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gold-from-straw · 5 years

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Backstage of the Universe - ch10

Erik and Charles are ready to team up and take on the world... or the Universe, whatever...

Read on AO3 from the beginning if you prefer!

Charles sat at Erik’s bedside, his eyes raw and aching with tears scrubbed away. Erik was sleeping naturally, now - Charles’ invasion of his mind had been the work of moments, and he’d left as soon as it was done.

As Erik moved, stretched, Charles wanted nothing more than to dive back into his mind - preferably dive back into his arms as well, give and receive comfort in every way he knew how. But he had sent Erik to sleep, taken over his mental faculties without permission, and this could be the final straw.

Erik blinked blearily at him. “Charles? What--” And then he breathed in sharply and looked away, and Charles could tell from the horror that leaked through his mental shielding that Erik was remembering.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hands clasped together over his lips. “I’m so sorry, Erik, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Erik’s hand, long, warm fingers rough with violence, wrapped around his own. “You put me to sleep?”

Charles nodded, tears welling up again.

“And you thought I would be angry? Oh, Charles… how I would have hated myself if I’d caused more pain to anyone.” He pulled him closer and Charles made an animal noise that he didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by. Erik wrapped his arms around him and their minds sank into each other, grief and fear and panic still painting the walls of their mental landscape.

Erik took a deep, shaky breath, and Charles could feel him trying to repair the rigid defences he had against his own horrific memories, trying to control thoughts as slippery and uncooperative as blood into boxes buried deep beneath pragmatism and vengeance.

Charles stroked Erik’s cheek. Will you let me help?

“What do you mean?” Erik asked out loud, his mind startling and dropping the memories once more, where they seeped out and coloured his thoughts.

“I mean… I can help you to coax them back again, if you like? The memories.”

Erik closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Did you see everything?”

“Oh, love… I’m so sorry. I wish none of this had happened to you.”

Erik turned his face and Charles put gentle pressure on his cheek, trying to call his gaze back. “Please, Erik, don’t… you don’t have to hide from me.”

Erik touched his shoulder, his thumb stroking circles into the wool of his cardigan, but his face still turned rigidly away, and shame, disgust, horror swirled around their connection. Charles gritted his teeth and appeared in Erik’s mind, seeking him out and planting himself right in front of Erik, even as he covered his face.

“Do you know what I see when I see these memories, Erik?” he asked, his fists clenching. “I see… the worst of humanity.” He looked around at the visions that swirled, muted but still there, still hurting Erik. “I see the worst that we have ever been,” he said, tears trembling at the edges of his eyes. “And I see some of the best, because I see you there. You, and the others. The survivors that gritted your teeth and held on through that horror because giving up was never an option. This… this impossible strength you seem to have--”

“Spite,” said Erik, an almost-laugh shaking his shoulders.

Charles smiled ever so slightly. “Then thank God for spite. You are so incredibly strong, my friend. You give me hope.”

Erik startled, staring up at Charles. Charles laughed. “You didn’t know? You always have. You are… a bright point in history, a galaxy of light, burning away what they tried to make you. They tried to make you nothing, they tried to make you less than animal and you… you are so much more.”

Erik held Charles’ gaze for a moment, exhausted, pained. He looked around at the litany of nightmares painting the walls of his mind, then quietly took out the first of his mental boxes. Charles wiped his face (God, even in the mind, he was so quick to cry), and pulled one of the memories out from the rest, wrapping it neat, keeping it under control. Not buried, never gone. But put to one side, so that Erik could keep moving forward.

When they rose from Erik’s mind, their heads bowed together, the day felt cooler. Muted and faded with exhaustion, but no longer something that cut at them.

“They took Bart, didn’t they?” Erik asked, his voice rough. He swallowed, and Charles heard it.

“Yes… and Vogel and Martin too. Vogel came out of nowhere, threw himself at them and started trying to… trying to hit one of the men with his bare fists. Martin just… ran after him. Cross and Gripps would have too, if they hadn’t been held back by…” By the maelstrom of metal and terror. Charles wasn’t sure if Erik would feel glad of that, or guilty.

“It’s my fault,” Erik said, and Charles’ jaw dropped. “No, it is, Charles - if I hadn’t threatened to take her away, she wouldn’t have gone to him.”

“Oh, darling, you can’t know that. They all say she was his favourite, she might well have--”

“We have to get her back,” he said, red-rimmed eyes fixed and fierce on Charles.

“Well, of course we do,” he said, blinking.

Erik stared, and for a moment there was silence over their connection, and then confusion, disorientation, really? You know you’re agreeing to violence.

Charles rolled his eyes. “Erik, they are children. Men in tactical gear with guns stole our children. Of course we’re going to get them back.”

“And if I kill them?” Erik asked, his eyes boring into Charles’.

Charles clenched his jaw. “Obviously, I would prefer we do it with as little bloodshed as possible, I don’t want us to just go in there and… and massacre them, but we’re not leaving Bart, Martin and Vogel to be tortured by some shadowy government agency, honestly, Erik, what do you think of me?”

Erik smiled at him, soft and wondering, and Charles felt, rather than heard, the wave of pure love that crashed over him.

Charles wheeled into the living room with Erik close behind, their minds both focused on strategy, chasing each other wordlessly down lines of contingency and possibility. A part of Charles’ mind stared in awe at the team they made, playing chess on the same side.

Hank sat with Dirk on his lap, snuggled up tight with his face pressed into the blue fur and teddy bear Mona in his arms. Raven paced, and Cross and Gripps sat in eerie stillness, as though missing a part of themselves. Everyone turned as Erik and Charles entered, Dirk peering out at them with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Charles smiled gently at them. “I know it seems… bad, right now. But we’re going to get them back.”

“We need to know everything you can tell us about Blackwing,” Erik said, his hands linked behind his back, a general at parade rest. “Anything you can think of that might help us find where they’ve taken Bart, Vogel and Martin, any little piece of information could be useful. Even if you don’t think it’s relevant now.”

“If I could search your memories, I would really appreciate it,” Charles said, looking from one child to the other, holding their gaze. “You can absolutely say no, this is up to you, but…”

There was silence. Cross and Gripps glanced at each other and shrugged, almost apathetic.

“What about Francis?” Dirk asked, looking up at Hank, and then at Charles. “He’s older than us, could you read his memories? He might know more.”

Charles and Erik glanced at each other, surprised. If Charles was honest, he’d forgotten all about their final, silent fugitive. “Is this another of your hunches?” He asked.

Dirk shook his head, frowning. “When Mr Priest came it was… overwhelming. I didn’t want to but my legs were carrying me over to him, and then Mr Erik picked me up and I wanted to… I wanted to hang on to him, but I had to… I had to fight him.” Tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks, and Charles wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold the little boy, promise he never had to feel like that again, but it would be a lie. Dirk sniffed and rubbed his face. “Now, the hunch is still telling me… and… and bad things happen when I ignore it but I think bad things will happen if I go back to Mr Priest and I don’t want to… I want to stay here but it hurts sometimes.”

He pressed his face back into Hank’s chest and his shoulders shook. Charles bit his lip and looked up at Erik, trying to project comfort and calm to Dirk, but with his powers still actively working, a hunch still in progress, Charles’ telepathy couldn’t get through.

“If we go to Francis, maybe we can talk to the nice snail again,” said Mona, popping into her human form and patting Dirk.

All the adults looked at each other.

“The snail told me she can send people to see the Universe!”

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?”

“Why would anyone want to see the Universe, though?” Dirk said, rather petulantly. “All the Universe ever does to me is send me into trouble.”

“Wait,” frowned Charles. “Are you saying the universe is a person? Not just a set of vague feelings?”

“Wakti says he’s been looking like a person recently,” Mona said. “Maybe she’s closer so she can see him better. Ooh, maybe he’s a shapeshifter like me!”

Charles and Erik looked at each other, tentative futures unfolding, even while Charles tried not to get his hopes up too high. “It’s worth a try,” he murmured.

“We don’t have any other leads,” shrugged Erik.

“What, you’re really going to try and find a snail to take you to the universe?” Raven said, holding her hands out to the side, exasperated.

“No, we’re going to see if we can find any information in Francis’ memories. Whether that leads to a location where they might have taken the children, or whether that leads to a snail and the anthropomorphic representation of the universe, well, we’ll take what we can get,” Charles said.

“You know this is insane, right?” she snapped.

“Well, you’re covered in blue scales which seem to have some sort of morphological plasticity that even with two geniuses and a PhD in genetics we haven’t been able to figure out, so let’s not cast aspersions on a snail with a fast track to the universe, shall we?”

There was silence for a moment. Then, “Did you really just make a pun about a snail having a fast track to anything, Charles?” Erik asked casually.

***

Hank bustled around Francis, using claw tips to delicately lift up wires and tubes, checking his vitals as Charles rolled himself closer to Frances’ head, and Erik lowered the bed to Charles’ height. Raven stood to one side with Dirk slumped in her arms, his head pressed to her neck and eyes drooping with exhaustion.

“No change,” Hank said, and sighed. “His brainwaves don’t seem to leave REM sleep, it’s no wonder we had to increase his glucose levels in the drip, he’s burning energy at an unprecedented level for a coma patient.” He gestured at Charles. “Go ahead.”

Hank took a step back, one huge paw landing on Cross’ shoulder. The boy leaned into the contact, and Gripps took Cross’ hand. Charles’ heart ached to see how hollowed out the boys were without their friends. Erik squeezed his shoulder, and he smiled up at him briefly, grateful for the contact. For the comfort.

He lifted his fingers to his temple with his right hand, and with his left, reached for Francis’ arm. He was expecting the usual mental boundaries, maybe with some interesting variations on the norm, like all of the Blackwing children. He was not expecting to be turned inside out, to be pulled into the mind and pushed out at the same time, hurled out into a riot of sound and colour, an entire new world.

Tagging everyone who interacted with last chapter <3 thank you!! @slytherclaw134689, @akasanata, @threecheer, @ikeracity, @thewritersspeaking, @creepyj-j

#Lyn's Writing #Backstage of the Universe #cherik #Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency #emotional hurt/comfort #kid fic #concentration camps #tw: holocaust #traumatic memories

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kieren-fucking-walker · 6 years

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Where Nobody Will Find You

“The top slams shut with a loud bang, and he’s plunged into total darkness. The silence ringing in the space around him almost seeming loud.

For a long moment he’s too frozen with fear to do anything but feel the way his breathing starts to get faster as his chest rises and falls in time with his racing heartbeat.”

*** Blackwing carry out a lot of experiments, Project Icarus isn’t good at passing their tests but sometimes, just sometimes, they manage to get one to work.

The first add on for my To Know the Parts of Me By Name series - Takes place during To Know Despair (Project Icarus)

[Please be aware that while you could read this on it’s own it will make MUCH more sense if you read the whole series (or at least Part 2) first.]

(AO3)

(To Know the Parts of Me by Name {you are here} Part: 1 / 2 {+ add on} / 3)

They come for him while he’s sleeping.

It’s something they do fairly frequently, he knows they try to keep him as disoriented as possible to stop him from keeping himself too grounded in reality. He doesn’t know if it’s actually night time or not, but it’s a time they’d allowed him to sleep so he’d taken it either way. Occasionally he’ll get a rare glimpse of a clock and it will help him find his feet better, not even knowing when he is makes it difficult to keep track of the passage of time. Although he’s pretty sure that’s the point.

They don’t drag him out of bed this time though, merely blare the sirens loud enough to jolt him into wakefulness, it leaves him rubbing confusedly at his eyes when the guards step into his room. He’s taken to wearing his jumpsuits to sleep in, having learned early on that getting dressed under the watchful eye of a guard is special kind of unpleasant, particularly if they get impatient. They aren’t much more pleasant for not having to wait though and one of them grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him out of the door.

For the most part the guards don’t talk to him, there are a handful who like to but the majority won’t say anything unless they’re telling him to do something. He wonders if it helps them feel better about what they’re doing, wonders if they even think of him as a person, he knows for a fact some of them keep the distinction between him and them very clear he just doesn’t know how far that distinction goes. A lot of the time he’s too busy trying to think of himself as something other to dwell on it.

Even if they don’t talk, the guards are more than happy to shove him along when they don’t think he’s walking fast enough. Sometimes with hands but more usually with whatever they’ve got with them that day, this one in particular has a cattle prod taser that he knows from experience he’ll be more than happy to use if he gives him chance so he tries not to react every time he presses it between his shoulder blades to force him forwards. It gives him something else to think about rather than dwelling on the mounting fear as they make their way down to the basement. He’s been failing a lot of tests recently, even Riggins has been getting impatient with him, and he’s worried about what will come next even though there’s no point. He can worry all he likes, they’re going to do it anyway. The only option he has is to try and pull up his defenses now before they’ve already gotten past them.

“Ah! Just in time!” the room is full of scientists, some he’s seen before but quite a few that he hasn’t. The one who speaks seems excited, scurrying over to look him over with a bright smile. It would put him at ease but he knows that look, he isn’t excited to see him, he’s excited to see a test subject. He’s starting to learn that’s all he is to these people.

“We designed this one just for you, so I do hope it works out. If this goes well it could really be a turning point in your… development here. I think you might come to like this one, it’s far more refined than the other techniques if I do say so myself and we’re all hoping to see some interesting results,” he grins as he rubs his hands together, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his shoulder and guide him over to where Riggins is waiting for him.

“Svlad,” he’s got his serious voice on, the one that’s reassuring but also tells him this is important, and Icarus curls the fingers of his hands around his sleeves to hold onto them for comfort as Riggins drops to one knee to make them more level. “I’m going to need you to be very brave for me today, can you do that?”

Icarus finds himself shaking, glancing over to the big metal box in the middle of the room which he’s only just realised is probably meant for him. Riggins is asking him to be brave though, this is important, if he gets it right he might stop being so disappointed in him. He needs desperately to get back in his good books, there’s an aching in his chest every time he looks at him like he’s let him down.

“Yes. Yes I can do that,” he nods, setting his jaw even though his eyes are starting to water. Riggins smiles and ruffles his hair like he hasn’t done in so long, and Icarus exhales with relief at the first positive contact he’s had in months. It only makes him more determined.

“I knew you could. Now, this is probably going to be… unpleasant. But a lot of people have put a lot of effort into this and we really do think this could be something that helps us understand more about what’s happening in that head of yours. It might mean we’re able to unlock something in you, it might even help you to control it. So whatever happens I need you to remember that, okay? That this is helping. It will help us and it could help you, and I know you’re smart enough to understand how important that is.” Riggins always talks to him like he’s an adult like this even though he’s not. Like he’s smarter than other kids his age, like he’s more mature, like he understands more. Icarus has no idea how true that is, he hasn’t met anyone his age since he’s been here, but it always makes him feel more important. Like he’s being trusted with something. Like he has some control. Like he can help.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, trying not to sound as desperate as he is to get this right.

“You’ll do as you're told? And you won’t put up a fuss about it?” it doesn’t reassure him any that Riggins seems to think he needs to remind him to behave, like they’re doing something that might make him forget.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be good,” he clutches at his sleeves even though Riggins seems satisfied with the answer.

“Good. Now, we’re going to need to shave your head,” he says it like it’s nothing, like it’s meaningless, even though it sends a bolt of cold right through to his core. “Don’t worry, it’ll all grow back, but we need to monitor your brain activity and it’s either this or… well. It would have involved some rather permanent surgery, so I thought you might prefer this.”

He knows what he’s expected to say, what he wants him to say, but his throat feels tight and his hand drifts up to touch his hair on top of his head without thinking. His eyes fill with tears even though he doesn’t know why it matters, why of all the things they’ve done here this feels like it might be the worst, but it makes him feel small just to think of them taking this from him as well. Making decisions about his body in a way that makes him realise just how far out of his control this is.

They could do anything to him.

They would do anything to him.

Still, Riggins is watching him expectantly and he swallows around the way his throat feels like a desert, knowing realistically the medical procedure would be worse than this and he really should be grateful. He’s being selfish.

“Thank you, sir,” his voice comes out little more than a whisper but Riggins seems satisfied, nodding his head as he gestures him over to a woman who’s already waiting to shave it off.

“Go on then.”

His steps are small as he makes his way over, but he’s just prolonging the inevitable. The woman doesn’t smile when he looks up at her after he’s sat down, and he turns his gaze to his knees, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap as he tries his best to stay still. The buzzing sound makes him jump though and he doesn’t even get a warning before he feels the clippers being pulled across his head and his hair falls down around him, fluttering to the ground like confetti. It’s not pretty though, not in the same way, and he squeezes his eyes shut because he promised he’d be brave but it feels like someone has reached into his chest and squeezed all the breath out of his lungs. It feels like they’re re-making him into something far from himself, something that belongs to them. Like the last of his identity is being stripped away from him.

He already knew that they would act upon him as they saw fit no matter what he did, he just didn’t know that something this simple could hurt so much. By the time they’re done he’s trembling, rubbing the sleeve of his jumpsuit under his nose and trying to steady his breathing enough to make sure none of his tears actually fall. This is important he tells himself. This could help. He just wishes he didn’t have to feel so helpless to be able to do that.

When he stands up from the chair he keeps his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, trying to centre himself around something. He feels vulnerable and stripped bare, self conscious with all these strangers watching him so indifferently. The realisation that nobody here has any interest in helping him isn’t a new one, but it strikes just as hard every time. The only comfort he’ll get will come from Riggins, and he only gets it if he’s doing well. He has to do well. He can’t face letting him down again, not after this.

“What now?” he asks, trying to sound like it hasn’t bothered him at all and he’s not scared of whatever comes next, but his voice wobbles and his vision goes blurry for a moment before he blinks it all away, steadying himself with his next breath.

His answer comes in the form of another scientist strapping something down over his head. It’s cold and heavy and he sticks little pads against his skin where there are gaps in the metal, wires trailing out of them ready to be connected to something important. He fidgets with his fingers, stops when he realises they’re watching him and focuses on keeping himself quiet instead and trying not to panic. He still has no idea what’s going on.

It takes a long time for the scientist to be happy with the positioning of things, and once he is he tightens the final strap and Icarus can feel it digging into his head. It feels like a brand.

“Now,” Riggins makes him jump, looking up when the man puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a kind smile. “This is the really important part, so I need you to focus. We’re going to try something that might seem a little scary, but I promise it will be okay as long as you behave yourself. This could be it, Svlad. All these people are here to see if we can prove that you’re special,” he cups his jaw reassuringly and he finds himself leaning into it, the gentleness is rare. “I already know you’re special, but this time we’re going to have to show them, so try not to panic. I’m going to leave you with the scientists now, but I’ll be just over there. Promise me you’ll try your absolute best?”

It’s too much pressure all of a sudden, he wants to kick and scream and run away but he can’t remember the last time Riggins looked at him with anything other than disappointment and even if the expectation and hope scares him he’d do anything to keep it.

“I promise, I’ll do everything I can.”

“That’s my boy,” he hasn’t any hair left to ruffle, so Riggins taps a finger against his cheek before he leaves. Suddenly Icarus feels startlingly alone among the countless pairs of eyes that blink down at him.

“Come here,” the doctor is beckoning him to the box, and after a moments hesitation he makes his way over, eyeing it up fearfully. “You need to take off your jumpsuit, everything else can stay.”

After everything the order just seems cruel. He’s trying so hard to keep his defenses up and in check but he’s not sure he’s going to be able to if they keep on stripping him down. Icarus just stares at him for a long moment, like he’s waiting for him to take it back, but when the doctor just raises an eyebrow he swallows down the last flicker of hope he has and starts working his shaking fingers against the buttons.

The fabric pools to the ground around him and he tries his best to imagine that he’s anywhere else but where he is.

“Good, you’re all set. Into the tank,” he gestures somewhat impatiently at the ladder attached to the box.

There’s no time to waste worrying about it, there’s nothing to be done to stop them. Instead he just complies, climbing the ladder one rung at a time until he’s climbing down the other side and standing in a box that comes up far over his head. If he looks up he can see the ceiling, lights beaming down on him, but everything else is just the inside of what seems like a giant metal tube. He wraps his arms around himself while nobody can see him, it’s a small comfort.

“There’s a socket to your left, plug the wires into it,” the disembodied voice of the doctor floats over to him and he scrambles to do as he’s told, the sooner he complies the sooner this will be over. The panel lights up briefly when he connects the wires, going dark after a moment.

“Good. Open the panel next to it and put the mask on,” it takes him a moment to pry the panel open and when he does he frowns at the object inside. It’s a breathing mask, like the ones they put on him when they operate. The sight of it fills him with dread because if it’s there he needs it, and for a moment he just holds it in his hand and tries to imagine what it must mean. “Is there a problem?” the doctor jolts him out of his thoughts and he shakes his head, forgetting they can’t see.

“No, no. Sorry.” He doesn’t want to upset anyone, especially not now, and he swallows down the fear as he puts the mask in place. The constant flow of dry air does nothing to help regulate his breathing.

“It is about to get very dark, be reassured that you are in a controlled environment and anything that happens can be stopped at any moment so please try to remain calm. Test one will now commence.”

He doesn’t get chance to ask what that means before the sound of an alarm blaring jolts him into covering his ears, an unholy screech sounding above him and when he looks up the lid of the box is rising up and swallowing away the light like he’s watching an eclipse.

The top slams shut with a loud bang, and he’s plunged into total darkness. The silence ringing in the space around him almost seeming loud.

For a long moment he’s too frozen with fear to do anything but feel the way his breathing starts to get faster as his chest rises and falls in time with his racing heartbeat.

Then the water starts coming in.

He hears it before he feels it, but it’s pooling at his feet before long and coming in fast enough to be climbing up his body at an alarming rate. The need for the breathing mask becomes suddenly apparent, and the panic hits him all at once.

He reaches for the sides of the tube, it’s bigger than he remembers and hard to do in the dark but he finds it before long, fingers scrambling against the edges for something, some kind of give but it’s all just smooth. He claws at the metal, shouting for them to let him out but the sound is muffled even to him in a box that’s designed to be as quiet as possible. The water is up to his waist now, climbing up his chest and he forgoes trying to find his own way out and just starts banging his fist on the metal like it will make any difference. Like anyone will help him. Like any of them would even care if he died in here like this.

He manages to tilt his head back, treading water as long as he can to try and keep his head above water but it’s rising too quickly and he’s too tired to be any match. It’s no longer than a few minutes before he goes under.

He can breathe at least, but that’s about all he can do. There’s a strange sensation of not knowing whether his eyes are open or closed in the totality of the darkness around him. He can’t feel the walls or the floor, and he feels for the most part like he’s floating in a weighted, inky blackness that’s pressing down on him and pulling him out in every direction possible.

He feels like he’s stopped being real.

It’s like all the panic has been sucked out of him, breath becoming shallow but steady as he lets himself slip into the feeling of not being anything at all. The only constant thing, like always, is that little thread wound into a knot inside of him, tethering him to… something. Not reality, not the physical world at least. Not the place with the scientist and the testing and the pain. Something else, something bigger, something more important than all of that. Something more important than anything.

It’s in him. It is him. Every part of him is woven inexplicably into this, and with nothing else to focus on it’s easy, it’s so easy to let himself follow it along to wherever it’s going.

He could get lost like this and it wouldn’t matter.

Until he reaches out and tugs on the string, and his mind reacts like he just stuck a fork in a toaster. Lighting up so suddenly it threatens to shock him.

It’s not nothing, it’s everything. It’s creation and destruction, the beginning and the end, light and darkness. A space between one and zero, infinite in all directions and heavy, so heavy. It pulls him in every direction and he can feel himself starting to unravel. Like he’s staring at everything that has ever and will ever exist and he wants to pour himself into all of it. Every millisecond of existence spread out in blinding white and blue above him and he sees it all, understands it all. It’s a jigsaw without a reference picture but he knows how to make the pieces fit, knows how to make it all work, how to put it all together again. There’s a whispering in his ear, and he reaches out, trance like, head spinning with calculations, with questions and answers and possibilities and taking in more and more and more like it’s never going to stop filling him up and unravelling him to stitch itself back together.

The entirety of time and space being poured into his head, every possible choice and outcome there will ever be, every single thing that has the potential to ever happen making his eyes wide and his mind race and it hurts, it hurts so much but he just can’t stop looking. He can’t even blink. He’s paralysed and helpless and terrified.

Fear like nothing he’s ever felt in his life before now because he can feel it. The thing. The wrongness. There’s something in here with him and it’s going to get him, if not now then eventually and he can’t move, can’t breathe, there’s nothing to help him and he can feel breath on the back of his neck which shouldn’t be here in a place where reality doesn’t exist. He can feel it, gaping and empty and hungry like it will devour everything in its path and still not be satisfied. He can feel the way it reaches for him first, feels the way it picks at his edges like it can unravel him, feels the way it forces his mouth open like it’s going to climb down his throat and suffocate him with every broken thing he can see laid out before him, even the smallest of mistakes piling up to make a mountain the size of which he can’t comprehend with his brain so small and so human. So limited.

It wants to open him up.

It wants him to see.

It wants to bend him to it’s will, to use him, to break him apart and consume him entirely.

He doesn’t realise he’s screaming, one long drawn out note that sounds nothing like a sound any human has made as he’s dragged out of the water and into the light. He convulses on the floor when they set him down, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling as he finds enough breath to start sobbing, tugging at the straps around his head to get whatever the hell they’d put on him off, throwing it away as he curls himself into a ball when hands grab at him and try to restrain him.

“No, no, no, no no no no,” he repeats it over and over, hugging his knees to his chest and he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to stop all he knows is he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want more. Doesn’t want that. They stop trying to touch him after a moment, and it takes a long time before he’s able to look up from where he’s huddled into himself on the floor.

It feels like it takes forever for him to catch enough breath to start sobbing.

“Shh,” his voice is soft, soothing almost. He reaches for it blindly. “It's okay. You did well Svlad, I’m proud of you.” Riggins is stroking a hand along his head when he finally lifts it, it doesn’t feel the same now though, it’s not as soft, but the touch is gentle and he leans into it like a pet looking for attention. The touch helps to soothe him, the man is smiling at him and it makes him relax. He’s done well. He’s done well.

Icarus doesn’t make the connection right away.

“The results were positive,” there’s pride in his voice, but something is wrong and the dread that had been quelled by his gentleness is starting to creep back in. “Your brain activity was like nothing we’ve ever seen before, clearly we managed to trigger something in you. It worked.” He sounds reverent, the kind of tone he hasn’t heard in his voice in a long time. Then he turns his smile on him, one filled with that certain kind of wonder he’d given the first time he’d done something unexplainable, and it occurs to him all at once what that means.

He shakes his head, fisting his hands into Riggins shirt as he cries, loud and ugly in a way that echoes in the space around them and it’s testament to how pleased the man is that he lets him, just keeps smoothing his hand across his shoulders where he’s shivering from the cold.

“We have to tweak a few things, but this is good Svlad. With any luck you’ll do even better next time,” he shushes him but doesn’t snap at him, and Icarus just keeps crying while he lets him because he can’t go back there, he can’t. Not knowing what’s waiting for him, not knowing what it wants to do.

“I’m so proud of you,” the words are usually his greatest source of comfort, but now it just makes him shake more, huddling in closer to the man as he tries to find some good in all of this. “So proud.”

It’s the first time it’s felt like a knife in his gut.

It’s the first time he finds himself wishing he’d failed.

They’d finally made some kind of connection, but all he can do is cry.

#To Know the Parts of Me By Name series #series add on #angst #reformat #blackwing #dghda #dirk gently #project icarus #please be warned this fic contains emotional abuse and human experimentation on a child #there is a lot of manipulation here #and all round unhealthy relationships #heavy angst #not a standalone read the rest first #my fic #my writing

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protecticarus · 7 years

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Hey, there! I saw you're busy so I'm not sure when/if you'll see this and if you'd even want to fill it, but I have this idea and I'm sure you'd give it justice: what if Dirk, after seeing how quickly Ken turned away from his friendship with Bart to join Blackwing, started thinking Todd would do the same, if offered? And him being really insecure, he would believe he deserved it, too... and maybe, in some way, Todd finds out? And he's a little pissed but mostly just wants to comfort his friend

yes I want to fill it! it’s a good prompt!

Finding out about Ken working for Blackwing had been like a slap in the face for Dirk. Sure, he didn’t know Ken well, or at all really, after all he’d only met the man once, but he had been one of the good guys. He’d been Bart’s friend. Bart, who Blackwing had captured, just like Dirk. Bart’s friend Ken had teamed up with the people that ruined Bart’s childhood.Every time Dirk thought about it, his heart dropped into his stomach. He knew there were bad people in the world, he’d sure met his fair share of them, but he’d never thought someone could just… Turn bad? Again, he barely knew Ken, but he did know Bart, or at least he understood Bart, so seeing someone she trusted turn on her like that made Dirk feel hopeless.He felt sad for Bart. Just like Dirk, she didn’t have many people in her life. Her first real friend had betrayed her. Dirk’s heart went out for her.More selfishly, Dirk suddenly felt very unsure of himself. Had he been foolish in trusting the people he’d befriended? They were all nice people who had helped him a lot, but wasn’t that what Ken had been for Bart? Blackwing had a way of manipulating people and Dirk wasn’t exactly the easiest person to be around. What would it take for his friends to turn on him? Todd hadn’t exactly been excited about Dirk’s entrance into his life in the first place. How much of his shenanigans would be too much for Todd to handle? Would he think it’d be easier to work against Dirk instead of with him?A while ago Dirk wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Blackwing was pure evil. Todd wasn’t. But Bart hadn’t thought Ken was either. Yet, Ken chose to betray Bart in the worst way possible. In the end, it worked more to Ken’s benefit to ditch Bart and lock her up.What did Todd really benefit from being Dirk’s friend? Nobody wanted to be in constant danger? Nobody wanted an uncertain future? Nobody wanted to spend all their time with someone who caused those things? Nobody wanted to spend all their time with someone who annoyed them?

These thoughts wouldn’t leave Dirk alone, no matter what he did. Todd and Farah didn’t seem any different since the Cardenas case. Todd was his grumpy but caring self as Farah was her guarded but kickass self.But Dirk looked at them differently. More than once he had woken up in the middle of a night from a nightmare where Todd smiled at him fondly only for his expression to turn into a chilling, evil grin as he locked Dirk in his Blackwing cell.Dirk felt lonelier than he’d ever felt. He was with his friends, but he felt completely isolated. He didn’t know who to trust and what to think.It was like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.Which eventually resulted into a whole debacle and a very worried Todd.Dirk had fallen asleep on Todd’s couch. Dirk wasn’t one to fall asleep in places other than his bed, actually falling asleep just like that in his bed wasn’t very common for him either, but he had been very exhausted recently.Todd had just gotten a call from a client with important information about their current case and went to wake up Dirk.Which is when Dirk freaked out.“Dirk?” Todd said and went to shake Dirk. “Come on, we have to go.”In the middle of yet another dream about evil Todd, Dirk’s eyes shot open and he jumped up from the couch.“Woah, Dirk, calm down, it’s okay. We just have to go now..” Todd tried to calm him down.“No.” Dirk said in a shaky voice and stepped away from Todd.“What?” Todd questioned.“I’m not going. I’m not. Going.” Dirk responded firmly, but his hands were shaking.“What? We just need to go-““No! I won’t go back! Not even if YOU ask!” Dirk yelled.“Dirk! Calm down! Mrs. Danes called with more information about the Hello Kitty clock? We’re supposed to go check it out?” Todd explained and carefully tried to walk towards Dirk.Dirk stared at Todd. His anxiety slightly decreasing. The case. They were on a case. They were in Todd’s apartment. Todd was talking about a case. Oh god.“Case. Yes.” Dirk whispered.Todd gave him a worried look. “Are you okay?” He asked.“Fine.” Dirk replied, rather unconvincingly.“What just happened?” Todd asked.“Bad dream.” Dirk said. Todd waited for more information but none ever came.“You sure that’s all?” Todd asked. Dirk simply nodded. Todd sighed.“What did you mean by ‘even if you asked’?” Todd asked. He didn’t feel the need to ask where Dirk was afraid of going back to.“Nothing.” Dirk whispered.“Bullshit.” Todd snapped.Dirk looked down at his feet, unable to deny Todd’s accusation but refusing to explain.Todd sighed again. “I don’t wanna push you, Dirk, but… You’ve been acting weird for a while and I’ve never seen you freak out like that?” He explained.Dirk remained quiet.“Have I done something?” Todd asked.“No.” Dirk replied immediately. “Not yet.”Todd raised his eyebrows questioningly. “What?”“Nothing. Nothing.” Dirk was quick to reply.“Dirk. Talk to me. Please.” Todd pleaded.Dirk took in a deep, shaky breath.“Please… Please don’t make me go back.” Dirk whispered.Todd frowned. “Dirk… Why would I make you go back… There?” Todd asked, somewhat offended by Dirk’s implication.“Ken did.” Dirk replied.“What?” Todd asked.“Ken was Bart’s best friend. He was all Bart would talk about. She trusted him. He was all she had. And then he went and took over Blackwing. He runs Blackwing now. He’s the main bad guy. He locked Bart in Blackwing. He was her friend and he did the worst possible thing he could have done to her.” Dirk explained.Todd stood still and quiet for a while. He didn’t know what to say. His first reaction was anger. He felt it flare up all over his body. How could Dirk think he’d do something like that? Todd knew he wasn’t the best person but to force Dirk back to the place and the people that ruined his childhood? How could he even humor that idea?Before he could explode in anger like he usually did, another thought occurred to Todd.Blackwing had hurt Dirk. Hurt him bad. Physically and especially mentally. They made it so that Dirk had a hard time trusting anyone and viewed himself so terribly negatively. They messed him up.And then Ken happened.The best friend of another Blackwing victim had done the worst possible thing Dirk could think of. He had teamed up with Blackwing.The thought of Todd doing so was insane, but surely Bart didn’t expect Ken to do so either.It made perfect sense for Dirk to doubt him, to doubt everything. After everything Blackwing had put him through… After Ken, not even his friends seemed safe to be around.It all broke Todd’s heart.He walked closer to Dirk who flinched away right away.“Dirk.” He said as softly as he could. Dirk finally looked up at him.“I understand why you’re scared. What Ken did… No one saw that coming. How could we have? What he did was… Fucking terrible. I can’t imagine how Bart must feel? But Dirk… I would never and I mean EVER do that to you. I wouldn’t.” Todd explained.Dirk sniffled. “But-““No.” Todd interrupted. “I get it. I get why you’d be worried. You’ve been through hell with Blackwing, you and Bart both, and Ken’s betrayal is… Really unbelievable. But I am not Ken.” He explained.“I can’t even begin to understand the shit you’ve been through and what kind of trauma it must’ve caused but I understand enough to know that you didn’t deserve it. No one does! I would never put you through that. I may be an asshole but I’m not sadistic. Nothing they could possibly offer me would be enough to get me to do that to you. Nothing. Okay?” Todd said. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone, let alone my best friend.” He continued. “I’m your friend, Dirk. And I know, Ken was Bart’s too, but they’re not us. We’re… We’re real, okay? I promise. I’d sooner have a pararibulitis attack for 24 hours straight than put you through Blackwing again. It hurts me to think what they did to you, I couldn’t live with myself if I was the cause of that. I promise, Dirk, you’re safe with me. I know you haven’t felt safe in a long time, but I promise, I will make sure you feel safe again. Eventually.” Todd finished.Dirk stood completely still for a moment before bursting into tears. Todd took the last remaining steps between them and Dirk basically collapsed into his arms.“It’s okay.” Todd whispered and rubbed Dirk’s back. “You’ll be okay.”Dirk sobbed out something that sounded like ‘how could he’ and ‘poor Bart’ before continuing to softly cry into Todd’s shirt, holding firmly onto Todd’s shoulders.Todd held his friend and prayed that his pain would fade. If not with Todd’s reassurance, at least with time. Right now, he wanted nothing more than for Dirk to be okay. He knew Dirk had suffered, he knew he was broken, but nothing hurt more than knowing Dirk felt so alone and unsure even around Todd. He promised himself he’d do his best to show Dirk that he was there for him.Todd’s thoughts turned to Bart. She had no one. She was in Blackwing. Put there by her friend. Todd’s blood boiled. Everyone in Blackwing was rotten to the core. And now Ken was one of them, despite knowing what they did to their ‘projects’?Todd wanted to burn Blackwing to the ground.But for now, his priority was Dirk. He would convince Dirk of where his loyalties lied and eventually, they’d take Blackwing down.Together.

if you have any fic ideas, send me prompts! I’d be happy to write them. my inbox is open! x

#dghda #dirk gently #todd brotzman #guess what #it’s angst #hurt/comfort #protective todd #broken dirk #brotzly #fan fiction #fic prompt #prompt fill #send me prompts #fic #my writing #dirk gently’s holistic detective agency #protecticarus

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