen.

In this case, the warning seemed rather redundant.

He’d been summoned via John from hovering over the water where Thunderbird Four was currently deployed to an old, decrepit manor house.  A couple of kids had gone exploring and ended up falling through some rotten floorboards, or so John had relayed, and needed extraction.

Virgil had promised to follow along as soon as Gordon was finished up with their rescue, but if it was just a case of scooping some daredevil kids out of a hole in the floor, Scott was pretty sure he could do that alone.  It was hardly an unfamiliar role for him, after all.

Leaving Thunderbird One, he could immediately see that the manor was mostly ruinous; the fact that two unwary kids had found misfortune there made perfect sense.  Still, navigating it would just be a simple case of following their footsteps until he found their hole, and then pulling them out before returning the way they’d come.  Nothing particularly arduous.

John, it seemed, disagreed.  He’d informed Scott in that disgruntled way he had when technology failed him that there were no digital schematics of the building at all.  Paper copies existed, but they hadn’t been archived electronically in any form, leaving John effectively blind regarding the layout.  His brother, of course, despised that.

Hence the unnecessary warnings to be careful when Scott could see that parts of the manor were falling apart.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured him.  The trail of footprints in the dirty remnants of the floor was easy to see and even easier to follow.  “I know where I’m going.”

Disapproval radiated out from his comm without John needing to even say a word.

“That manor is old,” the ginger said anyway.  “Who knows what secrets it’s hiding.”

“This isn’t a fairy tale castle.”  Scott rolled his eyes, picking his way through what looked to have once been a large entrance hall.  Off to his right, part of a large, grand staircase spiralled up into the air, disappearing at about the height of a story up as though the next floor was in another plane of existence.  “This is just a wrecked version of Lady Penelope’s home; it’s fine.”

“You do know that the Creighton-Ward manor has several concealed entrances?” John shot back.  “Old manor houses are full of secret sections.”

“Yes, yes,” Scott dismissed.  The kids’ footprints led him into a huge room with a ceiling that must have once arched over him, complete with painted motifs.  In the corners, some hints of said decorated ceiling were just about visible before making way for the real sky.  “I’m just following where they walked; we know that’s safe until the point they fell.”

The noise John made was thoroughly unconvinced.  “I don’t like this, Scott.”

John didn’t like anything the moment technology failed him.

“You don’t have to like it,” Scott told him.  “Just let me know when the kids show up on the radar.”  The ballroom was huge, and it looked rather like the footsteps continued out the other side.

“F.A.B.,” his brother replied reluctantly.  “Stay safe.”

“I will,” Scott promised, eying the ground either side of him for signs of movement.  That seemed to be good enough for John, at least for the moment, because his brother went on mute and immediately called the trapped kids for an update.

Crossing the ballroom was slow going; the temptation was there to cut across the room, but John’s caution was still ringing in his ears, and even with his own eyes, he could tell that some of the floorboards looked about ready to fall apart.

The slow route it was.

He was careful to keep exactly to the route, reasoning that if the floor hadn’t given way under the earlier passage of the kids, then it should hold for him, too.  No matter how many concerning noises the floor boards were making.

There was no warning.  One moment there was wood beneath his boots, the next there was nothing.

Scott didn’t scream, but there was probably a startled cry somewhere immediately after the world vanished beneath his feet.

Caught off-guard, he fumbled for his grapple on the way down, grabbing it and firing it up.  It caught on a broken section of floorboard and gave way, sending the line slack and throwing him back down, alongside the debris of the freshly-broken wood.

His back slammed against something solid, bringing his fall to an abrupt halt, and starbursts exploded in front of his eyes.

“Scott!”  John’s voice exploding out of his comm didn’t help matters.  Scott closed his eyes against everything – the world, the pain, his brother – and wondered how he’d fallen when he was sure he didn’t weigh as much as the combined weight of the pair of kids they were trying to find and save.  “Scott, answer me!”

He groaned ineloquently.

“Scott?”

“’M here,” he muttered.

“Are you hurt?”

If the way his back was screaming was any indication, yes, Scott was.  Ow.  Attempts to move were met with fierce opposition by his body as pain shot through him.

“I’m taking your silence as a yes,” John continued after several moments.  “Can you move?”

“…No,” he admitted after a reluctant pause, when a fresh wave of pain crashed over him as he shifted experimentally.  “I don’t get it.  Why did the floor give out there?”  It shouldn’t have done.

“Without the schematics, I couldn’t tell you,” John replied, frustration ebbing into his voice again.  “Stay where you are; Thunderbird Four is almost finished and then Virgil and Gordon will be en route.”

Scott groaned, already picturing disappointed brown eyes peering down at him from the hole in the floorboards some way above him.

John hadn’t yet said I told you so, but Scott could imagine it in his voice just fine anyway.  I told you to be careful, the John-voice in his head scolded, overlapping with the real John’s voice as Scott once again tried to move, only for the pain to drag him to a grinding halt.

The encore of the light show imprinted against his eyes didn’t help anything, either.  Somewhere along the way, he must have lost some time, because a lazy blink up at the hole above him later and those brown eyes were actually there.

“We’ve got eyes on him.”  Gordon’s voice sang out from both the comm and from the hole above.  “Doesn’t look good.  Not sure how we’re going to get him out, either.  This wood is too brittle to support his weight.”

“My best guess is that it’s a bolt hole or escape tunnel,” John told them.  “It’s hard to tell without the schematics but could you look to get him out that way?”

“We can try,” Virgil said.  “Gordon-”

“I’ll go down,” the aquanaut said.  Scott assumed Virgil must have made a displeased face at that, because he steamrollered on.  “If we can’t get out that way, we’ll have to come back up and it’ll be easier for me to get back than you,” Gordon reminded him.  “See if you can evac the kids while I deal with Scott.”

Scott couldn’t see what Gordon had secured his rope to, but it no time at all, his blond haired brother was crouching alongside him.

“Hey, Scotty,” his brother greeted, apparently noticing he was awake.  “You’re not looking your best, bro.”

Scott glowered at him and tried to swipe at him half-heartedly.  His body was having none of it and the hand fell to his side limply as it exploded in pain again.

“Easy,” Gordon coaxed.  “Looks like you were right, John,” he added, “this place definitely goes somewhere.  Pass me down that stretcher, Virgil, then go get the kids.”

Virgil made a disgruntled noise, as though he thoroughly disagreed with Gordon’s plan, but then there was a hoverstretcher being lowered.

“Right then,” Gordon said with more cheer than Scott suspected he actually felt.  “Let’s get you loaded up, and then we’ll go exploring.  See you on the other side, Virgil!” he called up.

“Stay in contact,” their brother demanded.  “I’ll join you once the kids are safe.”

“It’s a date,” Gordon promised sunnily.  Scott rolled his eyes, and suspected Virgil was doing the same.  “Now then, Scotty, it’s moving time.”

Scott pre-emptively grit his teeth.  This was going to hurt.

It did, for all of about two seconds, and then darkness descended.

[foxmuld3r]

Stargate prompt for jack/Sam shipmas:

‘You’re such a grinch’

Thank you @stargatelov3r for giving me the prompt and always having faith in my writing !

It was a couple of days before Christmas and Atlantis was abuzz with the festivities. Members of the expedition have been spending the past week putting up decorations across the city, much to Ronon’s confusion and Rodney’s annoyance since members of his science team kept disappearing at random moments. Jack had mixed feelings about the upcoming holiday, it would be the first one knowing John was his son but he was getting old and he felt as if he would be betraying the memory of Charlie if he celebrated with his newly discovered son. He checked his watch, seeing if enough time had passed until he could drag Sam out of her meetings or if John would be back from his mission yet. He knew the Dedalus would be arriving tomorrow and he was slightly worried about the gifts he had gotten for his little family, especially for Sam, he had spent the whole day holed up in Daniel’s room badgering him about finding the perfect gift for Sam. He sidestepped a nervous scientist who was holding a box of decorations and a box of doohickeys, it seemed, it would have offered to help but the small scientist had already rounded a corner and he hadn’t heard any crashes so he assumed they were fine. He slipped into his room to avoid the overkill of merriment that was happening everywhere, he didn’t expect to see Sam sitting at her desk looking over the various emails that Rodney and Radek send her everyday, but he was glad to see her anyway as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head,

“Avoiding the festive cheer are we, Carter?” He murmured jokingly as he stared at the long scientific emails, understanding some of what was being discussed but he liked to leave the science to Sam, he knew just enough to get by as an air officer. “You’re such a grinch, Jack. My meeting with Elizabeth finished early so I thought I would finish some emails discussing this weather system with Rodney and Radek. They think they found this system in one of the recently explored rooms where it can trigger seasonal changes or certain weather, the scientists are pretty excited about it thinking they could make it snow. Don’t pull that face at me, Jack, I’ve seen you enjoy plenty of snow days when we were back in Colorado. I remember that snowball fight with the team.” Teasing him as she leant back in the chair and into his embrace, relishing in the small break before immersing herself into work again. There was a lot of work to be done before she could take a day off, but they were planning to have some sort of ‘Christmas’ party, well winter party as Elizabeth put it so as to include the Athosians, Ronon and everyone else who didn’t exactly celebrate Christmas. “John is here, he was trying to get away from everyone harassing him about leave and other decisions to do with Christmas and missions. He got a bit overwhelmed so he came here, said he hadn’t been sleeping well recently. He fell asleep on the couch a while ago, I thought it would be best to let him sleep.” She had managed to take off his boots and place a blanket over him, brushing the hair out of his tired eyes and taking out his comm before deciding to work silently from her office. She turned in her chair, taking out a fake bit of mistletoe from her pocket, showing him cheekily, standing up so she could pull his face down for a kiss, “I’m sure you’re not too much of a grinch to ignore mistletoe” Never tiring of the feeling of his rough palm against her face and his lips connecting with hers, his stubble grazing her face. The kiss ended too soon but they stayed together in their shared embrace for a while before stepping away. He was slightly startled when Sam pulled away quickly, running into their shared room before appearing not a minute later, pressing a present into his hands. “Open it.” Was told to him softly.

He carefully unwrapped it, his desire to preserve the moment as he felt Sam’s anxious eyes on him. His hands felt the smooth wood of a photo frame and the gloss of the glass. The wrapping paper fell to the floor to reveal 4 pictures spaced out and divided by the strong wood. The first picture caused the breath to be caught in his throat, it was of him knelt down next to Charlie wearing matching baseball caps and Charlie wearing a baseball glove too big for him. He remembered that day, he was on leave and had taken Charlie to a baseball game to celebrate, Charlie had been ecstatic. The photo next to it was one of him and John standing in the Atlantis gate room, Sam had jokingly asked to get a picture because they had managed to survive a mission together without being captured, injured or killed. Everyone had jokingly clapped and John had feigned offence even when Rodney had sarcastically told him he should check his head. It had been a good day that day.

The last two pictures were of family. His family back in Colorado at the SGC: Sam, Janet, Daniel, Teal’c, Hammond and him, the second year in the stargate programme, Daniel still had that ridiculous haircut that he enjoyed ruffling to wind him up sometimes. The last picture was taken a few months ago in one of the Atlantean common rooms, they had fallen asleep watching the Fellowship of the Ring after a particularly harrowing mission. He didn’t even know this picture had been taken. He and Sam were asleep in each other’s arms on one sofa, Elizabeth asleep while Teyla in the same arm chair was following the film with confusion. John and Ronon were laughing while Rodney was trying very hard to seem angry at whatever they were joking about. Carson, Janet, Teal’c, Jonas, Daniel and Cameron were all spread around with a range of food showing just how long the film had been going on. This was the family he had now. Stuck for words he gently placed the frame on the desk and pulled Sam in for a deep kiss, his hands finding their way into her short hair while her hands took their position at the back of his neck and in his hair. She had created this for him, encouraged him to take the chance of being a father again and giving him this Christmas. “Sam, let’s get married again. I love you.” Take a short breath before he connected their lips again, to show his gratitude, dipping her ever so slightly to make her laugh. “Of course I’ll marry you again, Jack, even if it’s just to see you in your uniform.” Maybe her husband wasn’t so much of a grinch after all, maybe he just needed the people to make him feel again.

[glimmerglanger]

Long Days

Written for @codywanweek, prompt #1 (hurt/comfort). Mostly emotional h/c, set at some point near the middle of the Clone Wars. So excited to get this week started!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cody didn’t recognize the woman who snapped the question, interrupting General Kenobi’s offer of aid to the survivors of the Separatist attack. He wasn’t really considering her facial features, in any case, or even her words.

Most of his attention had snagged on the sound her hand had made, a moment ago, the noise of the slap so startling that Cody had frozen in place. There were instincts in his head, reflexes trained into muscle, all of them focused on exactly what he was supposed to do when someone threatened General Kenobi with physical harm.

None of them were appropriate when faced with a petite woman, bleeding from her nose, with eyes flat and empty.

“You’ve all done enough,” she hissed, up into Obi-Wan’s face, rage twisting her mouth into something ugly. “We don’t want any more of your help.” She turned on her heel, before either of them could answer, before Cody could sort out the clench of his hand into a fist.

She left a spatter of spit behind, on the ground, inches from Obi-Wan’s boot.

And Obi-Wan said nothing, still. Even as she marched away. He just stood there, stock-still, until Cody nudged him softly and said, “General?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, then. Turned to glance up at Cody. He said, “Organize the men. These people will need shelters before nightfall. Let’s see what we can do.”

Cody blinked at him. “They don’t want our help, sir,” he said, softly, thinking of the sound of her hand against his skin, the way she’d struck him after Cody had watched him almost die earlier, a half-dozen times, in the fight to save some portion of this misbegotten rock. They could have let everyone here die.

No one else would have cared. No one else in the entire galaxy.

Obi-Wan blinked at him. He looked tired. Exhausted. Sounded it, when he said, “Perhaps not. But they need it.”

#

Cody gave the orders to set up shelters before the night could close in around them all. He followed Obi-Wan through the bombed out wreckage of the city as he shut off the comm. Shadowed eyes watched them from doorways, from huddles on street corners. Glares and murmured curses dogged their heels.

A few people took a step or two towards the General, before looking at Cody, walking by his shoulder, and changing their minds. And they were fools to be more frightened of Cody. Obi-Wan might have looked softer, in his ragged robes, with his kind eyes and easy smile, but there was nothing but war in his bones.

He could have killed everyone in the city, if he wanted to, for all that Cody was the one with the armor and the blaster.

But no one seemed to recognize that. No one seemed able to look at his hands and see the calluses, the scars. They did not note the way he walked with the easy stride of a predator, despite the injuries from the earlier battle. They did not regard the way he lifted rubble away with nothing but a gesture, digging out lost souls trapped under collapsed buildings, until the Council called him away.

#

It was a bad end to a bad day. Cody didn’t hear much of the Council’s communique, but he happened to catch enough to know that things had gone poorly beyond their little portion of the war. Some battles they won. Some were draws.

Some days they just lost. It was a losing sort of day.

Obi-Wan disappeared into his tent, after the comm. It was late. Cody vaguely hoped that his General would sleep, but he had his doubts about such a thing. And he knew Obi-Wan hadn’t eaten. He scrounged up enough food to constitute something like a meal and made his way to the tent, ducking in, intentionally quiet.

Obi-Wan was sitting on a low cot, elbows on his knees, shoulders curled over - shaking - and 

Cody froze.

He’d seen people weep before. Civilians did so frequently. His brothers wept, sometimes, especially over the bodies of the fallen. Cody had shed tears himself, more than once, after burying too many, but--

But he’d always assumed, somehow, that the Jedi didn’t.

Obi-Wan noticed his intrusion immediately, jerking to his feet, turning his shoulders to one side. Cody watched him scrub the back of his arm across his face, heard him clear his throat. Obi-Wan’s voice was still rough when he said, “Commander. I thought you’d be sleeping. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

All the days were long days. Cody stood there, holding a platter of rations that tasted like dirt, remembering the sound of the woman’s hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan had been weeping. Alone in his tent. He’d nearly died, and--

“That woman earlier,” Cody started, feeling that he needed to say something, not knowing what it was. “These people. They shouldn’t be treating you this way. It’s--”

“Justifiable,” Obi-Wan said, his voice still thick, his shoulders still turned to Cody. He shook his head, and Cody swore under his breath. He had his hands full of food, which seemed suddenly useless. He sat the tray hurriedly on the bed, listening to Obi-Wan continue. “She lost children, today. If I had done more, I could have--”

“No,” Cody said, unable to listen to anymore. Obi-Wan had almost died, more than once, if he’d done anymore he’d be gone, erased from the galaxy. In a world full of nightmares, the threat of Obi-Wan’s death was the most recurring horror that visited Cody.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and his voice cracked, terribly. “I have a duty to these people. To you and your brothers. I am a Jedi. I’m supposed to protect people and I can’t--”

“Stop,” Cody snapped, battlefield command coming into the tone, but he couldn’t help it. He reached out, desperately, grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Maybe if he could just get Obi-Wan to look at him, everything would be better.

He pulled, and Obi-Wan turned with the movement. Cody meant to - to shake him, maybe. To make him understand. But Obi-Wan swayed forward with the tug, as though he expected it to be something else and all at once they were standing far too close.

Cody’s arms came up automatically. Hugging wasn’t something the clones did, much. He hadn’t embraced anyone since he was terribly young, but apparently the body remembered what to do.

Obi-Wan hooked an arm around the bulk of his armor, warm and smelling of blood and sweat and despair. Cody was used to those smells. They were part and parcel of the war. He curled both arms around Obi-Wan’s back, gloved fingers clenching in robes, and hung on, not knowing, entirely, what was happening.

All he really knew was that Obi-Wan’s head was resting on his shoulder. That he could feel the hitches in Obi-Wan’s breath. That they were close and touching and this was not how Cody had imagined such closeness, in his desperate dreams, but…

But maybe the acts he’d imagined weren’t what Obi-Wan needed, anyway. He leaned his head against Obi-Wan’s, unwinding his fingers from fabric, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re not responsible for what the Separatists do,” he said, quietly.

Obi-Wan made a little sound, a protesting scoff, and Cody squeezed him, just a little. “You’re not,” he said.

Obi-Wan sighed, shifting as though to pull back. Cody tightened his hold. “Commander--”

“We’re all doing everything we can,” Cody said, holding him there, close and firm, wishing he were in his blacks, wishing Obi-Wan weren’t having to press all against cold, hard armor. “You saved my life today.”

He felt Obi-Wan sigh, some of the tension going out of him. “Of course I did,” he said, as though there’d never been any doubt that he would, as though his own injuries in return had been worth it, as though Cody mattered to him.

Cody shivered. Those thoughts weren’t helpful. Not right at the moment. Not with Obi-Wan in his arms. He said, shaking them away. “Come on. You need to eat.” He sighed. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 15 for ShuAke, please? (Your other answers are really really good, by the way.)

(aaaa THANK YOU yes of course!! also jsksjksjksjksjsj THIS PROMPT……. THANK YOU FOR THIS it was SO fun)

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

akira has an adrenaline problem and is more reckless in sae’s casino that akechi expected. also akechi cares more about it than akechi expected.

***

The Thieves get overprotective of Joker in Sae’s casino, which is too bad, because it’s very big with many moving parts and it’s best for them to divide and conquer the place, which is how he explains it to them during a Thieves meeting that Akechi is not invited to. Also, when Joker splits them up into groups, Joker is sometimes paired up with only Crow.

The rest of the Thieves give each other unimpressed looks. “That’s… the opposite of reassuring,” Makoto says with a pained sigh.

“If anything happens, I’ll be fine. Plus, Futaba knows where I am at all times, and she can always reach me through the comms. I’ll say something if anything happens.”

Everyone gives each other such a significant look that Akira wonders if maybe the Thieves are having secret meetings that he isn’t invited to, either. But they don’t push him on it.

He asks Ryuji about it when everyone else has gone, Haru’s taken Morgana for the night, and it’s just the two of them in Akira’s attic. “We’re just… worried for you,” says Ryuji, scratching the back of his head. “The entire reason Akechi’s even here is to kill you, right? Guy’s a liar and probably a murderer and we don’t even know how dangerous he is. His Persona’s already crazy strong and Makoto thinks he’s got more tricks up his sleeve, too.”

Akira thought that through already. The probability is that Akechi can’t kill him until they’ve gotten to the end of the palace, and stolen Sae’s “heart” on the exact day that Akechi requested. On the other hand, it’s still just a probability. Maybe Akechi can kill him whenever he wants. “It’ll be fine,” says Akira.

“I mean, I know that,” says Ryuji, and sighs. “I guess… it’d be one thing if we just thought he might kill you the second we’re not lookin’, but I–I dunno. We were all worried ‘cause we thought that you kept pairing yourself up with Crow on purpose ‘cause you liked that he might…”

Ryuji trails away. “Uh, actually, never mind. Sounds dumb now that I say it aloud, honestly. Forget about it. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” says Akira.

***

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who lived in a good town, with a good family, with only good neighborhoods. There were never any bad neighborhoods to duck into and pick any fights with the wrong kind of people. There were never any bad bars to lose yourself in and make out with the wrong person. There were no criminals or thieves or so-called bad influences for a boy to get involved in.

Akira Kurusu is still a good boy. He lives in Tokyo now. He never finds himself so furious he can’t think, and he never heads to Mementos to punch shadows full of bullet holes, or (hopefully) get the shit kicked out of him. Akira Kurusu never scales the highest, tallest buildings in the Metaverse’s palaces, just to feel the ice-cold fear in his stomach hit him like a shot of vodka. Akira Kurusu never cuts it too close to the Palace deadline, just to feel the danger prickle on the back of his neck, or see the nervousness in his teammates’ eyes. He never makes an alliance with someone who doesn’t love him, just to wring some mutual benefit for the both of them like pulling blood from a stone.

Akira Kurusu never lurks on the school roof, or picks up shifts at Crossroads, or skulks in alleyways long after his bedtime, hoping for some douchebag to take a dislike to his face and give him a good reason to get some blood under his nails and feel alive for an hour. Whoever walks the Tokyo streets is some nameless, faceless specter, of no future and no past, to disappear when the sun rises. 

Akira Kurusu is a good boy who gets good grades and runs Sojiro’s coffee shop when Sojiro is out. His face is blank and impassive, and there’s definitely no grudges locked behind his teeth. He goes to school on time and answers all the questions right and speaks to no one. He doesn’t think about girls. He also doesn’t think about boys. 

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who, one day at a TV station, met another good boy named Goro Akechi, who smiled politely and said all the right things, who never had a bad thought in his head or a fury in his throat. When Goro Akechi comes to set up camp in Leblanc, it is of course no problem, because Goro Akechi is a good boy who would never wait for hours just to see the whites of his prey’s eyes, and Akira Kurusu is a good boy who’s never done anything wrong, and never hungers for the sharp jolt of being pursued pressed like a blade against his neck. 

Because they are both two very good boys, it is never a threat when Goro Akechi smiles at him in the subway station, and Akira’s smile back to the quick heartbeat of adrenaline is never real.

***

Anyway, the next day a Ganesha throws Joker through a slot machine.

“Joker!” Crow is probably saying, although Joker can’t hear a whole lot while upside down and covered in casino chips and bits of machine parts. Joker appreciates the concern, though, considering that Joker’s just split up the group again, and it’s only Joker and Crow against this brick shithouse of an elephant god. When Joker springs back up, his coattails and bits of bloody chips go flying; his whole body is singing. Crow says, “Hamao–”

That’s Joker’s least favorite move. No fun when Crow’s Hamaons or Mudoons land right, and the shadow drops clean like a cut puppet, no blood, no mess, no struggle. “Hecantoncheires!” Joker interrupts, and feels another chunk of his life force get gouged out as payment for a Swift Strike. 

“Ganesha resists physical!” Crow snaps.

Joker pulls out his gun and unloads the whole clip and only stops when Crow kicks him out of the way of Ganesha’s angry swipe. “It’s weak to Psychokinesis, Joker! Finish this quickly!”

Trust Crow to have memorized all the shadows’ weaknesses. He sounds just like Queen does when Joker’s not taking it seriously enough for her. Joker pulls Kunishinada from his soul and casts a weak Psi, sweeping the shadow right off its massive feet to hit the ground with a floor-shaking crash. Joker pulls out his dagger. If Ganesha was going to beg or bargain, Joker’s not interested. He wants a good old-fashioned fight.

When Joker’s dagger slices through Ganesha’s fat stomach, Ganesha’s death throes slam a fist right into Joker’s back, crushing him and tearing Joker’s dagger straight through Ganesha’s body. Ganesha explodes into shadow dust and a shower of yen. 

When Joker stands back up, he can feel himself beaming like a maniac, and Crow seems to almost smile back just out of pure shock. And with the Ganesha gone, it’s just Joker and the last and only enemy that mattered in the middle of the casino floor, surrounded by the Sae’s machines chattering out numbers of the highest, highest stakes. Joker’s enemy is sizing Joker up in the wake of battle, examining the blood streaking down his face; Joker’s enemy is sweeping his body from head to toe with his dark red eyes, lingering at the cinch of Joker’s vest waist, the high collars. Joker’s enemy’s eyes are wide. 

“Gorgeous,” says Joker, and then collapses.

Crow’s over him in a second, but before he can say anything, Oracle’s voice comes over the line: “Joker? Your reading’s are a little wonky, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” says Joker. He sounds remarkably fine, actually, considering that his vision’s going a little grey.

“You’re not–”

Joker presses a finger to his own lips. Crow shuts up, his eyes glittering and rapt. “I’m fine,” says Joker again to Oracle. “It was just a skirmish with a shadow. Nothing big.”

“Uhhhhhh… Okay? You know where the safe room is if you need it? Noir’s not too far away if you need a hand, too.”

“Thanks, Oracle.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” says Oracle, which makes Crow’s lips purse for some reason. The line clicks off. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fine,” says Crow immediately. His voice is shaking.

“I am fine.”

“I can see the blood–!”

“That’s a flesh wound.”

“This is no time for jokes,” says Crow sharply.

“Worried?” asks Joker. His to-be murderer, fretting about death coming a little too soon for his tastes? Ah, his to-be murderer is tracing his gloved fingers by Joker’s exposed and open neck. 

Crow ignores him. “Robin Hood doesn’t know any healing spells. Can you heal yourself?”

“I’m out of magic.”

Crow looks like he’s trying very hard to be a good, straight-laced detective who doesn’t say “fuck” and also doesn’t panic. Crow is taking deep breaths, like he’s the one who go punched in the chest twice by a two-thousand pound elephant. “That was incredibly foolhardy of you.”

“It was just a bit of fun.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but what part about getting the shit kicked out of you was fun?”

Joker has the stupidest, goofiest smile on his face, he knows, because he’s half-drunk on all his wounds and, in his defense, there is a very pretty murderer with a sharp, sharp sword and gun that never misses staring down at him, their masks close enough to touch, Crow’s hands close enough to strangle him to death right there on the casino floor. Joker wants to see what would happen if Crow tried. “It’s not fun if it can’t at least kill you,” he says, more sincerely than he meant to. 

Crow’s throat works and swallows hard. His hands are tight around Joker’s chest. “I–think I have some medicine in my pocket,” he says suddenly, and tears his eyes away. It turns out that he actually does, surprisingly, in the form of one of Takemi’s pill packets and a crushed protein bar. Crow watches Joker carefully to make sure that Joker actually takes them both. He keeps watching everything Joker does, really, from the way Joker pulls the packet apart, to the tiny bites he takes, to his careful swallows. When Joker spits a wad of blood out to clear his throat, Crow stares at it like he’s never seen the color red before.

“Let’s go back to the others,” Crow says, when Joker’s finished regaining whatever strength he can. “We can hardly have the illustruous leader of the Phantom Thieves dying here.” And all the way back, Crow refuses to leave Joker’s side.

For Joker’s to-be murderer, Crow seems to care an awful lot about whether or not Joker lives or dies, Joker thinks. 

***

(i love procrastinating. send a prompt)

[jedimordsith]

Dancer (Part VII)

The motel was nothing special. Intentionally nondescript, it sat in the middle ground at the outskirts of the city. Close enough to access everything easily, but far enough out that one could disappear into the wilds without too much fuss if things got hot. As usual, they bunked four to a room. At the moment, however, nearly all of them were crammed into one room playing a fierce but friendly game of sabacc. Luke had declined, tucking himself into a corner to catch up on some reading. He'd been trying to keep up with missions reports, but being off on so many of his own had made it hard.

They all looked up when the door chime went off. They weren't expecting anyone. Luke reached out with the Force and was baffled to find no one there. Wedge glanced at him and he shrugged. The chime sounded again and Antilles rose, one hand on his blaster. Most of them had one hand on a blaster, Luke noted, as his friend hit the door release.

Wedge blinked in surprise. A red and black astromech peered up at him with it's mechanical eye.

//Skywalker.// It chirped, imperiously.

Luke couldn't see the droid from where he sat but he'd know the sound of his name being beeped by an astromech anywhere. Startled, he jumped up and hurried over.

//Busy?// The droid inquired with impeccable politeness upon seeing him.

“Rix!” Luke was entirely unaware of the way he lit up at the sight of Mara's droid. Registering the question, he answered, “No, not till tomorrow.”

//Training?//

“Of course, where?”

//I will take you.//

“All right. Hang on.” Luke grabbed his cloak and stuffed the data pad he'd been reading in a pocket. “Wedge, I'm going out. Keep these guys in line, will you?”

“Sure, Boss. You need an escort?”

Luke grinned and waved at the droid. “Rix'll take care of me, but thanks. Don't wait up, I might be a while.”

“Right.”

Ignoring his friends' baffled and intrigued senses behind him, Luke ducked out the door behind Rix and they set a fast pace out of the motel.

“Why can't I feel her?” He asked, quietly.

//Shielding. Mistress believes it is rude not to shield when injured.//

“She's injured?”

//It is nothing.//

Luke sincerely doubted that and wondered how Mara convinced her droid not to fuss over her. Artoo monitored Luke's vitals, despite his protests, and fussed whenever his own personal limits were exceeded in any direction.

The trip only took about ten minutes. The droid flashed access codes that got them into a private hangar, and Luke recognized the shuttle Mara frequently used. Rix easily got them on board, meticulously shutting and locking it down behind them. The astromech beeped at Luke that Jade was probably still in the cabin and he headed down the hall, pulling down the hood of his cloak as he went.

The door was open and he stopped just inside it. Mara sat on the floor in the corner, more propped upright than properly sitting. She was freshly scrubbed, her hair still damp from a shower, and wearing only loose sleep pants and a baggy tunic. She looked beyond exhausted.

“Farmboy.” She smiled up at him, wanly. “Hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

“You can interrupt me any time,” he reminded her, tugging off his cloak and tossing it over the room's sole chair. “Rix said you were hurt.”

She frowned. “That was out of line of him. I thought we could do some training since we're in the same place at the same time.”

Luke crouched down in front of her. “You don't look like you're in any shape for training. What happened?”

“Just busy,” she shook her head. “We can't lose an opportunity to train, Skywalker.”

“You going to take down those shields?” he asked.

“No,” she shifted slightly uncomfortably. “There are things we can work on that don't require it.”

“How about we consider this a reminder that I'm long overdue to teach you some more advanced healing techniques?” he suggested. “Split the difference.”

She wanted to protest. Knew that she should. But she was beyond tired and everything hurt. “That doesn't help you much,” she objected, halfheartedly.

“Of course it does,” he brushed this off. “I don't have anyone else to practice this stuff with. Here.” He held out a hand. “Let's get off the floor and lose those shields so we can see what we're working with.”

Neither of those ideas were appealing, but Mara complied anyway. Luke winced.

“You really do want me to do some practicing.” He helped her ease onto the bed. “This is more than 'just busy', Jade.”

He felt her pull back in the Force, queasy at his implied question. “Hey,” he caught her hand, leaned down to meet her eyes. “What is it? What happened?”

Those blue eyes were so sincere, so concerned. Mara cringed at the thought of them staring at her with disgust and loathing and berated herself. She was above this nonsense. She was a professional, and neither of them had any illusions about what she did or why she did it. The stern reminders didn't work, but that intense gaze compelled her to speak anyway, even as she tried to brace herself for the painful fallout.

“He sent me undercover.”

“As a dancer?” It was a common cover for her, but he couldn't think why it would have ended with her in such rough shape this time.

“No.” She pulled her hand from his and scooted up the bed, putting space between them. Her Force sense was tight as a spring and worried. She started blankly at the wall to her right before she answered. “Just a common serving wench. For a crime lord.”

His disgust swelled between them, sick and angry.

“It wasn't about me,” she reassured quickly, anxious green eyes darting to his before they dropped to her hands, twisting together atop her tucked-up knees. “They just… treat everyone badly. Like objects. I have to take it like the others, or blow my cover.” 

Unbidden, Luke caught images of a lush room, raucous with party-goers. Flashes of scantily clad servers weaving among drunken criminals, meaty hands reaching out to grab, pinch, slap – or worse, when demurrals roused their egos and anger.

Luke dropped onto the bed. “Oh, Sith, Mara. I'm so sorry.”

She waved a hand, dismissing it. “You didn't send me. Besides, they paid for it - I killed them all, in the end.”

“I'm the reason he can still send you,” Luke said quietly, regret and anger coarsening his voice. 

“The Alliance still needs me,” she gave a resigned shrug. “And it's nothing that won't heal.” This time.

The words hung between them, a cold, grim reality that twisted his heart. “I'll get you out, Jade. We'll find another way to get our information.”

“Okay.”

She didn't believe Command would let him and he knew it. But that was something to argue about later. Right now, she still hurt, badly.

“We need to get you in a healing trance.”

“I've been falling in and out of one.”

“I can help you stay in. Come on.” He rose from the bed and insisted she get settled under the covers. Pulling them up around her, he eased down until he lay beside her on top of the blankets. “Close your eyes, Jade. Let me do the work.”

She smiled at him, wearily. “You know that sounds really indecent, right?”

“Shut up.”

She laughed slightly, but it ended on a sigh as he reached out, touching her temples with his fingers and her soul with the Force. In seconds, she was out cold, her body greedily pulling on the Force with his help to fuel rapid healing.

A beep from the doorway made him look up.

“Yes, Rix, she'll be all right.”

Another beep, sometime later, woke him to the realization that he'd fallen asleep. Mara lay curled against him, her color better and her breathing even. A quick brush across her Force sense told him she was sleeping, no longer in a healing trance. He glanced at the chrono. Kreth.

“Thanks, Rix.”

Forty minutes later, he was striding back down the hall of his motel. Mara had insisted he take advantage of her real water sani-steam before he left and thrust a ration bar at him as he'd left, which he'd eaten on the walk back. She'd looked better, and been grateful for his help, but the awareness of the risks she was running every day now sat heavily between them.

He keyed in the entry code and walked into the room, heading for the bunk where he'd abandoned his bag the night before.

“Hey, Luke. You had us worried – you didn't answer your comm.” Tycho kept dressing, though his eyes followed Luke.

“Sorry,” he said. “I turned it off.”

“Out with a pretty girl, Boss?” Hobbie joked.

It should have prompted a smart reply, but Luke was still aching from what he'd felt last night, wrapped so closely around Mara. She'd taken a lot of abuse before her moment to turn the tables the crime lord had come and it should never have had to happen. Worse, for all he knew, she could be powering up the shuttle and headed to another assignment just like it right now. Or worse.

When Luke failed to reply, frowning and lost in thought as he shoved things into his bag and prepared to go, the others exchanged a look. Something had their Commander worried and upset and that usually spelled trouble.

Luke was withdrawn the rest of the trip back to the fleet, and he nabbed Leia as soon as they landed. “We need to talk,” he told her grimly.

Worried by his uncharacteristically grim demeanor, she'd agreed at once and they'd headed for her office. Han had followed, uninvited but not unwelcome.

“What's wrong?” Leia asked as soon as they were alone.

“We need to get Dancer out. Now.”

“They onto her?” Han asked, worry spiking.

“No.” Luke turned grim eyes on his friend and Han felt his gut twist. “Remember how she told us the Emperor is getting more and more unstable? How the parameters for her missions are getting weird and things are going wrong more often? Turns out 'going wrong' is code for her getting hurt – so badly she can't consistently keep herself in a healing trance.”

“Oh no,” Leia groaned. “Luke, the timing on this couldn't be worse. There are major offensives coming up in the next few weeks. We need that intel – things only she can get us!”

“She may not have a few weeks!”Luke exploded. His eyes squeezed closed, trying to recenter himself, even as helpless fury roiled through him. “there's no way to know what her next assignment will be. Whether or not there'll be enough time to get her out before -.” He couldn't finish the sentence.

Leia pressed two fingers to her forehead, eyes closing a moment. “It's not my call to make,” she reminded him, wearily, after a moment. “But I'll do what I can.”

[dragonydreams]

Priorities, We Have Them - Rogue Canary

Title: Priorities, We Have Them Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow Rating: Teen Pairings/Characters: Sara Lance/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Summary: Mick gets hurt while out in the field and all Sara and Leonard want to do is take care of him the best way they know how. Timeline: Ambiguous season two after they get Rip back and Leonard never died at the Oculus. Word Count: 1,878 Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg and Phil Klemmer. Betas: Thank you to angelskuuipo and shanachie_quill for looking this over for me. Author's Note: Combination of prompts. @freyreh requested: rogue canary, fluffy prompt call: one is hurt during mission and the other two dotes on them, despite protests! Anonymous requested: As a prompt would you consider a fluffy mick centric rogue canary fic??? Maybe they're comforting him or something??? Possibly smutty idk whatever u feel

  The battle raged throughout the dockyard. Firestorm and Atom were firing on goons from the sky while Leonard, Mick, and Rip attacked with guns and Sara, Amaya, and Nate fought with hand-to-hand combat.

"Where's Darhk?" Sara shouted after having knocked out her latest opponent. She looked around to see Leonard shooting ice at a cluster of men and Mick wasn't far away lighting up some other men with fire. But neither was fighting Darhk. "I don't see him."

"The speedster got him away as soon as the gunfire started," Ray reported over the din of fight.

Sara took her rage out on having lost out on the chance to kill Darhk, again, on the first goon foolish enough to come at her.

She was so consumed by her own fight that she didn't hear the warning signs until the explosion happened.

"Mick," Leonard's voice cried out, finishing off his opponents.

Sara's head jerked up as one of her lovers cried the other's name with an anguished voice. She dropped her opponent and followed Leonard to where she could now see Mick lying on the ground.

"No!" she cried, running towards the fire that was creeping closer to her lovers. "Is he...?" She couldn't say it.

"Alive," Leonard quickly assured her, his voice thick with emotion - that he would later claim was from the smoke. "Just unconscious."

"Thank God," Sara sighed. Into the comms, she said, "Mick's down and Darhk's gone. Retreat."

As Leonard and Sara managed to lift Mick between them, Ray dropped down. "Let me take him," he offered, reaching for Mick's limp form.

"We've got him," Leonard snarled, tightening his grip on Mick.

"I can carry him much easier, and faster, thanks to the suit," Ray insisted.

"We want to do this," Sara said, meeting his eyes, "but thanks for the offer."

 Ray instantly backed off.

The team knew that the Rogues and the Assassin were close, but Sara wasn't sure if they knew exactly how close they were to each other. Frankly, it was none of their business.

Heading straight for the medbay once on board the Waverider, they managed to get Mick onto one of the exam chairs and secured the medical cuff around his wrist.

"How is he?" Sara asked as a blue light scanned Mick's body.

"Aside from being unconscious, Mr. Rory is fine," Gideon reported. "I have already reduced the minor swelling of his brain."

Leonard let out the breath that he had been holding. "Are you sure? When will he wake up?"

"I'm sure," Gideon said. "The force of hitting his head on the ground merely rendered Mr. Rory unconscious. It is no more severe than any of the blows that you have delivered to him over the past year."

"When will he wake up?" Sara asked, since the AI had not answered Leonard's second question.

"I am not sure how long it will take him to regain consciousness," Gideon reported. "Anytime between now and several hours from now."

"Does he need to stay here?" Leonard asked.

"There is no medical reason for him to remain in this room," Gideon said.

"Great." Leonard removed the cuff and began to lift Mick off the medical chair. "We'll be in my quarters."

Sara helped Leonard carry Mick to his room and they managed to get him stretched out on Leonard's bed. Leonard immediately started to remove Mick's boots.

"I'm gonna go check in with Rip and then I'll be back," Sara said. "If he wakes up while I'm gone, tell him I'll be right back."

"I will," Leonard said. Before she could go, he caught her hand and pulled her close for a quick kiss; an assurance that they were both okay after the fight.

Sara smiled at him as they parted and gave his hand a squeeze before she moved quickly towards the bridge.

Sara found Rip in his study.

"How is Mr. Rory?" he asked upon seeing Sara.

"Gideon said he's fine, just knocked out," Sara said. "Leonard and I moved him to Leonard's room and we'll wait for him to wake up there. What happened with the goons?"

"The fight pretty much broke up after the explosion. Those that weren't caught by it were so few in number that they ran off," Rip informed her.

"Sorry we just ran off," Sara said. "I know my job is as a fighter, and its bad form for the co-captain to just disappear mid-fight."

Rip's expression softened. "A good captain looks out for their crew; which is exactly what you did."

"Mick's more than just crew," Sara uncomfortably admitted.

"I know," Rip said. Upon Sara's surprised look, he added, "Did you really think that I don't know about the various affairs that are happening on board my own ship?"

"We thought we were playing it pretty cool," Sara said.

"Oh, you were," Rip readily agreed. "I'm not sure that your teammates know the fullness of your - friendship - with the former thief and arsonist, but it is my job to track all movements on this ship. Including who is sleeping in which bedrooms."

Sara blushed slightly. "Thank you for not saying anything."

"It's not my place," Rip said. "Had Mr. Rory not been injured today, I still would not have acted any wiser."

"I better get back to them," Sara said. "How long before we jump?"

"We'll wait until Mr. Rory is sufficiently recovered. With the so called Legion of Doom in the wind once again, we are in no rush to be off."

"Thanks, Rip," Sara said, turning to head back to Leonard's room.

Leonard was sitting on his bed beside Mick's prone form, a book open in front of him. He'd maneuvered Mick's head against his side and his arm was looped around his shoulders, his hand resting over Mick's heart.

Sara slipped off her boots and crawled onto the bed with them, fitting herself between Leonard's outstretched legs.

"About time you got here, I've been stuck on the same page for minutes," Leonard said as she settled back against his chest.

"How very boring for you," Sara commented as she dutifully turned the page in his book. "What are we reading?" She let the hand closest to Mick rest on his thigh.

"Frankenstein," Leonard said.

"You feeling some sympathy for our misunderstood monster?" Sara asked affectionately.

"Don't let him hear you say that," Leonard said softly.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Sara said lightly. "Most people don't get him like we do."

"I do know what you mean," Leonard concurred.

"Leonard, I don't much feel like reading," Sara said, twisting around until she was kneeling between his legs. She trailed one hand up his chest until it rested behind his neck while the other remained on Mick.

Leonard closed the book and tossed it towards the end of the bed, his now free hand going to her hip. "What did you have in mind?"

Sara leaned in to kiss him. Her lips brushed against his lightly, teasingly, until Leonard pulled her firmly against his body and parted his lips, deepening the kiss. Sara moaned her encouragement, pressing her body against his, her nails digging into Mick's chest.

"Who said you could start without me?" Mick asked groggily from beside them.

Sara and Leonard's heads whipped towards Mick to see him sitting up against the wall, hungrily watching them.

"Don't stop on my account," Mick said.

"You're awake," Sara exclaimed, leaning over to hug Mick.

"Obvious--" Mick's response was cut off by Leonard's lips on his.

"I'm happy to see you guys, too," Mick said when they released him. "What was that for?"

"You've been unconscious," Leonard said.

"How long?" Mick asked, frowning in confusion.

"Just a couple of hours," Sara answered. "That explosion knocked you out."

"Don't remember any explosion. Did I cause it?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, buddy, but someone fired a gun into one of the oil cans," Leonard said. "What were you doing fighting over by them anyway?"

"Thought I could blow them up if I needed to," Mick answered. "Guess that idea backfired."

"Be more careful," Sara admonished him, moving from her place between Leonard's legs until she was straddling Mick. She took his face in her hands and kissed him somewhat desperately.

"Mr. Rory should refrain from any physical exertion for the next forty-eight hours," Gideon's voice interrupted.

Sara whimpered as her forehead dropped to Mick's shoulder.

"How'd you know what we were doin'?" Mick grumbled.

"I have been continuing to monitor your heart rate for any residual effects from you being rendered unconscious," Gideon informed them.

"Why didn't you say anything when we asked if he was going to be okay?" Leonard asked, just as frustrated as his partners.

"I expected you to use more common sense than this," Gideon responded. "No physical exertion for Mr. Rory for the next two days or I will have to inform Captain Hunter."

Not wanting that lecture, Mick grumpily acknowledged, "Understood."

Sara gave Mick one last quick kiss before turning and settling herself in his lap, her legs stretched out over Leonard, Mick's arm automatically coming to wrap around her waist. "So now what?" she pouted.

"Movie?" Leonard suggested.

"Can we watch Blade Trinity?" Mick asked. "I like the guy that plays Drake."

"Anything you want," Sara said.

"And popcorn," Mick added.

Sara giggled at Leonard's groan as he got up. "Be right back," he said, dropping a quick kiss to Mick's lips.

Sara snuggled closer into Mick's warmth, causing the big man to chuckle.

"What's got you so clingy?" he asked, running his hand up and down her back.

"You scared me today," Sara admitted. "I don't like being scared in the field. I'm supposed to be in charge out there and as soon as I saw you were down, I left my position and ran to you."

"You know I'd do the same for you or Len," Mick said, tilting her face up to meet his eyes.

"Not the same," Sara insisted.

"Was Rip mad?" Mick asked.

"No, he understood," Sara said. "He already knew about us all being together."

"Captain's job to know what's going on on his ship," Mick said, nodding. "Not surprised."

"Well, I was," Sara admitted. "Do you think Leonard will be mad that he knows?"

"That who knows what?" Leonard asked, carrying a large bowl of popcorn and three bottles of beer. He handed the popcorn to Sara along with one of the beers, giving the other to Mick, before resuming his place on the bed. "Gideon said you only get one beer," Leonard informed Mick, who grunted his acknowledgement.

"Rip knows about the three of us being together," Sara told him.

"He say we need to stop?" Leonard asked. "Because that's not happening."

"No, he didn't seem to care, as long as it doesn't interfere with the mission," Sara said.

"Nothing to worry about, then," Leonard said. He adjusted his position so that he was leaning against Mick, facing the screen in the wall over the bed.

"Gideon, play Blade Trinity on the screen in my room and dim the lights," Leonard called out.

The lights dimmed as the screen came to life.

Sara relaxed against Mick, grateful that they were all going to be okay.

The End