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enigmatist17 · 2 months

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This came to me due to a dream, and I kinda like it 🤷

I am also a sucker for wing AU's, so that helps too :)

---

He was still not sure how Jack had done it, though that could be said for just about everything that psychopath did. The initial brand on Jack's own face had been caused by some sort of explosion, but the bastard recreated the same mark on Timothy after months of tests that never seemed to end, the pain unlike anything Timothy had and would ever experience. He'd been unconscious for nearly a week after that, waking to find that the Vault energy had done far more than leave a mark on the face that he'd been given not long ago.

"Well well well, isn't this just neat?" Jack had crooned from Timothy's bedside, the former Vault Hunter shivering at the crazed gleam in his eyes.

The Vault material that Jack had used to give Timothy the same scar had changed more than his skin, faintly glowing purple veins marking two spots between his shoulder blades. They had been discovered after Timothy had passed out, and within the first day, signs of something growing from inside his body captured more than the passing interest of the medical staff. By the third day, it was revealed to be a set of wings, dark grey feathers streaking with glowing purple streaks almost looking like they were made of stone, the faint thrum of eridian power felt only by Jack when he was close enough to his doppelganger.

No one could explain the extra appendages, and after more extensive and painful testing, it seemed their reason was known only to the Vault.

Timothy got to fly with them exactly once over the next few years, more of a short glide in the middle of the night on Pandora. It had felt absolutely wonderful to be in the air, embracing the bend and flow of the wind over his stone-like feathers like an old friend. That flight was one of the last things he did before Jack had grown irritated with him, sending the only clone to actually share his DNA to some casino in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Jack said it was a reward, but when Timothy was held down and his wings restrained painfully against his back shortly after he arrived, he knew it was anything but. The harness was deceptively soft around his chest, the metal along its back painful when it was slowly ratcheted close to his back, leaving only the barest of movements possible.

"I have some nasty little rebels sniffing around, and I can't let them know you're still alive, can I?" The Hyperion CEO whistled as he watched Timothy struggle, a new holowatch replacing the old one Timothy had been given so long ago. "Don't try and get smart without my eyes on you; free those pretty little wings, and I'll get an alert. However, if you play nice and keep this place pumping money for me, I'll let you get some free time."

It was a promise that never came true, as Jack was murdered less than a year later, and the casino went into lockdown.

Timothy had pretty much gone insane after that, spending more than the occasional night bashing his head into a wall when his wings ached in agony. Nothing he could do could get the harness off, and no one felt safe enough to try and tackle it without causing him some serious physical harm, not that there were many people who Timothy had let try. He was the last of a dead breed, Jack's iconic face becoming a symbol of either pure hatred or pure madness, depending on the person and time of day. Another thing driving Timothy closer and closer to the edge of his already fractured sanity were the lights, the lights that never turned off because you were supposed to lose yourself to them. Most people could tune them out after a while, but for the changed man, his eyesight had also been affected by the Vault technology. While he could still see just fine in the daytime, Timothy realized that he had gained a sort of night vision a few months after he was allowed to be out and about, a fact he had kept to himself. Now, it was just another lance of neverending pain in his side, only getting relief when he slept.

The next seven years consisted of running and hiding, never staying in one of his many hidden bases too long in fear of being found by Pretty Boy or random trapped denizens. It's a sheer wonder that he doesn't bite the head off of the Vault Hunters fool enough to breach the Jackpot, bursts of hysterical laughter bubbling up as he guides them to his current hideaway, giving the Hunters a small bastion of safety. Moxxi's demands are unnecessary; Timothy is almost giddy as he agrees to give her everything but the codes he needs for his freedom - the way he vibrates with intensity is not lost among the small group.

He only dares to hope when their heist crew is assembled, the Tower no longer an impenetrable figure that loomed over every doomed soul.

His holowatch somehow survives the extensive torture he's put through when Pretty Boy becomes increasingly more upset as the Vault Hunters push on, the pain almost like an old friend as familiar instruments cut and burned the closer his saviors came. It also survives the panic that leads to Timothy slicing off his Winning Hand to save everyone on the station, . Naturally, it fails moments after his adrenaline crashes, the small group of Hunters noticing the reveal with surprise as Timothy falls to his knees, just too tired to fight any longer. He vaguely hears Moxxi's startled curse when a holo-double of the operative catches Timothy before he has a chance to topple onto his back, just closing his eyes with a pained whine at his entire body screaming at him in pain.

He blacks out when something touches his back, the harness that had restrained him for so freaking long going slack as someone says something to him.

Nope, Timmy was tired, and he was just going to sleep and hope he feels better; call back in 7 to Never business days.

---

The ache that had always accompanied Timothy when he woke was gone, and for a long time, he tried to wonder how. It hits him when he slowly shifts, the feeling of a proper bed with sheets underneath him the first clue that something was different. Pretty Boy's laughter, a fight with a massive robot, the slicing of laser through prosthetics all flash through his mind, and Timothy shoots up with a wheeze. The harness is gone, and his wings have been carefully extended across the bed he'd been placed on in a small room that hadn't been in use for a long time. The movement made the feeling of pins and needles shoot across the extended appendages, and Timothy's head dropped onto his pillow with a whimper as his remaining hand gripped the closest pillow as he slowly took a deep breath in and out.

"You alright boyo?" He should be alarmed at not sensing an extra body in the room, but he's not dead yet, so therefore it doesn't matter.

"I'll let you know when I know." The other man softly chuckles as he moves around, soon placing a water bottle by his hand alongside some sort of protein bar. "Thanks."

"Ya know, never 'eard of a fella with wings." The older man, Zane he finally remembers with an internal wince, idly comments as he crosses back across the room, grabbing some sort of bag as Timothy drains the water he'd been given. "Didn' see Jack with 'em either."

"No, the jackhole didn't have any, I was the unlucky one to be cursed with them." Timothy sighed, slowly sitting up and grinning a little when he carefully flexed his wings, the movement painful but manageable. Zane doesn't press him for any more information, holding up the bag as he watches the other for a few moments.

"Yer feathers are a mess, and I called up a friend ta help, as I've got no experience with such things." The thought of some stranger touching him sent Tim's heart pounding, and his mouth went dry as Zane watched him have a mini-breakdown. "He's a good one."

"I-I um, as flattered as I am I..." He wants to run, hide from the inevitable look of revulsion, of hands that could cause pain. "I don't, I can't, you know?"

Zane raised an eyebrow, and Timothy hunched in on himself.

"You let us help this far, let us keep helpin'." The voice normally full of sarcasm was gentle, faintly glowing prosthetic eye flashing for a moment after the doppleganger slumped in defeat. It's not long before the door swishes open, and a slightly familiar man steps inside with one hand behind his back, the other raised in greeting.

"Greetings! I am Sir Hammerlock, and have been asked to assist you with your remarkable appendages." Mismatched eyes widen in recognition of the name, and Timothy finally slings his legs over the side of the bed, feeling a bit hopeful at hearing news of someone he'd tentatively called an ally.

"Are you related to Aurliea?" This question seems to catch the other for a loop, though he isn't entirely surprised as he remains by the door.

"Yes, she was my sister. I was told you were one of those who'd fought with her on Helios years ago." The past tense knocked the air out of Timothy's lungs, a familiar voice snickering deep within his mind at having hope.

"Oh...I'm sorry." The older man gives Timothy a look he can't place, finally moving over to his side and looking at his back with a soft hum.

"This may be an uncomfortable process, but I can see you have not been able to care for yourself in some time. Zane shall be my assistant. Please feel free to stop me at any time if you grow uncomfortable, I am here to provide aid."

Uncomfortable was an understatement. The next several hours nearly left Timothy on the brink of tears more than once, not that he was too surprised. Many of his feathers had been bent or damaged from being restrained for so long, and before Hammerlock could even get to the cleansing stage, he had to remove old feathers and align them properly. Despite being made of a material that shouldn't allow for flight, Hammerlock was pleased to learn that, at the very least, it prevented the normal potential parasites or infections that preceded a lack of grooming care.

Score one for Timothy, yay.

Zane ended up being more of a support pillar to keep the poor body double upright as the hunter straightened feathers and helped coax some sort of glowing dust from along the upper parts of his wing lining. The feeling of it gently being worked into his feathers and finally making them look like one smooth appendage turned his bones to jelly, face smooshed into Zane's jacket. The operative hummed in amusement as he kept the other upright, carding a hand through Timothy's overgrown hair.

"Ya know, we really outta lie him down no?"

"Soon, we still need to wash him down in the shower once I finish." Hammerlock tutted as he carefully undid a nasty set of tangled feathers, glad he could soon sit upright and free his aching back from the hunched-over position he'd been in for some time. "You've done remarkably well Timothy, I cannot fathom how you endured all of this on your own."

"Oh you know, running, hiding, strangling the occasional kitten, the usual." Timothy giggled a little bit, but the noise was anything but pleasant. "Tried to off myself too many times, kept getting dragged back from the abyss. Didn't think I'd ever get that damn thing off you know?"

"It shall all be different from here on out." Timothy shrugged, not sure who was going to take someone like him in this godforsaken universe. If he had been truly honest, he never thought about what was going to come next after he got his freedom, save for a bullet to the brain. Having people protecting him, deactivating the bomb in his face that had leashed him to Hyperion the moment he signed his contract?

No, no, that never crossed his mind, not even as he stood alone on the bridge of Sanctuary, watching the casino drift further and further away.

#personal #borderlands 3 #bl3 #moxxi's heist for the handsome jackpot #borderlands dlc #timothy lawrence #zane flynt #fl4k the beastmaster #sir hammerlock #winged!timothy au #winged au #handsome jack

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