#been in a really bad pain flare all week while doing this and comms / trying to get on disability / trying to manage health shit

[donnyclaws]

If you're wondering why I'm especially not posting recently it's bc I'm doing my final uni year and major project. Check my designs for it so far, a trans doll club kid, a disabled groaning creature and a queen/king butch.

[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 4

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  1813

Rating:  E

Warnings: Blood and Serious Injures, talk of past miscarriage and red room fuckery.

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 4

“We could use a healer over here!”

Clint’s voice had come over comms, and you looked around the area trying to figure out where ‘here’ actually was.  You eventually spotted both him and Natasha with a group of children, sheltering under a bridge.

You took a quick looked around, and ran out from your hiding spot, vaulting over a stone fence as you charged in the direction of Clint and Natasha.  Gunfire immediately broke out and you caught a bullet in the side.  It slowed you for a moment as a hot pain flared out and then died back off.  By the time you reached Natasha and Clint, the only sign that you had been shot at all was a hole in your catsuit and some already drying blood.

“Think this might be above your abilities,” Natasha said.  She was cradling a young boy, and when you moved closer she moved her hand showing you where their leg now had broken exposed bone.

“Fuck,” you cursed, crouching down.

“She said a bad word,” a very young girl said.

“She sure did.  And right now you all have special Avengers’ permission to say as many bad words as you know,” Clint said, as he loosed a couple of arrows. “Ready… set… go.”

The group of children all broke out into random cursing and you looked at Natasha.  “I’m gonna try blood.  Pray to Thor that we match.  Can you get that bone back into alignment?”

Natasha nodded.  “Okay, malysh,” Natasha soothed and took one of her lives out of its leather holsters.  “This is going to hurt a lot.  But I need you to be very brave for me and hold as still as you can.  And when we’re done, we’ll make sure you get home safe with your family.  I promise.”

He nodded weakly and she held the leather holster to his lips.  “Bite down on this, little one.”

The boy bit down into the leather and Natasha quickly snapped the bones back into place with a loud and gut turning crack.  The boy screamed into the holster and passed out. You took the knife that the holster homed and cut open your arm.

You had been part of the Avengers for over three years now.  One mission had turned into many and you had gone from being a new recruit to a full-fledged agent.  You settled into life at the compound and the memory of a time where you were scared and didn’t know exactly how you could use your powers to help people.

You had friends and a routine and you dated on and off and when you were off you would hook up with Natasha and Clint because they were just that little bit too hard to resist.  Especially when you’d just gone through a breakup.  You considered them your best friends and you loved their relationship dynamic.  They were hilarious together and their way of showing affection was so perfectly them.

Most of your missions were with one or the other or both.  The closeness had made you be able to work like a well-oiled machine together, being able to predict each other’s patterns and counter each other.  This particular mission was a big one though.  A small town in the Midwest had been attacked by domestic terrorists and the whole team had been sent out to stop it.

As your blood mixed with the boy’s, nothing seemed to happen.  You cursed the stupid limitations of your powers and you were just about to let your own wound close back up when you noticed the bones and flesh knitting back together on the boy’s leg.  You had to keep twisting the knife in your own wound to keep the blood flowing and your hand was beginning to shake from the pain.  As the wound closed you let go of the knife and your own cut rapidly healed.  Color returned to his skin and his eyes fluttered open.

“Thank Thor,” Clint sighed.  He turned back to look at the kids like he was planning what the next move should be and there was a crack from a bolt of lightning behind him, making him jump

“You can save the thanks for when I have actually helped,” Thor teased, playfully.  “Come, your extraction has arrived.”

A huge armored vehicle pulled up at the bridge and the side opened.  Clint ran to the side of the truck and began loosing arrows out past it, creative cover.

“Come, little ones,” Natasha said.  “Onto the truck.”

You and she herded the children into the vehicle, carrying the injured boy into the back and putting him on a stretcher.  When you were all safe inside, Clint climbed in and pulled the door closed behind him.

“Hold tight,” the agent driving called back.  Clint sat down on one of the benches as the truck took off much faster than you expected.

“How close are we to being done with this?”  You asked as a little girl climbed up into Clint’s lap and clung to him.  He wrapped an arm around her and held her steady as the truck bounced over the rough terrain.

“Captain Rogers is mounting an assault on the last remaining group now.  Shouldn’t be much longer,” the agent called back.  “You were the last group that had been cornered by them.”

“Thank god,” you sighed and let your head fall back against the wall of the truck.  You immediately regretted it, as it banged against metal.

You sat back up and watched Clint with the little girl.  She had calmed down and was gradually drifting off to sleep against him.

“Clint looks really good with kids,” you whispered to Nat.

She nodded.  “Yeah, he’s a natural with them.  I think because he is basically a giant child.”

You snorted and bumped her with your shoulder. “You were good with them too.  You guys gonna have kids someday?”

Natasha frowned.  “Can’t,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral, but the slight strain giving away her pain.  “We want to.  But… the Red Room did something to me.  Having children creates weakness, so they sterilized me.  But… not… I mean… I have been pregnant but it ended up in a late-term miscarriage.”

“I’m so sorry, Natasha,” you said.  If it was anyone else you would have wrapped your arms around them and let them be weak.  Natasha would rather stab herself in the eye than let that happen though, so instead, you leaned against her a little, hoping that your weight might be comforting and allow her to be strong.  “Have you ever considered adoption?  Or surrogacy?”

She nodded.  “Surrogacy is out, it’s something about the genes.  They have a self destruct in them.  We applied to adopt but were told in no uncertain terms that no one is allowing an ex Russian-assassin adopt a child.”

“That fucking sucks,” you said, not quite sure what else you could say.  It did fucking suck and you wished there was something you could do.  You weren’t used to hearing that crack of pain in her voice.  It was akin to seeing Wanda in actual tears.

Natasha laughed softly.  “Yeah.  It does.  I’d love to be a mother.  But I guess for me, that isn’t to be.  I have escaped what the Red Room did to me.  I’ve tried making up for it.  I send money to the families of my victims.  I save people.  But they will always have this over me.”  She sighed and looked over at Clint.  “He says he’s okay with it.  I know that he would never complain about missing out, but I hate that my past has taken this from him too.  When he called me to tell me he met a healer that day when he met you, I got a little excited.  I thought… I hoped maybe you could undo what they did to me.  But that’s not how your powers work.”

You shook your head.  “I’m sorry.”

She rubbed your thigh.  “Not your fault.  You didn’t do this to me. They did,” she said. “Just have to accept that maybe after everything I did, I have to just be happy with the ending I get.  I am lucky I have him.  It’s enough.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about the things Natasha had said on the way back to base, through the cleanup, on the ride home, and through the entire debrief.  Your powers couldn’t help fix what had happened to her.  Even if you gave her a full blood transfusion they couldn’t fix something that had been done to her so long ago.  You needed an exchange of fluids and it to be fresh.

Normally a surrogate wouldn’t work because whatever they’d done kicked in late on in the pregnancy due to genes.  But if you were the one that was pregnant, the issue wouldn’t be old, your powers would be here, correcting mistakes and potential health issues before they happened, and as far as fluids, they’d be soaking in them, and sharing your blood supply.  You didn’t know for sure if it would work, but the more you thought about it the more you were sure it would.

You thought about what it would be like having a baby for someone else.  It took a special kind of person to agree to put their body through that for almost a year and then to give that baby up.  It wasn’t for everyone and it would be hard, both physically and emotionally.  Clint and Natasha were your best friends and you might be the only chance they had to have kids together.  If you could give them that, you wanted to try.

After the debrief, everyone scattered to their rooms or apartments to sleep it off.  You couldn’t turn your mind off and so after half an hour of pacing your room, you went to Natasha and Clint’s apartment and knocked on the door.

Clint answered the door and looked you up and down, grinning.  “You didn’t get enough of us this week?”  He teased.

“I just… I wanted to…” You shook your head and took a deep breath.

“No offense, dorogáya,” Natasha said, coming over to the door.  “It’s been a long week and Clint and I just want to have some couple-time.”

“Right, yeah.  I’ll leave you to it,” you said, tapping your hands nervously on your thighs.  “I just… I wanted to say…”  You took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.  “Let me do it.”

“Let you do what?”  Clint said, putting his arm around your shoulder.  “Babe, what’s wrong?  You’re so worked up.”

Your eyes flicked between Clint and Natasha.  You didn’t know why you were so nervous.  This was a nice offer.  If they said no then they said no.  “Natasha,” you said.  “Nat.  Let me carry your baby.”

// NEXT

[peantutbutter]

47 with alfreyco??? (need me that angst)

47. “Who did this to you?”

cw: for aftermath/references to torture. there isn’t any actual torture on screen, but we’ve got some Fakes who are very beat up. and i’m so sorry alfredo, you were the poor whumpee mostly because i wanted to make a metal gear solid joke 

Alfredo is no stranger to pain. He’s been shot, stabbed, electrocuted, and suffered sever burns. And that was all before he ended up joining the Fakes. After spending three weeks as a prisoner of war, he was pretty sure he could take anything a sadistic bastard could throw at him. 

The guys who captured him, Jeremy, and Jack gave him a run for his goddamn money though. He’s cold, hungry, tired, missing a few teeth, and a number of bones all over his body are broken. But he’s more worried about the others than he is himself. He was literally trained to endure shit like this. Jeremy and Jack, tough as they are, weren’t. He just hopes that the others will find them soon. 

He’s slumped against the wall of his concrete cell, desperately trying to keep from passing out. His ribs ache something fierce and his breath is rough and ragged. None of his injuries are life threatening, but he’s going to be out of commission when he gets out of here...if he gets out of here. 

The door swings open, screeching loudly on its hinges. It’s a sound he’s come to associate with asinine questions and bodily harm. A long, humanoid shadow stretches across the rectangle of light pouring into the small room. Alfredo barely has the strength to lift his head, but instinct overcomes all else. He needs to see who his new threat is. 

Only it isn’t a threat at all. He can barely see out of his swollen eyes, but he’d know that silhouette anywhere. Slicked back hair, sharp features, a suit worth more than Alfredo would ever want to spend on something that would only get covered in blood. 

He shoots Trevor a grin, chapped lips splitting open and adding to the steady trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. “’Bout time,” he rasps. 

And then Trevor is right beside him, kneeling. His hands hover like he wants to touch, but is too afraid to. Those dark eyes of his are hard and calculating, categorizing the extent of Alfredo’s injuries. Catalog his surroundings, assess the situation, initiate action. Trevor’s tried and true three step process. 

He initiates, his eyes softening and a wry, but concerned smile plays at his lips. “Kept you waiting, huh?”

Alfredo laughs, and fuck, that’s a bad idea. He immediately cringes in pain as he coughs up more blood. “Yeah, Boss. Sure did.”

Once he’s done spasming, and once he’s spit a disgusting mixture of blood and phlegm onto the floor, he feels fingers tilt his chin up, towards Trevor’s face. It’s soft, almost tender, and he can almost feel the warmth of his hand through those soft leather gloves. Trevor’s mouth is set in a firm line, a dangerous, cold fury burns behind his eyes. “Who did this to you?” he murmurs.

Alfredo lets his head fall back against the wall. “Their leader,” he says. “Bastard isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.”

A vein throbs in Trevor’s jaw, and he can see the tension as he clenches his teeth. He takes a long, steadying breath, but his nostrils flare in rage. His lips curl into a cruel sneer. “I am going to destroy him,” he says, and it isn’t a threat. It’s a fucking promise. “I am going to dismantle his empire piece by piece until there’s nothing left and he comes crawling to us on his hands and knees begging for mercy and forgiveness --” he’s cut off by someone coming in on his comms, and really it’s for the best. Once Trevor gets started, there’s no stopping until he’s come to the most gruesome possible conclusion. 

He presses a finger to his ear, and Alfredo can barely make out the tinny voices of his crewmates coming through. “Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s alive and conscious.” A pause. “Alright. We’ll meet you on the south end.” Then he turns back to Alfredo. “Sound’s like Gav and Fiona found Jack, and Michael and Matt have Jeremy. Can you shoot?”

Alfredo tests his shooting arm, flexes his hand. It hurts, but nothing feels broken. “Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Alright,” Trevor says. He reaches into the inside pocket of his overcoat and pulls out a gun. Alfredo’s gun. Mods and all. He must have found the armory while looking for him. “Here.”

Alfredo takes the gun, fingers brushing against Trevor’s gloved ones. A comfortable weight in his grip. He checks the clip, slides it back in, and nods. “Let’s do this.”

With Trevor’s help, Alfredo makes it to his feet. It’s awkward and he’s stumbling as they exit the cell, but he’s got a gun in one hand, and his pissed off Boss keeping him upright. He’s done more with less. 

They must look a sight. Alfredo, painted in his various shades of black and blue, and covered in a mixture of dried and fresh blood. Trevor, in his immaculately tailored suit and billowing overcoat, which is starting to soak up blood. They pass Lindsay as they walk through the doorway. She must have been guarding the hall while Trevor checked each door. “South end?” she asks.

“South end,” Trevor repeats. 

She nods, and then gives Alfredo a smile. “Good to have you back, Sauceman,” she says. And then she’s turning around and lifting her gun, scouting ahead. 

They shoot their way out of the warehouse. Bodies hit the ground with satisfying thuds. Injured and in pain as he is, Alfredo is still a better shot than Trevor is. Some things never change. They reunite with the others, and Jack and Jeremy are looking rough, but they’re alive and really, that’s all that matters. Michael had planted sticky bombs as he went, and once they’re at a safe enough distance, the place blows sky high.

The leader must have run, taken off with his tail between his legs when he realized the Fakes were staging a rescue. Trevor is still seething beside Alfredo. His eyes are gleaming and wild, and Alfredo knows that look. He’s scheming, plotting exactly how he’s going to find this guy and strip him of everything he holds dear. He won’t rest until he does.

Alfredo’s free hand slips down Trevor’s arm to twine their fingers together. He gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Trevor’s eyes snap to his, the startled expression fading to relief. Tension seeps from his shoulders and he sighs. 

“We’ll get him,” Alfredo says. “We’ll get him.”

[strongerwiththepack]

It Was The Only Way (3/3)

See this is why I don't write multi-chapter fics, I am highly unreliable. Sorry for the extremely long wait for this conclusion guys. This chapter just refused to be wrangled. At least it's done before the end of October so that's something.

This is probably the first fic I've done major editing to. Like there's around 800 words sitting in the document that I cut out/entirely re-wrote and that is not something I do. If I actually manage to get words written, that's what is getting published usually so this was an interesting change.

Pen&Ink Week and Fluffember are fast approaching but I did plot out a few other Whumptober prompts that I'd like to go back to so who knows what'll come out next. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Tw for Strong Language.

Part 1 | Part 2

FF.Net | AO3

Whumptober2020: No.3 My way or the highway

“How could Gordon have been so stupid?” Scott grunted as Virgil flew Thunderbird 2 with them and Kayo to the coordinates.

They thought Gordon had been caught trying to place trackers on the vehicles before they left. The news from John made Scott’s head spin. Gordon had been making a plan to get taken this whole time?

“It was stupid.” Virgil grit his teeth, equally as worried for his usual co-pilot. “But if he hadn’t, we would’ve lost Alan for good.”

“We don’t even know if he’s with Alan.” Scott rubbed his head in frustration. “So much could’ve gone wrong. Can still go wrong.”

“We’ll find them.” Kayo reassured from behind. “Just keep your heads, we’re leading this operation.”

Scott nodded and steeled himself in preparation. What’s done was done, they weren’t going to make the same mistake again.

*

Alan and Gordon eventually moved to sit back against the wall of their little cell. Alan was feeling more than a little embarrassed now that he was down from those torturous chains but Gordon didn’t seem to mind. His older brother kept his arms wrapped around Alan as they got comfy against the wall.

Now that he actually had one of his big brothers here to reassure him, Alan was feeling a lot more clear-headed.

“They got you too, huh?” Alan mumbled eventually.

“Oh, uh yeah.” Gordon grunted. “We were trading to get you back and it, uh, didn’t go well.”

“Sorry.” Alan mumbled.

“Hey, hey.” Gordon prompted rubbing on his arm. “Not your fault, okay kiddo?”

Alan hummed in supposed agreement. He still felt stupid for getting caught.

“The others aren’t going to find us, are they?”

It had been playing through his head from the moment he’d been coherent enough to realise Gordon wasn’t here to rescue him. The chains had been agony and before Gordon had arrived, he’d been sure he was going to die.

He only had vague flashes of Gordon trying to get him down through pain-fogged memories, but the pain had numbed slightly now. Every jostle sent a stab of pain to his shoulders and sides, but it wasn’t the constant agony of before.

It took him a while to realise that Gordon had been captured as well, that he wasn’t getting out of this yet. The fact that his brothers hadn’t been able to find him before made him think it was unlikely they were coming now either.

“They are Alan.” Gordon reassured through his spiralling thoughts. “Don’t worry, I had a plan.”

Alan just nodded into his brothers shoulder. He hoped that was true.

The door banged open making both the boys flinch at the abruptness. The suit-clad man walked in with at least four other men flanking him from the back. He seemed more dishevelled than Alan had yet to see him. There was an expression of fury on his face and a cocked gun in his hand that made Alan tense.

Gordon was on his feet in seconds, blocking Alan’s view as he stepped protectively in front of him. Alan wanted to get up as well, he really did, but his arms were not cooperating, he just didn’t have the energy.

“Time to go boys.” The man snarled. Guns were levelled at them and one of the lackies grabbed Gordon pushing him forward by the shoulder. There wasn’t much his brother could do with 5 guns pointed at them.

“Move it!” The guy shouted at Alan brandishing his gun and Alan was snapped out of his daze.

He tried to get up, but it was slow. Slow enough that one of the men grabbed him by his t-shirt collar and yanked him up off the floor. Alan cried out as pain flared in his shoulder. He stumbled trying to get his feet under him as he heard Gordon shouting from ahead of him.

“Hey!” his brother snarled. “Leave him alone.”

Alan finally managed to stumble along beside the man dragging him and caught Gordon keeling over as he was sucker-punched in the gut.

“Shut up and move it.” The guy holding Gordon shouted before shoving him roughly forward while his brother was still recovering from the abuse.

Alan wanted to defend his brother, but he was barely keeping his legs moving as they were hurried along through a windowless corridor. Why were they in such a hurry? Were they getting rescued? Alan sure hoped so.

They were led up the stairs and into chaos. People were running everywhere, files and papers were being packaged. There was gunfire in the distance. Through a window Alan caught sight of stars in a cloudless night. He really didn’t have any idea what time of day it was, or even what day it was at all for that matter.

They were soon being led out of what he assumed was the back of the building and there was the familiar sound of helicopter rotors. He saw Gordon still at the sight of the vehicle and become more resistant to the pulling arms. Alan felt the same way. He was finally getting rescued and they were about to lose their chance.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from behind them and Alan had never been so thankful to hear his big brother. He was abruptly twisted around and pulled into his captors’ chest. The tip of a gun was placed against his temple and he froze, fearful eyes finally landing on his eldest brother.

Scott’s face was a picture of fury, Virgil stood stoically at his side and Kayo flanked them with a gun of her own. He twisted his head to see Gordon in a similar predicament to himself. Scott was here now, they’d be okay. This is what he’d been waiting for.

“Well Scott.” The man shouted over the whine of the helicopter. “Looks like we’re at another stand-off. That didn’t end quite so well for you last time.”

“You have your money, you have the blueprints. Let them go and we’ll let you leave.” Scott countered.

The man chuckled darkly, a hint of madness in his tone that hadn’t been there before.

“You stupid fucking Tracy’s.” He seethed. “I had everything planned out and you fucking ruined it!”

The man was shouting now and Alan flinched at the volume. Gone was the smooth-talking man from before. He was unravelling and Alan didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. From the tightening of Scott jaw and the fear in Virgil’s eyes he was going to guess the latter.

“Now.” He heard Kayo shout sharply into her comm.

And then there were shots ringing out. Alan felt his captor slump bonelessly into him. He couldn’t catch himself as he fell forward at the abrupt loss of something holding him up and then Gordon was there, dragging him up, slightly awkwardly since his brothers hands were still handcuffed. He grunted at the pain but as shots fired into the ground around them, Alan realised the urgency.

“GDF Snipers.” Gordon supplied hurriedly, apparently reading his confusion. They ran but a shout behind them made them turn.

“Enough!” The leader had apparently run for the helicopter in the commotion, abandoning his hostages in an attempt to escape. He stood at the open door even as the helicopter began to rise. Time stood still for Alan as he watched him raise his gun and take aim, right at him.

The shot rang out with a chorus of laughter and Alan found himself being tackled to the ground. His vision whited out in agony as his shoulder hit the ground awkwardly and his entire abused body was jarred. He lay gasping, trying to orient himself as the weight on-top of him crushed him.

Someone was calling his name but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe enough to reply. And then the weight was no longer there, and he heaved a deep breath before choking as pain spiked at the movement. Scott’s face came into view.

“Hey sprout.” Scott smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re okay, just take slow breaths okay?”

As Alan complied with the instructions his head began to clear. He felt Scott pulling at his t-shirt and saying quietly, panickily. “This is a lot of blood.”

What he heard next made him shoot back to awareness. “It’s Gordon’s.”

That was Virgil. He twisted his head to the side, seeing Gordon laying next to him with Virgil hovering over him. He hastily sat up, gritting his teeth at the pain.

“Gordon!” He sobbed worriedly.

“Alan!” Scott fretted. “Lie down, you’re hurt.”

Alan looked down at himself. There was blood covering his t-shirt. Gordon’s blood. His brother had jumped on top of him. Had been shot for him.

He tried to crawl over to Gordon but his movements were uncoordinated. Adrenaline was leaving him and black spots were forming in front of his eyes. His arms were shaking as the trauma of the last few days caught up to him. All he could focus on was the blood covering his brothers torso as his body finally gave out. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

*

“Alan!” Scott shouted as he watched his little brother collapse, lunging to catch his head and gently lowering it onto the grass.

Scott froze for a second, hands still cushioning his brothers head as he waited for his brain to catch up with him.

“Basic checks Scott.” Virgil barked from where he was working to stabilise Gordon. “Pulse, airways, check for injuries.”

Right. He snapped back to focus. What the hell was he doing?

He lay Alan out flat and worked on auto as he checked his brother over. This was all catching up to him. Seeing his little brothers held at gunpoint. Having to negotiate for their lives with that insane man again.

Thankfully, the GDF had actually backed them up this time. Hearing the shots from the snipers sent fear through him, Alan and Gordon were in the line of fire. As soon as the gunmen started to fall though Scott felt hopeful.

He watched as Gordon dragged Alan to his feet, pulling him forward as they ran. He thought that was it. That they’d done it.

And then he saw the kidnapper take aim. He was too far away. The shot rang out and Gordon tackled Alan to the ground. They didn’t move.

He and Virgil sprinted the rest of the distance to their brothers. Kayo was covering them as they went. He and Virgil gently rolled Gordon off of Alan and the older blonde scrunched his face up in pain. There was a lot of blood.

Scott knelt down next to Alan, his brother was taking panicked gasps and pain was clear in his eyes. Scott reassured even as he pulled up Alan’s blood covered shirt. There was no wound. It’s Gordon’s. Virgil had said from beside him.

Virgil already had gauze in his hand and pressed it against the wound, Gordon cried out at the pressure. Alan had panicked at Gordon’s cry of pain and now here he was, frozen, with an unresponsive Alan. His baby brother that had been missing for days now.

He’d just finished his checks when Kayo was back them. “The GDF are pursuing the leader. We need to get out of here. Can they be moved?”

An outsider would have thought her words uncompassionate, but Scott could hear the tightness, the worry. Kayo coped by keeping her mind on the mission until they were all safe.

“Alan is breathing with a strong pulse, he should be fine until we get to Thunderbird Two.” Scott reported to his more medic-minded brother.

Virgil nodded, packing up his supplies. “Gordon’s not doing great but there not much I can do for him out here.”

“Hey!” Gordon grunted from the ground. “Gordon is doing just fine, let’s just get out of here.”

“Okay fish. This is going to hurt a bit though.” Virgil replied grimly. “You got Alan Scott?”

Scott nodded and easily hoisted an unconscious Alan into his arms, kid was always light but he seemed like skin and bones right now. It just made Scott more eager to get back to Two.

He heard Gordon cry out as Virgil lifted him off the ground and winced even as they quickly made their way back to Thunderbird Two. Kayo flanked them, on guard as always.

Scott deposited Alan gently onto one of the pull-out beds in Two’s medbay and started hooking up every machine he could get his hands on. Once the heart-monitor could be heard steadily beeping and an IV for fluids had been inserted Scott let himself calm down slightly.

He ran his hand though Alan’s hair as he looked over at the other bed. Virgil was frantically rooting though drawers as his ship rumbled around them, Kayo at the controls.

“Can I get a hand Scott?”

Scott only spared a second to assure himself Alan would be fine before he was on his feet. “What do you need?”

“I need to call ahead to the hospital, just keep him talking and watch his vitals.”

He walked round so he could see Gordon’s face at last. His brother gave him a ghost of a smile. “Good thing my guardian angel is an overachiever, huh?”

Clouded by his worry Scott felt some of his previous anger come back. “What were you thinking Gordon?”

Gordon winced. “I was thinking we needed to find Alan.”

“It was stupid.” Scott hissed. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“You got shot!”

Gordon peered over at Alan with sad eyes. “It was worth it…”

Scott found it hard to argue as he glanced at his littlest brother. Alan being missing had been his own personal hell. He can’t deny he would’ve done something equally as stupid as Gordon if this had gone on any longer.

Scott startled as machines starting blaring and whipped his head back just in time to see Gordons eyes roll back into his head. Virgil was suddenly pushing him out the way and Scott could only watch as Virgil started CPR. He could only watch as Gordon’s heart tentatively started beating again. Could only watch as he and Alan were rushed away into the hospital.

*

The first thing that hit Gordon was the familiar anti-bacterial smell that meant he’d gotten himself into some sort of trouble. The scratchy sheets beneath him confirmed that thought. He peeled his eyes open to be met with the stark whiteness of a hospital room.

He blinked the fog away from his brain and shifted on the bed, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain the movement caused. Predictably enough there was a worried older brother leaning over him in seconds.

“Scott?”

“Gordon! How’re you feeling?” When Gordon tried shifting again, his eldest brother lay a hand on his shoulder. “Just lie still Gordon.”

“What happened?”

He was definitely in a hospital and that means it had to have been serious. They’d gotten much better at dealing with injuries on the island over the years. Virgil took every course he could without actually becoming a certified doctor and although no longer practising, their Grandma wasn’t going to be kept at bay when it came to looking after them.

So yeah, over the years they had moved away from the major security risk that was hospitals. If they were in one now, something major had gone down.

“You don’t remember?” Scott asked worriedly

Gordon wracked his brain for the last thing he remembered before realisation overtook him and he shot up.

“Alan!” He was propped up for all of 2 seconds before his arms gave way and he crumpled back into the bed with a groan.

“Hey, hey, take it easy Gordon, you’re hurt.”

“Where’s Alan?” He asked in panic even as he was still recovering from his tumble.

“He’s right over there.” Scott gestured as he moved out of the way so Gordon had a clear view. “And if you don’t calm down, you’re going to wake him up.”

Gordon sighed in relief. Alan, although currently sleeping, looked a lot better than when he’d last seen him. Virgil was also sitting by their littlest brothers side, although his eyes were focused on Gordon.

“He’s fine Gordon.” Virgil’s soft baritone met his ears. “Are you okay?”

Gordon sighed and winced as he felt his injuries. “Yeah.” At the disbelieving looks he added. “Well as okay as someone who got shot can be I guess.”

“You scared us kiddo.” Scott said in that tone that always made Gordon feel guilty.

He sadly looked over to Alan once again. “Yeah I know the feeling. Sorry.”

He’d rarely felt as scared as he had when Alan had been missing.

“Did you catch the guy?”

“Not yet. The GDF are on it though. Kayo’s with them now and John’s lending his usual hand.”

Gordon knotted his fist around the bedsheets.

“It was bad Scott. It was so so bad.”

He would never forget how broken Alan had been when he’d found him. It made tears spring to his eyes as he cursed the unfairness of it all.

“Alan’s going to be okay. He was awake earlier. More worried about you than himself to be honest.” Scott smiled. “He’s definitely got that classic Tracy family gene.”

Gordon smiled as well but sobered quickly.

“He shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

Scott frowned looking over at Alan again. “No, he shouldn’t have.”

Scott’s expression turned pained. “What you did was so unbelievably stupid Gordon, and we will be having an in-depth discussion about it when you’re feeling better.” Scott gave him a pointed look. “But we wouldn’t have found Alan without you.”

Gordon had to choke back tears again.

“You did good Gordo.” Scott said quietly as he gently ran his fingers though Gordon’s hair. “Now get some sleep, we’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Gordon was too tired to argue. He was sure he was still hopped up on a world of drugs so, now knowing his family was safe, sleep came easy.

fin.

[pixierobinwrites]

Some Day [Jason Todd x Reader]

Being with Jason Peter Todd was a roller coaster. It was full of excitement, terror and some times more pain than you thought you could take (but god it was worth it). You got used to keeping up with him, leaping from roof to roof, hiding in the shadows, sensing when something was about to get bad. Being a vigilante with The Red Hood was a whole different ordeal than having been the small time vigilante you'd started out as. You hadn't been sure if it was really worth it at first, the first time he had a breakdown, when his PTSD hit and you didn't know what to do- you had found yourself wondering what you'd gotten into.

When the Pit Madness flared up and Jason's pretty jade eyes turned poison green, his plans and actions frantic and erratic. It was terrifying, scary, and taking him down off the high could be a full time job. There were times when you needed to ask Roy for help, because calling in anyone from the Bat Clan was sure to lead to a worse flare.  

It was when it came down from it that you got reminded why you were there with him. Why you'd left your city to join Jason on his increasingly dangerous missions, to support him in his goals and plans. Why you were so drawn to the black sheep of the Bat Clan. When he was soft and sweet, too tired from the rush of panic or rage, and he'd lay on the couch or bed, and let you card your fingers through his hair. When he'd only allow careful touches and contact, afraid of the threat that could be so easily posed by anyone who might be close to him, but still let you in.

And now, in moments like this. Nights like this were the most amazing ones, and pressed how deeply you loved him.

After a horrible couple of nights dealing with his mental issues, trying to get him back on his meds and helping him calm down, Jason had come back to the Narrows. The Bat Clan hadn't yet said a thing over the comms, though Jason assured you they knew you were both there. He made no attempt to contact them, instead focusing on the task he'd chosen.

A group of kids, all dressed in tattered, worn clothes, dirty from life on the streets or in homes that only offered neglect, tentatively letting the famous Red Hood get close. There were only a few, no more than five, you thought from your spot on a fire escape. A few feet away a big, burly man, lay on the ground. He wasn't dead, you could see him breathing. But he likely wouldn't be for too long. Jason had found him trying to drag a struggling child into the back of a van.

Now, Jason cradled that child in his arms, while others came slowly from their hiding spot. Jason, big, burly, I'll shoot you as soon as I look at you, Todd crouched in the alley way, holding a child, and offering him a protein bar. Spoke in soft words, and coaxed other kids out. He'd be there a while too, you could tell, already planning on where to take the kids. Somewhere safe that wouldn't try to trap them like most orphanages would in Gotham.

No one wants poor kids, unless they can do somethin' for 'em. He'd told you once, and it broke you to hear it from him. Knowing why he believed so deeply in something so horrible.

Eventually, Jason managed to coax the kids into following him. He took them to an orphanage that he'd looked into a lot ages ago. You'd caught him doing some pretty in depth research on it, checking all the credentials, staking out to watch it every time you were in Gotham for longer than a week. They'd be taken in, given warm food and beds to sleep in, and hopefully would stay long enough to get help.

It left you with the asshole on the ground, but you couldn't begrudge Jason that. Not with how soft he looked with a group of children around him. One holding the edge of his jacket as if Red Hood was a savior- something he likely was to kids like these, another pressed in close to his side, feeding off his warmth. You left them go, watching from your hidden place in the shadows and only dropping down to the dirty ground when they were out of sight.

“I'll take care of the jackass. Meet you back at base after.”

No response came from the comms, but you knew he'd heard you. The line was good, and you trusted him to show up before dawn. A swift kick to the asshole on the ground's side, getting a rough groan in response but nothing else. Humming, you pulled a few zip ties from your pocket and got to work stringing him up. If Jason came back to deal with him later, it was no skin off your back, though you knew the Bats would have a problem with it. Still, you took a quick snap shot of him and sent the image, as well as the location and quick details to Spoiler. Let her deal with it. Hopefully before Jason got back.

Leaving the brute to whoever found him first, you headed back to the safe house Jason had chosen this time. It was on the outskirts of the city, on the opposite side of Gotham from the direction of Wayne Manor. Away from the places tourists might spend their time, from the rich people who liked to pretend everything was relatively perfect in their city.

It took two hours for Jason to join you. By then, you had gotten out of your uniform, showered and changed for bed. Jason had blood on his gloves, whether from where he'd first punched the bastard out, or from going back and finishing the job, you didn't ask. It was better not to know sometimes. Either way, he looked tired when he pulled off his helmet, and set it on the table, and barely remembered to shrug out of his gloves and jacket before he was on you.

Large warm arms around you middle, his face to your stomach, Jason settled over your legs on the bed, burying his face, and hiding from from the world. His hair was a mess and the domino mask he wore under his helmet was askew. Brushing your fingers through his hair, and tracing soft, careful touches along the back of his neck caused him to melt into you.

“You know...” You started, voice soft so as not to startle him, “I had a really odd thought earlier tonight.”

You didn't really expect him to do or say anything to respond, usually like this he was fairly nonverbal for an hour or so, just enough time for him unwind. Jason was always full of surprises though, and your shock must have shown on your face, because when he tilted his head to look up at you through his lashes, and gave a soft, “Hm?” his lips pulled into an amused smirk at the way you blinked down at him owlishly.  When you were quiet for too long, he coaxed you on, 

“What were you thinking earlier?”

Carefully, you reached down to pull the domino mask from his face, gentle as it peeled free, leaving bit of residue from the special glue he used to keep it on. His eyes were so impossibly green, not the dangerous neon green from the pit, but a soft watery green that made you think lakes in summer. Tracing your fingers from his temple down to his jaw, it was easy to smile and almost get lost in his gaze.

The soft sound of your name on his lips brought your train of thought back from his eyes.

“I was thinking... not now, I know things are not good for it now... but some day, if you wanted to... You'd be a great father.”

The tension in the air was suddenly palpable, Jason went stock still, tense. You felt your heart sink into your stomach, worry welling up. Had it been the wrong thing to say? Would it set him off? You wanted to take the words back, no matter how true you believed in them. When you opened your lips to apologize, he moved. It was easy to forget how quick Jason could be, with his size and bulk, but from one second to the next, he pushed up, his lips suddenly against yours.

It was softer than the kisses you usually shared after rough nights, something warm immediately washing away the anxiety that had set on so quickly. Rough fingers brushed against your arm and pulled you to lay with him, rolling your bodies until your legs were tangled, and he hold you close. His suit was not comfortable, kevlar against your skin rubbed wrong, and his pants were full of dangerous weapons, but still, it was nice to be held.

“Some day, maybe.” He told you, voice low and tinged with uncertainty, but enough warmth that you relaxed fully into him.

Some day might be nice.

[kivaember]

Obligatory Mass Effect Crossover

(I just. wanted. to worldbuild ffxiv into mass effect setting. ok tbh this is mostly FFXIV IN SPAAAACE but y’know. whatevs. i regret nothing!) 

Dalamud always looked so ominous.

It was an artificial satellite the size of a small moon, glaring red and menacingly trailing after Menpina around Hydaelyn. ‘Menphina’s Loyal Hound’, it had been called when they as a civilisation were young and ignorant, before they realised that it was a weapon of mass destruction contained within an artificial shell. The aether around it was always warped, prone to unstable flares and splutters, to the point where they had a whole institution dedicated to predicting and mapping those flare ups to warn incoming and outgoing star vessels so they weren’t reduced to superheated atoms.

It was a relic of a very ancient, reckless past – a relic that was still very much in use. Due to the way it was, ah, constructed, only a select percentage of the population could ever work on it. Only 0.01% of Hydaelyn’s population won the genetic lottery to withstand the Elder Primal’s influences slumbering within that ancient relic, and an even smaller percentage of that actually had the skill, intellect and will to be charged with its day to day running. Dalamud was, despite being a weapon of mass destruction, Hydaelyn’s only source of infinite energy.  

One of those very very very lucky few in charge of such an important, vital relic… was Aza.

---

“-ing naked when the snow falls around me! Drifting closer to the edge but She won’t have me!”

Aza hummed along to the song blasting through his helmet, idly tapping along the flickering Allagan display. The live support in the control room was still down, but considering that shit was over ten thousand years old and fine tuned for heavily genetically modified Allagan, it was never all that reliable. After an unfortunately incident a century ago where some poor sod asphyxiated to death, it was now mandatory to do maintenance work like you were ready to be spaced within the next thirty seconds.

“Wake up in sweat, full of regret, try to forget, these memories, lurking beneath, lost in a dream…”

The display flickered, and Aza frowned a little when the same error cropped up for the fifth time since his shift started. It was a minor thing – a miniscule percentage rise in temperature and aether harvesting, but it was really strange. There were no solar flares or weird space shit happening for aether levels to spike, so why…

“Unchosen paths, a broken path, forespoken wr- CHIRP. CHIRP. INCOMING CALL FROM FORWARD STATION: H A L O N E.”

“Damn it, just before the best part,” Aza muttered, sending a pulse of aether to the linkpearl insistently chirping in his ear, “Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Aza,” a very pleasantly familiar voice purred, “Is that any way to greet your partner?”

“Well, if it isn’t handsome!” Aza laughed, his mood buoying as he quickly adjusted the little error flashing across the Allagan display. It resolved itself and Dalamud stopped overproducing aether. He leaned on the console and made himself comfortable, his tail lifting in pleasure, “I thought you weren’t back from New Ishgard until the end of the year? Not that I'm complaining. I missed you, gorgeous.”

“And I missed you too, love," Aymeric returned with such warmth is made Aza's heart want to burst into glittery confetti, even if the crappy reception distorted his partner's voice. Seriously, it was good to hear his voice again! The Comm Buoys were still absolute dog wank between Ishgard's newest colony and Hydaelyn, so he greedily drank up every crackly word from his linkpearl, "I returned early as Haurchefant seemed to be handling its administrative and military duties well enough on his own despite the complaints of his ‘conduct’. He was performing well above the standard, to be honest.”

“Whaaat?" Aza gasped in utter outrage, "Who’s complaining about Haurchefant? He’s an absolute sweetheart!”

“Yes, he’s also pure and ‘best boy’, whatever that means,” Aza could practically feel Aymeric's eyeroll, “Unfortunately, his appointment to a rather prestigious position has ruffled more than a few feathers in the House of Lords-”

“Is this because he’s a gay bastard?” Aza harrumphed, “Have they forgotten that their stupid Prime Minister is also a gay bastard? There’re even photos of you being one all over the Aethernet," he adopted a sly, teasing tone, "I really like the drunken one. Y’know, the one where you’re caught groping my ass during that horrible dinner party?”

“Oh Gods, I almost forgot about that,” Aymeric groaned, sounding like he was in physical pain, “Mobbed by journalists for weeks after that, demanding to know all sorts of obscene details…”

“Yeah, I remember you having to do evasive manoeuvres every time you had to go outside. Funny as shit,” Aza sniggered and swept a bit of dust off the Allagan keyboard, taking care not to accidentally input anything. These things were unpredictable. As they were created to interface directly to an Allagan’s brain implant they tended to get confused if you rubbed your grubby hands all over them without keeping a tight lid on your ambient aether.

“So, what’re you doing on the forward station? I thought you would’ve been keen to go straight home?”

“Dalamud is being a little testy today, it seems,” Aymeric said, sounding slightly sulky, “We’re held here until it either calms, or travels to the other side of Hydaelyn, before we can board the landing shuttle.”

“And, of course, you decided to abuse your World Leader privileges to talk to your lonely boyfriend via the control room's comms?”

“I may as well cash in on some sort of privileges for all the torture my government puts me through.”

Aza laughed, pushing up from the console when that annoyingly, persistent little error flickered up again. It was beginning to worry him now. Dalamud was old as shit, so it was believable that program breaking bugs could start developing in the highly complicated system. Even after several thousand years of study, the only explanation magitek engineers and aetherochemical scientists had for how it worked was a shrug and ‘Primal Magic’?

A lot of unexplainable things were chalked up to ‘Primal Magic’… or the ‘Mothercrystal’.

Aza had to spend approximately seven years in Val University to even scratch the surface of how to work the damn console. He knew enough to identify minor errors like these, and to divert major disasters like the venting systems failing, or one of the Meracydian dragons somehow breaking free of their prisons and running amok. The last one was always the hardest – he always felt extreme pity for them, but the law was firm: if they weren’t in stasis, they had to be culled due to the danger they presented to the workers and Dalamud itself. If even one managed to rouse the Elder Primal, they were fucked. End of.

But those were easy issues to deal with, well within his power, no matter how mentally or emotionally draining. But if he was asked to really get into the technicalities… he was clueless. Dalamud was a work of art that was incomprehensible to anyone not Allagan – which was everyone, nowadays. Most he could do was try and mitigate the damage by engaging its thrusters and hoping to fuck he launched it far away enough that the resulting implosion wouldn’t totally wipe out all life in the solar system.

“Aza? You still there? It's quiet.”

"Oh, sorry," Aza gave a small shake of his head to clear the sudden cobwebs, "I was thinking."

"About...?" Aymeric asked with an amused lilt to his voice.

"About..." Aza looked at the glow of the display with a small frown, hearing and feeling the whole structure around him groan and shudder. An ancient prison that held equally ancient prisoners in eternal torment. It was kind of sick they were still using this thing, really. He was struck with an odd, fleeting urge to force it into the sun - which he quickly discarded, because that would just break the Elder Primal free, who was unfortunately sun-proof (is that the word?) and able to survive in the vacuum of space. Still, he just didn't like the fact he was standing one floor above an entire hold crammed with Meracydians contorted into tiny stasis capsules, kept on the very cusp of consciousness in burning pain, to fuel the Elder Primal's existence. There wasn't anything they could safely do about it unless they broke themselves free, but it still felt all... wrong and made him feel kinda bad, more so today.

"Just thinking how horrible Dalamud is," he said honestly, because he could never really lie to Aymeric, even if his partner was hoping for some light, easy banter, "About a month ago one of the locks on a Meracydian's stasis capsule broke and opened up. I always thought it were adults in there, y'know? But it wasn't. It was some dragon pup, just squirming in that stasis goo shit, all... deformed and in pain. I got rid of it like I was meant to, I mean, it was kinder to, right? But, it's still... the... I don't know..." he trailed off.

Aymeric was quiet for a long moment, then; "...how many consecutive days have you worked?"

"I don't know," Aza said, and he felt mildly alarmed at that. He should know how many days he worked. He was meant to track that shit strictly, "Uh, seventy?"

"Long shifts too?"

"Twelve hours, yeah," Or thirteen? It was difficult to tell the time passing here sometimes.

"Is your superior still Y'shtola?" Aymeric asked, but he didn't wait for confirmation, "I saw her not too long ago on the station. I'll speak to her and have you placed on a mental wellness break starting today."

"What- no, Aym, c'mon, it's not that bad," Aza groaned, but... well, maybe his partner had a point? He had been sulking on here because he felt lonely and bored without Aymeric around, and everyone else was busy helping colonisation efforts beyond the solar system, adventuring and shit, while Aza was stuck in Horrible Space Prison. Only a certain type of person could really work here - it wasn't just the very rare gift of the Echo being a necessity, it was having the iron will to endure the strained, screeching edge to the surrounding aether as millions of lives existed in perpetual, pitiful agony all around you, it was enduring that almost sick, corrosive heaviness the Elder Primal exuded even in sleep. It was just... being able to endure. There was always a very real, dangerous risk succumbing to the Elder Primal's influence, Echo or not, if your will faltered for even a moment. While you wouldn't reach the mindless, slavish devotion most Indoctrinated people would, you were still at risk of developing violent paranoia, hallucinations and suicidal depression. Needless to say, Dalamud had a very high 'on the job' death statistic.

It did mean you had a lot of paid sick days. You were allowed to just take breaks whenever you felt you needed them, since it was proven space and time away from the Elder Primal's influence lessened its effects dramatically. But the whole thing still sucked.

"You've lost track of your days, and you're sounding a little off," Aymeric said in that no-nonsense tone of his which meant Aza had already lost, "Quite frankly, I'm amazed it hasn't been picked up on yet. How long until your shift ends?"

"Uh, I have... two more hours?"

"One hour."

"Uh-?"

"I'll speak to you later, love," Aymeric said, "I need to hunt down Y'shtola."

"Aym-" Click. "Arrrgh, c'mon...!"

---

There was something unexplainably good about having your feet firmly on Terra Firma again.

Dalamud’s Caretakers tended to live on Forward Station Halone until they took a mental wellness break. Sometimes this could be months, or even years in particularly resilient individuals, for Aza it was six months since he last set foot on it, when he said goodbye to Aymeric at the shuttle station and not expecting to see him again for another year.

That was an unexplainably good thing too, having Aymeric back.

“New Ishgard is a cold planet,” Aymeric murmured, his large, firm hands gently kneading up and down along his back. He had insisted, even though he must be tired from his long voyage, and Aza was very glad he hadn’t rejected the massage. He could just feel all the tension that had accumulated from those six months on Fucked Up Moon Prison just melting away beneath Aymeric’s gentle touch. He never wanted those hands to leave again, “It can reach -32C on a regular business, requiring specialised survival gear to range outside of the settlements, but it has rich deposit of industrial minerals and ice that we can exploit. Haurchefant is very optimistic about its prospects, despite the, ah, harsh environment.”

“Mm…” Aza could almost imagine it. The needle-sharp smell of snow, the biting cold wind, the ice crunching beneath your boots… “Ice for… nearby stations?”

“That’s right. It will be a source of reliable water if we decide to range further,” Aymeric’s hands paused at the small of his back, and… ah, a gentle press of lips between his shoulder blades. Aza arched to the touch with a low, happy purr, “Do you want to visit it?”

“Mm, yeah,” Aza mumbled, “I wanna see it.”

It wouldn’t happen. Dalamud’s Caretakers were actively discouraged from leaving the immediate Solar System, but there was always that glimmer of hope. If, maybe, they got a large influx of prospective hopefuls, so it wasn’t just ten of them, endlessly cycling in and out and battling the encroaching pressure of the Elder Primal. When Aza had learned he had the Echo, he had been so happy, thinking he could be placed on the Exploratory Team, ready to help colonists in potential First Contact scenarios if need be and acting as force protection.

But he didn’t. Bluebird got that. He was shuffled off to Dalamud’s Caretakers when his Echo scores ranked the highest they’d seen in well over a millennium. It had broken his heart. You couldn’t exactly say no to it.

“One day,” Aymeric murmured against his shoulder, “You’ll see it. You’ll see all the colonies we’ve made. You will not be at Dalamud forever, love.”

“Feels like I’ll be there forever,” he mumbled against the pillow.

Aymeric bit him, gently, but he got the message. He huffed out a sigh that slowly transitioned into a low groan when his partner’s hands started kneading along his tense back again. He melted beneath his touch, and those dim, gloomy thoughts faded a little more into the background. Aymeric was right, he wouldn’t be at Dalamud forever. There was a strict retirement age of forty.

Three more years. He could manage that.

---

Approximately thirty-three million malms away, a tiny, insignificant ice moon in orbit to Rhalgr, the Red Planet, began to shudder.

Dalamud, as distant as it was, registered a spike of unknown energy within the solar system. Automatic systems began to warm up from millennia of disuse at the perceived potential threat, the ancient, complicated machine churning through dusty old programming to decide its proper course of action. The ice moon continued to shudder with such force that its surface began to crack, and Dalamud slotted the unknown event into its targeting solutions.

This was at 2300hrs, 16 04 102018. Last logged event was approximately 10000 years ago, when a cataclysmic tectonic event shifted the entirety of Hydaelyn’s surface. Dalamud was then placed into passive-mode when X A N D E C O N T R O L T O W E R went offline and no further commands were offered. Dalamud scanned for X A N D E C O N T R O L T O W E R and received no response. No response. No response.

At 0001hrs, 17 04 102018, the ice moon violently broke apart. The alien energy spiked. Dalamud calculated and considered. Scanning anomaly. Scanning… scanning… scanning…

0010hrs, 17 04 102018, unknown alien object emerged from ice moon. Energy spikes further.

0012hrs, 17 04 102018, multiple unknown alien objects arrive into solar systems at lightspeed. Alien energy signature violently dispersed. Unknown alien objects were U N R E C O G N I S E D, therefore default to last logged behaviour when confronted with unrecognised intrusion: A G G R E S S I V E P O S T U R E.

Weapon systems were sluggish with disuse. Dalamud increased aetherical input. Elder Primal’s consciousness rose by 0.2%. Within acceptable parameters.

0014hrs, 17 04 102018, targeting solutions complete. Alien objects still U N R E C O G N I S E D, still initiating A G G R E S S I V E P O S T U R E, conclusion is D E S T R U C T I O N O F I N T R U D E R S.

W E A P O N S Y S T E M A H K M O R N R E A D I E D.

T A R G E T S A C Q U I R E D.

A H K M O R N I N I T I A T E D.

F I R I N G.

---

Dalamud, a weapon of mass destruction, built at the pinnacle of the Allagan Empire in anticipation to assist them in dominating their immediate solar system, directed a controlled Ahk Morn through the vacuum of space toward the intruders. In a blink of an eye, it travelled multiple lightyears and speared through the collected fleet of alien ships that had leapt from the unknown, alien object with devastating effect.

It was a very bombastic First Contact with the Citadel Council.

[wellthatjusthappend]

Small Bump

Read on AO3

He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault. He’d have been more careful if he known. Jason had to keep telling himself that or he’d go crazy. But he hadn’t known and now….

Everything was the same as it had always been and at the same time changed forever.

Jason ground his teeth together. He was far too young to be getting back pain like this. Probably a product of his oh so healthy lifestyle or whatever but still… fuck that really hurt. He tried to shift conspicuously arch his back a bit and then hunch down again as he perched on the edge of a building and kept an eye on the weapons deal that was in process down below. Jeez there didn’t seem to be a comfortable position. His stomach was cramping too, he was used to ignoring that. Probably just his period deciding that it was going to start in the next couple days. Finally. Jason was starting to think maybe he should actually do that counting crap doctors always advised ‘cause guestimations got really old sometimes. He thought it was supposed to come a few weeks ago but with all the stress he was often under as well as the hormone altering substance he took to keep his low heats mild enough that he could keep working through them… well, it wasn’t that weird to miss it completely.

Omega’s went into a mild heat once every three months. These heats easy enough to ignore. In fact, Jason had traveled across the country and broken up a trafficking ring during the height of his last one before coming back when Dick called him about Tim not coping well with his break-up with Kon. Those heats weren’t a problem. He was a bit more aggressive in heat, a little more prone to be nauseated, ran warmer, got dehydrated a little easier, his sex drive a little heightened. It was only in the high heat called Aestus that came once a year that ever got in Jason’s way. Man, that one always took him down for the count pretty bad. He tended to get really sick. It was like an overdose of his hormones and a hyper fertility that actually just made him really sensitive and pretty much hate life.

Fortunately he still had, like, 4 months till his next Aestus… actually, maybe more like 3 ½? Whatever, it’d be 3 months from whenever his next heat showed up. His body wasn’t super consistent, as stated, so he didn’t see the point of keeping track. He could feel when it was coming and that’s all that mattered.

“You okay there Jaybird?” asked Roy shooting him a look. The other Omega was helping him with a case recently and Jason had to admit it was kinda nice sometimes to know someone had his back again. Even if he did spend a lot of time dragging Roy’s ass out of trouble.

“Don’t worry about it Harper, just that time of the month.” Jason waved him away.

“Ah, yeah, Aunt Flow is a bitch, ain’t she?” Roy commiserated making a face.

“Mmhmm,” hummed Jason checking his guns quickly before standing. He considered popping a painkiller, but those things made him groggy and he needed his wits about him, “Let’s do this.”

He didn’t wait to see if Roy was following him, just shot out a line and descended into the fray. The first 5 thugs went down without a problem. By the 6th the surprise had worn off and Jason actually had to grapple with a bit before he went down and 7th tried to jump him. That one went down with a shout and an arrow. Jason grinned and continued to deal with the punks in front of him while Roy took care of the couple of fucks stupid enough to try and run for it. Things seemed like they were going to wrap up very neatly… then the bulky muscle for hire he was fighting with got in a lucky hit to his abdomen. It wasn’t even that hard. It should have just knocked the wind out of him for a moment but instead-

Jason’s vision whited out with pain  and he thought he might have screamed.

Distantly he was aware of Roy yelling and his opponents going down sharply with arrows. Unfamiliar constricting pain hitting him in waves. Jason realized his forehead was pressed into the gravel and that he was breathing wetly through his mouth. His hands were both clutched against his stomach clawing uselessly at the armor. He didn’t know where his guns were. Jason tried to move but that seemed to only make the pain intensify and… and there was something hot and wet on his thighs, pooling slowly on the ground between his knees. He curled up tighter as he caught the tang of blood in the air. Not just blood either, his terrified brain informed him as another wave of clawing pain hit his lower stomach making everything constrict and tense even further.

“Jay! Jay, where are you hurt? What happened?” Jason opened his eyes blurrily as Roy rolled him onto his back and pulled off his hood. If he had come here alone tonight he’d probably be dead by now. That didn’t make it any easier when Roy gave a sharp intake of breath when he realized where the blood was coming from, when his nostrils flared taking in the way this blood was different from regular blood, when he started putting together the pieces the way Jason was still refusing to because godgodgod that couldn’t be-

“Roy,” He croaked knowing his eyes must look fucked up right about then, knowing- “Roy- shit! Ah-! Fuck. Fuck! Why is there so much blood? There shouldn’t be-”

“God, Jaybird, we have to get you to a hospital-” Roy said starting to try and gather him up, not an easy task since Jason was hardly small and dainty.

“No! No hospitals!” Jason started struggling, “They’ll ask too many questions, I have too many scars-”

“Fuck, Jason I don’t know much about miscarriages but I know you need help if you bleeding this much and I don’t have the training to deal with this.” Roy said looking harassed and worried.

Jason went very still.

“I can’t be having a miscarriage.” Jason said clutching at his armor over his stomach so his hands wouldn’t shake, “I can’t. That’s impossible. You have to be pregnant to have a miscarriage.”

“Oh, Jay…”

“No! You don’t understand, I can’t have been pregnant! There would have been signs. I would have, I would have noticed.” He tried to explain. Except looking back there had been signs. Not anything as obvious as morning sickness, but he’s been kinda tired all the time lately, he'd gained weight, yet his favorite foods hadn’t been sounding good lately, his fucking period still not coming, and when Dick had been over last time he had mentioned that Jason was running a little warm…

God. Dick.

What was he supposed to tell him? How would he react? They weren’t even together together, though Jason had been thinking lately that maybe… maybe… but fuck! There was no way the baby had been Dick’s. The Beta had never topped him before. Which meant it was-had been Tim’s. And fuck if that didn't make everything feel worse.

Roy looked even more concerned as Jason started laughing slightly hysterically through the pain that was still wrecking him. It didn’t even matter though because he’d lost the baby. He’d… he’d lost… his baby… He’d…

The laughter petered out to be replace by one small hitch of breath. Then another. And another.

Jason’s communicator started

“Arsenal here,” Roy answered it sounding harassed.

“Someone called in that Red Hood collapsed in a fight near the Docks.” he could hear Batman growl dark and protective and straight to the point. He could see Roy struggle not to tilt his head submissively even the Alpha wasn’t even there.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. That was fast. Of course it was Gotham so of course the Bat had ears everywhere. He was just lucky this area didn’t have any cameras for Oracle to see him or no doubt the whole pack would be converging on him and that was the last fucking thing he needed.

“I-” Roy began uncertainly.

“No. Please, Roy they can’t-” Jason began to implore.

“Jay, it is a better than the hospital.” Roy said holding away the comm.

“Oh yeah? And if you were in my position and it was Connor's baby and you had to choose between going to Ollie and-” Jason glared at him.

“Okay, okay, point.” Roy said wincing and raising the comm, “We’re fine Batman.”

“Let me speak to Jason.” Bruce growled.

“Erm…” Roy glanced at Jason.

“Give it.” Jason said through gritted teeth, he snatched the comm and quickly spat out, “I’m fine. Fuck off and mind your own business B.”

“Jas-” Jason crushed the comm and flopped back onto the gravel trying to breathe through the pain and not to think too much about what was happening because if he did he was going to start falling apart.

“That’s one way to end a conversation. But Jay,” Roy’s voice was worried, “You’re not fine.”

“I’ll- I’ll only need a hospital or something if I start losing too much blood.” Jason tried to tell him. He honestly was trying not to yell as each contraction peaked, and maybe that was a sign that he should be listening to Roy, but- if he went to a hospital the whole family would know about it in minutes.

“You’re already losing too much blood.” Roy said firmly, “It’s not like you’re losing it through natural means. Physical trauma is a whole other ballpark. I think? Fuck, Jaybird I don’t like having your health and wellbeing dependent on my sketchy knowledge on miscarriages.”

“Fine!” Jason gasped out, “Call someone, but no one that will tell my pack.”

“That really doesn’t leave us many options.” Roy said in frustration, “Do you- owowoOW! Hand! Hand! That’s my hand!”

“Fuck.” Jason  choked clutching at the other Omega’s hand as he rode the next wave of pain out.

“Ok. Ok. What I’m gonna do is I’m gonna call Kori, ok? Then whatever the princess says you gotta do.” Roy said getting out his own comm. Jason nodded but he wasn’t sure if Roy was paying attention, just talking fast. In the meantime, Jason tried to do some of those deep meditative breathing things Bruce was always preaching about. Didn’t really seem to be doing anything, but Jason needed something to focus on while he waited.

“Who did this!?” heard Kori bellow when she arrived. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to listen as words like “baby” and “dead” and “leave before bats gets here” were quickly explained.

And then suddenly the solid ground was not below him.

“Fuck!” Jason winced as he was lifted into the air as Starfire flew off with him at high speed.

“Roy is staying to get rid of the evidence so your pack does not cause you trouble.” Kori informed him, “Meanwhile, we shall be safe on my Island. There is plenty of medical supplies and they know better than to bother us there.”

“Thanks.” Jason let his head sag on her shoulder and let her impressive heat sooth some of the pain. It seemed like no time before they were touching down between the tropical branches on Kori’s Island and she was walking into her ship and laying him down on a cot.

Letting her peel him out of his armor and weapons felt very… not great. Which it probably shouldn’t have. Like, they had slept together before and she’d seen him naked loads of times. It shouldn’t have been, but it still felt humiliating for her to see him like this.

Still, when he thought of some stranger or worse Alfred and/or Bruce seeing him like this… yeah, no Jason wasn’t complaining.

“Drink this,” Kori handed him a cup, “It should loosen your muscles to let pass what needs to pass.”

“Thanks.” Jason took it gratefully and drank.

“The amount you’re bleeding is a little concerning. But so long as it slows in the next hours or so then I don’t think we need to worry.” Kori informed him sliding up next him, warm and alien and fantastically Kori.

“That’s what I tried to tell Roy.” Jason mumbled. Before he could get too comfortable in the interesting blend of hard muscles and soft curves that made up Kori, the computer on the wall chimed.

“Ah, it’s Dick. He wishes to know if you are well, and if he should come.” Kori read. Because of course the bats knew he was here. Though, so long as they didn’t figure out why he was here he didn’t care. Still, Jason didn’t know what he was supposed to say to his Beta lover.

‘ Oh hey Dick, just hanging here bleeding while Tim and my baby dies. No worries though. How was your dinner today?’   didn’t seem like it’d be proper.

“Tell him I have the flu and I’ll see him when I’m better.” Jason told Kori instead. She nodded and typed quickly.

“He wants to know if ‘the flu’ is code word for dying.” Kori said after a moment.

“Well tell him that you and Roy would never let me get away with lying if that was the case.” Jason said grimacing as a set of milder yet still extraordinarily painful contractions set in.

“Of course we wouldn’t!” Kori huffed.

“I know, and so does Dick, so remind him.” Jason told her, closing his eyes and just… existing for a moment. He felt more than heard Kori drift back to his side. Felt the concern radiating from her. Felt the hot wet of blood and other things on his thighs...

“Oh.”

“What?” frowned Jason exhausted.

“You’ve passed the foetus.” Kori said cupping something from the sheets between his legs, “Would you like-”

“No.” Jason said panic rising, “No. Kori, I can’t.”

Kori looked at him steadily with her big alien green eyes before nodding slowly, “Very well. One moment please.”

She left the room with the- with his- Jason rolled to his side grabbed a trashcan and threw up. Bad idea. He’d never really thought much about how throwing up took abdominal muscles but boy was he thinking about it now. He let himself go limp, then tensed again as the pain came back.

“Fuck, fuck the baby is gone. It’s gone, okay? So you can fucking stop now.” Jason told his body angrily.

“It still has to pass the rest of the placenta.” Kori reminded him as she came back in.

“I guess.”

“And then we’ll have to monitor you to make sure you don’t keep bleeding and don’t get an infection.” Kori continued.

“Ok.”

“Jason…” Kori rubbed gentle circles into his shoulder, “When you can get better we’ll bury her. So you may have some closure.”

“Her? You could already already tell…?” Jason asked hollowly.

“Yes, she looked about 13-14 weeks from what the computer tells me about human biology. Of course no way to tell what her caste would have been though.” Kori told him turning him so she could tuck clean sheets under him and toss aside the soiled ones.

“Oh.” Jason said. A girl. He would’ve… and 13-14 weeks; that meant it was that first time with Tim after his heat… well, evidently not as after as he’d thought. Jason wasn’t sure what he felt about that. On the one hand, he was glad he had never let Dick top now even though he'd been thinking he might- but at least it wasn’t Dick’s because he already felt like he was in danger of being in love with him. And nearly having a family with him? That felt… it would have felt like the noose that choked him to death. He wasn’t ready for that. Dick would have wanted to keep it. Would have wanted to raise it… her, with him. Dick would have cried that he lost her. Heck, Dick would still cry even though it wasn’t even his. Jason didn’t plan to tell him. Tim… Tim probably would have panicked about this even more than Jason. After all, even though they’d brought Tim into their bed a number of times since that first test run, Tim was still- he was still struggling to put himself back together after his break-up. Dick and Jason were supposed to be helping with that. And even though Jason was no longer the love of Tim’s young life(or at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t?), he’d still wanted to offer… love, safety, acceptance, appreciation, all of it without a price tag. Or he’d thought there hadn’t been a price tag. The blood on Jason’s sheets suggested that there had been a cost.

He wouldn’t tell Tim either. He didn’t want to poison what the three of them had shared.

Jason would have figured out he was pregnant soon anyways when he missed his heat. And then he would have probably had to terminate the pregnancy anyway. He wasn’t ready to have a kid, no matter who it was with. He was a vigilante. An anti-hero. He had more enemies than he knew about. Enemies that would do terrible things to any child of his. That wasn’t even counting all of Tim and Dick’s. And Jason could never have given a baby of his up for adoption. He’d been in the foster system himself. He knew what a shit pile it was in Gotham. Not too much better outside either from what he’d heard. He wouldn’t condemn any kid of his to that.

He would have terminated the pregnancy anyway, so why now that it had just been taken away from him did he feel so much grief?

“Jason, breathe…” Kori reminded him. He refused to cry but he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. The princess laid next to him again and pulled him close to be tucked under her chin.

“You will get through this, Jason.” she said soothingly.

‘ That’s part of why it hurts. ’ Jason thought, and held his friend tighter.

[loxare]

A Talon by Any Other Name

Chapter 11 - Darkest Before the Dawn

Dick woke, to a flare of pain in his throat. The thing was crawling up his spinal column. His vision whited out, and he screamed...

...Nothing. The pain stopped. He could feel it, small as a pea, crawling into his brain, but there was no more pain. No pain receptors that far in, he supposed. Taking a cautious breath – one of his lungs was healed – he coughed out a few blood clots. He still couldn't talk though. The thing had decided to take a stroll through his vocal cords before nestling in his skull.

He let out a groan, the only sound he could make, and poked at Hood. His little brother was already awake, probably for the same reason Dick was. As soon as his vocal cords healed, he asked, “What happened? Is it over?”

There was a noise from the comm., Tim falling out of his chair from the sounds of it. “Dick? Are you alright? You went silent for an hour and twenty minutes.”

“I... think so? The thing stopped moving, but it's in my brain now. Little Wing, you too?” Hood nodded. “Hood too. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.”

“You... don't? But Cobb explained it!”

Hood raised his eyebrows. “Did he? Must have been before out ears healed.” At Tim's questioning noise, he coughed out a laugh (and four or five blood clots). “They broke our ear drums a few minutes before they put these things on our legs. Why? What does it do?”

Tim stuttered for a moment, before Bruce's voice came on the line. “I've got this Tim. Go suit up.” Sounds of foot steps, and a sigh. “The device that Cobb implanted in you is a bomb.” Dick's blood ran cold. A what? “More specifically, one is a bomb and the other is a trigger. I'm not sure which is which.”

Dick looked down at the device on his leg, then the one on Hood's. In the weak light, he couldn't see any differences. “They look the same.”

“It doesn't really matter at this point. It's a proximity trigger. As long as you two are close to each other, it'll go off. In about an forty five minutes, it'll go off.”

Dick looked around. The chamber they were in was small. Not that Cobb would give them a room bigger than the proximity radius of the trigger. And with his hands chained to his neck and his legs taped from foot to mid thigh, there was no way for him to reach the hole in the ceiling, let alone climb out of it and crawl away. “Nothing to be done then?”

“No! Do not give up! I will find you, I promise!”

He simply nodded wearily. “Sure thing Bats. See you when you get here.” Nudging the comm. away, he stared at it for a moment. Batman had never let him down before, but there hadn't been too many opportunities for him to do so. Still. There was no reason for him not to hope. And in the end, if Batman didn't come, he wouldn't know.

He shifted closer to Hood, startled and upset when the younger Talon shifted away. “Stay away from me Dickie. A bomb this size can't kill you if you're a few feet away. Worst that'll happen is you get splattered with a bit of brain matter.” He offered up a rueful smile, sad and lonely.

“What? No, Little Wing, you don't even know if you are the bomb! It could be me!”

But Hood was shaking his head. “It's not. I can hear it ticking, and triggers don't tick.”

That was true. And try as he might, Dick couldn't hear a single sound inside his head. “Please Little Wing. Batman said we have forty five minutes.” A tear trickled down his face.

Hood sighed, sounding for all the world like an indulgent uncle. “Fine. But only thirty five. I'm not risking you if this thing blows early.”

They shifted until they were shoulder to shoulder. For the millionth time that day, Dick cursed the way the Court had bound them. He couldn't do more than reach out and grab Hood's finger tips with his own.

They sat there, just sitting and being in each other's company. Listening as Batman and Red Wing started the Batmobile, ready to go to the first possible location, and the second, and the third.

Fifteen minutes and two failed locations later, there was a flash of static, and then a new voice barged their way into the conversation. “Hello Batman. I told you that I would tell you where they were before their demise. And look at that, it's been five and a half hours since we last spoke. Now, you may not know this, but the ground under Gotham is littered with holes. Caverns. Really, the entire city should have collapsed by now. We found this one two weeks ago when we were searching for our Talons. Or searching for their corpses. It's under the warehouse the Joker blew up.” With a smug chuckle, Cobb let himself out of the conversation.

“That's on the other side of the city. Batman, even at our top speed, we won't make it.”

“I know Red Wing. That's why I called the jet. Cobb didn't think of everything.”

Not even five minutes later Batman and Red Wing fell through the opening. Both of them had a laptop in hand. “We don't have enough time to extract the bomb.” Tim said by way of explanation while they picked the locks on their handcuffs. “But since there's a proximity trigger, we thought maybe we could hack the frequency it uses, change the programming.”

Hood shook his head, rubbing his wrists as he sat up. “No time. Take Dick out of here. Get him out of range of the bomb, maybe we can shut it off.”

Batman nodded, and within seconds, Tim and Dick were strapped in the jet and flying away. Then, the vigilante sat himself down with his laptop and started ticking away. “No reason I can't try and change the programming anyways.”

Hood nodded and started working on the tape around his legs, carefully avoiding the device still attached to his leg. Probably just a delivery system to get the bomb into his body. He hadn't noticed before, but it was in there really deep. Metal spikes, going right to his bone. He should probably pull it out, but he could do that once Batman finished reprogramming it. He didn't want to run the risk that touching the thing would make it explode.

Just for safety, he scooted a little further from the Bat., but almost immediately got pulled back. “Stay close. This is difficult enough without you adding distance.”

“But if it goes off-”

“We have at least twenty minutes until it does.”

“According to a Talon. Who wants to kill you.” He tried to shift away again. This time, when Batman pulled him back, he glared. Hood had grown up in a group of immortal death machines, but he'd never seen a glare like that. It stunned him into silence for a few minutes.

He knew he couldn't, that there were no touch receptors in his brain that would allow him to, but he could swear he could feel the bomb, tucked up in the middle. He could hear it, his brain carrying the vibrations better than air ever could.

Batman swore suddenly. “It's not just tied to the trigger. It's tied to Gotham's geographic location. And I can't stop it.”

Hood was silent for a minute. “So, as long as I'm in the city, I'm going to die?” Batman nodded. “Can you slow it down at least? I can handle never coming to Gotham again, but I don't think Dick could handle never seeing me again.”

There was a moment as Bruce searched the code. Finally, he nodded. “I'm not sure how much time I can give you, but I can do it.” There was another few minutes of silence, then the Bat cleared his throat. “Um. What you said, right before going into the Court. You had been found in a red hoodie?”

“That's what they told me. Why?”

“About four years ago, I came across a child trying to steal the tires off of my car. He was wearing a red hoodie. And he bore a strong physical resemblance to you.”

That took a moment. “Wait, so I tried to steal the wheels off of the Batmobile?”

“Almost succeeded. You had three off before I noticed. That's not the point though. I wanted to help you after that, try and get you into a position in life so you wouldn't have to steal tires to survive. I know your name. I could tell you now, if you wanted.”

He thought about it. His name. His name. It had eluded him for years, and now he could get it back. It would probably be his only time to do so, if Batman couldn't figure this out. But... “Thanks, but not yet. I want Dick to be here for this.” Batman nodded, as if he had expected no less, and went back to work.

Another minute or three of quiet. Then, “Batman? The ticking is getting louder.”

“No! We should have another ten minutes, at least! I'm not done yet!”

“Ten minutes according to a psychopath!” Hood tried to scramble away, to get Batman out of the blast radius, but he was pulled back again.

“Not. Yet!” Batman growled.

Hood wanted to move again. He really did. But he didn't want to risk distracting Batman. So he sat, trying to ignore the steady, but increasingly loud ticking. Slowly, it changed into beeping.

When the beeping reached its loudest, he pressed his hands to his ears. It did nothing, but it made him feel better. He couldn't hear Batman anymore, but he could see his mouth moving. Batman probably couldn't see him. His eyes were riveted to the screen, his fingers flying across the keys.

The beeping was all he heard now, reverberating through his skull, his bones. And then something changed. “Batman, it's counting now! Twenty seconds!” He was probably shouting, and he couldn't hear Batman's reply. Nineteen, eighteen.

He tried to move again, but Batman's hand flashed out lightning fast and pulled him back before returning to the keyboard. Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen. At two, he would bolt. He wouldn't take Batman with him. Red Wing still needed a dad, and Gotham still needed a Batman.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

On the outside, nothing had changed. Batman was typing, Hood was defending his ears from some unhearable noise. Inside, the beeping had started going out of sync with the countdown, going so fast it was almost a continuous whine. Batman was sitting with intense focus, working feverishly, almost desperately.

Three.

Two.

Hood dived away. Tried to. Batman already had his hand out, grabbing Hood's arm and slamming him down.

One.

With a grunt, Batman hit one last key. The beeping stopped. The timer stopped. But the ticking was still there.

Batman sighed. “Safe. For now.”

Dick didn't want to let go. Even with Hood pushing at his arms, trying to get him off, he didn't want to. His Little Wing had almost died. Again. And Dick hadn't been there. He could still die now and it would be his fault.

Batman hadn't brought Hood back straight away. He'd gone to a clinic first. The doctor, Leslie Thompkins, and old friend of Bruce Wayne, had done every scan under the sun to see if they could remove the bomb.

They couldn't. It had tendrils, and it had wrapped them around Hood's hypothalamus. They could get it out. But they would risk taking out the hypothalamus as well, which wouldn't kill him, but it would have drastic effects on him for the rest of his life.

They hadn't done any scans on him, but Dick's bomb was probably the same. If it wasn't for Batman, just being near Dick, being in Gotham, for more than six hours would kill Hood, and severely injure anyone in a three foot radius. As it was, they only had eighty three hours. Batman could give them that much time. Any longer, and the bomb was programmed to explode spontaneously.

And there was one more thing. The counter reset once a month. Twenty six days and thirteen hours to be exact. It all added up to one thing. Hood had to leave. And he had to leave Dick behind.

He didn't want to let go.

“I'm alright Dickie. I promise. This is a good thing. I can travel, see the world, do anything I want to. And I'll visit, all the time. I'll even text you if you promise not to spam me every five seconds for updates.”

“No promises Little Wing.”

“Yeah, didn't think so.”

“You can't travel. You're only fourteen. You'll get lost or kidnapped or mugged or-” A thousand thousand possibilities, a thousand thousand dangers, and Dick wouldn't be there.

“I'm also a Talon. Ex-Talon. Anyone who tries will be sorry.” Dick couldn't see Hood's face, but he could feel the smirk. Hood could handle himself, of course. But still.

“Um.” A small voice off to the side spoke up. Tim. The only brother that Dick could still look after. “I don't want to interrupt...” He got cut off when Dick pulled him into the hug. Tim was surprised, Hood was surprised, Dick felt a teensy bit better. But it wasn't long before Tim started struggling too. “No, seriously, this is important. Bruce knows Hood's name.”

“WHAT?!” In his shock, Dick loosened his grip, just enough for the other two to slip out. “He does? Since when? What is it?”

“Yes, since we were in the Court, and I don't know, he didn't tell me,” Tim listed off as he rubbed a crick out of his neck. Hm. Dick didn't think his hugs were that tight.

For the first time since the Court got their hand on them for a second time, a smile spread over Dick's face. No, not a smile. An expression of pure joy and excitement painted across his face. Smile was too small of a word, the sun was dim in comparison. They were currently in the medbay, Bruce was in front of the Batcomputer. Only one measly wall between him and his little brother's name and this wall had a door.

He grabbed Hood by the shirt, the same old Batsuit he had dressed in before he left, now ratty and torn, but full of great hand holds, and dragged him towards the Batcomputer. “Bruce! You know his name! What is it?”

Hood pulled back a little. After all this time, wanting, wondering. But what if Bruce was wrong? What if it wasn't his name? How would he know? For all he knew, his name could be Greg, Connor, Max, Phillip. All of them, none of them.

But... if it was wrong, would it matter? A name was a name. Even if it wasn't the same one it had been, it would still be his. He could take the name, make it his own.

They were getting closer to Bruce. Bruce was standing, turning towards them, still dressed in his Batsuit, but with the cowl down. No, no, no, he wasn't ready for this.

“I do. I was going to tell him back in the cavern, but he wanted to wait for you.” Why did he have to mention that? Dick was beaming at him, brighter than before, if that was possible. “Are you ready Hood?”

No. Yes. No. Maybe? “Yes.” Dammit. Stupid traitor mouth.

“Hood, your name is Jason Peter Todd.”

Oh. He rolled it around in his head. Jason. Jason Peter Todd. Jason Todd. It felt... familiar. Right. Like pulling on a old, warm sweater. The name settled on his shoulders, feather light and heavier than anything. It was a new weight, a good weight, a weight he could most definitely live with. Jason.

Something wet slipped down his cheek. Hastily, he swiped at his eyes. Tried to. Dick was still holding his shirt, and he got in the way. Smiling, he looked up at his brother.

Dick smiled back. Softly, he said, “Hello. My name is Richard, but you can call me Dick.”

“Hi Dick. My name is Jason. It's a pleasure to meet you.”