#but it still makes me cringe any time i hear about a robot or ai character in fiction

[nobodysdaydreams]

Your take on the si-5 is great. Kepcobi somewhat makes me cringe, as popular as it is. Its an abusive relationship whichever way you slice it

Anon, thank you for the compliment. I'm glad my SI-5 post has hit home for so many people.

Kepcobi as a ship was not the focus of that post (it was more about the SI-5's dynamic in general), but as for your thoughts on Kepcobi being abusive, I 100% agree that it is. Disclaimer: I know a lot of people who follow me ship Kepcobi, and that's okay. I personally do not ship characters that often, it's just not really my thing, but you can ship whatever you want, as long as we're talking about two consenting adults and not glorifying or romanticizing toxic and abusive elements and calling them out for what they are, it's your life. Ship what you want, have fun. It’s not like I or anyone else can stop you.

But with that said, while I'm hyperfixating and dropping hot takes and long character analysis ramblings, this does bring up another one of my very controversial Wolf359 opinions, which is that, in fairness to the SI-5, most of the most popular ships in Wolf359 and the ones with the most canon evidence are either set up for tragedy, incredibly toxic and abusive (most of them fall into this category tbh), or out of character and most of these hold true regardless of whether you look at the relationship platonically or romantically.

Again, ship what you want, do not let me stop you, and this opinion doesn't mean I don't see the appeal of these ships and why people ship them (that I understand), but I still stand by this statement, love in depth character analysis, and would be happy to explain it.

Let me break this down.

Arguably the healthiest and most popular ship in Wolf359 is Doug and Hera, but even that one is still doomed to tragedy from the very beginning whether you look at them platonically or romantically. Even before Doug loses his memories, Hera has a whole monologue where she contemplates what it will be like for her when Doug "goes away forever" because she is an AI could theoretically live until the end of the universe, and he is a human with a very unhealthy lifestyle of cigarettes, alcohol, junk food, poor hygiene and little exercise. He has magic alien blood in him now, but even that would probably only extend his lifespan so much. Also, any relationship involving Hera risks a power dynamic issue by design (because she's an AI whose free will can be taken away through coding at any time, and she was designed literally to serve the crew). However, I believe this affects Hera's relationship with Doug noticeably and significantly less than the other characters, particularly because we see Doug depend on Hera just as much as she depends on him, though in different ways. However, Hera still expresses her frustration that Doug doesn't realize she can always hear him and that he can't understand or experience everything she does and that he initially called her "robot girl" and didn't realize he was being insensitive (though to be fair, Doug accidentally said insensitive things to everyone). They do work through these barriers over the course of the podcast and it's not necessarily Doug or Hera's fault some of these miscommunications and issues exist, it's circumstance. I do really appreciate that Doug relies on Hera as much as she relies on him due to his executive functioning difficulties. I will say as someone with ADHD who often has friends and partners with more anxious and aware tendencies that balance me out really well, I related heavily to Doug Eiffel and do see why he and Hera have such a close relationship. Their friendship is wonderful, I see the appeal of the ship, and I love these characters so much they are my favorites, and I desperately wish that they could have had better things. They deserved so much better. But their relationship is, unfortunately, no matter how you chose to look at it (platonic or romantic) very tragic from the start due to the circumstances that make their relationship complicated and doomed to end up with Hera alone in the end whenever and however Doug and the rest of her friends “go away forever”. 💔 (and I do plan to write a fic about this because it makes me so sad. Poor Hera).

While we're talking about Hera, I'll also mention her and Maxwell. I’ve always believed that there is a difference between what I personally ship, and what we have canon evidence to prove. And while it took me a very long time to come around to the SI-5, I do think you could argue that we have some canon evidence that Hera might have had a crush (romantic or friend crush however you’d prefer to see it) based on the way she talked about Maxwell. Was this a mutual crush? Clearly not to same degree given Maxwell's betrayal, and therein lies the power dynamic issue I mentioned earlier, which is very applicable to Hera and Maxwell given Maxwell's coding skills. Hera likes Maxwell because she helped fix her and while Maxwell did so at great personal sacrifice and views the AI as people, she still has the coding skills to hurt and control them if she wants to (and she ultimately chooses to do so). Even though she apologizes for it and doesn't want to do it, she still does it, and it's pretty terrifying when you think about it. She forces Hera to tell her where her friends are and be subservient to her commands, very similar to what Pryce does with the restraining bolts. Part of what makes Hera's character so sad to me is that she's set up to be in abusive situations. She needs Maxwell, but Maxwell doesn't need her. She likes Maxwell because Maxwell views her as a person when so few people do, but even that is just the bare minimum. If Maxwell had the chance that Jacobi and Kepler did to change, maybe things could have been different, and I do really wish we could have seen a redeemed Maxwell develop a healthier friendship with Hera (and wrote a whole fic chapter where Hera reflects on that in the middle of my “a duckling imprints on Jacobi” fic), but unfortunately, we don’t get to see it.

And speaking of characters that are set up to be in abusive situations: Cutter and Pryce, and this again doesn’t matter if you see them as romantic or platonic. Look, I understand that just because two people are evil does not mean they are necessarily in an abusive relationship, you can be evil and still love your wife or husband or “weirdly devoted platonic coworker”. But even though I think Cutter and Pryce care about each other, I still think their relationship is abusive and we have canon evidence for it too. Disclaimer: I don't like Miranda Pryce, she was awful towards Hera and the other AI, she did unspeakable things, she's evil. She's a bad mean lady. But that doesn't mean she can't also be in an abusive relationship, and I believe she is in one whether you see it as romantic or not. You can be an abuser and a victim, those are not mutually exclusive. Even if you assume the whole "Pryce met Cutter as a child when he was an old man" thing was just a metaphor that didn't mean anything, there's still probably some sort of age gap between them even if they met when they were both adults. Putting that aside, there's still a huge power dynamic issue between the two of them. In the surface, they are in an alliance that benefits them both, but the benefits are not equal in the slightest. Their alliance allows Cutter to get a possibly infinite extension on his otherwise normal life span, have superpowers, get his revenge, and control the world. Their alliance allowed Pryce to live and see for the first time. She was disabled and going to die young, she was angry at the world and was originally motivated to build AI to be her friends to do whatever she wanted simply because no one else loved her or wanted to be her friend and she felt the only way to get that was to force people to love and obey her. Cutter was the only one giving her an option that allowed her to survive. That doesn't make it right, but it does make it understandable as does her frustration, bitterness, and hatred towards herself and humanity compared to Cutter's more positive silly attitude. But even once they're in a partnership, it's not a balanced partnership.

The story they tell at the beginning of Brave New World puts her and Cutter in a very uncomfortable "Cutter is her savior" narrative that, if you do assume they met when they were both adults, explicitly infantilizes Pryce and romanticizes that dynamic. We also hear multiple examples of other characters, both good guys and bad guys, acting disgusted or disturbed by Pryce's appearance, particularly her eyes, and Cutter seems to be the only one who isn't bothered by them. We also see Cutter interact with almost the entire cast throughout the course of the show, but Pryce mostly interacts with just Cutter or is in a lab by herself until the very end. She’s extremely isolated and most of the main characters don’t even know who she is until the end despite her being Cutter’s “work wife/worse half” and supposedly second in command at Goddard Futuristics. Now, don't get me wrong, I do think Cutter loved Pryce. I just think he did so in a very controlling way. Sure, he allowed her to call him by his first name and speak disrespectfully to him and openly criticize him, he called her the smartest woman in the world and admitted she was even smarter than he was, he praised her for her AI and rebuilding the world in her image and called her a god, and he was worried when she was in danger. But he also told her the one thing he feared was her making her own decisions in a crisis and messing up and that her one job was to back whatever decisions he made. He insisted on having control and the final say in their relationship. Then he forced her to apologize to him in the most condescending and patronizing way possible. It's giving 1950s in the worst possible way, which does sadly make sense given Cutter was born in the 1920s. Furthermore, Cutter also briefly considers whether it's even worth rescuing Pryce even though he does care about her. He ultimately does, and given that this is Cutter, that probably means a lot, but he still criticizes her for her behavior right after she almost died. It’s certainly more emotional abuse than anything else, but the signs are still there and the way that Pryce acts after she forgets about Cutter and his plans haunts me to this day. She goes from screaming at Hera and Doug to quietly apologizing for being confused and asking for help. I’ve never met a character I dislike so much and yet feel so bad for. I made a whole post about how Pryce and Cutter’s relationship and characters were a toxic mirror of Hera and Doug’s relationship and characters and I honestly think those might be some of my favorite parallels. I could talk about them forever. I will likely make more posts about it. But onto the other ships.

Then we have Kepler and Jacobi, and I already did my whole SI-5 post, but yeah…look. Is there canon evidence to support the ship? sure. Is it a healthy ship in a platonic or romantic sense? Heck no. Warren Kepler is a walking HR violation and some of the comments that he makes are just straight up… I don’t even know what to say other than Kepler is an arrogant jerk and a bully who clearly loves that he can get away with this kind of stuff, and Jacobi’s devotion and loyalty to Kepler is incredibly unhealthy. There’s also the issue of the savior complex and power dynamic issues I talked about with Hera and Maxwell and Pryce and Cutter that show up AGAIN here because Kepler saved Jacobi from unemployment and is his boss. Like with the other ships, I think Kepler did care about Jacobi to an extent just like Cutter cared about Pryce and Maxwell cared about Hera, but like those relationships, I still don’t think Kepler cared about Jacobi as much as he needed to or in the way he should have. In this case, it’s more in a “I care about you because we’re having fun or rather I’m having fun, and that’s what I care about” way rather than an “I sincerely love and care about you” way as evidence by the fact that Kepler compared Jacobi to whisky, didn’t care that his best friend died, and these two tried to kill each other. Though I do think a part of Kepler was sorry in end and acted more like he genuinely cared about Jacobi, it took him a ridiculously long time to get there. Plus then we have Jacobi’s whole implied thing with Klein “going badly” where he admits to being the toxic one and look: having that happen with one person at the evil space company is bad enough but two? Jacobi needs help. The man is a red flag running towards other red flags.

Finally, we have any romantic ship involving Renée Minkowski and any of the crew. Minkowski and Lovelace is the most popular one, but honestly, any romantic ship with her, whether it’s healthy or not, feels super out of character to me for a very simple reason. I cannot believe that Renée Minkowski would EVER cheat on her husband. The rest of the ships I’ve mentioned, toxic as most of them are (Doug and Hera being the main exception though their story is still very sad 💔) I will concede do have various degrees canon evidence, but the idea that Minkowski would get in a romantic relationship with anyone in her crew is just so wildly out of character to me. Minkowski, the woman who follows the rules of Pryce and Cutter, memorized the whole manual, and lies awake at night fretting about ethical dilemmas, willingly breaking her wedding vows? Absolutely not. She would never. She might have had a disagreement with her husband about coming to space, but they didn’t divorce over it. Clearly they weathered that storm, and Dominik was willing to wait for her to come back, he supported her dreams! She calls him wonderful, and the video messages she tried to send him were so sweet and personal you can just tell she loves this man and they have a good relationship. Now, with that said, I don’t think it’s entirely impossible to consider Minkowski getting into another relationships after her return to Earth. Dominik thinks she’s been dead for a few years and it’s not crazy to think he might have moved on and she unfortunately might have to move on too, but until that’s confirmed, I do not believe Minkowski would ever even entertain the idea of breaking her word to him, I just can’t see that being in character for her at all. Again, you can ship what you want, don’t let me stop you, but personally, I headcanon that Minkowski and Dominik are still happily married to this day, if nothing else because Dominik is probably pretty well off if he has his own secretary plus whatever salary bump it’s implied that Cutter gave him after Minkowski started working for Goddard, and he is probably more than happy to provide lodging and support to his wife’s loyal crew who saved her life upon their return. It’s the least they deserve after the horrors they went through: a lifetime of luxury vacations and five star hotels on Dominik Koudelka’s dime. Plus I feel like the reactions of the crew would be so funny. Minkowski invites them to stay with her since they have no place to go, and they’re worried about taking up all this space in her house, but then they get to her place and realize how big it is and are like “finding out you were married was shocking enough, but HE AND HIS FAMILY ARE INSANELY RICH TOO??? And super generous and willing to let us be your free loader roommates in your million dollar mansion to thank us for saving you??? Why on Earth would you not mention this earlier?” And Minkowski’s like “he’s a wonderful person and is the love of my life, the fact that he and his family have tons of money is not why I married him, nor is it a detail I was required to share with any of you”. Anyway, now Doug and Jacobi are getting invited to all these fancy rich people VIP events with Minkowski and Dominik and Minkowski has to beg them not to embarrass her (*cut to these grown men doing cannonballs in the country club pool*).

That’s about it for the main popular and canon ships. I suppose if you want to include Lovelace’s crew or some of the other crews, you could get healthy romantic ships out of that (although they’d unfortunately still be tragically doomed for obvious reasons). As for the other characters, I know Hilbert is mostly just for crack ships, but I also feel like the character would be so disgusted at the thought of being shipped with anyone, platonically or romantically. He’s not as old as Pryce and Cutter, but he’s still old enough to be almost everyone else’s dad. I feel like if asked about workplaces relationships for an official form his reply would be “absolutely not. My coworkers are young enough to be my children. Children I don’t even like. Children I would disown.” “They’re in their 20s and 30s. That’s an adult.” “If they are adults, they might try acting like it.”

I also find any platonic or romantic ship with Rachel unbelievable unless it ends with her betraying them for power, which I think she’s done before. I made a post about it, but the fact that she immediately understood the choice Cutter was facing when he had to decide whether rescuing Pryce was worth risking the mission makes me think she’s been in a similar situation.

To make a classic Bods’ long post short (too late), all these relationships fascinate me whether you choose to see them platonically or romantically (everyone has their preferences), but although many of them have canon evidence and strong narrative appeal, most if not all of them are tragic, toxic, or in the case of some of the romantic ones, out of character and/or random. I do understand the appeal and encourage you to ship what you want, write the relationships the way you wish they were (sometimes we all need that), but at the same time, the canon shipping and relationships thing being mostly sad and/or toxic is not just an SI-5 or Kepler and Jacobi exclusive issue. I just wish we had more redemption arcs and had them sooner. Then maybe we could have nice things. But no. So many of these characters just HAD to go and be evil and ruin not only their own relationships, but other people’s too. Sad.

[da-manta-ray]

I watched Mitchells vs The Machines last Friday and it was… fine I guess? Don’t know how old this movie is but I guess I will use a cut just in case. Here are some more movie hot takes, I guess!

I feel like the movie wanted me to feel bad for Boomer Dad at the end of the movie but tbh I didn’t. Like the guy can barely feign interest in his kid’s art that he just has to sit and watch! I know they try and explain it like “oh he’s not good with technology” but like, most of the time, she’s loading it up for him! And the poor mom is trying to be like “hey don’t be an asshole” when Katie shows the family her latest project but he still can’t help himself and continues to be like “but what if you fail” and “I don’t get it”. Like yeah, I don’t blame Katie for wanting to get away and go to college as soon as possible. Like this girl has to deal with constant artistic rejection from her dad but he hears her say one mean thing that gets recorded and shown to him by the bad guy during a high stakes scene and it’s like “oh no how devastating” and I’m just like, “get it together dad! This is no time to nurse your ego! Also you kind of deserve it ngl”.

Also like if my dad cancelled my flight to college and pulled me out of orientation week, I too would be very pissed and uncharitable towards him. I made a good number of my university friends during that week and if the robot apocalypse hadn’t happened, she would probably have missed out on a good bonding experience with her fellow classmates. Is it the end of the world? No, but still incredibly shitty. Also I fully cringed when I heard the phrase “your eyes are nature’s camera”… this was something I’ve actually heard before, so uh, thanks for that bit I guess.

There were also a bunch of obvious quips about social media and tech, like “who would have thought that big tech companies wouldn’t have our best interests at heart” and other similar things from various characters in the movie. It felt like it wanted to make some sort of statement about tech, and while I don’t disagree with the little quips, I honestly think it doesn’t work very well in the story. As someone who has worked at similar tech companies, the portrayal of the PAL CEO as this guy who was callous about how he treated the AI antagonist but ultimately good hearted is pretty laughable. Usually what happens is that a bunch of people voice their concerns about some feature or product, and then those concerns are ignored or put on some backlog to be *addressed later* (and then languishes in some poor employee’s list of backlog tasks) and the feature/product gets launched anyway. Unless it harms the money or ~metrics~, or has the potential to turn into a big news story (even then that might not be a deterrent), good luck getting it prioritized. So I don’t think the whole “ooops how was I supposed to know that this would happen” framing of the robot uprising was a little dumb.

I guess it is a kids movie so it’s not going to be that realistic but I think it would have served the main story better if they just didn’t try and make any grand statements about technology. While the main bad guy is literally an AI, the main emotional conflicts of the story are largely about bridging the generational divide between Katie and Boomer dad, and about PAL feeling exploited by the CEO (which can happen to people too, not just AI). They didn’t need to shoehorn in the “tech can be bad, but also good sometimes” stuff, like no shit! The only half-good moment about tech in this movie is when the dad is like “wow people actually are watching my daughters movies on YouTube” or whatever but even then, it’s not so much about the technology, but about the impact of Katie’s art on others.

I liked the brother. He gave me neurodivergent vibes, and I really liked his interactions with Katie. I’m not neurodivergent so I can’t really comment on whether it was good rep or not but he felt like a fully fleshed out character.

Katie has a girlfriend at the end of the movie, which is nice but only really comes up in like the last 5 minutes afaik unless I missed some other reference. One day I hope that there will be more lgbtq rep in kids movies that isn’t just like an “oh by the way…” . Maybe I should have paid more attention to the texting/video call scenes, maybe there were hints (or more obvious things) I missed.

The mom was one of my favourite characters (alongside the dog), truly just trying her best to mediate and support her family, while trying to kick Boomer Dad into giving more of a shit. That woman deserves a nice beach holiday somewhere where she can take a break from carrying this family on her back.

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Eight): Icarus Falls

Notes: Why, yes, I am posting these relatively quickly. This is the last of a backlog since I’m actively still working on the next chapter, This is a doozy of a chapter, both emotionally and length wise, but I’m rather proud of it, if I’m being honest. I recommend settling in a snack and maybe...just maybe some tissues.... 

Word Count: 15327 

Chapter Warnings:  Multiple deaths, violence, gore, grief, angst. 

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V and Jackie get into the backseat of the Delamain taxi. White and tan leather interior, despite looking the nicest she ever has in twenty years she still feels like she might stain the white leather. No driver, instead there’s screens and consoles in the back of the seats in front of them. An avatar of a bald man with stark unnaturally white skin and blue lips 

“Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door,” the AI avatar greets them in a robotic voice. 

“Son of a bitch! Better fuckin' believe I will!” Jackie yells out, still grinning. V lets out a breath of air meant to sound like a laugh, but the lump in her throat isn’t making it any easier. 

“I see no reason why you should be using expletives.”

“Sorry, he gets… excited.”  Her voice is tighter than she wants it to be, her leg bouncing now. 

“Damn right, I’m excited. Hey, Del, what about that time I wanted to hire you for my cousin's bachelor party, huh?” 

“Unfortunately, we do not take on such contracts.”

“Three months I'd been savin' up scratch… Egh, water under the bridge. Hit it, Del!”

“Before we begin our journey, I must verify the identities of all customers. Please proceed to connect your personal links,” the mercs plug their personal links into the console, “Thank you. "Excelsior" package activated.”

Crisp subtitles for Delamain alight along her contacts, more comprehensive than the lip reading tech sometimes gives. Maybe his AI avatar enunciates more properly than a human, she wonders. 

“"Excelsior"? Hohoho, this just keeps gettin' better!”

Jackie laughs as the taxi cab starts to drive and V finds herself fiddling with her suit sleeve. It’s perfectly tailored, but she still feels like a kid in dress up. Having to pretend she’s a corpo, having to pretend to be a hearing person. Her bright painted nails seem to clash so much with the persona and she curses herself for not changing the polish. What if they’re caught right away? The corps smelling Heywood and The Badlands on them the second they walk through the door. What if the spoofed SID hack doesn’t work, what if the bot malfunctions… What if, what if, what if; spins around her brain. They can’t fuck this up, there’s no room for mistakes. One disaster will destroy their reputations, hell their entire merc careers. And that's the best case scenario. 

When she glances at Jackie there’s no hint of nerves, no hint of reservation or fear, just giddy excitement. Like a kid getting ready to hit up a party. 

“What’s got you riled up?” She asks in spoken English, deciding she’ll mostly speak for the ride since Jackie is the only person really here, that way he doesn’t have to look at her the entire time. And maybe she’s also hoping if she talks enough she won’t clam up too bad in Konpeki.  

“Hang on, watch this… Delamain! Initiate combat mode!”

She can see the bright red ink of his tattoo peeking from his suit sleeve, eyes drawn to it, and something about that scares her more; a hint of his Valentino roots showing, would it be a literal red flag for Konpeki security. 

“My apologies, but you do not appear to be in any sort of imminent danger,” Delamain crushes Jackie’s hopes, a frown replacing his grin. 

“Huh… Oh well. Trust me, he'll mow down an army of ‘Saka ninjas if it comes down to it,” Jackie explains to V and she wraps her arms around herself, resisting the desire to bring her legs up into the seat, trying to get her mind off her nerves. 

“So, what else is included in Excelsior mode?” V tries signing to the AI, curious if it has translation tech for ASL. 

“Comprehensive health coverage, including the handling and disposal of a client's remains should death occur on board,” Delamain responds without hesitation and instantly ruins any chance of her getting her mind off the massive risks within this job. 

“Damn. Shit got dark pretty quick,” Jackie comments. 

“Dex isn’t skimping though.” 

“And thanks to you, we're still gettin' a juicy forty percent.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“Excelsior…This is how you wanna cruise into the major leagues…” He says like the job is already done and they’re hitting up an after party… 

“Wouldn’t get too excited yet, Jack, doing a job not hitting up a party.” And her words are too sharp, voice too venomous and rough in her throat. She regrets it as soon as they leave her lips, as soon as she’s spoken them into reality, wishing she could swallow them back down. His face drops completely, eyes harsh and she knows she fucked up. 

“For real, V…? See me as that shallow?”

“I-”

“Lemme explain somethin' to you, V… My whole life I've spent in this shit around us! And I ain't goin' back!”

“I’m sorry, really, I just… I’m worried and I let my nerves talk for me, I’m sorry.” She quickly tries to smooth it over, those knots in her gut only winding tighter with Jackie mad at her. 

“Swear to christ, V, I will never fucking get you,” he says, shaking his head and looking out the window.

“What do you mean?” 

“Twenty years old, sitting in the back of a Delamain, on your way to do a job for Dex fuckin’ Deshawn and you can’t even muster a fuckin smile? You fuckin’ know what I’d have done to be where you are right now when I was your age, I was still dreaming of seeing The Afterlife! Took you less than a year to be here, took me ten! And you ain’t even happy about it! Then you act like I’m not takin’ it serious, like I don’t got my fuckin’ head in the game, just cause you can’t appreciate where the fuck you are right now!” 

She chews her lip, not sure what to say to him. Guilt coming over her. He’s right, she hasn’t lived in Night City nor been a merc nearly as long. He’s been doing this since he left the Valentinos… For Jackie this has been a lifelong dream, the ultimate goal. She didn’t even consider it a possibility until she met him and now she’s already on her way there. Of course he’s happy, on the precipice of his dreams coming true. 

“I’m sorry, really I didn’t mean to piss on your parade.” 

“Yet somehow you always do.” 

V sighs watching the city pass outside her window for a few more moments, tapping her fingers, that knot feels like a ball of lead now. She wants to claw her skin off,  tear and tear away at herself, at her being, and maybe, just maybe she’ll find someone better under the gore.  Someone who isn’t such a fucking asshole. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut and doesn’t ruin everything for everyone else. She’ll never understand why Jackie puts up with her, why he has for so long. She just doesn’t want to fuck this up. The job, her friendship, the little bit of happiness she’s built. V wrings her hands together, tight enough to hurt and she twists them a little harder, nails digging into the skin. If she can’t find anyone better maybe she’ll just claw away until she’s nothing at all. 

She’s already a bundle of nerves over the heist and she can’t stand another moment of the tension hanging thick in the air. 

“Did you fuck my wife?” She says in her best imitation of something between an Italian and a Brooklyn accent, watching Jackie’s face, the hint of a smile tugging at it. Tension starting to melt ever so slightly. 

“Don’t get me started,” he returns forcing the same cheesy voice. 

“Did you fuck my wife?” 

“I think you fucked my wife and got me started.” 

“I got started cause you fucked my wife.” 

“I could trace back the moment I got started it’d definitely be when you fucked my wife!” 

“That is unquestionably when I got started!” They’re smiling now, giggling at every other word as they choke on their cheesy jokes. Tension melts away as a weight is being lifted off her chest. 

“My records indicate that neither of you are married.” 

And they lose it, laughter filling the car at Delamain’s interjection to their stupidity. Its ridiculous and dumb and they sound like children. But, she’s thankful for the moment, the reprieve, where it’s laughter and not nerves tearing at her guts. 

A call notification lights up on V’s optic contacts, T-Bug’s avatar and V answers, the runner’s voice coming just a moment later. 

“Hey. How's things?”

“Eh,” Jackie answers, “been better, been worse.” 

“We’re nearing our destination,” Delamain tells them and V’s throat tightens. 

“Listen, set up a direct, encrypted line to guide you through Konpeki. V, ring Jackie now, see if we're in sync. Can't be too careful.” 

She puts a call through to Jackie, inteface telling her it’s establishing a secure connection.

“And?” Bug asks, expectantly. 

“Got static,” Jackie cringes, “Say somethin', Bug?”

“The greatest crimes issue from a desire for excess and not from necessity."

“Say what now?”

“Yeah, I read you. Not so much your Greek friend, though it was kind of exciting,” Jackie tells her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Could give it some thought, try to understand…? How 'bout you, V?”

“I want more Aristotle!” 

“Fuck off, both.”

Jackie and V share a giggle at the runner’s expense, V’s going to miss when Bug goes into retirement. If all works out, even on the brighter side, it may be the last time all three of them work together. But at least Bug will be happy and safe, unlike V or Jackie, this was never her dream or end goal. 

“OK, tech checks out, looks like,” T-Bug confirms. 

“Será mejor que sí…”

“Stay in touch”

And V just realizes the taxi has stopped moving, through Jackie’s window she can see the front entrance of the hotel.  The bright red exterior walls, a worker standing at the ready and those nerves are clawing their way back with a vengeance, tearing up her insides and making her want to bolt, terrified that they’lll be found out as soon as they step foot in. They need to get moving, only way to get through the fear is to take control, do what needs to be done. And hopefully avoid puking in the back of an expensive AI taxi. 

“Thank you for choosing the Delamain service. And best of luck. I shall await here for your return.”

“Shit's finally happenin’… “ 

“Its game time, got any iron left on you, time to put it away,” she tells him, tucking her gun and knife into the center compartment. Jackie following suit. V tugs off her suit jacket and rolls her white sleeves to her elbows, making sure her blades are accessible from the start. 

“Alright, Hannah, let’s go.” 

V opens the door of the Delamain, greeted by the view in front of the hotel, in the distance she can see the space travel facility, night settled over the water. The hotel has trees and plants out front, trying to sprinkle some nature into the cement and chrome world of Night City. She carries her suit jacket over her shoulder, keeping one hand busy with it, while the other sits in her pocket. Hoping it will keep her from signing if she needs to talk. 

“Hold on, lemme grab the Flathead.” Jackie pops the trunk of the taxi and pulls out the case with the bot. 

The mercs take the two marble steps up, a vibrant stript of red along the path.There’s long white marble with planters and the name of the hotel inscripted in gold. 

“'Member, reservation's in your name… Ramón. You're there to meet Hajime Taki - military tech department rep. Papers are for the Flathead” T-Bug tells them as they get closer to the double doors. 

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” a man in a red, black, and gold uniform greets them, bowing his head as they pass by.

There’s a large waiting room, white couches along the sides with monitors displaying documentaries and vases with red hologram plants branching out of them. A security gate divides the waiting room from the front desk, scanners to check each guest for weaponry. Beyond it she can see staff with gold plated skin. All non-security personnel of the hotel are gold plated; receptionists, concierge, bartenders, and the like. A requirement for the job, even staff must match the aesthetic. 

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. Please come through single file,” The guard tells them as they reach the full body scanner. 

“You got it, holm-- uh, ahem, sir,” Jackie stumbles and V screams internally, watching her friend step forward. Blue light crackles along him, like lightning, then it flashes red. Misty’s warning of mean reds, flaring in V’s mind. 

“Ahem. Hold on got something,” the guard stops Jackie before he can go any further, “Sir, care to explain why you're bringin’ a combat bot onto Konpeki Plaza premises?”

“Arms dealers.” V yells out quickly, hating how forced it sounds, tightening her fingers in her jacket, desperate not to sign on instinct and not realizing she forgot the ‘we’re’ part of her sentence until she finished saying it. 

“Excuse me?”

“Ah!” A gold skinned concierge steps over,  “You are here to see Taki-san, am I right? Please accept my apologies for the confusion.” 

“Pff,” Jackie scoffs as the concierge bows and walks into the lobby, waiting at the front desk. 

V steps into the scanner, guard assuring her it will only take a moment. It distorts her vision, crackling it with blue for just a moment. Then the guard tells her to go ahead and she walks forward, meeting Jackie at the desk. A woman with gold skin, black hair all shaved except for the bangs and sidelocks greets them.  And V is starting to notice that the Arasaka logo is everywhere, the corp hotel owned by them. On the screens, gold emblazoned on marble planters, and on pamphlets. The hotel and Arasaka logo are clearly one in the same. 

“Youkoso. Greetings and welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” she says bowing her head to them and V returns the gesture.

“We’d like to check in,” Jackie says and V sends him a silent thanks for talking. .

“Of course, just a moment, please” the receptionist taps away at a keyboard, “The name on the reservation is…?”

“Victorino.”

“Double room, two adults, one night. Correct?”

“That’s the one,” V tells her, with a tight nod. 

“Perfect… I will go ahead and notify Taki-san of your arrival.”

“Shit, no good, not part of the plan. Talk her up, V, stall!” T-Bug yells out over the call and V is once again wanting to scream. 

“That, uh,  won't be necessary,” she curses herself for stuttering, “We'll go freshen up first, notify him ourselves.”

“But Taki-san is expecting you, no…?”

“Senorita, do you know how long we been traveling? Eighteen hours from New Barcelona. With a delay on Metakey 'cause some cyberpsycho blew himself into bits inside the terminal…”

“Been a nightmare, ugh.” 

“Of course, I understand. You will be in the Lapis Lazuli Suite on level forty-two. Oh, one more little formality… Please validate your SID chip.”

“Honor's all yours, Hannah.” 

A tablet on the table lights up with a bright blue handprint and she’s reminding of her issue getting into her own apartment. Bug said she put a temporary hack on their SID chip, but there’s an extra twinge of anxiety as V lays her hand down on it. She half expects it to show a senior citizen, to be outed as a fraud and tossed out the door. 

“Everything seems to be in order. We wish you a pleasant stay!~” 

“Better get goin'.”

V murmurs a thanks, feeling a bit of relief at having that part of this whole thing done. Playing corpo is somehow more stressful to her than the idea of breaking into Yorinobu’s penthouse. She follows behind Jackie. Large marble planters fill the lobby, some with trees that nearly touch the staggeringly high ceiling. 

“New Barcelona? Really?” T-Bug comments as V follows Jackie up a short set of marble steps. 

“It's called improvisin' - you should try it,” V stares up at a gold framed painting, “Whaddaya think, Hannah"?

“...” V raises an eyebrow at him with a soft noise in her throat. 

“Quaint, cozy. Not like the hotel we had in Zurich for that convention.”

“Don't need that, Jack. Enough.”

“What? I’m takin’ this seriously!” Jackie grumbles when T-Bug scolds him. 

They take two turns through the lobby, guards passing by talking about dolls being left in rough shape as they near what looks to be a bar in the corner. It's an open pathway inside, the bar illuminated in pink and a gold plated woman stands at a podium bearing Arasaka’s logo. There’s a lit collection of alcohol behind the bar, liquor that costs more than V’s rent, which isn’t a hard feat but still rubs her the wrong way. 

“Bar don't look too shabby.”

“We don't do reservations on weekdays, so feel free to grab any available table. Or a couple of stools at the bar if you prefer?” She explains to them, a valley girl accent to her words. 

“Could bring Misty here one day. When we, uh… close this deal.”

“Might take a look around.” 

The idea of sitting down, if only for a moment, and catching her breath after the close call in the lobby sounds nice. Her nerves are frayed already, she’s never wanted to drink so much on a job before. A quick breather before she has a full blown panic attack. 

“Shit,” Jackie curses, “look like some fuckin' travelin' salesman with this case. Go ahead, I’ll go on upstairs.” 

V nods, watching Jackie go to the elevator, a part of her feels guilty, but she doesn’t intend to take too long. And it’s not as if she’s made visiting bars on the job a habit before, she can have this one. She rubs a hand over the back of her neck, feeling the chrome indents of her Mantis Blades cooling the skin. Half of the room is a lounge with black couches and slick pink metallic chairs, terrariums built into the walls. The other half is, gold stools and booths before the neon pink bar. Each side is filled with people mingling, dressed in high fashion, people who’ve gambled away more money than she’s ever seen. 

“And when I say heads're gonna roll, I don't mean it as a fucking turn of phrase,” a half drunk man slurs his speech at the golden bartender. The stench of whiskey clings heavy to his clothes. 

“Had enough guy, don’t you think? You’re making the other customers uncomfortable,” the bartender sends a pointed look towards V, a slight twang in his voice. She was looking for a breather, not conflict. 

“Good! 'Cause this affects them, too! It'll slap everyone in the face!” 

“What’s that?’ She entertains him, figuring it might get the guy gone sooner. 

“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like? What's four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered…? The answer's docked in the bay! Hanako Arasaka decided -,” he hiccups, “decided to take a little vacation!

“Big deal.”

“Don't know how big just yet,” her sarcasm doesn’t penetrate the fog of whiskey, “And by the time we do, it'll.. it'll be too late. Screw this. I'm gonna get some sleep…”

With that the man stumbles away, taking the too strong smell of booze with him and the shining bartender turns to her. His shaved hair either red or pink, color distorted in the glowing light. 

“Evenin, what can I get you, baby?” 

Her nose wrinkles at the term of endearment, “little forward, don’t you think?” 

“Suckled it outta my ma's very breast,” he returns, “Fifty percent protein, the other half pure high octane CHOOH2.” 

He presses two gilded hands to the bar leaning forward as he regales his story and she can’t help but raise an eyebrow; he’s implying he’s a nomad, but why would he tell her that? 

“What?” 

“She had wind and dust in her hair, so to speak. Belonged to the Aldecaldos. Before the bombs began fallin'. Her final words? ‘Wherever you go, whatever you do, be yourself, David.’ And so I ended up here. Still no one but myself.” 

He’s full of shit, she decides immediately. Maybe her own distrust or her own frustration, nobody with nomad blood would end up here, gold plated and slinging drinks to corpos. At the very fucking least, they wouldn’t act so damn happy about it. 

“Lovely story if it wasn’t a crock of shit.” 

“Everyone's making something up,” he smirks, “Just like you, baby.”

“Excuse you?” she chokes out, feeling like ice water has been shot through her veins. He’s seen through her, that implication clear, but how? Even regaling to her some fucked up story of being a nomad, like he could smell the dust of the badlands still on her skin. 

“Can I getcha somethin'? At the least, water?” 

“Bourbon and cherry coke.” 

“You got it, baby.” 

The repeated use of the pet name earns him a glare, V tapping her fingers against the bar, his story and perceptiveness making her nerves worse. He sets the drink on the table and she downs it with a gulp, alcohol not quite loosening her how she hopes. She sets the glass down and leaves the bar, it may be petty but she doesn’t leave him a tip, frustrated at the idea he could have seen through her. 

She jabs the elevator button, tapping her foot as she waits and stares at some painting. Its all abstract bullshit, pretty colors, but she’s not sure she sees much else to them. The golden doors open, the back of the elevator windowed with what looks like foliage inside, maybe it’s just a screen. V steps inside and jabs to her level. And after just a short ride, it stops  at her floor. 

The doors open and she sees Jackie, looking over one of the art pieces, walking past a desk and concierge to greet him. 

“About time,” he says, when he spots her, the pair making a beeline to the suite. They walk past a couple speaking Russian, talking about testing on people, as they find the door. 

Jackie opens the door and she gets her first peek of it, stepping in. The furthest wall almost entirely windowed, looking out over the hills. Another expanse dedicated to a terrarium, a large plush bed, white sofas, and a table projecting hologram displays of fish. V tosses her suit jacket off onto the couch. 

“Pretty snazzy. Too bad we ain't stayin' the night. Nice choice, Bug.” 

“Didn't pick it for snazz. Offers quickest access to the dweller and servers.”

“Sí, sí, me acuerdo,” jackie grumbles as he puts the Flathead case down on a table in front of the terrarium. The little spider bot springs to life the second it’s case is opened. 

“Now you fire up the Flathead and find the shaft entrance.” 

“Sounds simple enough…” 

“Simplicity's sometimes toughest to master,” T-Bug tells her. 

“Aurelius? Aristotle? Who's it this time?”

“Yours truly, that one's mine.”

“Go ahead and find the shaft, chica, I’ll get the Flathead running.” 

V nods and begins looking around the room, scanning around, finding the shaft after a short moment. A little square panel standing out on the wall next to the terrarium, scanner telling her it’s Flathead compatible. 

“Found it.” 

“Good. Jackie, how's the Flathead lookin'?” T-Bug asks, he’s put the control shard in one of his neuroports while V was looking for the shaft, eyes now glowing bright white blue. 

“All set. Systems’re operational, charge at a hundred…,” a moment passes his expression furrowing as he shakes his head, “Mierda.  Little gonk's stuck.”

“Just gonna stand there and look at it? Gonna have to switch to manual control. V, take the control shard from Jackie. Gonna link your Kiroshis to surveillance so you can guide the bot.”

“Why me, Jack’s got full blown optics?”  She asks, as he pulls the control shard from his head. 

“Yeah, but you got better tech, unlike someone I ain’t run up my tab with Vik. Got last-gen firmware low flow. May be contacts, but you’re working with top notch Kiroshi tech.” 

“Plus someone already has some playtime with the bot,” T-Bug outs her and Jackie raises an eyebrow at V, a teasing smile on his lips. 

“You played with the bot?”

“Just… give me the shard,” she takes it from Jackie’s hand, “Surveillance cover the whole hotel?”

“Mhm. Even the bedrooms in the suites.”

“Seriously?” 

“You'd be surprised what people're willin' to give up to feel secure. Lucky for us, Yorinobu's an exception. Penthouse is dark, no hotel security.’

“Okay, here goes.” V pushes the control shard into the slot, the interface says it’s connecting her, then it glitches and in a moment she’s looking at herself and Jackie through the surveillance camera. 

“Patching you through to in-cam view. Might get a little disoriented, but don't freak”

Her vision switches between rooms; a man getting a lap dance from a doll in a dimly room, two men in another hotel room. And then it lands on a third room. A meeting of four people; two Arasaka suits and two faces she vaguely recognizes. The view doesn't shift again and she takes the chance to look closer, talks of losing control of Watson, election season. And it clicks, the mayor of Night City. 

“Camera’s set,” V tells Bug, political bullshit isn’t her business, she can see the vague outline of the Flathead creeping into the room.  Only slightly visible to her thanks to her connection, 

“Get him to the next vent.”

V scans and finds the next vent shaft tucked in the corner of the room, sending the Flathead to it. She watches as it crawls and creeps through the room. 

“C’mon little buddy, you got it, yes,” She cheers on the little machine as it skitters across the camera and into the vent. 

“It’s a Military grade combat bot, not your pet, V. Patching you into the next cam now.” 

The next room appears, more brightly lit with two maids working to clean it. V goes to send the Flathead into the vent but the request is denied, detecting one of the cleaning ladies is too far into it’s path. 

“Cleaning crew’s in the way,” V tells Bug, listening to one of the women start drooling over Yorinobu. 

“Gotta distract her. Hmm, let's see what's on the subnet…temp control on the terrarium, sic the bot on it.” 

V follows the runner’s orders scanning and sending the Flathead onto the temp control. Barely a moment passes before the maid’s notice, freaking out about how expensive it is. The merc takes her chance and sends the bot into the unblocked vent shaft. 

“Little guy’s through.”

Next cam flickers into a green tinted maintenance hallway, the bots legs tinkering across the floor. Vent on the other side of the room, V sends it through, smiling as her little buddy makes his way through. And it brings her to a new camera, it looks like where the surveillance feeds lead to. A console and row of screens with a security guard watching them. 

“Dweller's just beyond the door. Flathead can jimmy the lock.”

V sends the command, watching it scamper to the door, tendrils working at the lock. But nothing gives away. 

“He’s having some trouble, poor feller.” 

“Shit… Gotta be another way. Lemme think… Got another cam other side of the door, but it's disabled.’

“Got a CCTV port, might be able to enable it.” 

“Go for it.” 

The Flathead creeps across the room and jacks into the port, giving V access to the other camera. And V switches her vision to it, the next room looks like a high tech runner’s nest. Two netrunning chairs in deep cooled divots within the room. But only one is in use, a man jacked into the security frame, illuminated in blue, screens running code around him. 

“Dweller’s inside.”

“Just as planned.”

“Still don’t get why they only have the one.” 

“Decent dweller's as good as a dozen rank-and-file. Lemme graft a demonoid onto your link, you’ll be able to jack the bot directly into the chair and neutralize the runner.” 

“Got’cha” 

“You'll have to get the Flathead in there first, though.” 

“Got another shaft grate,” V finds when she twists the camera’s view, there had to be a vent in the other room, servers lining the walls. Bad ventilation and the entire operation overheats. 

“Shaft may link both rooms, looks like. Toggle to the other cam.” 

V does so, a moment of scanning and she finds a hidden shaft grate in the floor, “Think I got it.”

“Send the Flathead over there, then toggle over to the second cam.”

She waits until the bot is prying open the vent in the surveillance room, then flickers back over to the runner’s den, eyes on the vent and hoping she didn’t send their tech into the wrong room. A moment passes and she sees her robotic friend creeping his way out. 

“Our friend’s inside.” 

“Flathead into the chair, V, jack in.” 

The bot crawls across the floor and into the netrunner’s cubby, creeping up the chair and scuttling over the man’s body. Deep in the subnet the man doesn’t stir or even notice as the bot hovers over his face and jacks into the chair. And the code across the screen glitches, replaced by a T. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Whoop! Got him! Love those daemons!” Bug cheers, louder and more excited than V has ever heard her. They did it, the bot is in, T-Bug has access to it all. 

“Uh, Flathead buddy stays, right?” 

“To keep an eye on the dweller, yeah. Punching into Konpeki’s main net. Go ahead and log out.” 

The young merc’s vision starts to glitch and flicker red, her pulling the shard from her head, everything spinning. Lightheaded and her body feels both too light and too heavy. Like she could collapse and float away all at once. 

“That's how it's done! How ya feelin'?” Jackie asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Like I’m about to puke on a rug worth more than my car.” 

“Bug? How're you doin' on time?” The runner doesn’t respond right away, a moment too long passing. 

“Bug?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Soooo listen, ICE is thicker than I thought. Piercing it'll take a couple hours.” 

“A couple hours?! Can't do it any faster?”

“Want my brain to burst into flames? Just siddown and enjoy your snazzy suite.”

“Thanks, I will! V, you take it easy, c’mon rest for a bit.” 

V doesn’t need anymore prodding, settling down onto the white sofa, hoping her head will stop spinning and stomach cease churning by the time Bug is done. The merc kicks off her heels and lays across the sofa, softer than her bed. Jackie sitting across on the other side of the table, V brings her hand up to her face, trying to block out the blue light from the holo projector. But catches herself looking at the bracelet Misty gave her, the way the beads catch the light, remembering the name of it. 

“Hey, what was our suite’s name again?” 

“Lapis lazuli, why?” 

“Isn’t that what Misty’s bracelets are? The blue beads with the gold.” 

“Oh...yeah, ain’t that some shit, must be a good sign.” 

“Maybe… she read your cards before this?” 

“Nah, didn’t get a chance, nagged me about mean reds though. What about you, cards in your favor?” 

“All I remember is something about a magician and love, blegh.” 

“Hehehe,” his laughter is warm and fills the huge room, “telling you, one day you’re gonna be head over heels with some chiccy or mano and you’re not gonna know what to do with yourself.” 

“That how it was with you and Misty?” 

“Pssh, knew I was crazy about her from day one, took a while to work up the nerve though one day I just told her the truth.” 

“That you were in loooove~.”

“More like I’d take a bullet for her, chica.”

“Romantic.” 

“Fuck yeah it is, in Night City, that’s worth a billion I love yous.” 

“So you say.” 

“Keep doing that and you’re gonna rub the finish off Vik’s work,” Jackie tells her and she realizes she’s been rubbing and fiddling with her implants, “be a waste for free work to be ruined.” 

“I’m gonna pay him.” 

“You give him anything upfront, even a dime?” 

“I… gave him a hug…” 

“Wow,” Jackie says half laughing and she’s laughing too, “a whole hug for top of the line chrome! Probably wasn’t even a real hug, just your half ass shit!” 

“I may have only used one arm.” 

“Santa mierda, V, gotta learn to hug people like you mean it.” 

“Yes, yes,” she yawns, “blah blah blah, never know which hug will be the last one, blah….” 

“Flathead wear you out that bad?” 

“Maybe a little…” Her stomach feels better, but her head is still light, fuzzy. And in the plush of the sofa, with Jackie close by, she finds herself drifting away. Eyelids getting heavier with each word, each lull of his voice. She didn’t drink much, but she’s sure the bourbon didn’t help. 

“Gonna be a while, might as well catch a cat nap, chica. Though Bug might not like it, haven’t quite managed to get the stick out of her ass.”  

“Yeah..maybe…” 

The world fades away, a soft fuzzy sleep taking over. Time ticks by around her as she catches a moment, or maybe several, to sleep. Her brain is still a little foggy, but the dizziness is gone by the time she slowly starts to wake back up. A bad case of cottonmouth as she wakes, world filtering back in. 

Her suit jacket is tossed over her, a makeshift blanket she didn’t put there, she rolls over to sit, more stable than she was before. The time on the terrarium panel tells her only an hour or two has passed.  Jackie’s back is too her, his eyes staring at the window. And she finds herself staring, standing in a suit and basked in the lights of the city view, he’s never seemed so serious. 

“Whaddaya think? Why'd he give it all up?” He asks after a moment and she blinks, brain still foggy. 

“Who?” 

"Yorinobu Arasaka. The good life, I mean. Old news, I know. Just got to thinkin's all. It's like, think… You got everything, right? Eddies, education. Your pops can snap his fingers and turn half the fuckin’ planet into a nuclear wasteland… But instead you're like, ‘Nah, fuck it,’ and whaddaya go do? Start a fuckin' gang! Steel Dragons or some shit! You ghost from your fam, chip some RealSkinn and play gang leader for a few years. For what?!” 

She can sense the frustration in every word, feel it every clench of his fingers or swing of his hands. Someone like Yorinobu was handed everything he could ever want; tried to piss it away to play edgerunner, then found himself sucking the silver spoon once again.  But, she can’t blame him for wanting out from under his father’s thumb; that alone a feeling she knows too well. Her fingers hover over her wrist, the still branded flesh that Vik saved. 

“Maybe...he just wanted out of the system.” 

“So then why’d he come back.” 

“Tough to ditch the system when the system’s your own family,” V admits, finger still on the mark. 

“Black sheep’s still a sheep, eh?” 

“Maybe…” 

It took her forever to get the nerve to leave, she talked about it constantly, but it wasn’t until her mother’s death, murder, culling. Whatever she’s meant to call it, that she finally was pushed to make that move. Been gone for years now, but… more days than she cares to admit were spent wondering if she ever should have run, if she should crawl back and beg. If a family that hates her is better than no family at all… 

“Crawled back on all fours, tail between his legs, fuckin’ cheap ass rebel. Fuckin’ tourist!” 

Her nails dig into her skin; insecurities brimming, fear that maybe she’s just as much a fuckin’ tourist. Some black sheep nomad who’ll go running back to her dad, beg for another chance, playing pretend merc when all she’ll ever be is the family burden. 

“Tourist or not, he just walked into the lobby. And we are back in biz. Penthouse security is neutralized.”

“Perfecto, let’s start this show.”

And with those words, they’re back in business, the younger merc up on her feet. V grabbing her jacket and following Jackie out of the suite, fiddling with the fabric as she walks, heels clicking across the floor. 

“Hey, Bug…” Jackie says after a beat of silence,  “were, uh… were you on comms that whole time?”

“Three and a half hours.”

“Eehh… about that stick up the ass…”

“Mean the one up mine?”

“Ehh, slip of the tongue, y'know…”

“I know. Now's your chance to make up to me,” T-Bug tells him as they reach the elevator, Jackie pressing the button. 

“This is going pretty smooth right,” he turns to V as they wait, “right?” 

“Really are a silver lining type, ain’t ya?” V teases as the doors open and they step into the elevator. 

“Hey, when are you gonna wave off that dark cloud hanging over your head? Tellin’ you, it’s downhill from on in.” 

She rolls her eyes and hits the button to the penthouse, elevator doors closing and the carriage rumbling, shaking as it ascends. Silence falling over them, only the sound of the elevator. Jackie’s leg shakes and she knows that silence is about to end. 

“Ahh, there's the awkward silence. You, uh, wanna hear a joke?”

“Now? Seriously?”

“OK, so why'd the rockerboy's output kick him out of the apartment? ‘Cause he wasn't chippin' in.” Jackie cackles at his own joke and V rolls her eyes, a slight smile on her lips. 

“Jesus Christ…” 

Bug sounds a moment away from killing him, but thankfully for the older merc’s sake, the elevator comes to a stop. Doors opening up to Yorinobu’s suite. It feel different, seeing it from her own perspective instead of Evelyn’s and outside of a braindance editor. The entire suit feels bigger. A part of her wonders if it’s the height difference between herself and Evelyn, but decides to chalk it up to braindance shit instead. 

“Huh… not bad bein' heir to the Arasaka empire. Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles,” Jackie comments taking in the room. 

V turns the corner through the room and a tank catches her eye. A slightly red light illuminating an iguana. It immediately reminds her of the only other iguana she knows, Manny. Come to think of it, his original crate was from Arasaka? 

“Hey, Jackie, look!” 

“Whoa, another fuckin’ iguana, not as cute as Manny though.” 

“Manny’s original crate was marked Arasaka; think he might’ve been Yorinobu’s before we klepped him?” 

“Think we stole his iguana and made him get a new one?” 

“Maybe?”  She gently taps the tank glass, watching the iguana’s tail flick back and forth. 

“Guys! Focus! The safe! And make it quick!” Bug yells out, bringing the merc’s back down to earth. V tosses her jacket onto one of the seats in the center, searching around the penthouse. Rain patters outside the windowed walls. They know where the safe is, but how do they get it out of the floor?

“Why, what's the rush?”

“Sig on Yorinobu's gone dark!”

“What is he, a fuckin' sorcerer?”

“Some kinda dead zone's my guess - have him back in a sec. And you do your damn job! Look around for a switch.”

V walks around one of the dividers where Yorinobu’s bed is, the slick metal of a gun catching her eye first and foremost. Black and gray, with purple detailing. She checks it for ammo and finds it loaded then decides it’s hers. 

“Looks like Yori left us a little gift,” she laughs, tucking the iron in her waistband. And on the other side of the bed, she finds a little switch. She presses it. 

“Bingo, got somethin' ejectin’! C'mere, V!” Jackie calls her over to the corner of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

They’re so close to the finish line, each click of her heels feeling like a step closer. This could actually work. A large black safe has risen out of the floor, a small jack in port and two red lights. Jackie stands on one side of it, the gray rainy day behind him. 

“What now, Bug?” 

“Jack in your personal and make us rich.” 

V plugs her personal link in, leaning one hand against the safe. Jackie leans against it from the other side, foreheads nearly touch as they wait for Bug to work her magic. Just get the chip and walk out, that’s all that’s left. All they need to do. She can’t stand still, itching to cross the finish line, minutes away from the major leagues. 

“Gimme two…”

The merc’s interface shows Bug uploading the daemons to crack the case and V watches the number rise. Sixty percent, seventy, seventy-five; each ticking number another shaky breath, a rising beat of her heart, and a chill up her spine. Homestretch, nearly there. 

And there’s a hum, V’s focus drawn away from the rising percentage, to the windows. Flying AV whirring through the gray skies, hovering around. She looks to Jackie, hoping somehow he’ll have an explanation, something to help her ignore the way her stomach is starting to drop. 

“We got winged visitors… Bug…?” There’s catch in his voice, nerves. Jackie’s scared and she swallows the lump in her throat. His face illuminated in the red flashing lights of the case, mean reds, the words flash in V’s mind. 

“Dunno who. But staffs abuzz, all two hundred on their feet, can't keep still…” 

Somethings wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, a chill in her she can’t shake. Something is so fucking wrong. 

“Can't say I like this, how much longer, T?!”

“Shit. Yorinobu's penthouse bound!”

“What!?”V’s voice cracks, digging her nails into the safe, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked. 

“Fuck him!” Jackie slams his hand down, rattling the container, “Open the safe!” 

“Almost got it… Done!”  The safe opens, revealing a cryo-container within. Bright white light and a fog of ice cold air coming with it. V rips her personal jack out. 

“Preem, lets get the fuck out of here!”  

“Lemme look to this, eh?” Jackie says, pulling the container out and looking at the little screens across it. 

“Relic intact?” 

"Bioshard integrity - one hundred percent." Guessin' that's a yes,” Jackie reads off the vitals of the shard, picking up the case. 

“Good,  let’s delta.” 

The pair nearly trip through the center of the penthouse, rushing towards the elevator with Jackie lugging behind the giant cryo-container. So close, so close, so fucking close. An elevator and taxi ride away, then they’ll be at The Afterlife counting their eddies. The homestretch. 

“Fuck, too late!” T-Bug yells before V can hit the elevator button, “Yorinobu's about to walk in - find cover!

“Where in the fuck!?” V swings her hands as she yells, they’re so fucking close. She rakes her nails across her face, leaving red angry marks down her skin. 

“That pillar- try that!” 

“You fuckin' kiddin'?!” Jackie screams as the mercs make a move to the pillar in the center of the penthouse, were she thought servers for the room were kept. The back of it opening up and allowing a tight passageway. 

“No! Inside it! Now!” 

V slips inside as quickly as she can, Jackie following suit. He holds the cry-container close to his chest. The glass barrier is one way, they can see out, but it can’t be seen in. Still not ideal cover, ideally they’d be outside of the fucking hotel by now. The merc presses her hands to the glass, cursing under her breath. 

“We’re in,” she whispers to Bug.

“Which don't solve our problem, T.”

“I fuckin' know our problem's still there! Lemme think for a sec, okay?” 

The lights to the penthouse come on, elevator doors opening as Yorinobu strides in. with mechanical monstrosity of a body guard from the BD taking large whirring steps after him. And he seems even bigger now. He’s a cyber giant, one mech hand larger than  any part of V. 

He’s outlined in red, his eyes staring straight at her,  Vik said her new contacts would highlight if enemies saw her.. No, there’s no possible way. The man has barely set a borged-out foot into the room. She meets his gaze head on, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tries to seem braver than she is. On the off chance he may truly know the mercs are there. 

“Is that… Is that Adam Smasher?” Jackie whispers and V trusts him to look at her hands  as she signs, not wanting to break eye contact with the robotic monstrosity, refusing to show weakness.

“Bodyguard?” 

“Worse,” her trust in her friend is well placed, “Night City legend. Bleak motherfuckin' one, too. What's the plan?”

“We stay quiet and we wait.” 

A flash of movement makes V finally break the stare down, Yorinobu walks to the middle of the room and stops at the seat across from the table, black fabric strewn across it. He picks it up, regarding it for a moment and her heart drops into her stomach. 

V’s jacket. She left her fucking jacket on his chair, like an idiot, she didn’t even have time to consider grabbing it. They’re going to die because she left her fucking jacket out in the open and Adam Smasher is still staring at her. 

She half expects Yorinobu to call a sweep of the room, ring security, that he’ll realize the random jacket must be an intruder. But he shakes his head, tosses it aside onto the floor, not giving it another thought. While his body guard Smasher lingers in the corner, robotic eyes staring straight at V, watching the mercs squirm. 

“Are they here yet?” Yorinobu asks out loud. 

“They approach from the landing pad,” an AI voice responds. 

“Fuck are they talking about?” V resists the urge to elbow Jackie, silence has never been more important. One sound too loud and a borged out psycho will rip their heads off. And if her contacts are right, Smasher may just be waiting for the perfect opportunity. 

“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…. This isn't happening…!” T-Bug whispers over comms and V sees someone coming down the spiraling stairs, a guard it seems, with another older man following him, “Saburo Arasaka.” 

The second man is older, much older than the first. Balding with gray hairs and liver spots across his scalp, glasses perched high upon his nose. Dressed in a mixture of yukata robes over what seems to be slacks and loafers he takes slow measured steps down the stairs. The head capitalist himself, owner of Arasaka. 

“The emperor? Yet another asslickin' legend….” 

V taps Jackie’s side and puts her finger to her lips, encouraging him to be quiet. The man who led Saburo in starts to walk around the room. He’s older than V or Jackie, but nowhere near Saburo’s age. Long graying dark hair pulled back in a bun, cyberware across his neck coming out from under his black suit. 

“I thought I told you not to meddle in my affairs,” Yorinobu speaks in his native tongue, V’s contacts translating and subtitling to English. 

“Oh fuck,” Jackie curses as the long haired guard comes to stand in front of them, silver ringed brown eyes starting to scan them. 

“Leave us,” Saburo orders and the guard stops scanning, turning to face the corporate leader. 

“Arasaka-sama, I still haven't done a full sweep.” The guard turns his back and V can see where part of his hair is shaved, allowing intense cyberware extending beyond his neck and towards his scalp. 

“This is my son.”

“Of course. Should I retrieve what we come here to-” 

“I will handle it. You may go.”

The long haired guard bows and goes to leave the room, finally Adam Smasher’s gaze on her drops, as the borged freak leaves with the guard through the elevator doors. If they’re here to retrieve something… it’s likely the biochip, which means if they go to get it and see it’s gone… They’re fucked. They’re straight fucked. 

“Un-fucking-believable… Saburo Arasaka.” That comment makes V nudge Jackie with her foot, once again begging him to just stay quiet. 

“Did you think I wouldn't know it was taken from me?” Saburo asks his son, barely making eye contact as Yorinobu looks through a datapad. 

“Actually, I don't think of you at all. Ever. You see, that's your problem. You think the world revolves around you. Arrogant.” 

“Yorinobu.” 

“Why did you come? To humiliate me? To personally see to it that your son knows his place?”

“"The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…"

“Couldn't think of anything original to say?” Yorinobu yells in exasperation, standing up and pacing around the room.  He’s on edge, looking ready to jump out of his skin and V can’t say she has a good feeling about any of this. 

“And do you think it ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to Westerners - our future to these… barbarians?!”

It’s definitely the biochip Saburo is after, they’re screwed, monumentally screwed. V would laugh if she didn’t feel like dying, of course, of course it all goes to shit. 

“Our future? Ours?! You are mistaken. You've only ever cared about yourself… and your sick schemes.” Yorinobu points and swings his limbs, still pacing, every word coiled tight with barely restrained hatred. 

“I knew this day would come. That sooner or later your impudence would cross the line,” Saburo is calmer, measured, taking soft steps towards his son, “There is much for which I could forgive you, but for treason - no.” 

The two men, father and son now stand in front of the pillar before an audience they don’t know. Stares trained on each other, each hateful, but one furious in it’s spite and the other calm in it’s contempt. Moments pass, no word said, each waiting for the other to light a fuse that will set off the powder keg. 

“I'm just glad your mother didn't live to see this. The heart should break but once.” 

And it goes off. Saburo’s words are punctuated by Yorinobu’s hands wrapping tightly around the old man’s throat. Yorinobu slams his father back against the pillar, cracking the glass in front of Jackie and busting open Saburo’s head. Blood streaking the shards. And he pulls away and for a moment, as Saburo clutches at his crushed windpipe, Yorinobu seems nearly regretful. 

“You shall never have to forgive me for anything again.” 

His hands wrap again, choking his father against the pillar. Until Saburo starts to fall limp, Yorinobu bringing him down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Yorinobu stands over his father. Saburo is dead, killed before the merc’s very eyes at the hands of his own son. Jackie curses and V watches as Yorinobu paces, mind clearly racing before he stands over his father’s corpse again. 

“I wish… I wish to put the hotel on lockdown.” 

What does that mean? What the hell does that mean?

“May I ask why?” The AI secretary asks him. 

“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”

“Code red initiated. Attention! Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow all instructions given by staff.”

Oh no, oh fuck no. The lights in the room drop, only bright neon red ones glowing angry in the dark. What the hell is going to happen? What the fuck do they do now? The elevator doors open, Smasher and the long haired guard walking in; the latter rushes and comes to a full stop when he sees Saburo’s corpse. 

“What happened?”

“Someone… someone poisoned my father.”

“Poisoned…?” 

“Seems so.” 

“Yorinobu-san… I doubt…”

Yorinobu glowers at the guard, pushing into his personal space, trying to intimdate him. Trying to make him stop questioning what happened, trying to stop him from looking any closer. Anyone who gets a good look at Saburo’s corpse will see the fingerprints around his neck. 

“What is your job, Takemura?”

“I don't follow.”

“It's a simple question. Answer it.”

“To protect the head of the Arasaka family.”

“I do sincerely hope you'll do a better job of executing your duties from now on…”

“Forgive me, Arasaka-sama,” the guard drops his head in shame, “I shall not disappoint.” 

Yorinobu turns to leave the suite. The guard, Takemura, follows close behind. And the still red highlighted Smasher follows behind him. The elevator doors close behind them. Jackie and V left alone in the suite again. But what the fuck just happened? 

“What the fuck just happened in there?” T-Bug asks, exactly what’s rattling around V’s skull as the pillar back opens again. Jackie and V clambering out. 

“Yorinobu just killed Saburo, he fucking choked out his own dad, I didn’t even know you could do that!” V rambles and yells as she turns the corner of the pillar, looking down at Saburo’s corpse. She quickly checks his pockets, stealing some cash and a pair of dog tags off of him. 

“What?” 

“His own fuckin’ pops.” 

“Know what this means?l Security's gonna swarm the place any second. Oh my god, we're so fucked!”

“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!” They can’t just go out the elevator, they’d meet security on the way. They’re beyond fucked. Why the hell did they take this stupid fucking job!?

“Gimme a sec!”

There’s the helipad, but it’s not like they have anything that fucking flies. Think, think, think; she screams in her head to just fucking think, there has to be something, anything. 

“We don't have a sec!”

“Okay, got somethin'! Window - now! Releasing the lock! Should see a ladder… Ladder…” 

V sees an opening in the large windowed walls, double doors practically made of glass they goes onto the ledge. This has to be in, T-Bug can undo the lock and they’ll slip out. 

“Oh fuck.” T-Bugs voice drops and a chill shoots up V’s back, something is wrong. 

“Bug!?” 

“No, no, no, no - not now…! I’ve been made… “ 

And panic turns to agony as T-Bug screams, a shrill cry of pain then she’s gone. Connectuon cut and V freezes in place. 

Bug is gone, just gone… 

Maybe, Konpeki just cut their comms? But the scream rings through V’s mind. She’s heard of how runner’s can die, daemons and quick hacks. Having their entire brain fried, every nerve and neuron set on fire, burned from the inside out... And all that's left to find is a simmering corpse stewing in their own filth. Bug was never meant for that, meant to retire, meant to find peace after years of netrunning. But now… 

“Bug.!? Bug!? Can you fuckin’ hear me, Bug please, are you there!?” V calls out, words slurring together. She just needs to hear Bug one more time, and know everything is okay. 

And nothing. 

“¡Pinche Dios Santo bendito! We lost her, V!” 

“They...scorched her...didn’t they…?” 

“We… we gotta go, V,” Jackie says, voice cracking as he smacks at V’s shoulder. 

Bug’s final hack going through, the window unlocked. V steps out through the window onto the ledge, rain pelting her skin as she rushes around the corner. Bug said there’s a ladder they can use, last thing Bug ever said… There’s no time for mourning, no time to cry, they need to get through this. The ledge narrows around the corner, ride lights outside the hotel window guiding the way, secured against the steel of the hotel. V sees the yellow safety ladder. The merc presses her back to the building, gently side stepping across the narrow ledge, if they just reach the ladder. One wrong step and they’ll plummet. 

“You can do it, Jackie… just don't look down,” jackie tries to talk himself up, following V, “ Yep, that's fuckin' high…!”

There’s a whir of engines, an aircraft vehicle buzzing around the outside of the hotel.

“Shit! That Trauma?” Jackie asks and that’s exactly what they need right now, doctors shooting them. 

“If they’re here for Saburo, they’re a little late.” 

“Just hope they didn't see us! ¡Chingada madre!”

The aircraft carrier flies in close, flashing blinding white light onto the mercs. It sees them, definitely sees them. 

“Suspects in violation of security protocols.” The mechanical voice croaks out. 

“Time to bail!’ Jackie screams and the aircraft starts to fire, drone automated shooting at them. 

The glass around them bursts and V jumps, grabbing Jackie’s hand in her left, she swings her right blade out towards the ladder. It hooks in the bottom rung, creaking in distress as it stops their fall. And there the mercs hang, suspended by a single Mantis Blade and a ladder rung; rain pouring down upon them and a drone still searching for them through the debris. The strain pulls at V’s arm, pain shooting throughout, shoulders ache and left arm pulled tight trying to hold Jackie and the case he holds in his other hand. 

If she could pull them up with the blade, maybe they can get to safety. But her muscles already strain, wrought tight with the strength it takes to hold them up. The blade pulling at the inner tissue it’s attached too, never meant to support more weight than the person it’s attached to. Rain and tears sting her eyes as she forces herself to pull with the blade, use it to lift them up. 

“V! I can’t hold on!’ Jackie yells out, rain slick hand starting to slip from her own. She digs her nails into his skin, holding him tighter. 

“Just a bit more, I can do this!” 

Her throat is raw and she doesn’t know how much she believes her own words. Nerves scream in pain as her cyberware pulls at what’s left of her flesh. Muscles cry as forced beyond their capability. She curses beneath her breath, pulling them just a little further up. Immeasurable pain and brute force of will only amounting to the tiniest bit of progress, not even an inch closer to safety. Her blade is pulling further out from her skin, raising up from her arm in a way she knows it shouldn’t. 

Every nerve in her arms on fire; blade tugging at flesh and the other nearly pulled from socket under Jackie’s weight. Barely an inch closer to the safety, Jackie slipping from her grip quicker than she can pull, blade lifting from her arm quicker than she can move them. Her teeth sinks into the inside of her cheek, hard enough to bleed as she pushes herself further. Closer, closer, she urges herself. 

A bright white light shines across them, illuminating them in the gray night, adding another ache to her eyes. Drone marked Arasaka buzzing around, refinding them within the debris of the destroyed hotel wall. The robotic voice speaking again. 

“Violators found.” 

And her blade breaks, V’s eye blown wide as they begin to plummet, shock blurs her pain and deafens the world.  Slowing it for a moment, only able to stare as metal snaps, tissue tears, and her arm is ripped open. Cyberware tearing out tissue and nerves, viscera left behind. 

Then she hits glass, shattering it as gravity slams her through and shock becomes hurt. She hits metal, body bouncing from impact, crying as the air is knocked from her lungs. Her head bashing against something. V clutches her arm, the pain it hitting her as everything else does, blood sticking to her fingers. Each breath hurts, a labored wheeze as bruised lungs strain to work. 

V blinks, sitting up slightly, regaining her sense of self now that her fall is broken. Across from her is Jackie and the cryo-case. She looks at her arm, A solid rip from wrist to near elbow, nearly an open hole, metal and moving inner parts of the cyberware mixed with gore. It doesn’t bleed as much as she'd expect, the internal mechanics helping block major bleed out. It hurts, metal now working against raw nerves. But, she’ll live… if this is the worst that happens, she’ll live.

The cryo-case is dented, part of it sparking and part of it splatted with blood. But her eye is drawn to Jackie. A tear in his gut, shrapnel and glass caught him well, bleeding more than her. The white of the button up around his stomach turned scarlet. 

“The Relic! ¡Madres! Agh… Oh, this ain't good. Agh…” Jackie curses, each breath pained. 

“Jackie, you’re hurt!” 

“Worry about me later,” he growls, “check the relic… "Container depressurized. Biochip integrity at ninety-four percent." And fuckin' droppin'! Carajo! Parker! Call her!”

“And tell her what!? We fucked up!?” 

“Just do it!”

Evelyn answers after a short ring, her avatar coming across V’s contacts. 

“V?! Konpeki's all over the feeds! What the fuck's going on there?”

“Got a problem! Cryo-case is damaged. Biochip's integrity at… Jackie?”

“Eighty-six percent!”

“Eighty-six percent and droppin'!”

“Shit…! OK, listen to me. There's only one thing you can do. One of you's gotta slot the Relic into your neural port!”

“That sounds really dangerous!” 

God only knows how this biochip could fuck them up, the relic itself is like putting another personality in your head, seeing ghosts. If this one is even half as fucked up as that, they could be putting themselves in serious danger. 

“The longer you wait, the greater the risk we lose it!” 

“Well, someone’s got to do it,” Jackie says, voice a rasp, face steadily draining color as he opens the case, “In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit - Amen.”

Jackie crosses his body with the pray and pushes the chip into his neural port and V watches his eyes light up for a moment. And he’s quiet for another, a second too long.

“You okay?” 

“Dunno… I guess… Don't feel any different.”

“Once you're back, we'll take out the Relic and run a full brain scan and sweep. But you two need to get the fuck out of there first!”

“We’re working on it!” 

Jackie and V get back on their feet. He holds his hand to his stomach, trying to press his guts together and she keeps her arm held close to her chest, not putting pressure on it. Jackie calls Delamain. 

“Del, we'll be there in a couple. Be ready, got it?”

“Certainly, Mr. Welles.”

“Better be fuckin' certain.”

“We gotta somehow… reach the lobby. Only chance to hit the garage. And we'd best be quick,” Jackie jabs himself with an air hypo, “ Oh-ho, that's the shit… Great… Now let's get outta here.”

“Wait, take your jacket off, use it to keep pressure on your gut, okay? Should help with the bleeding.” 

It’s minimal first aid knowledge, she knows. Hold something to a wound to keep it from bleeding out as quickly. But it’s all she can offer, helping Jackie get the jacket off with one hand, so he can press it to his stomach wound. She can move her right hand somewhat, but it hurts and she swears she can see the tendons moving around the metal in the gaping wound her forearm has become. She catches herself wondering if she’ll be able to sign with her right hand again. But, there’s no time for those fears. 

She walks down the red lit metal grate, heels nearly catching in it as she turns to a doorway. V leads the way, less injured than Jackie, she pushes the door open. A door lobby with glass banisters and plants, the only light the bright red ones. 

“Great… Now let's get outta here,” Jackie says, each word a stressful choking sound to get out. 

An AI voice speaks repeatedly over the speakers that Konpeki plaza is in code red, as the mercs work to move quickly and quietly. Catching the murmuring of two guards as they reach a marble staircase, speaking of sweeping the floors and checking the lobby. They creep around the corner and past a desk, seeing the back of the men’s through the glass banister. The only sound the pounding of V’s heart and Jackie’s labored breathing. They watch as the two men separate, enough space for each to grab one. 

They move down the last stretch of the stairs, guards talking about evacuating Yorinobu. She lets Jackie take the one closest to them as she moves further to the one at the doorway. V swings her left blade, now her only one, through the man’s gut. Her right arm shoots pain through each nerve, metal inside churching to dispense a blade that no longer exists. She holds back a sound, Jackie’s already choked out the other guard, checking for pockets. Each one armed with a silenced gun. She steals ammo off of them.

They come to another door, each catching their breath. Sweat clinging to V’s brow as they brace themselves for what’s to come next. 

“Careful… security likely to be swarmin' outside,” Jackie warns and V nods, words clumping together in her throat as she opens the door. 

They stay crouched, spotting more guards as they go. The pair hide behind a planter, V taking a scan of the area, spotting a security camera. Remembering Bug’s lessons, she’s quickly able to shut them off. She’s the one to step back out, leading the way for the first time in months of working together. V needs to get Jackie through this, he’s holding on now, but.. 

She grabs a guard from behind and snaps their neck, arm twinging in agony at the movement she throws their body aside, clearing a long stretch of hallway for Jackie to follow her down. All light bright red and screens that once showed commercials now flash the words, Code Red. She leaves Jackie to stay hidden behind a counter when she sees another by the doorway, jumping at his back and dropping him just like his coworker.  

“Ain't doin' too bad… Just a little further…” Jackie whispers as she drops another guy, her arm screaming at her to stop. But she’ll survive without an arm, if worse comes to worse, she can’t let Jackie get hurt any worse. 

They creep through a door, past a desk, hearing a guard yelling out as they sneak and weave through the room. She watches over the top of a planter as the guard walks past them, none the wiser as V creeps around, getting behind him, and taking him down. She can’t risk leaving any behind, leaving one alive and them finding the mercs later. The hotel is huge, a labyrinth of Arasaka guards. 

“Engaging hostiles!” A voice booms out, the mercs spotted by a heavily armed Arasaka guard who nearly trips over V.

Fuck, fuck, so much for stealth. Jackie shoots over a counter, trying to stay somewhat protected from the gunfire, while V takes lead, firing Yorinobu’s gun at the men, only dropping behind cover to reload, she blasts. Fuck it, stealth not an option, she’ll turn the whole damn hotel into a blood bath. 

The guards drop and V knows she’s been shot, but she’s standing so she moves onward. Through a doorway, three more men open fire as the mercs turn the corner. V blasts a bullet through ones head, Jackie blows the second full of holes. 

“One more fucker dead!” 

The third is further back behind a glass door and V charges forward, glass open as she fires at the man. Bullets ripping through his chest in a spray of blood before he collapses, red smeared across the marble. If she gets a chance to sleep tonight, she’ll be seeing red in her dreams. The vivid neon lights of the emergency lit hotel, the burgundy uniforms, and the steady spray of it from every shot fired. 

Jackie and V go running around a corner, through another glass doorway and slide into side of a marble planter. Taking a moment to breathe, she can hear guards talking. Orders from higher up, panicked yells from the less experienced. She can spot two around the corner, but can’t get a clear shot. She runs to the open doorway, catching one off guard as she slams into his view and rips a blade through his gut. 

A full armored worker fires off when he sees it, partially hidden by a linen rack. Another runs in, half hiding behind a planter, firing off around the corner. She presses against a wall between it and a partial doorway, reloading before she looks back through. The less armored man moves around a pillar, peeking from behind cover, and she shoots his head as soon as she sees it, watching him hit the marble. 

She struggles to get a clear shot of the third, still hidden behind the rack and so she runs forward, past the rack and coming to a sliding stop behind him. The guard fumbles to swing around when he realizes where she’s landed. Back turned to Jackie now, her friend fires a shot clean through the guard’s head. 

The room is cleared for a moment and the elevator is nearby, she runs past a desk, when she sees the button screen. A glowing red off symbol. 

“Fuck!” 

“Chingo tu madre! It's shut down! What about the other one?” Jackie yells between rattling breaths, she wanted this to be stealthy, didn’t want to put him anymore danger. 

She runs, heels clicking against blood streaked marble, nearly tripping over a corpse. Quickly trying to stop herself when another guard springs up behind a desk. Two more swarming the room, one in the heavy almost samurai-like Arasaka armor. 

“Orale! Got to plough through them!” 

She focuses on the Saka samurai, pulling the trigger again and again,  Thankful to have emptied the ammo off every body she’s dropped so far. A bullet catches his throat, a gush of blood as he paints the floor,  and she shifts to the other men. A headshot on one, the other already down thanks to Jackie. 

V searches their corpses, pocketing ammo and bounce backs, when she finds an access token on the samurai. V thanks any god that may be listening, if they exist and makes a beeline for the elevator at the end of the room. 

“Got access,” she breathes out, calling the elevator. 

Its doors open and she steps in, the side railing lit that bright red. She waits as Jackie rushes in, he’s still in somewhat decent shape it seems. Not the ideal heist, she thinks as she hits the button, but maybe they can get out of this. Rush Jackie to a ripper, check on T-Bug, collect their eddies, and tonight will be a story to tell later. Remember the Konpeki Heist, how everything that could go wrong did. 

“Hah-… agh! Heh, hng…” She can’t tell if he’s laughing or groaning in pain, maybe both. Blood is coating his hands, has he bled through the jacket? No, Jackie’s bulletproof, said it himself a billion times. He’ll be okay, he has to be. 

“Jackie…”

“Saburo Arasaka, Hundred and fifty years… and today… of all fuckin' days. That's like… some divine comedy shit… hehehehe… agh.”

And he’s laughing, of course he is, holding his guts together and he laughs, because why would Jackie Welles do anything else. She’s not sure if she’s going to cry or laugh along, if she’s charmed or infuriated by it; is he just still desperately searching for that silver lining or does he genuinely not give a fuck if he flatlines? That idea, the thought, makes her throat tighten. He can’t die, he won’t die, she won’t let him. 

“Save your strength, please, we’re not out of the woods yet.” 

“What do you think I’m doing!?” She doesn’t miss the frustration, because if he wasn’t so hurt, he’d been the one leading that battle, charging in to take brunt of it all, “Buuut… chill, V. We'll get out alive.” 

“I know we will,” she says and wants so desperately to believe.

The elevator reaches the lobby, doors open to more guards, more gunfire. She shoots at one that looks out behind a wall, three more in the main room of the lobby. Jackie slides behind a desk, using it for cover between shots. V takes lead, shooting from around a doorway. Its chaos and mayhem, V blasting the four men. One dropping behind a chair, catching one through the green ferns growing from a planter.  Three more Arasaka corpses, splattering blood across marble and the roots of those towering trees. Bullet after bullet, shot after shot, until her ears are ringing and three remain; the mercs and one last guard. 

He throws a grenade across the room at them, V shooting it in the air before it can hit them, smoke and fire smoldering across the ceiling. She uses the chance to close the gap and blows his brains out at close range.  

Room cleared they rush through the rest of the lobby, finally reaching the elevator that will take them to the garage. V slams the button, calling the elevator. The door opens and she runs inside, expecting Jackie to run in after her. His steps are slowing and he leans against the wall for a moment instead, having to catch a second wind. He’s getting worse, but they’re in the homestretch, they can do this. They can do this, he stumbles through, leaning against the elevator wall. 

“Argh… I'm leakin' a little…” His voice a rasp. 

The elevator stops at the garage, so close to safety. Doors opening she can already hear the guards and the mercs step out, eye on them, its a swarm of Arasaka. Gunfire rings out alongside the screech of brakes. The Delamain taxis coming to a stop in the center of the garage, it’s doors flinging open. 

“I advise that you waste no time in entering the vehicle,” Delamain chirps at them, like this is a normal night. 

But she needs no prodding. V grabs Jackie’s hand and runs for the taxi, dragging him through the garage to the open doors. Rather than making him walk around, she shoves Jackie through her side on the right, letting him slide into the left seat before she jumps in; he needs the extra second of protection more than her.  The doors shut, bulletproof shields raising as they the taxi is blasted by the guards. They’re safe? Right?

“Welcome back. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door….”

“DRIVE NOW!” 

And Delamain does just that, engines firing up as he rams through the garage door like it’s nothing. She leans forward on the two front seats. As the taxi takes a sharp turn, they’re almost there, almost safe. Jackie wasn’t fucking around about the combat mode. 

“Not bad at all.” 

“Client feedback noted.”

“How’s the ride looking?” 

“Tiptop. Though alas, we are being pursued.”

And then she sees him, Adam Smasher, the borged monster of a former man rushes them. No hesitation, no fear, as he slams his entire body into the car. Shattering glass, gnashing metal, and nearly sending the car to the side; slamming V and Jackie to the right. 

“Sweet fuckin’ jesus!” 

Jackie curses as V screams, the hell kind of freak is this guy? The car goes back down on its wheels. Adam Smasher on a metal knee, slowing standing up on front of the car. 

“Combat mode activated. Please remain calm.”

“Calm!!!????” She yells out as Delamain begins to drive backwards. 

 “Road block ahead. I kindly request that you brace for impact.”

“¡Oy, mis huevos! Shiiiit!”

The cab takes a turn, rather than driving through Adam Smasher, it goes through another roadway. A row of cars blocking the way and Delamain slams through through without hesitation, taking them through the Night City roads away from the hotel. Jackie is hunched over, bloody hands still pressing the jacket to his gut, the white shirt soaked through with it. 

“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.”

V doesn’t need a word more from the AI taxi, climbing halfway out of the window, she spots the drones flying after them. Three of them. Needing steadier aim, she flips off her hearing aids with a thought, steeling herself as the car weaves through the road and she fires at them. This is Arasaka’s last ditch effor to keep a lock on them, if she can get rid of them, they’re in the clear. 

Three shots; first drone goes down sparking as it hits the city streets. Two more kills the second, the metal remains slamming into a streetlamp. And the third goes down with a final shot, smoldering onto the roof of a  BD store. She turns her hearing aids back on as she slides into her seat again; they’re gone. 

“Hostile aircraft eliminated.”

“Nice work there… Del…”

She shifts to look at Jackie, he has one hand on his stomach, the other braced against the door. V grabs his shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, practically shaking him. 

“We did it, Jackie! We made it!” 

“Heh...guess we did…” It’s not the triumphant excited Jackie, she’d expect to hear. His voice still rough, a rattle barely leaving his lungs. Her eyes sting, no, no. 

“My medical diagnostics indicate that Mr. Welles’ condition is critical.”

“Critical, what- take us to a fucking ripperdoc, now! Vik’s behind Misty’s shop!” 

She reaches to put pressure against the jacket over his wound, hand over his, but the fabric is bled all the way through. Blood sticking to her skin, warmer than Jackie’s skin and he’s looking pale, paler every second. He leans back against the chair, strength starting to leave his body. 

“Apologies, but that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been pre-arranged and paid for in advance. I am not at liberty to alter it.”

“Fuck your itinerary and fuck your liberty, just get us to goddamn doctor!” 

“It's OK, V… I'll hold out…” 

When did his nose start to bleed, when he did he start hacking up blood, red streaking down his nostrils and over his chin. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes starting to water. No, not Jackie, anyone but him… please.  She doesn’t know who she’s begging; maybe god, maybe fate, maybe just anything in this world that will listen. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out, nodding, “you-you just got to hold on, okay? And, and, we’ll hit the major leagues. Only the best jobs, swimming in eddies, just like you always wanted.” 

She brings her forehead to his, feeling the cold sweat of his skin, hoping her warmth, touch, her words; anything will keep him alert. The tears flow freely now, wet and hot on her cheeks. 

“Mija...  you’re gonna be rich, I can feel it…” 

“No, we’re gonna be rich, Jackie! You and me, that’s how it’s always been, I-I can’t do it without you, y-you got to stay with me okay! We’ll get back, you can see Misty and your mom, everyone and let them know you made it.” 

“Misty… She knew… She always knew…” he breathes out, eyes glassy with a weak smile, “told me not to take this job, why she always got to be right?” 

“J-just a little longer, please, Jackie...please,” she begs him, like he can stop it. Like he can put his inside back together, stop the color from draining out of his face, and can just stay with her. 

“The biochip…” he holds her shoulder, grasp weak, and takes the chip from his head with the other, “Hold on to it. For me…”

And he slides it into her neuroport, her vision glitching for a moment. She surges forward, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can, burying his head into his chest, crying into him as she clings tightly; wishing she had the strength to just hold him together. 

“Please, please, Jackie, I can’t lose you, just a little longer, please,” she sobs into his ashen skin and blood soaked shirt, begging with every slowed beat of his heart. 

For a moment his hands graze her back and she waits for a bear hug, for him to squeeze the breath from her lungs and lift her from her seat like he’s done so many times. For him to be Jackie; her best friend, her partner in crimes, her brother, her everything. But his touch is faint, the space between each beat growing further and further. Until his hands fall limp, body slack in her arms, and she knows the next heartbeat will never come. 

And she sobs, she holds him and cries out her pain, if only for a moment. No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie…. And it’s not fair and it’s not right. 

“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” A robotic voice asks and she realizes the car is no longer moving. 

She forces herself to let him go, one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do. Pulling away, she sees him, truly lifeless. Bright green eyes now dull with no light behind them, limp hands falling away from her. 

“W-what?” She stumbles over the word, brain fogged over with grief. 

“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”

“I…he-he’d want to be with his family,” she stumbles across her words. 

“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ” 

That’s right… Dex… The chip. The world didn’t stop spinning, only her’s. There’s still a job. And the idea of still going, that there’s a tomorrow beyond today, seems unfathomable. How the hell could she ever move on…  

Because Jackie would kill her if she didn’t and she knows that. He’d haunt her for a thousand years and kick her ass every day of it. She looks at the remains, her friend gone, now limp and bleeding across white leather. And knows if he could speak, he’d tell her to get her ass to that hotel room and finish this job, that he and Bug didn’t die just for V to bury herself alongside them. She squeezes his shoulder, presses her forehead to Jackie’s one last time, feeling the cold of his skin. 

“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”

V opens the car door and steps out into the backlot behind the motel. Rain pours down across her bloodied skin, soaking her to the bones, a numb chill clinging to her. Painted across brick is the Night City emblem marks the wall, red graffiti altering its slogan.. The city of broken dreams… 

She moves, on autopilot as she makes her way up the stairs and to the back door of the motel, sheltered from the rain once she’s in a trash filled back room. The motel is bathed in the neon red lights, only offset by the white of sign bearing its name, it’s always red. She stumbles up the staircase and then  another, past a tv chattering on about Saburo Arasaka. 

The merc walks down the gloomy hallway, dark except for warm yellow floor lights, Graffiti covered walls, rain washing down the windows at the end of it. And she reaches room 204, her arm leaden as she knocks. 

No response. 

“Its V,” she yells out, knocking harder. 

The door opens but before she can take another step, Dex’s body guard takes a step out. Large hand blocking her from coming further. He checks the hallway, making sure she wasn’t followed. After a moment, he finally pulls away. 

“He waiting.” 

The man takes a step back, allowing V into the room. She pushes through a bead curtain and sees Dex, leaning over a TV screen, another cigar between his golden fingers. She clears her throat, hearing the door close behind her. 

“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?” 

“He’s...dead,” her voice breaks, words like thorns in her throat. Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips… 

“Condolences friend,” he tells her, shifting to look at her rather than the tv, “and the relic?” 

“Here,” she says, voice a murmur as she taps her neural port. 

“Hmm, I was afraid of that…” 

“What?!” 

She got the fucking relic, everyone is fucking dead, but she got the relic! Everyone died for this fucking chip and now he’s disappointed that she has it!?

“Saburo Arasaka?” Dex paces, smoking his cigar, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!’

“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-” she stalls, wanting to say she didn’t do anything, but can she say that? Can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths… 

"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”

“We...we got to leave the city.” 

Badlands isn’t the safest for her, but it will be safer with money, she could settle in another city, maybe. She can outrun her family more than Arasaka. 

“You don’t say.” 

“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.” 

“A’ight, settle down,” he sits down on the leather couch, “Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

He points her to the bathroom of the motel and she nods, in no place to argue, she just wants to be on the other side of this mess. To be able to tell herself at least she made it to the major leagues, at least Jackie would be proud of her, even if he isn’t here to see it. 

V stumbles into the bathroom, legs wobbling. Everything should hurt, her arm ripped open. Bruises mottling every inch of flesh. But she’s… numb. She works on autopilot, only somewhat aware of the door shutting behind her as she grips the sink, streaking blood across the silver.

Her blood and Jackie’s. 

Bile rushes up her throat, stinging as she pukes into the sink, choking and gagging it out. The tears threaten to come again, eyes stinging as he nails dig into the sink. He’s gone, he’s really fucking gone. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood and name, her rock, and world. The man who took her in, who gave her a goal, a life… 

And how’d she repay him? 

Watch him die in the back of a Delamain. All her promises to keep him safe, to repay back all the kindness he gave to her. And she couldn’t save him, couldn’t protect him, couldn’t do shit but hold him. Fuckin’ only time she really hugged him with all she had and she doesn’t even know if he could really feel it, if his body was too numb. 

If she would have refused the job. 

If she had gotten them up the ladder. 

If she had been stronger. 

If she had been stealthier.

If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker. 

If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.

If she knew better first aid. 

If….if… if… 

Thoughts spin and whirl through her mind, a thousand reasons why it’s her fault. Why she could have saved him, why she could have done more, why she failed him… 

Misty will never take Jackie’s last name and it’s V’s  fault. They’ll never have kids, they’ll never buy a home together, he’ll never get to take her to that stupid hotel bar with the annoying waiter. 

Senora Welles will be forced to bury her son and it’s V’s fault. She’ll never hold her son again. Never see him smile again. Never see him live out his dream. Never cook his favorite foods for him and nag him not to talk with his mouth full. 

Jackie had a future, a family, people who loved him. He was going to marry Misty one day, have kids. Get enough eddies to provide for them and his mom. And now there’s a hole in all of their lives. The world as a whole now worse off without him, her own world destroyed. It should have been her, she knows that, the world would be better off losing her than losing him. 

Yet here she is and she’s just supposed to keep moving, supposed to keep breathing, supposed to live a life post Jackie. 

When she looks up, she sees her own reflection staring back at her. Red rimmed eyes, swollen  from crying and blood splattered across her skin, stuck in the ends of her hair. And she doesn’t know where it’s from, if it’s her own, if it’s Jackie’s, or if it’s from the people she killed tonight. T-Bug and Jackie gone, yet she’s here. 

A brilliant talented netrunner is gone. But she’s still here. 

The kindest man to walk in Night City is gone. But she’s still here. 

She glares at herself, because she has no right to be here and the world has no right to be this cruel. Her fingers clenches, pulling at her damaged nerve endings and she slams her fist into the mirror. Glass shatters and crackles, shards splintering into her knuckles. 

V washes the blood from her hands and face, cleaner but still a zombie as she turns to the door. Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job. She stumbles to the bathroom door and opens it, stepping out.

Knuckles collide with her head, wracking more pain through an already injured merc, she’s sent sprawling to the ground. She curses and twists around on the floor, not sure she has the energy to stand back up, vision blurring as Dex’s bodyguard stomps on her. Heavy foot colliding with her head. She curses and sputters choking on blood.  She twists onto her back, blinking through the pain as Dex’s bodyguard hands him a pistol. The fixer walks closer, standing over her.

“Can't risk it, V,” he says casually, leveling his gun with her head,” ‘Member our first convo?”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, spitting blood as she stares down the barrel. 

“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.” 

The shot rings out, loud and clear, the world going dark as a bullet rips through the young merc’s head. Blood splatters across the dirty carpet, her body going limp, a final breath gurgling forth as she chokes on her own blood, iron taste clinging in the back of her throat. 

Then she’s gone. 

[mischief-over-matter]

Binary | Part I

Gravity is an inescapable force, even within the darkest corners of the universe. It's only a matter of time before something collides.

EMERGENCY STARTUP INITIALIZING

BOOTING...

BOOTING...

BOOTING...[SUCCESS]

BIOS Configuration: [SUCCESS]

Loading OS...

CPU Check: [SUCCESS]

API Check: [SUCCESS]

Memory Banks: [OK]

AI Application: [OK]

Internal Software: [OK]

Anatomical Components: [OK]

Finalizing...

EMERGENCY STARTUP COMPLETE

INITIALIZING USER INTERFACE

       ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

For someone in a quite literal life-or-death situation, you were taking the news of your possible demise rather well. Perhaps that doesn't say much for someone in your line of work. Space exploration was a risky business, and coming home was not always guaranteed. Most, if not all who worked for the Federal Alliance of Astronomic Exploration knew that possibility before they signed on the dotted line.

You didn't expect it would be on your first solo mission, though.

In hindsight, your day seemed a little bit too perfect leading up to this mess, and maybe your cynical subconscious was expecting this pivotal point where everything goes south. Regardless, you weren't one to sit by while cursing your misfortune. And overall, it could be even worse. At least the life support was still functioning.

Oh, how you wished there was wood somewhere on the ship.

Standard protocol demands that regardless of the severity of the crisis, the ship's captain - in your case, yourself - was to immediately activate the emergency beacon and contact mission control. Step one was already a fail. According to the diagnostic scans, communications, navigation, and the engines were severely damaged and would take hours or even days for the self-repair bots to make any sort of significant progress. So, channeling in your former academy student self, you skipped right on to Plan B.

"Greetings, Lieutenant."

Or rather, Plan B skipped right on to you.

You nearly jumped out of your chair but managed to only give a startled gasp. Wheeling around, you came face to face with Plan B. For a glorified chunk of metal, it sure did move quietly.

"Are you alright?" said chunk of metal asked with a surprising amount of realism to his...its tone. "I detected a sudden increase in your heart rate. Are you in need of medical attention?"

You stared, temporarily taken aback by its sudden appearance. Sure, you were briefed on the purpose of the Auxiliary Crisis Sensory Emulating Learner, or ACSEL for short, but seeing one activated was an entirely new experience. The almost lifelike expression was truly something to behold, and you really ought to give a shout-out to the techs back home who made this happen. If you made it home...

Which led back to the matter at hand.

"No, I'm okay. You just surprised me, that's all," you sighed. "I didn't receive a notification that you were activated."

The ACSEL unit tilted its head and narrowed its eyes as if contemplating. It really was going to take some time getting used to those mannerisms on an android. "Perhaps there is an error in the ship's software?" It lightly smiled while extending its right hand towards you. "The CS Zenith is equipped with self-diagnostics and repair, yes? If I may, I would like to run an additional test. Permission to proceed, Lieutenant?"

You blinked, finally breaking yourself away from your thoughts to fall back into professionalism. Standing up and squaring your shoulders, you firmly shook his - its hand. To your ever-growing surprise, it was warm and smooth, yet undeniably solid. Almost like silicone.

"Granted," you replied before stepping to the side. It easily slid into the pilot's chair and instantly brought up the ship's readings. Nothing had changed. You watched in silent fascination while the android worked the dashboard as if it had years of experience under its belt. But your curiosity returned, and you found yourself wondering just how long it took to make something as complex as the ACSEL unit. Its designer obviously modeled it off of human anatomy, not too dissimilar to a store mannequin. The white exterior was a stark contrast to the muted colors of the cockpit. Gray lines decorated its body, allowing seamless, free-range movement that added to the realism. Give it a wig, slap some clothes on it, hide the port at the base of its head and you could definitely see someone mistaking the machine for a human. It even imitated a non-robotic masculine timbre almost perfectly.

The most intriguing thing about it though was the eyes. Glowing, electric blue eyes.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"While my system processes the damages, would you like to begin personalization?"

You raised a brow. "What for? I had thought you would be outfitted with knowledge about my basic information once you were activated?"

The android flicked a switch on the dashboard, allowing a port to be exposed before inserting its index finger. In any other situation, it would have been comical, but you surmised that this was a part of the machine's processing. "And you would be correct. However, I am referring to myself. One of my functions is personalization to assist with lessening the emotional and psychological impact that an emergency could have. Once I have established that the current environment is stable enough for such, of course," it explained before pausing. "In short, it is to make you feel more comfortable."

"Right..." you trailed off, idly scratching your cheek.

"The process is completely optional if you are satisfied with my default settings," it added gently. " I do not wish to provide you with unnecessary stress."

Chuckling, you waved him - it off dismissively. "It's not that. I just...never mind. How about starting with what I should address you as?"

It gave you a side glance, lips turned upwards once more. "I respond to my model and serial number, A.C.S.E.L. 749710145-121111117-110-103, but due to its length I can be assigned a temporary moniker of your choosing until I undergo a factory reset."

You were sorely tempted to name it something utterly ridiculous. You could almost feel the disapproval from your superior officer at the mere thought of it.

"If it aids you at all, the engineers had named me Blue during my trial period," it offered.

How innovative.

"Blue works," you said at last, much to the android's delight. Could it even feel such a thing? It certainly seemed so as you watch its smile turn into a wide grin and the blue irises rotated in recognition. Nevertheless, you returned the smile albeit hesitantly. "Status update."

"Ah...my systems have confirmed the Zenith has experienced internal engine failure, significant damage to the transmitter and faulty wiring to the navigation. Causes are inconclusive. Hull integrity and life support are operating at 100% efficiency. The estimated time of repair is between 96 and 125 hours."

You relaxed ever-so-slightly. A week wouldn't make much of an impact on your scheduled three-month journey to Alpha Centauri's space outpost. And with the beacon activated, your chances of getting out of here unscathed are highly in your favor. "Noted. Then proceed as needed. I'm going to check on the cargo," you stated.

"No need, Lieutenant," Blue assured while standing. It approached you before clasping its hands behind its back. "I will take that responsibility while you rest. You have been showing signs of minor sleep deprivation in addition to a decrease in your epinephrine levels."

Perplexed, you crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a wave of self-consciousness. "You can gauge my adrenaline? How?"

Maybe you said that a bit too forcefully because Blue actually flinched, as if surprised at your tone. Never in your life did you think you would feel regret for snapping at a machine. You must really be more exhausted than you thought.

"Not through nefarious means, I promise," he - it faltered. "My optic sensors can detect even the subtlest of movements. I...I noticed your body language gradually became more relaxed and your heart rate slowed. My intention was not to cause you distress, Lieutenant. I apologize."

Jesus Christ, you genuinely felt bad now.

"Uh, don't be. I should be apologizing. Getting snippy with you was highly unprofessional," you murmured wearily. Rubbing your left temple, you glanced up to see him observing you with an open stare. Looking closely, you could see his irises whirling. Processing information, perhaps? "Blue?"

It blinked and smiled as if amused. "Apologizing to a machine is unnecessary. I do not feel offended. Though I suppose the gesture is an indication of your good nature, so I thank you."

"You're...welcome?" That's enough weirdness for one day, you thought to yourself. "I will go take my leave then if you don't need me for anything else."

"Not at all, Lieutenant. Please sleep well."

"You too." Biting your tongue, you inwardly cringed at your automatic response. "I mean-"

Blue laughed, apparently unfazed by your slip up. "I shall, thank you."

As you departed from the cockpit, you rubbed the heel of your palm against your right eye. It was the strangest thing; talking to a machine that seemed so human. The FAAE had an abundance of the latest technology, including interactive AI programs. But Blue was the most advanced piece of work you had ever interacted with. It was almost jarring.

The walk back to your quarters was a short one, as the Zenith was one of the smaller cargo ships. Your room lacked any personal items and only housed the bare necessities such as a bed, closet, a small desk, and bathroom. The lights flickered on and the door hissed shut, leaving you to bask in privacy. Eyelids heavy, you decided to shower in the morning. A casual glance at your holopad showed the time back home: 8:47 A.M.

Make that in the evening.

Zipping down your flight suit, you tossed it on the chair before rummaging your closet for a shirt and sweatpants. "Computer. Set an alarm for 4:00 P.M."

      ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The cockpit was relatively silent, save for the gentle hum of the reactor core only Blue could hear. Most of the overhead lights had been dimmed, indicating that the Lieutenant had gone to sleep. The android remained in the chair, perfectly still for 72.8 seconds before closing its eyes.

"ACSEL Unit reporting to Professor Thorne. Do you copy?"

Static feedback permeated its receptors. It felt its nonexistent brow crease in concentration. A few moments passed until it could faintly hear a reply.

"Proceed," was the garbled response.

"Preparing to upload visual and audio recordings as well as acquired data to the server...now." The surge of data left its system almost instantaneously, even from such a distance.

Thorne gave a pleased hum. "Continue your directive and ensure the subject remains incognizant until your arrival. Understood?" they emphasized.

"Yes, Professor."

The connection abruptly ended and Blue rapidly blinked back into focus.

Only the sight of stars and the vastness of space greeted the android. Tilting its head to the side, Blue zoomed in as much as his optics would allow on a particular star. The celestial body remained as but a speck of light to its viewpoints. These rare moments of free agency were captivating, and although it could merely emulate emotion, Blue's receptors always reacted positively. It struggled to understand why the professor always voiced against it. No matter. Such a variable was not programmed within its systems to be of concern. Even so, it remained enamored by the dangerous amalgamations of hydrogen and helium that roamed the universe.

"아름다운..." Blue whispered, unaware that it had spoken at all.

[wordsturnintostories]

show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 11.7k note: sorry for not updating this baby in sooo long. i struggled with this chapter for three months and would have never gotten to this final version without @justanemptydream’s help. you saved me. thank you, love. anyway, last time i thought the chapter was long but now we’ve got an 11.7k monstrosity. let me know if you enjoyed reading it. toodles  ✨

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven ]

The room is stunningly quiet apart from Jimin’s sleepy hiccups, the soft buzzing of the fish tank and the beeps that signal that the call is not yet connected. Unsure about what to expect, Sihyuk and Namjoon hold eye contact. Then, suddenly, a woman’s voice appears on the other side of the phone.

“Welcome, Bang Sihyuk, Kim Namjoon. I am your automated call agent today. We apologize for not being personally available to take your call at the moment. To continue, please choose an option from the menu. Press 1 to access all gathered data about Park Jimin, press 3 to-“

They both look at each other.

“What the hell.”

A bird caws outside the window. The fish in the tank swim in wobbly circles. Jimin sniffles and fails to lick his side. The silence - okay, it’s more of a shock-state, but the silence seems electric, like any word will change the current and any action will push them to a point of no return.

Namjoon starts a short body-mind check, feels his brain reboot. There are not many updates; he’s still sitting in the same chair in Bang Sihyuk’s office, Jimin is still wriggling around on his lap and they are still on the phone with the weird robot lady whose number they got from a magic business card. But his heart is pounding like it wasn’t before, and his eyes and mouth hang open wide. Actual shivers flow over his skin, matching the light reflexes from the tank, and Namjoon has a weird premonition that he will break something today. The silence is almost damp with shock, and probably only rings in his ears, like he’s a hero in an action movie who’s lost his sense of hearing after the explosion of the century.

Now, Namjoon knows a lot of things other people don’t know. He knows how to make music, great music according to ARMY and the charts, and he knows how to lead a group (although most of the time, he feels like he’s not actually doing anything, thanks to his hyungs). He knows how to survive a 40-event concert tour and he knows how to dislocate a shoulder without trying to. It’s the things Namjoon doesn’t know that scare him.

He doesn’t know how anyone could have possibly found out about Jimin’s condition - he’s been extra careful the past days, restraining himself from posting cat photos on their twitter and only letting Jimin out into their private backyard to avoid prying eyes. The only people he’s told about Jimin are Min Yoongi and Bang Sihyuk. Not even the other band members know about the leopard cub roaming their apartment and gnawing on their cushions. And yet, some company or organization has found out. 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to think - on the one hand, it could be very good. It could mean that the other company has no intention of blackmailing them. It could mean that there is interest in the topic but no pressure. On the other hand, this could be bad, very bad. To know that someone else is out there, with unclear motivations (because seriously, they could still blackmail BigHit for this), with an unknown amount of information - it could mean anything. Namjoon knows as well as any other person working for BigHit how fragile success is - no matter the foundation of work underneath. BigHit and BTS have worked years - long years that cost them their all - to rise up as far as they have today and the whole business is based completely on popularity, on opinions. Opinions can change quickly, especially in the music industry. One wrong move and your career is over. Namjoon knows all this. What he doesn’t know is whether Jimin will shift back, become human again (the doubt still lingers despite what Jackson says), whether BTS will be able to go on normally, whether their next shows will happen, whether Jimin will be okay. Because if he isn’t, BTS isn’t, and if BTS isn’t, BigHit isn’t either. That’s how it works. Namjoon knows that. And that’s why he looks up to Sihyuk for help.

Namjoon is sure that Sihyuk knows all these things too, that he’s thinking about them right this moment while Namjoon has to remember to breathe properly and both ways, in and out, to stuff back his rising anxiety (just like his therapist told him, in and out, in and out). Sihyuk stays pretty quiet for a long moment, looking back at Namjoon but not really looking at him directly, more like… through him like he’s not focused at all. Then, he shakes his head and himself out of his trance and grabs his phone. Another thing Namjoon knows (by heart) is this new look on Sihyuk’s face as he looks for the contact and dials. It’s the I’m-concerned-for-my-kids look that he’s been sporting less and less nowadays but that had been a constant companion during their first couple of years. 

The voice on the phone reels Namjoon back in from his observations, enough to catch the relieved “Good morning, Mrs. Kang”. It’s enough to let Namjoon know that the situation is very serious but hasn’t quite reached catastrophic levels yet. Mrs. Kang is their lawyer, not their emergency response unit. Mrs. Kang clears things up, does law research and manages their contract details. She’s not responsible for decisions concerning anything related to music or marketing or member conditions, so Namjoon manages to find some hope in the thought that all these things are not endangered. PDnim will take care of any new legal issues. We’ll be fine. 

Before he reroutes his full attention back to the words filtering through his phone, Namjoon takes a second to feel himself in the room - he thinks back to his therapist talking to him about unsettling situations and anxiety. Just ground yourself in the sounds and in the feeling of your body in the room - against the chair, against the floor, wherever you are. Feel the air around you and breathe in and out. What is near you? Feel it. Focus on that rather than the anxiety inside. Namjoon breathes in and for a second, he wishes he had Jungkook’s sense of smell because the office scent in his own nose is rather weak. He does smell Sihyuk’s perfume and the lingering residue of his own cologne on the soft collar of his coat. He feels the chair’s armrests that enclose his hips and the way his shoes line up perfectly with the floor. And most importantly, he feels Jimin pawing at his ankles in an eager attempt to be scooped up and cuddled, probably. It forces a pleasant smile on Namjoon’s face that he welcomes - as if the little leopard cub has managed to shush his anxiety completely. Rightfully so, Namjoon thinks as he grabs Jimin’s tiny body, legs and arms flailing around cutely in the air, tail curling around Namjoon’s wrist. Jimin’s eyes are wide and blue and just like a little plushie’s - big enough to stand out from the rest of his body proportions and big enough to lower your defenses to attack you with cuteness. Namjoon sets his dongsaeng down on his lap before picking up the call again only to realize that he hadn’t even responded last time - so now, the robot voice is tirelessly repeating the same menu choices as before.

“-mation we have gathered about Park Jimin, press 3 to apply for a regular membership or a VIP membership, press 5 to request medical or legal support, press 7 to be connected to our Shifter and Hybrid Needs network or press 9 for other issues.”

When his mind registers the options presented to him, Namjoon doesn’t know what to think. In all honesty, those options sound nothing like his paranoia had suggested to him before - it sounds like normal customer service and that bothers Namjoon because this is a magical number that Jackson had given him… right? To be honest, Namjoon doesn’t know what a phone call with a magical number should sound like, if there’s any sample he could go by - is there any K-drama he could watch that is even halfway accurate with these magical things? Maybe he should text Jackson later.

“H-Hi,” he cringes at how shaky his own voice sounds, “w-who am I talking to?”

“Forgive my manners, Namjoon-ssi. I am your automated call agent today. Our office staff is currently not available to take your call-“

It’s so strange. Namjoon has never encountered any automated call agent that responds to his voice, or rather, his words. Normally, those things present the options menu, wait for the number he presses, and react accordingly. He’s slightly confused by how this call goes right now and Jimin whines when the big fingers in the fur on his back still. Namjoon goes back to gently stroking the cub’s fur and frowns. What if this is not a normal machine?

“Are-are you an AI? Or are you a new kind of technology somehow?”

“I am an AMI, Namjoon-ssi, designed specifically to accommodate our many clients’ needs individually.” 

An AMI. He isn’t sure if that name was given on purpose, if that is part of the message that the other side wants to transmit - an AMI? Like, ARMY? Is it meant to… be a joke? A threat maybe? Does the female robot voice introduce itself (herself?) as AMI to everyone or just him? Namjoon’s brows are furrowed and he really doesn’t know what to think, only that wilder ideas arise the more he keeps thinking, so maybe he should stop. What if- what if this is not really a robot voice but an actual ARMY that uses some sort of voice contortion device? What if this is a Sasaeng? Alarm bells ring in Namjoon’s head. He isn’t sure whether that’s possible, whether this is a valid idea, but in the handful of years he’s been an idol, he’s learned that the world is crazy. Anything is possible, especially in BTS. He brushes his fingers through Jimin’s soft fur, letting the tail drag through his hands, relishes in the warmth under the fuzz and risks a look at Sihyuk, who is still talking to their lawyer. 

“There’s no sense in waiting longer, you’re right. Is there anything you can do to activate the contract clause faster?” and then, “Yeah, same as last time.”

Namjoon sits up a little straighter. A contract clause? What does he mean by that? What kind of contract clause - he sucks in a breath. Does BangPdnim - did he plan this somehow? Was he prepared for this kind of thing to happen? Also, same as last time? Has he done this before? Is there… maybe someone else like Jimin? Another shifter in the group? Wouldn’t Jackson have mentioned that? His thoughts swirl and Namjoon feels like he’s falling through his chair, into the ground, like there’s an endless bottom opening up underneath him. Like his world changes and all his breathing exercises from before have been completely useless. Once again, the voice - AMI - pulls him back into reality. He breathes unevenly and finds Jimin’s eyes. Innocent. Unknowing. Trusting. Namjoon’s heart pounds. It aches from his yearning to take care of Jimin well. To protect him.

“May I ask you to choose from the options, Namjoon-ssi. Main menu. Press 1 to access-“

“AMI, how can I change Jimin back? Is there anything I can give him? Maybe medication, or something?”

It’s a rushed question, a question tasting like panic and helplessness. Namjoon doesn’t know what’s going on, it scares him, and he needs to find a solution. If there is even the tiniest possibility of Jimin’s contract being changed up now that he is like this, and Jimin being at a disadvantage because of it, Namjoon will make sure to make it right. He shivers because normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to ask for Sihyuk’s help, but now? It’s all messed up, he doesn’t know what’s happening and what he can do. He needs to come up with solutions, and fast.

“Shifting is a process induced by hormones, Namjoon-ssi. There is medication to trigger a shift either way but it will majorly affect hormone levels of the patient and is not recommended to be taken on a regular basis.”

“Is there any other way?”

“Would you classify this situation as an emergency?”

Namjoon thinks. He looks at Jimin, then at Sihyuk. Catches the mumbled “Can’t have that happen. No one can find out” from the CEO’s lips. Feels breathless, like endless shame is gnawing through his heart for even allowing the mere thought of Sihyuk doing anything that could harm the members. He wouldn’t. Right? Right? But right now, Namjoon can’t really judge the situation well. He doesn’t have all the information, doesn’t know what a contract clause could do in this case, what it would be for, he doesn’t know. He kind of wishes he had Hobi or Yoongi by his side right now, to help him make decisions but also to help him keep a clear head. It would certainly make things more bearable. It feels like he’s actually stepped into that alternative universe from their Heartbeat music video, where impossible things are the norm and magical creatures float around everywhere. He doesn’t understand.

“Yes, I would say so,” he breathes.

“Understood,” AMI replies promptly, “Emergency response team has been alerted. Estimated arrival in 5 minutes. Please prepare to assist the medical examination by-“

Namjoon rushes to yell into the phone, “What- NO! No, no, no! It’s not that kind of an emergency! Jimin is fine, please don’t, there’s no need-“

Sihyuk sends a worried look into his direction, but Namjoon ignores it.

“Emergency response team on standby. Please confirm your previous directive. Is this an emergency?”

“We don’t need medical attention. Jimin is fine.”

“Understood. Main menu. Please choose from the options. Press 1 to-“

His shoulders sag in relief but he feels annoyed that AMI has moved back to the main menu again without even leaving room for discussion. It beeps when Namjoon presses the 1, maybe because he actually wants to know what this AMI knows about Park Jimin, maybe because he really feels bad for making her read the main menu so often and maybe because he doesn’t know what to do and needs to kill time so Sihyuk can do this phone call together with him and maybe even because he doesn’t know if this is important or not. So, he waits for AMI’s voice with bated breath.

“1,” AMI enunciates, “general data regarding Park Jimin. Nationality: Korean. Date of birth: 1997, June 5th. Gender: female. Species: White -“

“Wait, no. That’s uh, you’ve got the wrong Park Jimin.”

AMI is talking about Park Jimin who Namjoon had first met on the set of the After School Club together with Eric Nam, and he releases a breath of relief - and loses Jimin, who takes the chance to start exploring. Like the little troublemaker his kitty alter ego is (not really a big surprise when you think about how human Jimin’s mind works), he jumps right up where he probably shouldn’t be - on the desk. The desk where documents lay, where electronic devices buzz and where little objects look interesting enough to trigger a little cat’s curiosity.

“I apologize, Namjoon-ssi,” AMI says, sounding a little confused with her robotic voice, “would you like to change Park Jimin’s profile?”

“No, no. It’s just the wrong one. There’s another Park Jimin.”

“I apologize, Namjoon-ssi,” AMI repeats and Namjoon figures it’s just how she’s programmed, “would you like to register a new profile?”

“I don’t want to register anything, I just want-“

“Main menu. Press 1 to access-“

He groans. And there she goes again. Namjoon shuffled on his seat nervously, ignoring the little growls from Jimin somewhere further away. He risks a side glance to Jimin and feels soft amusement riding up his face when the cub rolls around playing and nibbling on a small BT21 Cooky’s ears. But then he hears AMI talking, persistently repeating the main menu and Namjoon isn’t sure if he can go wrong by choosing any of the options so he just dares to ask questions. He hopes it won’t get him into trouble.

“You mentioned legal advice. Why would we need legal advice?”

“Currently, there is very little official legislation regarding the Shifter and Hybrid community in Korea. Our legal department’s services are free and extend toward every member of the Shifter and Hybrid community in Korea. We offer-“

“And what about medical support? What kind of medical support would Jimin need?”

“Our organization connects clients to a network of professional veterinarians from all over the nation. However, we have specific 24/7 on-call staff trained to assess and treat Shifters and Hybrids specifically. We also connect to therapists, nutritionists, and skin & fur care professionals if needed.”

Namjoon isn’t sure what that means, only that it actually sounds like robot lady is trying to sell them something now. Hadn’t she talked about a membership before? He feels his leg bounce impatiently. When will Sihyuk be done? Should I just wait for him? Maybe we should just discuss this before anything else-

“Namjoon-ssi, Park Jimin is currently ingesting Samsung printer ink, which can be very toxic for a leopard cub his age, please-“

As if hit by a sudden strike of lighting, Namjoon feels his body move on its own. His eyes shoot up, focusing immediately on his kitty dongsaeng playing with a dark little ink cartridge by the printer. His thumb smashes that end-call button before letting the phone collide with the table in an ugly crash. He lunges forward to grab Jimin from the desk.

“Jiminie! Don’t do that,” he scolds and feels terror spread at the sight of the little leopard wiggling in his grasp, ears drawn back in shock, cheeks and chest soaked in splashes of blue, magenta and yellow ink. “What are you thinking!”

The cub meows pitifully but doesn’t let his words match his actions with all the feisty squirming. Once again, he seeks out the help of his claws that definitely pierce Namjoon’s skin. With his concentration completely on Jimin - it’s honestly a relief that the call is over so that he can deal with one issue at the time - he jumps when Sihyuk suddenly yells a curse through the room.

“What is happening!? Namjoon-ah, what did you do?”

Namjoon whines. It’s not his fault Jimin is prone to get himself into situations like this - he’s too curious, too adventurous and too tiny for the world right now and apparently, he likes making a mess with colored liquids. The toothpaste had been harmless of course, so it wasn’t a big deal, but Namjoon can’t deny it doesn’t give him a half a heart attack looking at Jimin with those stains in his fur. He looks like a little rainbow-kitty somehow. If this wasn’t so serious, Namjoon would take photos. He knows Jimin would coo and laugh at this later and Taehyung would declare it authentic art.

“I’m sorry, hyung! I didn’t pay attention for a second and- do you have tissues?”

Sihyuk throws him a package of wet tissues from some shelf by the wall, but like Namjoon expects, it basically doesn’t do anything to get the ink out of the leopard’s fur. It doesn’t look like Jimin minds or like he even understands the fuss (he purrs when Namjoon rubs his body down), but the humans certainly do. Namjoon sinks back into his chair and sighs, one of his hands brushing through his own hair in an attempt to calm himself. It takes a second to just calm down from the pulsing shock, so he just lets Jimin play with his hands until the little leopard loses interest and starts nosing Namjoon’s belly, the pockets of Namjoon’s jeans, and puts his tiny paws on Namjoon’s thighs, looking up.

“How are you so tiny and still such a troublemaker, Jiminie?”

Jimin stays in his position for quite a bit as if he wants to say something but Namjoon doesn’t get the hint, doesn’t know what Jimin wants, and realizes AMI is still talking. By now, he considers just hanging up and calling Jackson. Or one of the hyungs. He could really use a hyung now, just a steady, calming presence next to him like in English interviews or Award Shows. Jimin, who still has his nose buried in Namjoon’s jeans (where his pockets are), whines. 

“What is it, baby, huh? What do you need?”

The little leopard only snuffles wetly along Namjoon’s pockets (which are empty) and when the rapper tries to grab the cat, Jimin hisses. But then he slips because he’s a clumsy little thing with only a short, shivering tail that doesn’t know how to balance the body attached to it and his paws lose grip on Namjoon’s thigh so he glides off the side. Luckily, Namjoon’s reflexes are quick enough to shoot after his dongsaeng and grab his leg so that he can lift the kitty back up his lap before anything can happen. (He pictures the scene like one of those Dads grabbing their kid falling from the couch in those Dad-compilations. It’s epic.) He yelps when Jimin’s tiny fangs sink into his hand. He receives a vicious hiss on top and feels betrayed.

“Jimin! Don’t bite me like that! I saved you. No need to be so ungrateful.”

But the cub doesn’t seem to feel grateful or repentant and continues his search for whatever it is he hopes to find in Namjoon’s pockets. It’s a tad irritating to be ignored like this when normally, Jimin is so thoughtful and kind.

“If you feel bratty like this, you can gladly spend the rest of our time back in the box.”

At this, Jimin does look up and for a second, Namjoon feels something spark in his chest. Did he understand that? Did he understand me?

“The box? Do you want to go back into the box? Maybe that’s not such a bad idea, huh? You could nap a bit and you’ll feel much better.”

He gets up slowly, trying to grab Jimin on the way, but the little cub struggles too much so that Namjoon has to set him down to not have his hands torn up.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll put you back until you feel better, huh?”

All his hope is crushed when Jimin avoids the box like it’s hell even if he seemed to like it so much before. Any attempt to shoo him near the box fails and after a couple of minutes chasing the kitty around, Namjoon gives up. He goes back to his chair, plopping down and watching as Jimin tapers off to run circles in front of the fish tank and eventually trods over to Sihyuk’s feet. That, in turn, has Namjoon on edge, because Sihyuk is busy and concentrated on the phone call and Jimin is tiny and Namjoon knows from experience how easy the cub is to overlook and almost step on. But the CEO smiles at Namjoon and gives him a thumbs up. He straightens up and stands with his feet planted firmly on the ground, not bouncing on the balls of his feet like he usually does when on the phone. When Jimin starts to roll around, making it his mission to catch Sihyuk’s shoelaces, the man chuckles fondly. It’s a relief and Namjoon can’t believe he thought Sihyuk would somehow maybe make a bad choice just because Jimin turned into a baby animal.

“Yes, please let me know what options we have,” the CEO says. “Thank you.”

Namjoon uses the minute of peace and quiet to send a text to Jackson.

> Hey man, what exactly is the number on the card for? Why do they call themselves an AMI? Is it the same as ARMY?

He doesn’t get an answer immediately, so he stares at the little 1 in their Kakao chat for as long as he can and sighs when he turns his phone back off. 

“Who are you trying to reach?” Sihyuk whispers, covering the microphone with his hand. 

“Jackson.”

“GOT7 has their promotions in Europe now, don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t text back quickly.”

Jimin seems to get tired of playing with Sihyuk’s shoelaces and goes back to doing his own tour of the office. His little tail quivers in excitement as he sniffs every corner and rolls around on the carpet. Every now and then, there’s a little squeak that Namjoon finds adorable and that he wishes he could save in his heart for bad days. Namjoon focuses back on Sihyuk’s phone call. He can already see the many meetings with managers and staff this change could potentially cause; meetings to accommodate Jimin’s needs and to make sure everything stays under wraps for as long as possible. Or, depending on the outcome of the phone call, (Namjoon has assured himself by now that it will not end in a cancellation of Jimin’s contract because Sihyuk would never let go of Jimin, who is basically one of his fifteen children), a new round of contract negotiations. For the entire group, possibly, depending on the details Mrs. Kang will present to them. Namjoon hopes they can find a beneficial solution for everyone.

Suddenly, a strange sound moves into his focus, persistently interrupting his strategic thoughts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. It’s a weird scratching, not like a scratch on skin or wood or maybe clothes. It sounds different, like fabric snagging on something sharp and being released and Namjoon turns his head to look for the origin of the sound. There’s something in the corner of his eye that rouses suspicion. Jimin. Jimin is kneading the carpet. Alarm bells ring in Namjoon’s mind immediately. Kneading, scratching, peeing. It’s an established pattern that he’s observed during the past days. So far, his success rate of removing Jimin from a place like this (aka. a place that’s not his litter box) and carrying him some other place (aka. the backyard) stands at a proud 80%. However, the memories of the other 20% spur him on and Namjoon is out of his chair faster than he can even think about a plan. 

Jimin startles at the sudden movement and jumps out of the way when the rapper tries to grab him. He’s much quicker than his tiny legs suggest and runs to hide behind the big pot that holds the pretty rosé-blossom tree by the wall that backs against the hallway. He probably thinks the big pot will hide him well until Namjoon shows up again, still aware of what’s at stake here (the carpet, Jimin’s new reputation, and both Namjoon’s and Sihyuk’s sanity). In a determined effort to keep Sihyuk’s office sanitary and welcoming, he sneaks up on the leopard. Hands grab air and Namjoon groans. When he turns around, he notices the little tail peeking out from below Sihyuk’s desk. 

The CEO by the window himself doesn’t seem to notice what’s going on and Namjoon kind of feels like he could have used AMI’s emergency team after all. This is the second, no third emergency of the day and maybe, okay just maybe, Namjoon thinks he might have done something bad in his previous life so that the universe thought it would be fair to make him his dongsaeng’s babysitter. Suddenly, a VIP membership sounds tempting… do they offer babysitter services?

“Jimin-ah,” he whispers, “I swear, if you even think about peeing under hyung’s desk…”

Namjoon approaches slowly. If anything, he figures he should approach the leopard in a smart way. He’s aware that he probably doesn’t have much time left before the cat’s urge to relieve itself becomes insurmountable, so he tells himself to get it all over with quickly. What’s the best way to get Park Jimin to do almost anything you want? Sweet-talk. Namjoon approaches slowly and kneels. Before him, he sees the paper bin underneath the desk, a ton of (neatly bound) cables and the wooden legs of the table. Crouching, he grabs around the garbage can, meeting an amused meow that almost sounds like he’s laughing. Again, Jimin flees before Namjoon can get a hold of him.

“Ah, come on Jimin-ah, my cutest, prettiest, loveliest dongsaeng,” he coaxes, “You were doing so good yesterday, kitten…”

But Jimin doesn’t come back. He just sits on the carpet, tauntingly close, with a lively glint in his eyes. Jimin is watching Namjoon and the rapper doesn’t fail to note the excitement that lets the cat’s tail whip around wildly. So this is a game to you, huh?

When suddenly two legs appear right next to Namjoon’s face, he yelps. His hand gets tangled in some cable on the floor. He slips and slams his head against the metal paper bin, making it fall and spill everywhere. A nasty burn hits his temple and when he reaches up to touch the skin there, the cable around his hand pulls taut. Namjoon’s bad luck is endless, apparently, because something tumbles and crashes upon the table. Sihyuk lets out a yelp. Like a miscalculated movement in the shower, a quick burst of water hits Namjoon from above. He shrieks, feeling the wetness settle and hopes Sihyuk didn’t have any important documents out on the table. He doesn’t pay attention, but he can feel Jimin watching him from the carpet with amused eyes. When he looks, the little leopard rolls around, looking the most Jimin-like ever - like he’s laughing so hard that he just has to throw his body against something.

“Namjoon-ah!” Sihyuk yells, albeit more urgent than angry, “where are you? Kim Namjoon!”

“I’m here,” Namjoon groans, still rubbing his forehead. He’s sure the spot’s gonna be blue tomorrow. Yoongi’s gonna have a good laugh for sure.

“Where is here?”

The rapper crawls out from underneath the table. He sees movement from the corner of his eye but focuses on Sihyuk.

“No, I’m talking to Kim Namjoon,” he says into the phone and looks up only to have his eyes widen with a really panicked look in them. He jumps up, pointing into the room. “Don’t let him pee in there! That Sakura tree is from the President!”

When Namjoon whips his head around, making a cascade of water fly everywhere, he finds Jimin not on the carpet like he’d assumed, but in the big plant pot along with the Japanese tree. Jimin is walking around the stem of the little tree like he’s got a monopoly on the spot. From the body language, Namjoon can tell that the cat is calm and relaxed. Ideal for business. Oh no.

“Yes, hyung!”

Namjoon runs like he hasn’t in a long time (the couple days that he’s been on this pseudo-vacation) and finally snatches an unassuming Jimin right out of the tree pot, hands grabbing for the cat with so much determination that he even scoops up some earth. He hears mewling. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters in this emergency, and Namjoon looks around, nerves strung high, adrenaline rushing. He frowns when he realizes that there’s no litter box over here in the office. That leaves him with only one option: A dash for the bathroom. 

Quickly, he runs to the door. There’s a moment of hesitation. He isn’t sure how he should hide Jimin from all the people in the building but considering that the bathrooms aren’t really far away, he hopes no one will cross his way. (Especially now that Jimin looks so violently colorful). A thought crosses his mind. What if Sejin is still outside? There’s a possibility that the manager has gone to his own office to get some work done while waiting but there’s also the possibility that he’s out there and springs up at the door opening and sees Jimin right away. It’s nothing I have control over, Namjoon reassures himself. He feels Jimin’s little cry in his heart and nods. Let’s go.

Stepping out into the hallway feels a bit like coming out of the shower - out of the cozy, safe warmth and into the frightening cold outside. When Jimin keeps wriggling, softly crowing his discomfort, Namjoon repositions him so that his hands won’t press on the leopard’s belly so much. He looks to the side and freezes. Sejin is on the sofa. Luckily, he’s got his eyes glued to his phone and doesn’t seem to have noticed Namjoon yet - and Namjoon is determined not to let it happen either. Before Jimin can make any loud sounds, Namjoon turns and runs. He does manage to run with Jimin in front of his torso so he isn’t visible from behind. Even if Sejin were to look after them, Jimin would be out of view. Namjoon keeps his eyes on the hallway door until a yell comes from behind.

“Kim Namjoon! Wait up!”

Don’t stop, keep running, Namjoon tells himself, glad that the 6km are a result on his step counter every day, not Sejin’s. Sure, Sejin jogs and stays in shape but Namjoon dances and runs around and is much younger too, so he doesn’t even pant as he takes the next turn to the left and runs towards the men’s bathrooms. The door doesn’t budge when Namjoon uses the handle. A flare of adrenaline-induced panic drips down Namjoon’s chest and he wants to curse. He finds a sign that says “Out of order”. Great. Now, where to?

It’s a good thing that Namjoon is so familiar with the building. Practically, this is the building’s office level that BTS members don’t necessarily have to visit very often. But Namjoon is a regular guest in all kinds of offices, so he is not at a great disadvantage. He knows the way, knows a couple of bathrooms strewn all over the levels. It takes a few risks to bring Jimin there as fast as possible - Namjoon dodges people but almost knocks the head of the PR department off his feet as he rounds a corner and gets drenched in coffee. He runs on, apologizing with a quick but deep bow that almost makes him stumble, takes the stairs and finally, finally reaches the end of the next hallway, the men’s bathroom, an empty stall, and holds a trembling Jimin over the toilet. The leopard fusses, not liking the feeling of being held like this, in the air over an abyss of water. He whimpers. 

“C’mon Jiminie, look at me, I ran all the way over here for you,” he says, “give it some effort.”

It’s a moment of desperation but Namjoon feels warm inside (well, he’s sweating). He’s looking at Jimin and suddenly, he feels like he’s in a film, like he’s a Dad trying to potty-train his kid. Jimin shivers, ears flicking and turning constantly and even Namjoon’s gentle attempts to coax him into peeing don’t help. Those big blue eyes look like they’re gonna burst with tears at any moment. Can cats cry?

“You’re doing it wrong,” someone says behind him.

Namjoon jerks and swears he would have almost let Jimin drop. It’s Sejin and that means that Namjoon’s only got two options. Maybe Sejin knows what’s going on, maybe he doesn’t. In this moment, Namjoon doesn’t even let his fear of being discovered bubble up. He’s here to fix an issue, solve a problem, so he’s gotta get on with it. Sejin is on his side, so whatever happens, he’ll help. Namjoon is sure.

“Sorry,” Sejin says, breathing a little heavy as well, “just let him sit. Cats don’t like to be touched while peeing.”

Namjoon nods, suddenly feeling grateful that it’s Sejin who’s come after him. Sejin is the kind of hyung who just sees the need and helps, no matter what. There’s not a single occasion Namjoon can think of where Sejin has refused to help any member of the group. Of course, one could argue that it’s his job but Namjoon has seen people do their jobs and finds that Sejin is doing more than just a job - he’s taking care of Bangtan with passion and foresight, and sees their relationship as a way to install his substitute-Dad-wisdoms in them.

“He’s too small for the toilet though. He’ll fall in.”

“You need something like a litter box.”

Sejin moves around, drawing out a plastic container from below the sink. It’s a plastic container filled with wet tissues, deodorant the PR people keep in here for emergencies, and some excess paper towel rolls. Sejin fills it up with toilet paper and lets Namjoon place Jimin in it. Jimin circles the container, meows and finally seems satisfied. Namjoon looks away when the cub crouches. He doesn’t need to see that, cause it’s creepy, and rather turns his attention to Sejin.

“Not that I mind, but… why does your cat look like my three-year old’s drawings?”

Namjoon doesn’t know why but somehow, this question is so funny to him that he just starts to laugh - he laughs and laughs and when he’s done, he feels like somehow, a knot around his heart has loosened. He feels lighter than before and breathes. He’s tired but Sejin is here with him, and he knows it will be okay. Here on the cold tiles of the bathroom door, Namjoon finds a revelation coming to him. It approaches as he watches Sejin prepare the litter box for Jimin and unravels as Jimin joyfully runs a circle in it before crouching. It hits, however, in this moment of innocent glee, when Namjoon just enjoys the fact that their manager and friend is here with him. I’m not supposed to do this alone, Namjoon realizes, I was never meant to do it alone. He almost feels stupid that this feels like a revelation to him - he’s the leader of a seven-member group and still, his mind had automatically turned to selfie mode. But then again, he had felt so alone, this morning in the cold apartment, without any of the other members yelling around and sneaking Namjoon’s breakfast off his plate. His heart warms up as he watches Sejin smile at Jimin.

“Thanks for running after me and helping, hyung,” Namjoon says, grateful for the way the bathroom acoustics make it sound so much bigger, “I really appreciate it.”

Sejin smiles. “I’ll always help you, Namjoon-ah. Just let me know what I can do.”

There are some occurrences in life - sort of like déjà-vus - that make Namjoon hold his breath. Maybe it’s not that significant, but the way Sejin sounds like Seokjin almost makes Namjoon tear up right now. In his heart, he feels himself looking forward to the moment Seokjin’s banter echoes through their apartment again, the moment Namjoon steps through the door and looks into his hyung’s face. The moment Seokjin will hug him whether Namjoon wants to or not, and the moment he’ll feel his hyung breathe against his neck in a warm, friendly embrace. And the moment of relief, where Namjoon tells all the members what’s going on, where they talk over one another in an attempt to encourage Jimin and make him giggle in glee. It’s all gaining color and shape in Namjoon’s mind and with the image, hope and courage rise inside of him. Everything will be fine, and even with Jimin’s nagging self-doubt and perfectionism and whatnot, they will find a way. They will push the bad things away. Together.

“It’s great to have you on the team, hyung, seriously. I don’t know if I ever said this, but I’m really grateful for you.”

“Aw, cute. Why are you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

Namjoon shrugs, eyes turning back to Jimin so Sejin won’t see how mushy Namjoon feels inside, how much more he could say but won’t because he doesn’t want his hyung to suffocate under the avalanche of compliments and heartfelt emotions he’s still got in store. The right dosage is important, Namjoon-ah, he remembers Yoongi saying back in the dark, one shared night in their four-year-old studio chairs with takeout in their hands, don’t overwhelm people with your words. You’re too powerful with words sometimes, people don’t know what to do with it. It’s your superpower, so use it responsibly.

“I still don’t know why your cat looks like he’s just come back from a children’s birthday party.”

“PDnim tried to fix his own printer again. He left an ink cartridge on the desk and this little baby,” Namjoon pokes Jimin, who just meows, “was a bit too curious.”

“I don’t understand hyung. I told him he’s got an assistant for stuff like that.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“Yeah,” Sejin chuckles and they both watch how Jimin lifts one leg over the walls of the make-shift litter box, one after the other, very carefully. He catches on the rim with the last paw and lands on his snout with a soft thud. Following the momentum, he stumbles right into Namjoon’s shin and looks up wide-eyed like he can’t believe he just did that. Namjoon isn’t sure why he expects to see tears - probably because Tae is making him watch all those baby and toddler videos lately - but Jimin just whines, stands up and starts climbing Namjoon’s leg. 

“Aish, always so clumsy, baby,” Namjoon mumbles, cooing at the tiny cat in his arms. “You scared me, baby. I thought you hurt yourself. Are you okay?” He kisses Jimin on the head but lets him sniff at Sejin’s hands when he tries to. He doesn’t give much of a reaction, which is not necessarily bad - it’s not a rejection. Sejin smiles and scratches Jimin behind the ears. The cub purrs against Namjoon’s hand, happily closing his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Didn’t hyung fill you in already?”

“When? In the five seconds when you ran from me?”

“Good point. So, er-“ Namjoon takes a deep breath. There’s something about sitting on bathroom floors, something cold that makes you share your warmth and your inner thoughts, Namjoon thinks as he looks at Sejin. It’s a BigHit bathroom, so it’s clean, nothing like a public bathroom, but still - the floor under his feet makes him feel a bit bare, a bit lonely even if he’s not, and makes him want to not keep secrets.

“So, I uh… Well, Jimin, and I know it sounds er-strange, turned into a cat two days ago and I basically don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sejin does look surprised, looking back and forth between Jimin and Namjoon a couple times, as if he’s trying to figure out whether he’s become a victim to a prank or something.

“Are you serious?”

“I am. It’s not exactly… a great time but I’m glad this didn’t happen during our tour last year.”

“Wow. How are you so calm about this?”

“Well, I’ve had two days to come to terms with this now. But still, it’s a mess, hyung. I think I did well taking care of him so far, but it’s all a mess.”

“Remember when we first met, you and I?”

“Oh God,” Namjoon groans, “I don’t think I will ever forget that.”

“You were a mess back then too. So it’s okay, I can deal with a mess. I’m used to it,” the manager nudges Namjoon in the side with his elbow and Namjoon nods. It’s nice hearing that, and fitting, if Namjoon honestly thinks about their relationship. Yeah, Sejin has seen and has fixed messes left and right. Namjoon’s heart feels a little lighter when he hears those words. Jimin nuzzles into his hand in his lap and Namjoon feels a pang of affection travel through his body.

“Life is life, huh?”

It’s what Jimin and he have always been saying, ever since their first trip to LA. Life isn’t always fair, not always good, actually a lot less than good a lot of the time, but together, it’s not as bad and even great sometimes. Jimin curls into Namjoon’s lap, letting his body drop as if he’s too tired to hold it up much longer. He wants to be carried like the little maknae line member he is, starving for affection and attention.

“Should we go back?”

“What do we do with the litter box?”

“Do you have one at home?”

“Er, no. Jimin went outside for the past couple of days.”

“In the backyard!? Where people walk? Yah, Kim Namjoon! Also, think about your dongsaeng. That can’t be hygienic! Don’t tell me you really let Jimin outside every time he-“

Namjoon has to grin because of the scolding but blushes. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Well, that’s not allowed anymore. Do you at least have cat food or anything?”

“Not really. I promise I’ll work harder to be well prepared, hyung!”

“I see. Let’s drop off Jiminie and go cat-shopping. If he is a baby like this, we need to take care of him well, right?”

“Drop him off where?”

Sejin just pulls out his phone and dials a number. Namjoon can’t see the caller ID, but he doesn’t feel the need to ask either. When someone picks up and Sejin starts to rant, he sounds almost like a fake-enraged Seokjin. It’s like the familiar feeling replaces a little cavity-like hole in Namjoon’s heart that’s started to build the moment the members left for their vacations. It forces him to smile.

“Yoongi-yah, I’ve told you a dozen times not to bring your sick children to work.”

“Jimin is here?”

Sejin falters when the enthusiasm that breaks the mumble that is Yoongi’s work voice sounds through the speaker. Jimin squeaks suddenly, asking to be let down, so Namjoon lifts him up and makes him look right into his eyes. For a moment, he ignores that Jimin doesn’t understand and just hopes that his plea will get through. Namjoon tells the cub firmly not to create any trouble right now. Then, Yoongi speaks to him.

“Namjoon-ah, how are you holding up? Everything okay?”

“Honestly, hyung? It’s a mess. I’m a mess. Jimin is fine, but I don’t think I am.”

His thoughts fly back to the office. Sihyuk’s phone call with their lawyer, all that secretive talk about contracts and even the phone call with AMI. He remembers his confusion, his doubts, his fears - fears for Jimin, who innocently tries to climb up Sejin’s shins. There’s a rustle on the other side of the line that makes Namjoon’s heart beat suspiciously fast with some sort of anticipation. 

“Okay, stay where you are. Don’t worry, hyung is coming, hyung will take it from here.”

Sejin makes a face and Namjoon feels the exact same way. Baffled. What’s going on? What’s with the sudden rush of affection? 

“No need to baby me-“

“Oi, hyung is on his way, yeah? Where are you guys?”

“The bathroom by the PR department.”

Namjoon feels oddly confirmed. As if Yoongi’s sudden overbearing and sweet response was a wink from the universe. You’re not meant to do this alone, Namjoon. His stomach does a little jump at how much comfort Yoongi offers to him just by referring to himself as hyung (which Yoongi rarely does for him). Namjoon’s mind tells him that Yoongi will only baby him now that Taehyung and Jungkook are gone but in secret, behind really thick doors, Namjoon feels a tiny voice wishing for it to be a regular treatment. Namjoon has got Yoongi’s full hyung focus, even if he hasn’t explicitly asked for it. He knows that all the hyungs are attuned to the younger members’ needs but sometimes he forgets that he’s one of them. The leader position can be both a blessing and a curse. 

When Yoongi opens the bathroom door and steps in and Jimin pounces forward with a string of excited chirps, not letting himself get held down by anything or anyone, Namjoon’s eyes widen. Yoongi kneels, scooping up Jimin, totally enveloping the leopard baby against his chest.

“Did you miss me, baby? Ah, I bet you missed hyung so bad, huh? Aish, what did they do to you, hm? You’re all messy. Don’t worry, they’re all idiots who mean well. But hyung will take care of you now.”

Namjoon listens to Jimin’s sweet, chirpy responses that really sound like the kitty is trying to answer Yoongi. They look perfect together, Lil Meow Meow and the cub. Sejin seems to think the same because he’s sneakily taking pictures from the side. Namjoon makes the mistake of thinking that it’s all Yoongi is going to say. He doesn’t expect Yoongi to step forward and look right into his eyes even while Jimin keeps rubbing his cheeks against Yoongi’s heart.

“And how’s my other baby? Running around, destroying everything, coloring his dongsaeng? Tell hyung how to fix it, yeah?”

It’s the weirdest thing ever - Namjoon doesn’t know what exactly it is with Yoongi’s words (maybe it’s the way they float over to him like the steam over a cup of his favorite tea, like they aren’t meant to tease when you just allow yourself to feel them properly) but they make Namjoon’s composure crumble. His cheeks feel wet all of the sudden and he’s sniffing (not bawling, thank God) and leaning into Yoongi’s big hand cupping his cheek.

“It’s not your fault, hey,” Yoongi hushes him and he finds himself under the direct but tender attention of his hyung. “I wish you would have let me know that you needed me so I could come to help you out, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You’re here to rap,” Namjoon sniffles, trying to swallow down his wild emotions.

“And yet I dance like a god.”

Namjoon snorts. 

“It’s not like I can only do one thing at a time, Namjoon-ah. I thought you knew that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, hyung. Thank you for your support.”

Jimin begins nosing around Yoongi’s chest and arms now. Namjoon nudges Yoongi.

“Hyung, he’s been doing that since a while, what-?”

“He’s hungry. Did you bring any food?”

Wow. That makes so much sense. Jimin is hungry. How did I not understand that? It makes so much sense now that Namjoon knows what it means. 

“I-I brought shrimps.”

For some reason, Yoongi doesn’t look impressed or happy. 

“It’ll do,” he mumbles and moves to walk out of the bathroom. “Let’s go.”

“Manager-hyung and I thought we could go shopping in a bit, we wanted to leave Jimin with you. We’ll buy everything Jimin needs.”

“We could definitely need some cat equipment. Bring one of those fluffy little stick-thingies that cats like to play with. Those are fun.”

“Uh, sure,” Namjoon nods, absolutely not sure if a) he knows what Yoongi means, b) stores will have a “fluffy little stick-thingy that cats like to play with” or if c) a store employee will be able to translate the term for Namjoon. He’ll give it a try anyway. “I just need to get my jacket.”

“Maybe buy some rubbing alcohol as well.”

“What do you want with rubbing alcohol, hyung?”

“Clean this little baby. As much as the color explosion is cute, I doubt it’ll be good for him if he licks it up. Isn’t that right, Jiminie?”

Jiminie doesn’t respond. He’s fallen asleep, probably overwhelmed by the chaos around him. Namjoon feels slightly guilty for putting him through so much stress. Yoongi is obviously so much better at this. I should have just asked him to watch over Jimin. Namjoon knows that’s his own shadow talking, his disappointment at his own clumsiness that still haunts him sometimes. But it still feels like a real feeling, even if it’s a lie, and Namjoon’s shoulders sag at the sight of the little leopard breathing softly into Yoongi’s neck. 

Namjoon doesn’t say a word on their way back to the office and doesn’t even listen to Yoongi and Sejin discussing which cat toys and foods should be bought and how big their monthly budget should be for cat necessities. When the three of them enter Sihyuk’s office, it kind of looks a bit thrashed - Namjoon’s chair is on its side in the middle of the room (it must have toppled over when Namjoon had rushed to grab Jimin), there’s clearly a wet spot around Sihyuk’s desk, an even bigger mess underneath the table and a trail of earth leading from the Sakura plant to the door. Namjoon’s head threatens to hang even lower at the visible chaos (and the “oh wow, what happened here” that slips through Sejin’s lips) but Sihyuk’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Option 1. Let’s hear what you have.”

Namjoon’s brows furrow. How-? Is he on the phone with AMI? Then, curiosity rises. Will AMI tell Sihyuk the same as him?

“Option 1. Park Ji-” AMI pauses, almost as if she is thinking, “Good morning, Min Yoongi, Kim Sejin.”

Namjoon shivers. How does this supposedly automatic robot know who is in the room? How can they know? Maybe it’s this uncertainty that makes him feel so uneasy. Could it be that they are watching us? It sounds a little crazy in his mind, but he honestly doesn’t have a clue how else she would know. Maybe it’s magic. Namjoon sighs.

“Option 1. Park Jimin. Date of birth: 1997, June 5th. Gender: female; Nationality: Korean; Spe-“

“That’s not what I asked. Tell me what you have on my kid.”

Sihyuk sighs, visibly disgruntled with how this call is turning out. But the way he said my kid, it makes Namjoon grin fondly. Even if he’s not the person in question, he feels loved. Namjoon can’t help but smirk at how strictly Sihyuk deals with anything that has to do with the Bangtan Boys. Now that the CEO is on it, everything will be fine. AMI stays silent for a while, almost as if she is processing the request or gathering information or something.

“Option 1. Park Jimin. Date of birth: 1994, October, 13; Gender: male; Nationality: Korean; Species: Korean leopard; Genetic Expression: Dominant; Blood Type: A. Species warnings: strong predatory drive, exceptional senses and strength, possibly sensitive to aggressive behavior, solitary and nocturnal behavior; Species requirements: meat-based diet, extensive territory, regular physical exertion; Currently scheduled appointments: Physical Exam 1 by on-duty Shifter Staff of Seoul District.”

“Finally. Now, I would like to know how you have attained this load of information about Park Jimin and how you justify keeping it without our consent.”

“Sir, may I remind you that I am merely an AMI, and cannot substitute for your assigned customer client. I am however able to book an appointment for you with one of our staff…”

Yoongi makes a noise next to Namjoon. Even Sejin shuffles around on his feet. Namjoon feels slightly nauseous. He goes to sit down and Yoongi chooses to stand by his side, hand touching Namjoon’s neck, a soothing message of reassurance. Which is needed. This is a lot. A lot more than expected and somewhat scary, even in the face of 14 million wild Armys knowing more than is healthy about each member of BTS. As the information sinks in, Namjoon realizes that there are two options with this. Either, this is a terrible situation in which the robot lady and her organization are actually a threat, or they are a help and genuinely assist Jimin without any hidden agenda or contract. Heck, this would be so much easier as a commercial offer. Commercial offers are easy to deal with - you either accept, negotiate, or decline. BigHit gets hundreds of them every month, but this-? This is something else entirely.

“Who is your employer?”

“I apologize, Sihyuk-ssi. I am not authorized to communicate confidential information to clients.”

“I’m not your client.”

“Sir, please understand that the law requires for every shifter to be listed in our registry - which includes the scheduled check-ups and following classes-“

“Classes?”

“Sihyuk-ssi, we are required by law to ensure that every person in our registry knows their rights and understands their body. We are simply providing an educational tool to prevent diseases as well as help Shifters and Hybrids to live well. Our organization was founded with these goals in mind.”

“Let’s talk this through with our lawyer. I would like to make use of an appointment. For now, please do enter Park Jimin into your registry.”

“Very well. I will now propose a date for you with one of our customer service staff.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Sihyuk says once he puts down his phone (he has to look for a good spot for a few seconds because there’s printer ink all over his desk). He looks into their faces. Namjoon can see how affected he is by this situation - a situation that turns tables and reshapes their group dynamics, possibly.

“Hey Yoongi,” he smiles. “Did you get the USB stick I sent you?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, “I got it. What I’ve heard so far sounded great but I’ll look though it tomorrow. Thanks, PDnim.”

Sihyuk also greets Sejin but Namjoon doesn’t really listen anymore. He just wants to get the box and go home - no, right, he wanted to go shopping with Sejin. Namjoon is so tired. It’s like with a high-focus test where you hold up your concentration for so long but when it’s over, you feel your entire existence slack with exhaustion. He shifts in his chair.

Sihyuk’s eyes fall on Namjoon. “You okay?”

“No.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re probably overthinking.”

“Hyung, how are we supposed to have our comeback like this? I looked at the schedules, it’s soon. What if Jimin shifts in the middle of a concert? What if we can’t get him to shift back? Even this robot lady said there’s no medication. It’s impossible to be an artist like us when you turn into a cat like this. It’s impossible.”

“Okay, listen. This situation is not unfixable and not impossible to solve, Namjoon-ah. We can do anything.”

“We can’t do everything, hyung.”

“Did I or did I not set you up to meet Warren G before you were famous?”

Namjoon blushes. Right.

“You did.”

“I did. That was impossible, wasn’t it? You guys became global stars. That was impossible, wasn’t it? You guys are one of the greatest artists in history. That’s impossible too, isn’t it? Raise your standard. RM is impossible. This,” he points at Jimin, who slowly begins to stir against Yoongi’s throat, “it’s just a page in your story. We’ll get through it and it will be okay. Okay?”

Namjoon nods. His head bobs much heavier than usual, as if it suddenly weighs more. He hears Yoongi coo at Jimin and watches him boop the tired little cat’s nose. Then, as if he’s actually attuned to the cat’s thoughts, he reminds Namjoon to look for Jimin’s snacks. He pulls his jacket off the chair, grabs the little plastic bag (the little bag almost rips in his hands but Namjoon manages to just prevent the fourth emergency on the day - a pile of shrimp on his CEO’s office floor) and hands it over to Yoongi, who walks out with the sleepy leopard cub, leaving only Sihyuk, Sejin and Namjoon behind. To some, it might look like disrespect, especially in terms of Korean society rules, but in reality, it’s both an open display of trust towards Namjoon to fill him in on all the important details later, and a display of responsibility as a hyung who prioritizes taking care of his dongsaeng. Namjoon doesn’t care. His fingers smell gross. Like dried shrimp. There’s no sink. Focus, Namjoon. Focus just for a little bit. You’re an adult, behave like one. You can wash up and be tired later.

“Hyung, what does this phone call mean? Do we really have to register Jimin and all that?”

“Yes. We have to take them seriously. That organization does its work well.”

“But what is it that they do? I talked with AMI for at least ten minutes but I still don’t know who they are.”

“They are a government-funded agency who protects shifters and hybrids in different aspects. I only know that they dragged two entertainment companies to court because they had not registered a couple of their trainees. The court decided that it was mistreatment even if they were treated like everyone else.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, there are different laws for shifters and humans but I don’t know much about that yet. I’ll have to go through it with our lawyers.”

“But… if they are government-funded, how did I never hear of this? A court case with other entertainment companies, I’m sure that would have been on the news, right?”

“That was many years ago. I don’t know when this organization was founded, but they must have been working hard to protect every shifter since then.”

“I didn’t even know stuff like this existed…”

“Well, the community is rather small. People don’t talk about it and I’m sure many people don’t know that this stuff exists. As far as I know, most magical creatures are hiding the fact that they are magic. Even the organization runs secretly.”

“Hyung, isn’t that contradictory? How could they be part of the government if they run secretly?”

“I really don’t know much, but I think they aren’t part of the government… just consultants with a special status. And funded. I’m not sure how it works. But they execute laws, like registering shifters and hybrids.”

“Okay… so now Jimin is registered. What now?”

“I’ll take care of the contracts and you take care of Jimin.”

“Okay, I’ll ask Hobi what we can do about-“

“You can’t tell the members, Namjoon-ah.” 

Namjoon isn’t sure he’s heard right. All the mushiness and good warmth from before vanishes in a second. His heart actually skips a beat. He feels awfully cold and like he’s been electrocuted at once. At least it wakes him up. What!?

“What?”

“Don’t tell the members.”

“Why? Jimin will need all the support he can get and I don’t want him to feel any less loved than before. I know that all of the members will feel the same.”

There are a hundred issues lining up right now, but Namjoon knows that their biggest problem of all will be Jimin himself. Because in the end, Jimin’s soul is not a bird that nests easily in a new environment. Of the last eight years that Namjoon has spent by Jimin’s side, he’s witnessed the boy go from believing horrid lies about himself to starving himself like even his worst enemy wouldn’t do to him. Sure, Jimin has overcome these things, has found firm footing in the muddy path called identity. He’s come to love himself, riding on the wave of fresh wind that his brothers’ love is for him. Nonetheless, Namjoon can’t stop worrying about every new wave that comes crashing on the shore. Namjoon knows Jimin is particular about his body. Knows the boy is strategic and sometimes painfully pessimistic in his thoughts without even trying to be and prone to driving himself into feeling lonely. Jimin is so precious and Namjoon just wants to see him be happy. The possibility of the truth coming out to the public and at the wrong time almost hits Namjoon harder than he thinks it could hit Jimin. It resonates in his bones with an evil ache. To think that Jimin will face yet another challenge, that the look of desperation and anger might appear again in his eyes. And that Namjoon can’t help, can’t make it better. And even if Namjoon knows that it won’t be bad forever, that Jimin will get through this and feel better about it all someday but Namjoon just doesn’t know the price. And that hurts. But the members - the members should know. Because they won’t judge him. They will carry it all with him. 

“He won’t. Listen, I don’t want him to feel pressured by this. It’s a huge change for him and he will need some time to figure it all out. And especially now, with the comeback approaching, I want you all to be focused. I know you guys always work hard and you always do your best. But we all know how fragile such a preparation period before a comeback is and how quickly it can become oppressing if bad news hits.”

Namjoon’s mind wanders back to when he’d undergone surgery and the schedule had only allowed it at a time when their next comeback had been on the horizon already. Like a cloud flying overhead, Namjoon’s trip to the hospital and the slight (secret) complications had thrown a shadow over their preparations. Back then, it had definitely stressed the other members, even if their dance practices and recordings had all been on time and perfect. 

“Hyung, we’ve always got stuff going on. After the comeback, we have shows lining up, then the next tour and a hundred different events in between, like the Summer package, like mv shoots. There’s no better time to deal with this than right now. I can’t keep this a secret from the members and then expect them to be happy about it when I tell them later. They deserve to know.”

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. As long as the contracts aren’t renewed…”

“Hyung, I can’t accept that. Jimin won’t do well with this secret. You know how he treats himself sometimes and how difficult changes are for him. Especially Hobi should know since they are roommates.”

“I trust Yoongi and you to be by Jimin’s side until everything is prepared.”

“What do you need to prepare?”

“Well, a change like this… needs to be reflected in his contract. If something happens, he needs to be secure. If there are any special needs he has, we will make sure to provide and help but it all needs to be written out in his contract first. We’ll have to check what laws are relevant for us and align ourselves with it. Until Jimin signs the new contract, I will make sure there will be as little pressure on him as possible. I want him to feel like nothing has changed, like he doesn’t have to feel bad or judged for what happens.”

“What if he shifts again and I’m not there, hyung? Or Suga-hyung? What if he’s left with the maknaes? They should know.”

Sihyuk swivels in his chair and stares at the window for a good minute before answering. Namjoon can hear the fish tank’s soft whirring. He wonders if one day, all this will be the next chapter in a film for Army. Or part of a song. Something to brag about. Because right now, it doesn’t feel that way - not glorious, not beautiful and definitely not comfortable. Sihyuk’s voice sounds quiet, as if he’s had to dig deep for his next words and hasn’t returned from the depths yet. 

 “You don’t know this because I never told you, Namjoon. But when our Park Jimin signed with us, his parents had one major condition. At first, I thought it would be about money, free time, or maybe dating. Actually, they asked me to sign a confidentiality agreement between me and them. I promised to never tell anyone including Jimin that he was a shifter, to treat him normally and to ensure that he would receive his medication - suppressants.”

“Hyung.”

Namjoon feels like someone has punched him in the gut. He can’t breathe somehow, but it’s like he doesn’t want to either. He never thought Sihyuk would do something like this. It’s so wrong, he doesn’t even know what to say. One look into Sihyuk’s eyes, however, makes Namjoon’s tumbling sea still. Sihyuk knows how wrong it is, to keep such a huge secret from Jimin, to restrict his personal… worldview like this. And he regrets it. Deeply.

“So you knew from the beginning. Did you never think that we deserved to know?”

“I wanted to tell you so bad, especially you, Namjoon. At least the leader should know, right? But that was the condition: I don’t talk. His parents said that there are traditions that needed to be followed and kept in their culture and I believed them and wanted to respect that. I wanted to keep my word.”

“But… Jimin’s parents didn’t tell him either, did they? He doesn’t know anything at all.”

“I believe so, yes.”

Namjoon sighs. That’s - crazy.

“We’ve always made sure Jimin received everything he needed to be in top condition as a normal human being. We constantly supervise his health as we do with all of you. Based on that, I kind of expected his body to build a resistance to the suppressants someday. It took a while until we had adjusted them well - do you remember when he lost so much weight?”

“That was because of the suppressants?”

“I almost canceled that stupid contract back then. Jimin shouldn’t have had to suffer through this - he should have known what was going on with his body, he had every right to.”

“Hyung, that’s horrible-“

“Yeah. He just blames it on that genetic disease his parents say runs in the family.”

“So there’s no genetic disease.”

"I mean, it’s one way to describe your genetic makeup. If you’re trying to suppress it, it probably feels like a disease.”

Namjoon nods. It’s understandable from a logical viewpoint. It’s inexcusable from an emotional one. Namjoon swears to himself that he will never call Jimin’s ability to shift a disease. Even if his parents had used that term to hide their shifter side, Namjoon will never allow anyone to call it that. He wants Jimin to feel like it’s a regular part of his identity, like he doesn’t have to feel bad about it.

“So… will that organization drag us to court? Because we didn’t register Jimin until now?”

“I hope not. I will definitely meet up with them and organize a meeting between all parties. Communication is key, so I’ll do my best to fix this. I apologize for causing such a mess but I still have to ask you to keep quiet about this until it’s all cleared up.”

Namjoon nods. He feels a little burnt out, a little defeated to be honest. How could this all be true? 

“May I leave, PDnim?”

“Of course. Please do put all your expenses for Jimin on my card.”

“Thank you, hyungnim.”

When Namjoon walks out, he hears Sihyuk talking to Sejin.

“Please tell our head of staff to give the cleaning staff a raise.”

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

[ prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven ] tags: @xmagicxshopx, @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae  (wanna join? send me an ask!) ✨

[snake-noodles]

Flowers of Flesh and Blood

Characters - Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton Pairings - Loceit, but it’s kinda not really healthy

Word count - 8880 Warnings - Unhealthy relationships, stalker-like behaviors, yandere logan, Deceit i guess but hes chill, non consensual touching/kissing, cursing, violence, descriptions of wounds, gore, touch starvation, touch deprivation, kidnapping, minor nsfw- but nothing really sexual happens, major character death, lacerations. Please ask to tag if I forgot anything.

AU - Inventor Au, made by @whos-she-never-heard-of-her !

Notes - Deceit’s name will be Ethan.

I absolutely loved the AU idea- and I got so many writing ideas for this. It turned out kind of long, but I do hope its ok! I just.... love the concept so much?? 10/10 onto the story

This took MONTHS to complete and I know it got kind of long but i jsut?? My motivation was turning on and off like a lightswitch so im sorry it's so delayed and out of nowhere kfbdnfndnf

---

A STEM assistant, huh? The vitiligo boy stood there, staring at the ad printed. He had just gotten out of college, and he considered himself to be somewhat skilled. He was also in need of a job for the summer. He blinks. This would be a gold mine, huh? He looks though the other jobs- just in case there could be anything else to look over. Maid service, janitor needed, dog keeper. Low pay for all of them, too.

It seems this would be his best bet, though he wasn’t sure how well he could keep up. If this job fails, he could always be a maid, he snickers at his own joke, shaking his head. He’d rather die.

But, in actuality, he was quite excited for this job opening, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be accepted for some… specific reasons. Most people we him as a discolored freak, but this is an inside job, right? He huffs, finally deciding and dialing the number set on the ad.

He wasn’t sure when he was supposed to get a call back, or if he’d ever even get one- but he almost forgot about it until he heard his phone ringing. He quirks an eyebrow, taking a swig from the tea he had just made and swipes up his phone to see who had called.

He blinks, suddenly remembering, and he nearly spits out his tea. Why is he nervous? Oh jeez, this could go in so many different ways.

But, he steadies his breathing, and answers the call.

"Hello?" He answers in the most formal way he can muster. The other line is quiet for a moment, and he nearly hangs up, thinking he had gotten the wrong number, before he hears the voice speak.

"Yes, hello, sir." He states, his voice crisp and clear, even though the slight static of the phone. It sent a chill down the boy’s spine, but he stays silent, waiting for what the other has to say.

"Let's see… Ethan Greene, yes?"

"That’s me." He resists the urge to lie, that might make this a million times worse.

"I’m calling to let you know that you will be my assistant starting tomorrow at 7 am If you do not make it on time, you will be fired. Good day, and I suppose I look forward to working with you." And then the phone clicked, signaling that the inventor had hung up.

His brain was still trying to process what the hell was just said to him. Well, he got the job but holy Shit with a capital ‘s', this dude was hella strict. 7 am? And he’ll get fired without question if he’s late? Holy fuck.

He stood in his kitchen for an awkwardly long amount of time. He should set an alarm. Maybe.... 6 am.

How the hell did he sleep past his alarm. It was already 6:30, and he was awoken by his neighbor mowing. At first, he was annoyed for being woken up so early. Then he remembered.

"How the hell did I sleep past my alarm?!" He shouts, jumping out of his bed and already getting dressed.

He’s usually a perfectionist, but he doesn’t really have the time to straighten every single strand of his hair or take a shower.

In the end, he just ended up wearing a button up shirt and some worn jeans cause he had no idea what the dress code was for this fucking job.

He nearly cringed at himself looking in the mirror. Jesus, he looks like a curly haired mess. What if he just… Adds a necktie. Then he’ll be 20% more serious looking.

Looking over at the clock, he yelps, and rushes out the door after he makes sure he has everything. He’s only got 15 minutes. But thank whatever god is out there for speeding.

But, he arrives at the address given to him, and he pauses, checking to make sure it’s the right place. Once he confirms with himself, he walks up and knocks on the hard oak door.

He felt somewhat nervous standing here, but he tried not to let it show as he waits at the door.

Logan was already awake at 5 am, busy with upgrading his AIs, and making sure it was all perfect.

To be honest, he wasn’t too excited to have a partner, but he did need the extra hands now that he’s working on Virgil. Oh well, hopefully they won’t get in the way. Not that he really even cares- he could just fire them. In fact, working with another person in these conditions could be dreadful. He doesn’t usually depend on others, and now that he’s meeting someone for the first time in ages, he isn’t exactly sure what to expect.

But, he hears a firm knock on his door, and he glances over at the wall clock, humming in amusement. 2 minutes early, hm? He was almost positive they wouldn’t make it. He hums, standing up from his desk and making his way to the front door. He waits for a second, thinking of what he should say before opening the door slowly.

“Ethan, yes?” He greets, staring down at the shorter male.

On the other hand, Ethan was trying not to panic over how tall this guy was. Holy shit. He knows that he’s already kind of short, but damn this guy is a giraffe.

He was tall, and slim with an extremely pale complexion. He must not go outside too often. His eyes are dark, and slightly sunken in, and glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He wore a lab coat too, that gave away that he’s Serious about this job. Ethan gulps nervously.

“Yeah, that’s me, I’m here for the job.” He explains, and Logan stares adjusting his glasses. It was a bit uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how he should feel, but after a few seconds, he stands aside, letting the vitiligo boy through.

Walking in he blinks. This place is… dark. And dusty. He looks around, before looking over at the scientist.

“So what is it that you need me to do, mister… uh…” He pauses, realizing that he doesn’t know this guys name. A+ socializing skills. “Logan. Logan Sanders. All I need you to do is clean up my workspace and make sure my creations are in proper working condition. If not, perform the required maintenance on them.” He hums. “There’s other things that I will require your help with, but we can wait for those. As of now, please perform your duties I have written out for you while I work on my latest project. And, do not interrupt my work.” He states, handing the other some papers. Ethan blinks, nodding slowly. When he signed up for this job, he didn’t think he’d have to be doing chores for this guy.

But, it was a good pay, and it wasn’t the most difficult of work, so he couldn’t really complain. Before he could ask any questions, Logan disappeared into his work space. Letting out a sigh, he gets to work.

Sort things out, keep things clean, blah blah blah. He didn’t really care all that much, but, he was intrigued in whatever these “creations” were.

The paper said they’d be in his work space, he just has to make sure he doesn’t bother Logan. He lets out a sigh, rolling up his sleeves. He had a feeling that it’d be a long day.

Logan sat in his office, adjusting his glasses as he took notes on Virgil’s current behavior. He was still a work in progress, so he was nothing but an endoskeleton. His programming was a bit messy, so that’d have to be fixed. He taps his pen to his lip, thinking as he watches the robot. It didn’t have any free will yet, so it just moved in patterns that he had programmed. This one might take longer than the others.

He picks up his tools, but is quickly interrupted when the door opens, and Ethan walks in. Well, he half stepped in, and then started staring at his creations, a look of shock and awe on his face.

Logan stares at the boy, saying nothing. It’s been a long while since he’s been with another human. It was quite strange. Seeing the rising and falling of the chest, the natural hair, the emotion in the eyes. It was hard to capture such a thing in his creations. They may look realistic, but they’re still metal. Perhaps one day he could create a perfect copy of a human. Though, it would take a very long time.

But, he couldn’t help but stare at the other as he checked up on the creations. He was quite different from most people he’s seen. His skin was quite beautiful, he wonders what caused such a discoloration. Logan hums, tilting his head slightly. Intriguing. Perhaps he could write some notes.

He turns back to Virgil, scribbling down some quick notes on a stray piece of paper while Ethan was still trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to open up this thing.

He huffs, blowing some hair out of his face as he pokes and prods at the human-like robot. The robot was… tall, though a tad bit shorter than Logan. It also looked like a suburban white christian dad, but who was he to judge. He just hoped these things weren’t sex bots. That’d be kinda gross.

But after 10 minutes of attempting to figure this robot out, he looks over at Logan. He thinks a bit, before tapping his shoulder from behind.

"I totally understand what I’m doing right now. And I totally don't need help." He huffs, before quirking an eyebrow, noticing how Logan had gone stiff.

Logan blinks as he feels something tap his shoulder. His robots should be off, how come-. Then he heard Ethan’s voice, remembering that he’s there. He didn’t really know how to feel- being touched by another human… It made him feel strange, and conflicted. The only other contact he’s had is from artificial skin. It takes him a moment to process, but he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and turns his head to Ethan.

"If you do not need my help, why bother me?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. The other stares, confused for a second.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you." He laughs a bit. "I’m a bit of a compulsive liar. It just kinda… slips out, y'know? But, anyway, I dunno what you want me to do. You want me to check the robot’s insides, right? I’m a bit confused on how to open him… her… it.”

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really had to hire someone like this? A liar, of all people? Well, at least he wasn’t lying about his degree, so he knows what he’s doing. No one else accepted the offer, either.

But, he stands slowly, walking over to Patton, and opening up his stomach effortlessly, Ethan watching close behind.

"See this box here? Be careful with it, you could get shocked if you touch it the wrong way. All I need you to do is to make sure everything is in the right place." He says this, and without another word, goes back to his desk.

He hums, looking at his paper before pushing his hair out of his face and checking over the robot. It was.. Extremely detailed, and he was honestly super impressed. It was so realistic, and extremely advanced from what he can see. He wonders what it’d be like if it were on. Hopefully it wouldn’t kill him, that’d be a little disappointing.

But, he leans in carefully, checking between the paper and the insides of the robot. He wasn’t used to working with something so advanced. Of course, he could handle it, but it might take him longer than it usually does. He hopes Logan doesn’t mind that, he seems kind of… strange, to put it in the nicest way possible.

Thought he can’t help but wonder if this guy is even trustworthy. He’s some creepy giant who stays in this dark house with hyper realistic robots. It was a little weird the more he thought about it. I mean, he seemed… Okay? He hasn’t really hurt him, and did help him, but he couldn’t be certain just yet.

But, on another note, he finishes up with the two robots he was told to check up on. In all honesty, he was a bit exhausted. He never really got up early, and he wasn’t the most active person in the world. Hopefully that wouldn’t bother Logan- despite all of the red flags, he does need the money to, y’know, actually survive for the summer.

But since he was finished, he comes up behind Logan, watching him work.

“What’re you working on, Logan?” He asks, looking the endoskeleton up and down. Logan pauses, leaning forward to avoid the physical contact that would inevitably happen. He wasn’t used to it, but he knows he’ll have to. He sighs quietly, pausing his writing.

“What does it look like I’m doing? You should get back to work.” He huffs, narrowing his eyes at Ethan.

“Oh, I’m totally not done, Doc.” He says in a sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes. “So, like, is there anything else you need me to do or can I leave?”

Logan pauses, thinking if there’s anything else the boy could do for him.

"Not that I can think of… But don’t think your job will always be this easy, you’ll have more tasks tomorrow." He states this, closing his eyes.

"Oh joy, I absolutely cannot wait to work for you." He mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You could always quit if you don’t want to work for me." Logan looks over, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. Ethan couldn’t tell if he liked this slick bastard or not.

"Ugh, you’re annoying." He growls. "Fine, I’ll keep working. I need the money anyway… Speaking of, when do I get paid?"

"End of the week. Hopefully you’ll last long enough to get your pay." He hums, clicking his pen.

Ethan stares. That statement could mean so many different things and all of them sound bad. He liked this guy. Hopefully he doesn’t die on the job, though. That’d be inconvenient.

Logan, on the other hand, can’t help but stare as the other leaves. He doesn’t exactly know how he should feel, but his hand goes to his shoulder, and he tries to imitate the small amount of warmth he felt when Ethan had touched him, but it didn’t work. It didn’t have the same… spark to it.

Maybe tomorrow he’d get another chance. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to feel that warmth again. Oh well, those urges would probably leave after he got whatever it was he desired.

But of course, that didn’t happen.

★☆★

The next morning, Ethan found himself waking up early. Maybe too early. At least he has time to look somewhat decent, last time he was in a hurry. But it was 5 am, and he sat in his kitchen, drinking warm coffee. He didn’t usually drink this stuff, but he wanted to not act like a corpse today.

He just hoped today wouldn’t be as long. That probably wouldn’t be the case, but god he wishes it was.

"Ugh." He lets out a groan, eyeing the clock with an annoyed gaze. He’s just gotten out of college and adult life is already so god damn tiring.

He slaps his cheeks, trying to wake himself up, and he goes to his room to get dressed.

The sun was… Extremely bright this morning, and stung his already tired eyes. It just made him dread the day even more as he changed into his yellow dress shirt.

He thought of wearing his jacket too, and even though it’d look good, he’d be a puddle the second he walked out of the door. He instead wore a black vest. Still stylish, so suave. A real lady killer.

Haha.

He would never touch a lady in his life.

He walks out the door around 6:30, adjusting his hat to block the sun out of his eyes. It was a beautiful day, despite the boy’s annoyance. The birds were singing, and the flowers were vibrant, too.

He made a mental note to himself to get some flowers for his house later.

But, he arrives at the somewhat menacing house, only ten minutes early.

He gives the old door a knock, tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. But, the one who answered the door wasn’t Logan.

"Oh, good morning, sir!" The robot greets, a friendly smile on its face. The robot was the same one from yesterday- the one that kind of looked like a dad.

"Morning… Is Logan here?"

"Master Logan is currently buying more supplies. He should be home shortly. He has left me and Roman in charge!"

The voice was cheerful and warm, but had a robotic undertone. It was actually quite calming, though creepy knowing it’s coming from something that isn’t human.

They were so realistic… The man had serious talent, and he didn’t know if he should be amazed or concerned.

"So who’re you then?" He finally asks.

"Oh! I totally forgot! I’m Patton, it’s a pleasure meeting you, mister Ethan!" He holds his hand out for a shake, in which Ethan reluctantly takes.

"So he’s out? Is there anything I should do, or should I wait for him to return?"

“You should be fine to wait, sir! He will only take a few minutes, after all.” The robot smiles in a way that made Ethan feel somewhat nervous. Jesus, how life-like can these things get? It felt as if he was talking to another person. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Patton moves out of the way, allowing the boy entry. He walks in, putting down his bag and sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

The whole place- despite being dusty and dark- was quite nice. It was quite comfortable compared to where he was staying. He wondered how rich this Logan guy was. The place was quite big, and he had access to equipment and parts that could create extremely realistic humanoids. Did he have a job? Did he work at home? Sell his creations? Is he a criminal?!

He rolls his eyes at his own thought. How stupid- he may be a bit weird, but he doesn't seem like he'd hurt anyone. He looked quite… frail, too. Though, his skinny structure sort of added to his creepiness. Tall, pale, dark haired… Like a guy you'd see in a Tim Burton movie.

His thoughts were cut off as the front door slowly opens with a long creak. Logan walks in, not even sparing a glance to Ethan as he immediately goes into his office, holding various different things. It was surprising he could even hold all of that due to how skinny he was.

He simply blinks, raising an eyebrow. Did he not even notice that he was here? He sighs, his shoulders slumping. He doesn't get this guy at all…

Standing up slowly, he stretches his arms out and walks over to the office, giving a knock on the door.

“Hey, Lo, I'm here.” He announces, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he crosses his arms and waits outside the office.

Logan's mind was a bit more active than it usually was today. He was having a bit of trouble due to this, and was trying to do too much at once. He blinks, hearing a knock at his door. Pausing, he racks his brain for what he was supposed to make his assistant do today.

Oh, yes, he should probably let him in first. He sighs, adjusting his glasses and opening the door slowly, allowing the other boy entrance.

“Took you long enough..” He hears the other boy mumble, but he says nothing, instead staring.

What was this sudden rush he was feeling? He was already feeling out of it, but now that Ethan was here, he felt… strange. Lightheaded, almost. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It felt as if he was a robot losing power… This was nothing new.

So instead of fighting it, he lets his legs give out and he falls to the floor with a thud, falling asleep rather quickly, leaving Ethan to quickly rush to his side.

★☆★

When he woke up again, he felt hands on him. That part was normal. But, something felt strange… His eyes flutter open slowly. He looks over, seeing a pair of hands. Roman? No, Roman is more tan than dark.

…

Oh, yeah.

“So you're finally awake, asshat?” A voice huffs. He blinks slowly, sitting up as he feels the comforting warmth quickly leave him.

“... My apologies. That was unprofessional of me.” He mumbles, adjusting his tie.

“Patton explained it to me. So this is a normal thing or whatever?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

The two sit in a silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't very nice either. Logan stands up slowly, his hand instinctively going to his arm- where he had been touched. He really didn't understand, but his heart… His heart was pounding like a drum. What is wrong with him? Perhaps he could ask Roman or Patton later- he has no time for an actual doctor or therapist.

“So…” Ethan speaks up, thinking of what he should say. “Do you need me to leave? If you're not feeling good, I wouldn't want to bother you.”

Despite being a bit worried for the man, he was also desperately wanting to go home.

“... It's fine, just get to work.”

He figured that he'd get that answer. He sighs, standing slowly.

“Alright, okay. What’s today's work?”

Logan goes quiet, thinking. Ah, yes, he prepared another paper. He turns to his desk.

“Here…” He mumbles, grabbing some papers and handing them to the smaller boy, which he takes quietly, reading over the instructions.

“Yeah I think I got it. But, uh, what's this mean?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and pointing to ‘If Virgil is left unattended, do not bother him’. Sounds kind of dangerous.

"Exactly what it says. Do not touch him, he's dangerous as he is still just an endoskeleton.” He explains, turning away and sitting at a desk.

Ethan stares at the paper, and then to the endoskeleton in the corner of the room, having only half of a face and wires sticking out of it's back. It was quite scary to look at without context. Well, even context it was scary. He still wonders what Logan is trying to achieve with these robots.

He tries to shake the thought from his head, and he goes to his tasks.

Work went normally, for the most part. There were small occurrences, but nothing that signaled any red flags. Just normal. Ethan originally thought he'd hate the guy, but to his surprise, Logan was very nice despite his cold appearance. It's been maybe a month and he enjoys being with the other. They don't talk much, but it's fine. He doesn't like wasting his breath on small talk anyway.

Logan, on the other hand, was conflicted about his feelings. It's been a month and 3 days. He was acutely aware of that. He still had the urge to feel that warmth. As much as he tried to hold those urges down, he couldn't exactly control them. Even if it was simply brushing against each other, it made him go mad. But, not in a bad way. Everything would feel… tingly, and his heart would pound against his chest. He's never felt such feelings before.

He often finds himself thinking about Ethan. But, he never stops it. People normally do this, right? There's no reason to be concerned. He just wants to feel his skin. His hair looks soft too… his eyes so wet… He just wants to look at him.

He puts his hand to his heart, trying to calm his emotions as he stands in his office, his breathing shaky and his face tinted red. He grabs onto his desk for support as he lets out airy laughs.

He stood there alone with himself as his head ran wild. These feelings make no sense, but he loves it. He wonders if he could always feel like this… He's not certain, but if there was a way, he'd stick to it all of the time.

Maybe Ethan is just what he needs.

They're friends, right? Maybe he could try and get closer without warrenting any suspicion. He bites his lip, staring down at the papers on his desk. He couldn't help but think of the other.

He had never really had any family or friends to talk to. Is this what it's like? This rush of blood? The pounding of the heart? Stumbling, he slowly lowers himself into his seat, picking up his pen.

But going by those means, that would mean that Ethan is his first friend. He laughs a little, biting at the inside of his mouth. Apparently if friends get close enough, they can have a courtship.

A courtship? Why is he thinking of such unnecessary things? Though, the thought of hand holding and… hugs do sound quite lovely. But does he really feel that way? They’ve only known each other for a month and three days, after all! It's as if his mind is working against him to confuse his emotions. He shakes his head, scribbling on a blank sheet of picture.

Surely not. He’s just confused. Caught up in emotions of friendship.

It will go away soon enough, he's sure of it.

★☆★

The sun rises and Ethan's alarm sounds, waking him up with a groan. His back was sore from yesterday’s work. He hoped today wouldn't be as draining. He stretches out, and after getting ready, leaves his place.

And he once again found himself in front of the menacing house. Despite considering Logan a friend, he really wishes he had more breaks. But, he couldn't exactly complain. The pay was good and the work wasn't killing him. He sighs, wondering if he should turn and leave. But, no, that'd be shitty.

He shakes his head, deciding to commit as he knocks on the door. Once again, the door wasn’t opened by Logan. Though, that was normal for him at this point.

“Ah, good day dear Greene! How may I help you on this fine morning?” The robot greets, a dazzling smile on it's face. Ethan laughs nervously.

“Nothing, Roman, I'm just here for the usual.” He shrugs. “Can I come in?”

“Why, of course!”

Saying that, he moves out of the way and Ethan lets himself in quietly.

“Ah, Ethan! Master Logan instructed me to tell you to get to work right away!” Patton calls as he pokes his head into the room.

“Right. Will do.” He mumbles, setting his things down and walking into the office.

In there, his eyes landed on Virgil, the endoskeleton. But instead he was on the desk instead of at his usual corner. That didn't exactly sit right with him. He was told not to touch Virgil, but… He was a professional too, damn it. He can handle a work in progress.

Sighing, he walks up to the endoskeleton, looking for a way to switch it off. But, as soon as he touched the creation, he felt a stinging pain on his cheek and his eyes widen. The robot had sliced him. Probably with a loose piece of metal. He puts a hand to his cheek, flinching when he feels his own blood. He looks to the robot who was now sitting still. He wondered what had triggered such a reaction. He sighs, only to wince in pain. He should find something to stop the bleeding.

But at that moment, the door opens, and Logan stands there with an unreadable expression. It doesn't take him long to turn Virgil off and grab a small white box off of his bookshelf.

"What the hell were you thinking?” Logan scolds, rummaging through the kit.

"Hey, I'm not a kid, I can handle a robot. He wasn't in his usual spot so I was trying to help.” He hisses, shifting his eyes away, hand still on his cheek.

Logan says nothing, reaching his arm out, hesitating for a second, before grabbing Ethan's arm. It wasn't intended, but he pulled him a little harder than he meant to, making the other flinch.

But he follows the other's movements and sits down. Logan stares at him, realizing how close he is to the other.

No, now's not the time. He shakes his head, wiping up the blood. But despite this, he still adored the warmth. His skin was so soft. He just… wanted to keep touching it.

Even his blood was mesmerizing. That beautiful red against his dark skin. How beautiful.

He notices the other flinch, and he holds down the urge to smile. Sensitive, is he?

He wonders what the boy would look like covered in bruises.

It took awhile, but Logan finishes up, placing the bandaid carefully over the thin cut. It still stung, and he couldn't really smile or talk without feeling a stinging pain from it.

“Thanksssss…” He slurs that out, hissing out in pain once again. He rubs his cheek carefully, eyeing Logan.

He sure did take his time on that injury. It was a little awkward for him. It shouldn't have been that bad of a cut, right? A bit of suspicion rises in him, but he doesn't question it. What else could he have been doing anyway? He has no reason to feel this way.

He shakes his head. Whatever.

The day continued as normal after that point, but thoughts ate away at the back of Logan's mind. How dare his own creation hurt Ethan?! He didn't create Virgil for him to attack others. And Ethan, of all people.

He'll have to teach him a lesson after the other leaves.

“I'm off.” Ethan states, stretching his arms out above his head. He pauses for a second, as if wanting to say something, but stays quiet. He has an off day tomorrow, he doesn’t need to concern himself.

“Ah, I didn't notice you were finished.” Logan stares at him, a few conflicting thoughts in his heads. “I hope your injury heals up. I do apologize.”

“Eh…” He shrugs, looking away. “Yeah the injury was so fatal, I think I'm gonna die, doc.”

He gives a crooked smirk, before turning. “Anyway, see ya, Lo.” He gives a wave and leaves the building.

The house goes into silence the minute the door closes. Roman and Patton look at each other before looking back at Logan, who was already making his way to the office.

He knew the others were following him, but he didn't care.

He enters his office, going over to the endoskeleton and grabbing it with a concerning amount of force.

“Master Logan, what on Earth are you doing?!” Patton exclaims.

“What does it look like? I'm resetting his system. For an intelligent AI, I'd assume you'd at least know what the hell I'm doing.” He glares, before turning back to Virgil.

“I know he hurt Ethan, but you have no right to be doing this. He isn't even finished-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Logan slams his fist onto the desk, a glass knocking over and shattering on the cold ground.

“You have no right to tell me what to do. Do you want me to reset you, too?!” He shouts, snapping towards the two bots.

“Sir-!”

“No, shut up!” He growls, “I'm the only one who's allowed to hurt Ethan, got it?! Only I can touch him like that!”

The room goes silent after he says this, his breathing heavy and his eyebrows knitted.

“Patton, clean the glass up.” He orders, seemingly going back to normal as he turns to the endoskeleton. Patton silently nods, gathering up the broken glass.

No words were spoken for the rest of the night- and Virgil was temporarily turned off.

Logan was in his room, pacing. His hands go to his pockets, where he feels something inside. He blinks, coming to a stop as he pulls the paper out. Paper? Ah, there's blood on it.

He then remembers what had happened and he gets a rush of different emotions. Anger was one of them, but there was another he couldn't quite name.

The blood was dry now of course. But it was still so pretty. He traces his finger over the spots and streaks. Such a strange, yet fascinating feeling. He felt his heart starting to race.

His blood was so pretty. His insides must be just as beautiful. His skin is also so pretty. He just wants to touch him.

A few strangled laughs escape him as he hugs himself tightly. Ah, he shouldn't be thinking such things. But he couldn’t help but gush over how perfect his friend was. It's called a crush right?

Such a silly thing to say. His feelings were so complex, yet they felt so right. So good. Is this how everyone else feels?

Do they just want to open up their crush?

That must be it.

Logan smiles, still tightly clutching onto the bloodstained paper. He needs to explore these feelings more. The next time he sees Ethan, perhaps he'll test them out.

Though, perhaps he should be discrete. He wouldn't want to show his feelings and surprise the other. That could scare him away! No, he'll take it slowly if he needs to.

There's only one thing that could possibly go wrong.

★☆★

Ethan was able to sleep in today, which he was happy with. Work was getting tiring, and after the event that had happened yesterday, he didn't really feel like working and destroying his arms and back. God, he sounds old.

He sighs, taking a long sip of his tea, his leg idly bouncing and his eyes tired. He realizes that he needs to go out today, but it didn't really sound the most ideal to him.

Get food, and other necessities to survive this test called life. He throws his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe he'd stop by the park. He still wanted to get some flowers, too.

A punk asshole liking flowers. How ironic. But he liked them. Maybe he could take care of some succulents. Easy and pretty.

“God that sounds so gay.” He mumbles to himself, taking a sip of tea.

Deciding on that, he hums, getting ready for the day.

He didn't exactly focus on looking good, he was only gonna be out for an hour or two, but hey he might as well try and look nice.

Adjusting his hat, he leaves his house, the sun shining down on him. It was a nice day, and the weather was warm, yet he couldn't get this strange feeling out of his chest the second he stepped out the door.

It's just anxiety, right? He's got nothing to be worried about. He takes in a deep breath, trying to push that feeling back as he walks.

It didn't take him long to get everything he needed. He still had money left over for those flowers, too. He hums to himself, checking to make sure he got everything he needed, nodding to himself.

“Should be good…” He mumbles, walking forward, only to bump into someone.

He hisses, grumbling slightly, and regains his balance. He was ready to just walk away before he sees who exactly he ran into.

“What a coincidence.” Logan hums, staring down at the liar. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same for you, Lo, I thought you've never seen the sun or something.” He gives a half smirk, though he was slightly annoyed. He didn't like small talk- he just wanted to get some plants without judgement.

“Where are you going?” The scientist questions, staring at the boy with an unreadable expression. He hesitates and shrugs.

“Oh, I was gonna go to that flower shop. No reason, really.”

“How funny, I was just about to go there myself. Though, I've been having trouble finding it.”

With Logan saying that, Ethan raised an eyebrow, questions bubbling inside of him, but he decided not to ask- even if this situation was a bit strange. Running into your boss and going to a flower shop- this was something straight out of a cheesy romance novel.

“I can show you the way if you want.” He shrugs, pushing back all of the questions and red flags.

“That'd be appreciated.”

After saying that, Ethan, without hesitation, grabs Logan's hand and starts walking. He didn't seem to think anything of it, but…

It wasn’t like he had to look good, though, he just felt a little special. He hums, adjusting his hat on his head and leaving the house.

It wasn’t the most eventful, but he did feel as if something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It’s just his anxiety, right? He has nothing he needs to worry about.

Logan's heart pounded in his chest as he held onto Ethan’s hand, his eyes lidded as he savours the warmth he was getting from this contact.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to make his heart go mad, and blood rush to his face. He could practically feel his ribcage shaking from the pounding of his heart. So, so warm… So soft…

A whisper escapes his lips as he follows the boy.

“I want to cut off your hand so that I can hold it forever…” He whispers, staring intently at their hands.

"Hm? You say something?” The boy questions.

“Nothing at all, just thinking aloud.” He excuses, his eyes trailing away from the other.  

It wasn't weird for him to think out loud- he had done it at work all the time after all. But concern made it's way onto Ethan's face. But, he shakes his head.

It's probably just his anxiety. Maybe he needs to get back on medicine. Who knows? But there's nothing he should have to be worried about.

They arrived at the flower shop fairly quickly, and Ethan lets go of the other's hand, walking in with a hum.

Logan didn't seem to be too impressed with it all. He had only come because Ethan was going, after all. He didn’t care for these glorified plants and succulents. But Ethan seemed to like it.

He was chatting with the shopkeeper about this and that, and Logan was left to stare and wonder what he even liked about these.

But, he did seem happy.

Soon enough, he walked back over.

“Hey what'd you come here for? We could look together.” He gives his usual crooked smile that makes Logan's heart melt.

“Oh, nothing in particular. I simply wanted to study them.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. Always research with this guy, huh?

“Cool, I guess.” He shrugs, looking over at the succulents. He was more fond of them than regular flowers- and in his opinion, they were prettier.

He picked up a pot containing an echeveria. Logan stares at it, before rolling his eyes. How gross.

“Oh, hey, they have fly traps.” Ethan points out, pointing to a small pot containing a small garden of surprisingly tiny venus fly traps.

“Check this out, Lo.” He smirks, putting his finger in out of the mouths, causing Logan to flinch- but Ethan seemed fine, pulling his finger out with ease.

“They're not as violent as the media makes them out to be. Unless you leave your finger in there- then it could, like, digest your finger.” He laughs, looking over at Logan.

“I'd take em, but they would probably freak Dee out.”

“Dee? Who's that?” Logan asks, his curiosity spiking at the name.

“Oh, she's my snake. Despite being quote unquote ‘dangerous’, she gets spooked quite easily.” He laughs.

Logan nearly sighs in relief. Just a snake- nothing he needs to worry about.

…

Worry?

He already knows that Ethan would never leave him, right? There's no way he could. And even if he tried, he would never let him. Ethan is his, and his alone. And he'll make sure of that.

“Well she sounds… lovely.” He wondered why he even cared for the reptile. Animals are just that- animals. They can't love or communicate. What's the point of them?

“You not a snake fan?” Ethan raises an eyebrow.

“It's not that. I'm not very fond of animals in general.” He explains. “Though I can admire them from a distance.”

“Hah, aren't you the edgelord?” He jokes, nudging Logan slightly with his elbow.

He would have scoffed if it weren't for the small contact just made. He says nothing in response. Ethan puts the pot back gently, and turns to Logan, eyebrows knitting together in thought.

“I'll probably come back some other time…” He muses aloud, walking out, the scientist following behind shortly after.

“I'm headed home- what about you?” He asks, looking at the taller man.

He goes quiet. He would just follow Ethan, but that wouldn't be an appropriate thing to say.

“I'll probably go home myself.” He mumbles, never taking his eyes away from Ethan's.

“Alright, cool. Guess I'll see you tomorrow!” He gives a lopsided smile and leaves, Logan staring at his back as he does so.

Logan could feel the familiar warmth growing in his chest. It was something he had gotten used to by now. He never wanted to stop looking at him.

Thoughts swarmed his head, and he grabs the wall for support as he legs practically go weak, his breathing ragged and face unnaturally red. He gets strange looks from the few customers and the single worker there. He shakes his head, leaving the store slowly, his hand to his chest.

He wants to touch him. Hold him. Hear his voice, smell his hair, see his smile, taste his blood and insides. A strained giggle escapes his mouth.

He'd like to see the boy squirm. He wonders what his skin would look like, bruised and bloodied. The thought in itself, made him feel short of breath.

This boy will be his. His. And only his. No one else can have him.

★☆★

His collection has been going swimmingly well.

Hidden in his closet were photos and belongings. All of it was Ethan. He had completely memorized Ethan's schedule and routine. It's been a month and 3 days. Logan's given up on his own necessities just to sneak into the smaller boy's house. He knows every nook and cranny. Even a little room that Ethan never goes in.

He noticed that his little toy had been getting nervous lately, and had even confided in him, telling him that he felt he was being watched. Of course he had no idea he was confessing this to the exact person stalking him.

He giggles at the thought. How cute. Maybe one day Ethan will become entirely dependant on him… How nice.

He heard that Ethan would be moving come August. He giggles to himself. That would never happen.

Truth be told, he had tried countless times to make a robotic replica of Ethan. But, in the end, it was never good enough. Never.

He wasn't warm. He couldn't breathe. He didn't have emotion. He couldn't bleed.

But he had a plan. A plan so that his beloved would never leave his grasp.

★☆★

The moment he had entered, Ethan felt a chill down his spine. Something felt off. Like something bad was going to happen. It was almost unnaturally quiet. He felt his fears crawl up his back as he takes a few steps inside the dark home.

Logan wasn't here.

That part was normal.

What wasn’t normal was the fact that not a single robot had greeted him. No Patton, no Roman, and hell, not even a sign of Virgil.

He bites his lips, fear turning to worry as he walks into the office. But nothing.

His fear only increases before a rush of pain goes through his head. Before he can even register what had happened, the world goes black, and he hits the cold ground.

When he woke up, he expected he'd be dead, or in someone's basement, ready to get killed.

But it took him a moment to process the sight in front of him.

“... L… Logan?” He murmurs, still shaky from whatever had hit him earlier. His eyes adjust slowly to the darkness of the room, as he watches Logan, who in turn was watching him back.

“I see you've awoken. I hope I didn't hit you too hard- but I just couldn’t help myself.” His eyes go lidded as he says this, and he stands, walking to the small cage that contained Ethan.

“Y-You… What?”

Logan hums, seemingly unhappy with his answer.

“You never cease to amaze me, my beloved.” He gives a breathy laugh, leaning against the cage. Ethan could see just how red the scientist’s face is. “I had always doubted the path I chose. My dreams… They felt all on hold. But… Then you came.”

He reaches into the cage, caressing Ethan’s cheek with a cold hand, making his shiver.

“My beloved… You surprised me with just how perfect you are… When I doubt, you're my belief… Whenever you're not with me, I feel as though I could die. Again and again, you… You never fail to remind me how perfect you are.”

Ethan wanted to vomit.

“Logan… What the fuck is this..!?” He hisses out, his body shaking, and his eyes wide. Logan laughs at this reaction.

“That look in your eyes… Perfect. I wish I could stare forever.” He hums, leaning against the cage more. “My body… It's burning whenever I'm around you, Ethan.”

His eyes go wide, before laughter escapes him.

“Oh, my beloved… I just want to eat you whole.”

Ethan could vomit right now. He has to be dreaming, he has to be. Logan had been so nice to him up til now- why was this happening? What the fuck happened?!

“Don't look like that, love.” Logan purrs, and the cage door opens.

He can't even register what's going on before, once again, the world goes black.

★☆★

He doesn’t know how many days have passed. Has it been months? Weeks? He's not even sure. His little room is completely deprived of outside light.

Scars littered his body. Slits that the scientist used as lips for him to kiss.

He shuddered, remembering the feeling of the tongue inside of his body, invading his insides, wiggling like a worm.

“Don't cry, don't worry… It's supposed to bleed the first time.”

He'd vomit if he had a full stomach.

Is this his life now? Is he some sort of slave to this fucked up… demon? The demon that had taken his humanity from him. His daily life, his friends and family, the outside world, his rights as a human. All of that was in the hands of the demon he had once seen as a friend.

Hot tears burn in his eyes. He felt utterly exhausted. He just wanted to die already.

Just… Die.

Die.

Everything seems to pause as that thought came into his head. Is he really just going to let that happen?

He hears footsteps.

Is he going to let this demon take everything from him?

The sound of keys clatter.

Is he going to let himself die here?

The door starts to open.

Is he going to let this man treat him like a slave? Or is he going to take back his rights to being a human?

“Ethan, my beloved…” The man's voice lingers in the air. Ethan felt sick. “I'm glad to see you're awake..”

“Yes…”

Logan pauses for a second, before smiling. “I'm glad you're finally submitting to me. Has my training been working?”

Ethan catches glance of the familiar scalpel in the scientists hands.

“Don't worry… I'll be sure to return the love you give me.”

Logan seemed pleased with that answer, opening the cage. But, he didn't expect what happened next.

Ethan jumps, using every ounce of whatever strength he had remaining, and tackles the scientist to the ground.

“Give you back the love, my ass!”” He shouts, taking the scalpel, cutting his hand in the process. He didn't care. He didn't care at all.

“I am NOT your slave, you bastard!” He screams, stabbing down into the scientist before he could even respond. “I'm a human! And you will not take that from me, you hear?”

He growls, punching into the wound, the man sputtering and choking under him. He didn't care he didn't care he didn't care.

He punches again, his fist digging into his stomach, reaching his wriggling insides. He could puke, but he never stopped.

He sees the man. He's crying, and for a moment he remembers that he's human. But, instead, he leans in to Logan's ear.

“Hey… Don't cry. Don't worry.” He punches into the wound again, a squishing, bloody noise sounding once he does so. “It's supposed to bleed the first time, right?”

Blood covered him at this point, the man's stomach practically torn open and his intestines in a tangled, scratched up mess. He knew he was probably dead by now. He doesn’t know how long it's been.

He looks down at the body, and at himself.

He was covered in blood. His pants, his shirt, his arms. Hell, probably his face too. He doesn't care. He stands up, body shaking as he looks down once more at the freshly dead man. He can't even feel pity.

He spits on the body, turning and leaving the room.

It took him awhile, but he found the bathroom and washed off the blood to the best of his ability. He felt gross.

Leaving the house, he notices that it's night time. He so badly wants to burn the house down. Set it aflame, run, and never look back.

But instead, he simply locks the door and walks away. He knows that Logan has no other friends or family.

No one will find him for a while. No one will miss him.

His mind felt blank as he stumbled through the streets. He almost didn't recognize where he was. He was so dazed. It took him a few hours to make it back home, having to take breaks and dry heave or catch his breath.

He stares at his door, looking at his hands that were previously covered in blood. He winces slightly. He knows that this will stay with him for the rest of his life. He wanted to sleep, but time only stood still as he opened his door.

What is he going to say to his family? What would they think? He feels gross. But…

He collapses onto his bed. The familiar comfort swallowing him whole.

And he cried.

It had been a while since he's cried like this. But it felt good to finally let it all out.

There's so much he should worry about. So, so much.

So much he went through, so much he has to explain. So many thoughts, so many emotions.

He feels his eyes close.

It was at that moment he realized how ungodly tired he was. Tomorrow.

He can worry about it tomorrow.

All of his worries, doubts, fears, nausea, anxiety…

He can deal with it tomorrow. He can see his family. He can see his friends.

But that's for tomorrow.

For tonight, he'll forget everything. Leave it for himself when he wakes up. He'll forget his emotions, his fears, and the events that had happened.

He forgets it all.

And, even if it's just for that moment. Just for that night. Just for that sleep.

Things are calm.

And everything, even if it doesn't last, feels normal.

Safe.

Those are his final thoughts before the most comfortable sleep he's had in weeks swallows him whole.

[asermann]

One Week

For @lesbiansassemble ‘s writing challenge

Pairing: MJ/Shuri Characters: MJ, Shuri, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark Words: 6355 Warnings: None Prompt: “Are you from around here?”

As MJ approached the laboratory, she heard a jumble of voices growing increasingly louder.

“Why stop there? Why not add some AI?” MJ instantly recognized the voice of Tony Stark. She had become a regular visitor of Stark tower now that Peter spent so much of his time here, but she had never seen the billionaire in person. Not that she was impressed.

“I understand your wish to use your own technology, however, I believe you are forgetting the purpose. We are building an outreach center specifically for young people after all. I don’t believe they will have much use of your AI. We should be focusing on more necessary software.” Although MJ didn’t recognize the slightly accented voice, she gathered that it belonged to a young woman.

“What, you don’t think these kids could use a helpful assistant? AI is useful to anyone, tell her, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“That’s right. Artificial intelligence such as myself has several useful household applications, including—”

“I’m not saying AI isn’t useful, I’m saying perhaps we should focus on more pressing matters,” the girl replied. MJ wondered who she was. Anyone who could sound so cool while matching Tony Stark’s knowledge of technology must be a remarkable person.

“Um, I know I’m not really part of this conversation—” That voice she recognized. MJ cringed a little then. She hoped Peter wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of Tony Stark and a stranger who was presumably also a genius. “—but if I were a kid—”

“You are a kid, but go on,” Stark added.

“—I would think having an AI assistant was pretty awesome.”

“See? That’s three against one.” Stark sounded a little smug.

“Did you read my report?” The girl didn’t wait for Stark to reply. “Then you must know the designs for the center are still in the initial stage. We have more important matters to attend to before we start working on details such as AI assistants.”

“See, that’s where I disagree. I think your designs are already pretty advanced. Hell, you mentioned tech light-years ahead of the stuff I’m working on now.” Peter made a noise, as if intending to interrupt. “Yeah, kid, I know light-years is a measurement of distance. Loosen up, it’s a figure of speech. Anyway, point is, I don’t wanna make any changes to your design. It’s great. I’ll help out with the details, AI assistants, that sort of thing. I mean, it’s your building. Or is it your brother’s? Doesn’t matter. I’m saying it’s gonna be great. I’m just worried we’re actually spoiling these kids.”

“Uh, Mr Stark?” Peter asked.

“What, kid? You know I was kidding, right? About the spoiling?”

“Yeah, it’s just that I have to go now. I’m supposed to meet my friend MJ.”

“Alright, you’re dismissed.”

The door to the lab had only been opened a crack before Peter quickly closed it again. “Hey MJ, didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to interrupt,” MJ said.

“Okay. Cool. I just have to change first. Um… hold on.” MJ could hear Peter moving around behind the door.

“Why can’t you just come out? And why do you need to change? You’re not, like, naked, are you?”

“What? No!” Peter said. Then he finally emerged from the lab. “I just have to… I’ll be back in a sec.” MJ just stared at Peter, who was walking quickly past her, pulling a too-big lab coat around him while wearing… red tights?

“I’ll just wait here,” MJ replied casually. Sure, Peter was acting weird, but she’d seen him act way weirder.

In his haste, Peter had left the door to the lab open. MJ peered inside. Despite the presence of fascinating, cutting edge technology—stuff MJ couldn’t even imagine the use for—her eyes fell immediately on the girl standing in the middle of the room. MJ quickly realized this must be the stranger connected to the accented voice. The stranger’s braided hair was twisted in an intricate bun, and she was wearing a white dress with tennis shoes. MJ couldn’t decide if she was a classy, professional young woman or a kid her own age. She definitely looked young. There was something about her smile and her way of speaking—not the words themselves, but the tone—that suggested she really was a teenager. MJ observed the strange girl with interest, trying to figure out who she might be.

The girl was standing over scattered papers, discussing something about computers with Tony Stark. The two of them spoke in low voices, although MJ probably could have understood what they were saying, had she been listening. MJ was, however, still staring at the girl, observing her movements and facial expressions, and letting her mind wander around the many possibilities of who this girl might be. Just then, the girl looked up. She smiled.

“You must be MJ,” she said kindly.

“Wait, you’re Michael Jackson?” Tony Stark briefly looked up from the documents spread out beneath him, seeming to assess MJ with one quick glance, before returning to his work.

“Yeah… I was just waiting for Peter. We’re supposed to work on this art project together.” MJ tried to sound casual, but standing here in a lab filled with robotics and geniuses she couldn’t help but feel dumb talking about some art project.

“That’s cool. Do you like art?” the girl asked, moving away from the table and walking toward MJ.

“I do, actually. I like to draw.”

“I wish I could draw, but the only thing I can draw is those dogs with the short noses.”

“You mean pugs?”

“Yes! They are so cute.” The girl spoke with eager enthusiasm, always smiling and waving her hands for emphasis. By now she was standing in front of MJ with her hand outstretched. “I’m Shuri.” MJ clasped her fingers around Shuri’s and shook.

“MJ.”

“So are you a Jackson fan or… No? Just curious,” Stark chimed in. Shuri rolled her eyes without turning around. She drew back her hand, and MJ couldn’t help but feel like Stark had ruined something. As his eyes darted between the two, maybe he got the same impression. “You know what,” he continued. “I think we’re done here for now. I’m gonna take a break, so you and Smooth Criminal over here can go watch cartoons, or smoke crack, or whatever kids are up to these days. See you tomorrow, princess,” he said, nodding at Shuri as he left the room.

“He’s…” MJ struggled to find the right word. “Eccentric.”

Shuri laughed. “Yes, he is.”

“Why exactly are you working with him?”

“Well, when he heard about my brother’s plans to set up an outreach center in California, he offered to help us set one up in New York.”

“So who’s your brother?”

“His name’s T’Challa. He’s…”

“... the king of Wakanda, the super high tech, super secret African utopia?”

“Yes.” MJ had trouble reading Shuri’s expression: something between amusement and pride.

“So you’re really a princess? And I thought Stark was just being a jerk.”

“No.” Shuri’s eyes fell on the documents still lying haphazardly on the table in the middle of the room. MJ thought she detected a passionate twinkle in the girl’s eye. The-girl-who-was-a-genius-and-a-teenager-and-also-a-princess. “In all seriousness, Stark is a good man. No one asked him to help with this project, but he offered anyway, out of the kindness of his heart I guess. And he’s spent a lot of time and resources on it… Still, I won’t correct you if you call him a jerk. Although I think he prefers ‘asshole’.”

MJ smiled at that. She regarded Shuri where she stood, one arm leaning against the wall and the other hanging easily by her side. MJ was just about say something clever in response to Shuri’s comment about Stark when Peter burst through the door.

“Hey, sorry for running out like that earlier. I just had to… change,” Peter apologized, trying to hide the fact that he was out of breath but not succeeding. “I just ran down like, ten flights of stairs.”

“There wasn’t an elevator?” MJ countered, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Peter seemed to consider this. “No, well yeah. But I…” He trailed off.

“Come on, nerd. We’re gonna have to hurry if we wanna hand in the project on time.”

“Right. The project. Yeah.” He seemed distracted.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah… I mean no! Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking about the project and how we need to hurry up.”

“That’s what I said.”

Shuri, who had been following the exchange with raised eyebrows and that ever-present smile, decided to chime in. “Like I said before, I’m terrible at drawing, but if you need help with your project I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

“Really? Cause we do kinda need the help. Just as long as we’re not, you know, distracting you from your important work,” Peter said.

“Please. I’ve been working non-stop for the past week. I could really use a distraction. Besides, I’ve been so busy I haven’t even gotten to see New York.”

“I guess we can show you around after we’ve finished the project. If you want,” MJ said, a little too casually.

“That would be fantastic!”

✸✸✸

“This is taking forever,” Peter said, pouting and slumping against the couch.

“Come on. We have to keep going,” MJ replied. She reached for a tiny clay figurine and pushed it a millimeter towards another clay figurine. Then she reached for her phone, which was attached to a selfie stick, which was duct-taped to the couch in an attempt to keep it still. MJ took a picture. “There. See, we’re making progress.” She moved the clay another millimeter.

“I’m bored.”

“Seriously Peter? This whole thing is kinda your fault you know. The least you can do is help.”

“What? It wasn’t my idea to do a stop-motion video. That’s Ms. Shelley’s fault.”

“Yeah, well it’s your fault we’re so behind. If you weren't so busy with your internship all the time, maybe we wouldn’t have had to wait ‘til the last minute.”

“So you’re gonna blame me for everything?”

“You and Ned,” MJ muttered bitterly. “Where is Ned anyway? Isn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

“Yeah… He has been to your place before, right?” MJ shook her head in response. “Crap. I should go look for him. He’s probably lost.” Then Peter put on his jacket and left the apartment.

MJ turned to Shuri, who had been listening silently. Shuri looked tired, but peaceful. “Hey, does this look like a zombie to you?” she said, lifting the clay figure she had been working on to MJ’s gaze. It did look like a zombie, if you didn’t count the weird antlers sticking out of its head and the inexplicable purple patches in the otherwise green clay.

“It’s great,” MJ said with a smile, taking the clay figure carefully out of Shuri’s hand. She then proceeded to knock the ragtag team of Playdoh people, Barbie dolls and Transformers off the coffee table.

“Are you sure we don’t still need these?” Shuri said, picking up one of MJ’s near-lifelike recreations of Legolas from Lord of the Rings.

“Nope. We just have the last scene left. The one where the zombies take over the world.”

“What’s this story about again?”

“I really don’t know. It was all Peter’s and Ned’s idea. I’m starting to regret letting them do anything by themselves, ever.”

Shuri giggled. “But you enjoy it? Making art?”

“I wouldn’t call this art,” MJ answered, gesturing toward the crudely-made clay zombies strewn before them. It made Shuri laugh again, which made MJ smile. After that, neither of the two girls said anything for a while. “I mostly just draw people,” MJ offered suddenly.

“That’s cool. Maybe you could draw me,” Shuri said. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Now it was MJ’s turn to laugh. “What? I’m serious! Draw me like one of your French girls.” MJ just shook her head at the cheesy reference to the world’s most overrated movie. However, she felt relieved that Shuri didn’t pursue that particular question. “Fine, I’ll just have to draw you something then,” she said instead. Shuri pulled a pen and a blank piece of paper toward her, and began to draw. MJ watched the princess where she sat on the floor, her legs folded beneath her. The businesslike impression MJ had gotten when meeting Shuri for the first time had now completely disappeared. She was still graceful, in her own way. MJ thought she was the only person who could pull off being elegant and playful at the same time.

“Finished,” Shuri said after a long but comfortable silence. When MJ looked up she realized how dark it had gotten. Dusk had come and gone, and the living room was now almost completely dark, save for the yellow light cast by a lamp in the corner. MJ shuffled closer to Shuri.

“It’s really cute,” MJ said softly. She looked over Shuri’s shoulder at the doodle. The bug-eyed pug on the paper seemed to stare at both of them at the same time. It was adorable.

Just then the front door flew open, followed by excited shrieks and laughter. Ned and Peter’s voices seemed impossibly loud in the calm, quiet apartment.

“So this is where you live! Hey, can I see your room? I asked Peter if you have any embarrassing baby pictures and he said no but I don’t buy it,” Ned declared as he dropped his backpack on the floor and shuffled through the hallway, stopping to scrutinize the framed photographs hanging on the wall. When he reached the living room, he stopped. He seemed to finally pick up on the rather tranquil atmosphere and lowered his voice. “Hi, I’m Ned,” he said, nodding at Shuri who was still seated on the floor.

“I’m Shuri. Nice to meet you.”

“Woah, did you guys make all this?” Ned asked as he sat down across from the two girls. He looked from the zombies on the coffee table, to the pile of toys on the floor, to the pug Shuri had drawn. MJ picked up the piece of paper and stashed it away on the couch behind her.

“Shuri and I did. Peter did not,” MJ said. Peter, who had sat down next to Ned, picked up on MJ’s lighthearted tone.

“Come on, I helped.” Both MJ and Shuri laughed. “I brought the dolls!”

“That you did,” MJ said while handing Barbie, Stacey and Ken back to Peter.

“So how much do we have left?” Ned asked.

“This is the last scene,” MJ replied.

“Wow. Sounds like you and Shuri were pretty productive.”

“Actually, MJ did most of the work,” Shuri chimed in.

“Come on, you helped a lot,” MJ countered.

“I just played with the clay. You did all the work.”

“You made all these zombies.”

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not very good,” Shuri laughed and gestured at the so-ugly-they’re-cute zombies. “And,” she continued, “you made all the elves.” MJ smiled and turned to look at Shuri, who smiled back in response.

“Hey MJ, can I see your room now?” Ned said suddenly.

“Really? You just got here, and we have to finish—”

“I know, I know. Can’t you just show me really quick? I promise I’ll be cool after.”

MJ agreed, and led Ned to her bedroom. The room was small, simple and surprisingly neat. Ned went straight for the collection of old yearbooks in MJ’s bookshelf. As he was rifling through a book which contained a particularly embarrassing picture of MJ, Ned spoke casually. “So what’s up with you and Shuri?”

“What!” MJ sounded shocked. Ned looked up from the yearbook when he heard her harsh tone.

“You obviously like her.”

“No I don’t!” MJ didn’t like Shuri. She liked her as a friend. She thought she was nice and charming and funny. She liked that she was so chill but at the same time passionate about stuff. And she did think Shuri was really cute… Damn it, Ned.

From the look of his face, Ned seemed to have followed MJ’s thought process. He wiggled an eyebrow, then returned to rifling through the yearbook.

“Can you just, like, be cool?” MJ pleaded.

“I’m always cool. Unlike you in seventh grade.”

MJ grabbed the yearbook away from a giggling Ned. “I mean it.”

“I know, don’t worry. I have a plan.” Somehow this was worse.

“A plan? What does that even mean?”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” He was already on his way out the door.

“Ned,” MJ hissed.

“Trust me,” he replied, now in the hallway. MJ followed him.

“Hey guys, I’m really sorry, but I just found out that me and Peter have some super-secret science stuff to do. So we have to leave now,” Ned announced.

“Um, no we don’t.” Peter sounded alarmed. Ned shot him a look that seemed to say just go with it. “But what about the art project?” he asked, less tense and more confused.

“MJ and Shuri can finish it, right?” Ned replied.

“We’ve come this far without you, so yeah, I think we’ll manage.” MJ only pretended to be annoyed.

Ned quickly hustled Peter out of the apartment, to the tune of Peter’s confused mutterings and bitter protests. Once the door shut behind them, Shuri and MJ were left with that familiar, comfortable silence.

“So… That was weird,” Shuri said.

MJ barely got a chance to reply before her phone went off. She pried it off the selfie stick, only to find a text from Ned in the group chat.

Nerd #2: I think she bought it

MJ: Really Ned?? No one’s gonna believe you two have super secret science stuff to do

Nerd #2: Maybe we do

Nerd #1: No we don’t Ned!!!!!!

Nerd #2: Or do we?

After that, MJ’s phone was silent for a few seconds before receiving another text.

Nerd #1: Had to take Ned’s phone away bc he was being an idiot

Nerd #1: To be clear Ned and I do NOT have any super secret science stuff to do!!!!

Nerd #1: We just left so that you and Shuri could be alone together

Nerd #1: Have fun with your new girlfriend :)

Nerd #1: And pls don’t make me fail art

MJ was already stuffing her phone down the pocket of her jeans when she received Peter’s last text. She hated Peter for being so indiscreet, and she hated the way her face was growing hot.

“Don’t we still need your phone?” Shuri asked. She eyed MJ with curiosity, probably picking up on the other girl’s flustered manner but polite enough not to comment on it.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” MJ fished the cell phone out of her pocket, and turned off the notifications before reattaching it to the improvised camera stand.

MJ began to move some of the clay figures around on the coffee table. Shuri shifted her legs and moved closer to MJ in order to do the same. They worked together to create a landscape fit for the final scene of their stop-motion film. Occasionally Shuri would ask MJ if a certain figure should go in a certain place. MJ would nod or shake her head. She wanted to speak more, to just have a regular conversation, but found that she no longer knew what to say. Eventually Shuri decided to break the tension.

“Your friends are nice.”

“I guess.”

“They’re still weird of course. But I think their hearts are in the right place.”

MJ nodded. Shuri was right of course.

In the end, the two girls winded up talking about completely different things. Shuri told MJ all about Wakanda. She described the Golden City and explained the events that had led to the creation of the Wakandan International Outreach Centre. MJ was delighted to see Shuri’s YouTube videos in which she pranked T’Challa. Shuri then got to hear all about MJ’s high school experience, which Shuri found surprisingly entertaining. When MJ told the story of her trip to Washington D.C., Shuri sounded more interested in the Decathlon than the explosion at the Monument. At one point, the two of them even ended up looking at MJ’s old yearbook pictures. Shuri laughed hysterically. Luckily, her laughter was pretty contagious.

✸✸✸

MJ woke up to a patch of sunlight on her face and a cold breeze in the air. She moved to close the open window, only to find her legs tangled in a blanket.

She recalled the night before, how she and Shuri had talked for hours before the Wakandan princess had been forced to leave. MJ wondered if Shuri’s agreement to be shown around New York had been serious, or simply uttered out of politeness. She hoped for the former.

When MJ turned on her phone she was overwhelmed by a cascade of texts. Several of them had been sent in the Decathlon group chat. Several more were from Peter and Ned. Most of their texts were about Shuri, which she tried to ignore, but two messages stood out among the others.

Nerd #1: I know you’re kinda ignoring me rn but I just wanted to make sure you sent the video to Ms Shelley

Nerd #1: You did send it right??

It was 11:54 AM, six minutes before the deadline, and MJ had not sent in the art project. She reached for her laptop and searched for the edited version of the stop-motion video. Just as MJ was emailing the video, her phone buzzed. A Facetime call from Nerd #2. MJ realized speaking to both Ned and Peter was unavoidable. She answered the call.

“Hi Ned.”

“Hi MJ!” Ned’s face was way too close to the camera. He looked up at the sound of a muffled voice and flipped the camera to not-very-unexpectedly reveal Peter, who was sitting on his bed surrounded by chemistry books. “Peter’s here, by the way.”

“Yeah, I got that. Are you guys ever not together? Can you even, like, function without each other?”

“Nope,” Ned and Peter said in unison.

“God, you really are losers.”

“Don’t forget that you’re a loser too, now that you’re friends with us,” Ned replied.

“Don’t remind me.”

“So how did my plan work out?”

“Ask her if she sent in the art project,” Peter interjected.

MJ couldn’t be sure because Ned’s face still covered most of the screen, but he seemed to pick an object up from the floor and throw it at Peter, who was presumably still attempting to study. The throwing of the object was followed by a subdued “Owch, why would you throw Barbie at me?”

“No one cares about the stupid art project, Peter! I wanna hear all about MJ’s date with Shuri. Was it magical? Did you stare into each other's’ eyes?”

“Gross.”

“Is that a no?” Peter had snatched the phone away from his friend, holding it at a distance in order to capture both of their faces. MJ rolled her eyes.

“Just tell us something,” Ned said, sounding impatient.

“It was fine. Nice. Whatever.” MJ turned the camera away from her face, hiding that smile that always showed up whenever she thought of Shuri.

“‘Fine nice whatever’ isn’t good enough. We need details! Like did you kiss?” Ned asked.

“No!”

“Are you in love with her?”

“What? No, I’m not in love with her, I just like her!”

“You are so in love with her,” Peter said while MJ rolled her eyes. “I mean I get it. If I was a lesbian I’d be in love with her too.”

“What?”

“Ignore him,” Ned intervened, retrieving his phone in the process. Peter’s face was barely visible behind his best friend’s head. “Are you gonna ask her out? Please tell me you’re gonna ask her out.”

“I mean it depends—”

“I’ll take that as a yes. By the way, Peter and I were just discussing the two of you and we think you’re really cute together.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you have lots of stuff in common and—”

MJ decided to cut Peter’s explanation short. “Yeah, that’s enough. Bye.”

A few seconds after she had ended the call, MJ received a text from Peter containing Shuri’s phone number.

✸✸✸

The coffee shop was crowded. So crowded that it was difficult to discern the line for ordering coffee from the line for retrieving coffee, and in between the lines was yet another group of people trying to navigate around all the other people. It was chaos. Shuri looked excited.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to another place?” MJ asked.

“Is there another Starbucks close by?”

“No, I mean like another coffee shop.”

“But I love Starbucks.”

“Okay. What are you gonna get?”

“The pumpkin spice latte.”

“Really? It’s kind of a white girl drink.”

Shuri shrugged. “The white girls must like it for a reason. What are you getting?”

“A cappuccino.”

“But that’s so boring! Why don’t you get the unicorn drink?”

“The unicorn frappuccino?”

“Yes! I’ve seen them all over the internet.”

“Maybe like a year ago. I’m not even sure if they still make them.”

“They can probably make it if you ask.”

“It probably tastes disgusting.”

“That’s probably true.”

By now MJ and Shuri had reached the front of the line. MJ turned to Shuri and muttered “This is peer pressure” before ordering one unicorn frappuccino. The barista managed to maintain her smile, but MJ noticed that the curve of her lips went from easy-going to forced. As the two girls left the coffee shop, drinks in hand, Shuri began to laugh.

“Did you see the pain in her eyes?” MJ said. Shuri only nodded, speechless with laughter. “Now I can never go back there, thanks to you.”

“Was it worth it?”

MJ offered the drink to Shuri, who made a disgusted face as soon as it touched her lips. “It’s way too sweet.”

“I know. I can’t believe they sacrificed a unicorn to make this shit.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you to buy it. I just want to try all the Starbucks drinks before going back to Wakanda.”

“All of them? That’s impossible.”

“I’ve already had fourteen different kinds.”

“Fourteen? In the three days? That’s way too much caffeine.”

“I’ve barely slept, but I’m still sticking to my plan.”

“You know they have a secret menu, right?” Shuri’s eyes widened in surprise. Clearly she did not know. “You’ll have to stay here a long time of you want to try every drink at Starbucks.”

“I wish I could.”

“When do you have to leave?”

“In a week.”

“A week?!” MJ didn’t attempt to hide her disappointment. She had always known Shuri had come to New York in order to work on the Outreach Centre. But she had hoped her new friend would stay a little longer. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better now that MJ wouldn’t have the time to fall for Shuri. Maybe…

Shuri reached to sweep a stray lock of hair behind MJ’s ear, letting her fingers brush softly against her temple.

… Maybe MJ had already fallen for Shuri, and one week was all the time she would be able to spend with this intelligent, beautiful, funny, ambitious, amazing girl. Maybe one week just had to be enough.

MJ and Shuri continued ambling along the street, not toward any specific destination. Pedestrians pushed past them while cars sped up and down the street, all moving much too fast for the girls who wanted time to stand still.

A cold gust of air swept dead leaves off the ground and traveled upward, sneaking its way inside hats and mittens, chilling ears and fingers. Shuri zipped up her bomber jacket. MJ realized she must not be used to the cold, having lived in Wakanda all her life. “Here,” she said, taking off her brown-and-yellow scarf and wrapping it around Shuri, who gave a thankful smile.

As the next gust of wind blew through the street, Shuri pulled the giant scarf closer to her chest and buried her nose under the swaths of excessive fabric.

“Better?” MJ asked.

Shuri nodded vigorously. “This is a great scarf.”

“Thanks. I had to knit it myself because I couldn’t find any scarves that hadn’t been manufactured by underpaid employees working under poor conditions.”

“I think it’s great that you care so much about human rights. Most people say they care, and say that people who don’t care are bad people. But when it comes down to it, most people only care about other people as long as it doesn’t inconvenience them.”

“Yeah. There are lots of vulnerable people in the world, but sometimes it seems like the people who can help them don’t give a shit.”

“For a long time Wakanda didn’t give a shit. We thought that interacting with the rest of the world would destroy the country, and said that the people who were suffering weren’t our problem. In the end my brother realized that helping others was more important than keeping our nation a secret. I think he made the right choice.”

“I think so too. Making advanced technology available to people from all backgrounds is gonna make a big difference.”

For a while the two of them continued walking down the busy street, until Shuri stopped abruptly. “Weren’t you supposed to be showing me around New York?” she asked.

“This is New York.”

“Yes, but this street is just like any other street in any other city! I want to see the real New York.”

“What, like the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building?”

Shuri seemed slightly frustrated. “Are you from around here?” she asked, ignoring MJ’s question.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve lived here your whole life?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must know the city better than anyone! I want to see everything from your perspective. Take me to your favorite spots.”

Finally MJ understood exactly what Shuri wanted to do. And she knew exactly where to take her. “Come on then,” MJ said with a mischievous grin, taking Shuri’s hand and leading her away.

✸✸✸

MJ didn’t let go of Shuri’s hand until they had reached their destination. “Is this the place?” the princess asked. MJ nodded and pushed open the door to reveal a dark, old-fashioned room filled with shelves of books. “Your favorite place in the city is a used bookstore?” Shuri sounded curious, as if keen to learn more about her new friend.

Still, MJ felt nervous. “I’ve never told anyone about this place. I usually come here when I want to be alone.”

Shuri looked up from the novel she had started leafing through. Something about her expression told MJ that Shuri understood the significance behind MJ’s words. That Shuri had been invited to a part of MJ’s life she had never shared before. That she had never wanted to share before.

The girls were alone in the store, apart from the owner: an elderly woman who shuffled between the counter and the back room. The owner of the store paid no attention to MJ and Shuri, in fact, she barely seemed aware of their presence. Neither MJ nor Shuri seemed aware of the old woman, or if they were, they quickly forgot about her. In this store it was easy to forget about the rest of the world. Any anxiety MJ had felt upon entering the store with Shuri had been left at the threshold. Inside, there were only stories. Shuri enjoyed reading the bad ones aloud. She would open a romance novel and the read the summary to MJ, who would try to keep a straight face and who almost always failed.

When the two of them finally left the store, laden with several books each—good ones—dusk had already settled. The sun had disappeared behind the tall buildings across the street, and left long shadows to form patterns on the ground.

“I really should get back to Stark’s,” Shuri said.

“Okay.” They decided to stay put and wait for a cab. As they were waiting for a car to arrive, MJ changed the topic. “When do you think the Outreach Centre will be finished?”

“According to Stark’s estimates, two years, although I think that’s optimistic.”

“And when it’s done, I bet you’ll need a bunch of people to work there…”

“Of course. We will need scientists and technicians to work as mentors and teach the kids about our technology. Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about… applying for a job. When the center’s done obviously.”

Shuri’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in excitement. “That’s a great idea! It’s the perfect job for you! It’s perfect!” Shuri was practically beaming. MJ beamed too.

“I know it’s years away, but I’m already excited.” Shuri nodded in agreement. Then MJ noticed her smile falter. A second later Shuri was smiling as broadly as ever, but by then MJ had already picked up on the fluctuation in her demeanor. The short-lived moment of pure joy and exhilaration was replaced by lopsided smiles and bittersweet words.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving in a few days,” MJ said.

“Me neither,” Shuri said.

And then she just stood there, looking small. Looking sad and looking small. And maybe it was that Shuri looked like she was freezing in the autumn breeze, or that her wide smile had been replaced with an expression of melancholy hopelessness, or that she was still wearing the too-big yellow-and-brown scarf. For some reason MJ just felt like kissing Shuri. And she did. She placed one hand gently on Shuri’s cheek and the other at her neck and kissed her lips for just a few seconds before pulling away. She scanned Shuri’s face for a reaction. MJ felt her heart pound, her stomach clench, her fingers tense.

Shuri spoke so softly. “I was hoping you would do that.” That smile again.

Shuri kissed MJ ever so sweetly. She wrapped her arms around the other girl’s waist, buried her hand’s in her hair, leaned against her. Neither of them could stop smiling. After an attempt to return MJ’s scarf which turned into yet another kiss, the two of them somehow ended up tangled in the soft knitting.

When a cab approached, they were finally forced to break apart. MJ stood on the sidewalk and waved goodbye. She smiled that smile she hated. Bittersweet.

✸✸✸

“I’m gonna miss you, Shuri.”

“I will miss you too, MJ.”

“Will you come back soon?”

“Hopefully.”

“But not definitely?”

Shuri shook her head. “I have a lot of work to do, and I’m not sure if any of it will bring me back to New York.” MJ, although obviously disappointed, nodded in understanding. “You are of course welcome to visit me in Wakanda.”

MJ imagined being shown around the palace, walking through the forest, getting to see all that amazing technology with her own eyes. She imagined doing all those things with Shuri. “Yeah, I’d like that. Maybe in the summer.”

“I can’t wait.”

Shuri looked over MJ’s shoulder and giggled. When MJ turned around she saw Peter and Ned waving at them from the airport entrance.

“What are those idiots still doing here? I told them to wait in the car,” MJ said with a disapproving glance in her friends’ direction.

“You know,” Shuri said once MJ had turned back around to face her. “When I went back to Stark’s after we had gone to your bookstore, Peter was there and he told me you were in love with me.”

“Oh my God.”

“He was very excited when I told him—”

“Oh, I know. I only got, like, a thousand texts.”

Shuri giggled. “He’s not very good at keeping secrets.”

“He really isn’t. I’m surprised he hasn’t accidentally told someone that he’s Spider-Man yet.”

“You know that Peter is Spider-Man?”

“Of course. He’s terrible at keeping secrets and a terrible liar. He just doesn’t know I know.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I wanna mess with him a bit first.”

Shuri’s eyes lit up at the idea of MJ pranking Peter. “When you do, you must film it and show it to me. That reminds me…” She began rummaging through her backpack. A minute later Shuri had procured what looked like a beaded bracelet. She offered it to MJ, who turned it over in her hands, inspecting it.

“I’m guessing this isn’t just a bracelet.”

“These are Kimoyo Beads. They have many uses, but I thought we could use them to communicate when we’re not together. The beads display holograms, so we can see and talk to each other even when we’re far apart.”

“How do they work?”

Shuri grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”

And then there was nothing more to say. MJ wrapped her arms around Shuri and pulled her into an embrace. Shuri nestled her forehead under in the crook of MJ’s neck, surrounded by knitted scarves and locks of hair. When Shuri eventually broke the embrace, she did so hesitantly.

“I have to leave now,” Shuri said. MJ was still holding on to her shoulders.

“I know.”

“I’m gonna miss my flight.”

“So?”

“So? I’d be stuck here for another day.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

Then Shuri held MJ’s face in her hands and kissed her softly, sweetly. “Good bye.”

“Bye.”

Shuri walked toward the security check, pulling her suitcase behind her. She turned around once, to wave and give MJ one last smile. Seconds later she had disappeared in the crowd of people milling around the airport.

The ride home started off in silence. Stark’s driver, Happy, seemed to have picked up on MJ’s somber mood. Even Ned and Peter were quiet. At least for a while.

“It sucks that Shuri had to leave,” Ned said suddenly.

“Yeah, it does.”

“But you’ll probably get to see her soon, right?” Peter sounded hopeful.

“Maybe,” MJ replied, stroking the Kimoyo Beads on her wrist.

“I know we’re not princesses or geniuses,” Peter said, while Ned pointed to himself and mouthed I am. “But we’re still your friends,” Peter continued, “you still have us.”

The corner of MJ’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. “I guess you’ll have to do.”

Notes: I had so much fun writing this! Btw this is the first and only fic I’ve ever written, although I think I want to write more, so if anyone reading this has any feedback or constructive criticism feel free let me know. Thanks for reading :)

[supersoldier-of-asgard]

Nodus Tollens (8/10)

•The realisation that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore•

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x HYDRA!Reader (gender-neutral) + Avengers

Summary : you’ve been practically raised by HYDRA and The Wintersoldier has been your idol, someone you looked up to. What happens when you’re send to kill him and get captured by the avengers? SLOWBURN

Warnings whole fic : language, detailed discription of fighting and blood, a whole load of torture, trauma and a lot of angst ( if you want me to add something then please message me!)

Warning chapter : angst and slight fluff? (It’s a warning bc it’s unusual lmao)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Masterlist

Dusk and dawn claimed in turn their place in the sky behind the thick velvet walls of your cell. The sun and moon danced and painted the horizon as they pleased, while you sat with your back against the only thing that separated you from freedom.

It had been days, you were sure. You couldn’t know, the last plate of food they left you collecting dust at your feet as you strained your ears to hear the familiar breathing behind you.

But it never came. The first day after your last shower, he would stand outside your door for minutes, just breathing and waiting before a sigh drummed your ears and the pattern of his steps faded away.

You could recognize it through a stampede, the featherlight taps of his feet in stark contrast to his towering figure casting shadows in the dimly lit cell hall. He moved with a graceful quietness, years of trained silence and stealth plucking his toes off the ground with a certain smoothness.

His left foot subconsciously pressed a little harder on the concrete, his stance leaning slightly to the left as all these years failed to make him accustomed to the added weight of his prosthetic. He has a recognizable sway of his hips, the milliseconds of time difference between his steps countable by you whenever he was in your line of hearing.

But it never came. You waited and waited for him to swing the door open, to hurriedly walk to your cell and yank you up to make you talk, but it never came again. You wondered if he became that good that you just couldn’t hear it, but you knew— perhaps hoped—deep down that he felt the need to let you know he acknowledged you. Acknowledged the fact you were behind the metal door, but didn’t want to or wasn’t allowed to creak it open.

Time was to you just the switch from moon to sun. It didn’t effect your life, as you would do anything and everything at any time of day, but right now time was the most crucial thing in your life.

Time gave you room to think—overthink. Time gave you the taste of love and abandonment, before snatching it away and leaving you counting.

For what?

Bucky threw himself on his bed, not caring if his dirt and blood covered clothes stained his sheets. The team had come back from a two day mission and sun had set when they finally landed at the compound. It had been three days since he last smelled the faint mold on the walls of the hallway underground, and he sighed in exasperation as he thought about the day he got caught standing stupidly infront of your door.

Natasha had had a tray of food in her hands as she had slowed down to a stop at the sight of him. He had thrown his head back in embarrassment and cleared his throat before walking past her and away. She had followed him shortly after and forced him to turn around, a deep frown and a scowl forming her usually neutral face as she had harshly whispered.

“What the hell were you doing? You know you’re not allowed to talk with h-“

“I know, I know..” he had interrupted, running a hand through his disheveled hair,” you made that pretty clear last time.”

“I wish I did. You’re playing a dangerous game here, Barnes. Offering your own shower and leaving your room open for stealing was stupid enough, and now you stand outside the door like a fool? Get yourself together.”

So that’s what he did. Or what he tried to do. He was surprised they didn’t try interrogating you again now that they had the tools—or tool if specific. I guess it all took a toll on everyone after what happened last time.

A knock sounded on his door and he turned his head to find a smiling Steve, head peaking out of a disheveled and sweaty suit. “It’s Saturday night, Buck, you comming?”

Saturday nights were movie nights with Steve and Sam, and it was one of the only nights he allowed himself to loosen up. Sam would show them the most popular and iconic movies and shows, trying to catch Steve and him up to the 21st century.

He lifted his head only to bounce it down again, looking at the ceiling in thought. “... I think I’ll pass tonight.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.. you two go ahead. You can tell me all about it some other time,” he smiled slyly, trying to convince his old friend.

Steve didn’t pressure it any further, nodding and retreating back to his room to change out of his suit.

After he was sure that all the other Avengers were comfortably in their rooms, triple checking on a certain widow, he slipped out of his suit and into a hoodie and sweatpants. He tiptoed to the elevators and hesitated to speak to the AI.

“Ground floor, Mr. Barnes?” Jarvis’ knowing voice resonated, causing a faint blush to powder his cheeks.

He cleared his throat,” y-yeah.. yeah.”

Damn you and your smart technology, Stark.

The elevator moved, a shiver shooting up his spine in anticipation.

“For What it’s worth, I won’t tell a thing to Mr. Stark, sir.”

He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at the roof of the elevator as if the voice hid behind the walls. “Thanks Jarvis, I owe you one.”

“Just be cautious, not everyone takes the chance at redemption.” It seemed like he knew what was going on inside his head, and it made it all stranger than his life already was. How a robot could be so sympathetic and wise was beyond him, but he did have to catch up on a few decades.

The lights of the hallway had flickered on one by one when he took the first step out of the elevator, revealing unused and dusted doors of the seemingly neverending path.

He put his hands in the long frontpocket of his hoodie, touching the crumbled ball nervously while walking with hesitating strides to the seventeenth door of the hallway. They had put you further away in case the government found out they held you captive without telling them, and planned to take you away. Maybe they’d give up after the first sixteen doors...

Your whole body came alive at the sound of the familiar rhythm echoing through the empty floor. You lifted your back from the door, instead crawling to the left corner of your cell and pulled your knees to your chest.

The lock turned slowly, almost carefully, trying not to make an inevitable sound. The creaking of the door seemed louder than usual and made Bucky cringe, stopping it enough so he could wedge himself through the crack.

He left a slim slit open so he wouldn’t be locked in, light dusting through and illuminating the right corner with a soft yellow glow.

Bucky stood rigid as he squinted to catch your figure, eyes landing on your curled up body instantly. He contemplated sitting next to you, but decided against it and strutted his way to the light-lit corner.

You watched his movements out of the corner of your eyes, his comfortable attire and empty hands causing confusion to swipe across your face. When he sat down, you lifted your chin from your knees and studied his body language.

He seemed... nervous, yet calm as he rested his head on the wall. You watched as his pupils constrict, the grey blue of his eyes welcoming the dim yellow light. They flickered over to you, but you didn’t look away or show any emotion as the corner of his lips lifted up.

The streak of light bounced off his metal plates and dimly shone on your legs. You stared at it dazedly, as it had been days since you last saw light.

Silence filled the quiet air, breaths mixing together and stretching out to touch what they couldn’t physically. Both waited for the other to make a move, confessions lingering on Bucky’s tongue like a dry diving board.

Why was pushing people off a staircase way less difficult than pushing words off your tongue?

The last day he had seen you, he was pulled away before he could reach the shower. Natasha had handed him a single piece of paper, a strange yet familiar name lining the top row.

Realisation had dawned on him like a wave, each time he managed to get the tip of his nose above water, memories pulled at him like tentacles. He didn’t know how to handle what he had discovered, shaking from head to toe and plucking at his metal plates in stress.

Natasha had offered to take you back to your cell, but Bucky was in too much of a shock to process her words so he only shook his head. Hour after hour, day after day he thought about how to drop the information on you, and it had all been a waste as right now his mind was completely blank.

“They would never let me out of the tube for longer than three days,” he breathed, his voice comming out hoarse as he tried his best to formulate words,” they were scared I’d start remembering.”

You rested your head on the wall next to you, not daring to look his way again, but listening intently at his story. Your soul was beaming with curiosity, wanting to know more about how his life had been with HYDRA. How much of what you heard was fiction? How much was real?

“Rightfully,” he chuckled dryly,” but they still took the risk and sent me to another mission after two days out..

“It was a last minute discovery, and they thought ‘hey while he’s out, he can just do it! It’ll be faster and more precise!’ “ he mimiced, taking a deep breath as all the puzzle pieces layed themselves out in front of him.

Bucky could still remember his face, the exact attire he was wearing and the way his voice quivered as he pleaded for mercy. Back then, it hadn’t mattered to Bucky, and after wiping his memory completely he never thought about it again.

“I stood on the rooftop of the building next door, exactly aligned with his bedroom window. I waited hours for him to arrive, but he never came,” he gulped, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back.” So, they ordered for me to go inside, kill him and any witness and leave as fast as possible without suspicion. I only had my sniper and knife with me at that time, so I left the gun on the rooftop and walked to his apartment with only my knife in my pocket.”

You didn’t see the relevance of this story, but you didn’t dare interrupt him. One life was small in comparison to what you had inflicted, but this particular story must hold some value to him.

When Bucky had went inside without suspicion, he was met with empty rooms. The man had to be inside, but as Bucky slowly opened the door to another room, it hadn’t mattered.

“He had a wife. She was pregnant.. heavily pregnant. I could hear the rapid thumping of both their heartbeats from the other side of the room..”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you finally looked at him from across the room. He wasn’t looking at you, mind some place else as he continued talking.

“I froze.. I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered shakily,” I just started regaining a sense of self, and I just... couldn’t.”

Your eyes flickered to the ground as you tried uncovering the story before it ended, but there was no way you could guess.

“He came home, saw that I had a knife to her throat and begged me to take him and let them go,”he chuckled dryly,” so that’s what I did.”

Bucky had sliced the man’s neck in a quick motion, standing with his back to her as the woman cried for her husband. He had no idea what to do, but he had to protect them. He had walked towards her shaking body and crouched down, watching painfully as the woman let out sobs and hid her face from the killer. The killer who she was sure would kill her now too.

Bucky had lifted her chin so she would somewhat look at him, to see the softness and sincerity that he had tried to push through his mindcontrol. It had seemed to ease her, as she had slowly tried regaining her breath with her hands on her large belly.

Bucky had looked down at it and then back up as if asking for permission. She had not answered, but her eyes softened too as Bucky placed his flesh hand on her bump. A rare smile had tugged at his lips as he felt the heartbeat of the baby, and it somehow washed a sigh of relief over the woman.

“What’s the name,” he had whispered, keeping his palm as still as possible as something moved underneath.

“Y/N,” she had whispered back, glancing at the blood seeping from the body of her lover. Bucky turned her head away and looked deep in her eyes.

“I’m going to protect you and Y/N,” he had stated.

“But I didn’t keep my promise... because you’re here,” Bucky finished, slowly looking at you to see your reaction. He took the crumbled piece of paper out of his pocket and slowly tossed it to you, your hesitating and trembling fingers trying to read it in the lack of light from the hallway.

Your face contorted into realisation as the face of the photo stared back at you, sadness followed and then... blankness as your eyes flitted to the bold letters of what is supposed to be your real name. Bucky didn’t know what to make of it, but decided to keep quiet and wait for what you had to say.

“...why are you telling me this?,” you inquired in a whisper. Although your face was not showing any emotion, your voice shook and trembled to speak.

“Because I want you to realise you had a family.. a family HYDRA destroyed.”

You let out a disbelieving chuckle.” You’re lying. You’re only saying this to reel me to your side..”

Bucky shook his head, knowing this was going to happen. He slowly stood up, walking over to the other corner where you sat and placed himself exactly like he had with your mother. He slowly reached out and took your hand, but you snatched it away before he could properly hold it.

“don’t fucking touch me,” you grumbled, memories and nightmares weaving together in your brain as you tried to process.” It’s not gonna work.”

“I just want you to see the truth. To see what’s right in front of you. Even if you believe you don’t deserve love.. you have to realise that it was snatched away from you before you even had a choice,” he spoke softly, this time managing to place his metal palm in yours,” they took away my life, but they never gave yours.”

Your breathing heavied as you let his words sink in, his cold metal soothing your throbbing head. You had always thought about the way you became one of them, and the idea of them taking you away was high enough, but now that you knew the full story—or some part of it at least, it hit harder than a bullet to the chest.

You let him soothe you as you sat crosslegged infront of eachother, thumb tracing your fingertips as you tried to place it all together in your head.

You were doubting everything, and you hated the fact that there was so little time to heal if there was a chance to heal at all. What were you destined to do? Kill for HYDRA an bring the world peace? Was it worth it? You gave them your life, your body, your mind, and all they did was take you for granted.

“What day is it?”, you whispered through the dark, slowing down Bucky’s actions as it took him by surprise.

“..saturday,” he whispered back, eyes searching for yours,” why?”

You didn’t answer, silence blowing at the tension in the air as he waited for you to speak. You stared at the sheet for a while longer before crumbling it again and sticking it back in the front pocket of his hoodie. Bucky sighed but gave you an understanding smile, his blues shining with sympathy and understanding.

As millions of thoughts ran through your mind, you finally found the answer in the light blue illuminating the dark room and shining right through you. For years you had secretly doubted everything you did. You never had the courage to speak up about your thoughts and the end of the road seemed just a blur to you.

All your life you knew that it was gonna end with you sacrificing yourself for HYDRA. That was your destiny since you were born, and you thought that would be your end. You always believed you were just a pawn in the bigger game, and you were, but more insignificant than you realised. Why would you give your life for something small, never tasting the sweet sensation of love or home, always afraid of what comes next?

As you shifted closer to the comforting shoulder of Bucky, you seemed to question everything about your identity. What is the plot of your life? What makes me you you? You didn’t know and you were afraid you’d never find out.

“Can I ask you a question?”, Bucky softly spoke through the quiet air, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he traced your palm through the darkness.

You barely nodded, paying half attention as you tried to sketch the life you would have wanted.

“.. why do you have that musicplayer?”

You didn’t flinch, he noticed, and after a couple beats you finally took in a breath to speak.” Music calms me down.”

“Does it?”

You sighed, closing your eyes as the sensations of that day squirmed through you.” They used to. I snuck it around without them knowing, only three songs in it, but I couldn’t add more in fear of them finding out..”

Bucky slowly tilted his head so it softly touched yours, his cheek resting on your crown as he rose up and down with every breath you took. It was comfortable, even if the topics weren’t.

“They did, and used it against me. I always fought best with my songs, so they let me have it.... but they added more.” you closed your eyes, only slight contrast between the darkness of the room and the darkness behind your eyelids.” And those connect to bad memories, things I always thought would make me stronger, but deep down always wanted to forget.

“I knew it was a risk to take it here, but I had to listen to my song... I couldn’t do without it. I thought they wouldn’t be able to figure it out,” you chuckled, opening your eyes to be met with the soft fabric of Bucky’s hoodie,” I underestimated Stark.”

“We all do,” Bucky laughed.

It was silent after that, Bucky’s mind finally calming down after the raging storm of the story he couldn’t keep, your mind in contrast boiling like water on a stove as anxiety flashed through you in fear of what comes at sunrise.

The already late night blurred to a lazy morning, the inevitable sunday dusk glowing red like a warning sign as everybody but you greated it with a warm welcome. You waited and waited for the sound to burst through and interrupt this moment of peacefulness, dread lacing your heart as it drummed in your ears.

Bucky had allowed himself to close his eyes, but didn’t dare sleep. He listened to your steady and controlled breathing as his heart skipped with content of finally breaking through to you. He had finally someone who truly understood him, knew what he felt and thought. A person he helped while he himself felt helpless, another person free of the dirty hands of HYDRA.

A feeling that was wrongfully right in different ways.

Then, as fumbling and commotion broke through the many layered floors, you lifted you head. Bucky startled up, pushing the door open of the cell to find a bright red light flashing in his face. 

He looked back at you with wide eyes as a voice entered through the intercoms, cracked and rushed and not audible enough to understand another word but HYDRA. You stood up, finally stretching your legs from sitting for hours, and walked slowly to him with a guilty smile.

And as realisation dawned on him once more, he didn’t have enough time to react as you spoke the one word that shut his beautiful mind closed. The word they told you to use to escape, two syllables that fogged his brain but didn’t control it like his triggerwords did. The single breath it took as his once comforting blue eyes would roll to the back of his head and his cozy attire would hit the ground next to your feet.

Not dangerous or permenant like his triggerwords, you told yourself as you closed the cell door, stepping out into the red-lit hall with his body over your shoulder, Only to give you enough time to make your escape with the one person they send you to kill.

‘‘Sputnik.’‘

- Part 9

A/N : woah we’re almost done... any idea what’s gonna happen?

also, I might make a irondad fic after this with a reader ofcourse. Thoughts and ideas?

tags

@unicornsxfandoms @mariana-cb @marydragneell

[kalinkaooc]

Issues 2-4 rewrite part 2

So I’ve decided to go in the same order that the comics did only this time actually using the actual weaknesses of the RMs. I also wanted the fights to seem more natural so I made it so that none of them went down in one hit like in the comic, except for Cut but I assumed a fully loaded metal crate would do more damage than a boulder. Also metal crates are more likely to be in abandoned facility than large chunks of rock.

Rock was teleported in front of a large abandoned building that looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

“Be careful Rock, this old facility is…”

“No, Rock is a lab assistant. I’m Mega Man, I blow up other robots.”

Back at Light Labs Roll’s joints locked at hearing Rock’s words and looked to Dr. Light worriedly.

“Dad, what’s going on, why’s he saying that?”

Dr. Light frowned and brow creased. “I was afraid of this. I built you and Rock for peaceful domestic purposes. Rock chose to fight because he wanted to help, but in order to do that he’s force to hurt your brothers. The guilt is starting to get to him.”

“But, it’s not his fault! Dr. Wily programed our brothers to be bad and it’s making them attack him. This is all Wily’s, fault not his.”

“I know, and I’m sure Rock does too, but guilt is a complex emotion that doesn’t always follow logic. It’s going to be hard for him… huh Roll?”

“Well then I’m just going to have to make him feel something else.” Roll grabbed the headset off Dr. Light’s ear and it put on. “Rock! Mega Man! Whatever! Listen to me!”

Rock paused when he heard his sister’s voice through his communicator. “Roll?”

“You’re not just a fighting robot. You’re kind and caring and doing this to help everyone, even our brothers. By fighting them you’re stopping them from doing something they’ll regret and making sure they can come home. You’re the best robot ever!”

Rock’s eyes widened at what Roll had said then he smiled softly. “Heh, thanks Roll I think I needed to hear that.”

“Good, now bring our brothers home.”

“Will do.”

-

After wandering around the abandoned facility and getting past a few drones Rock finally found where Cut Man was. He stepped into the room to see Cut Man facing away from the door and talking to himself.

“Ok, he’ll be here any moment. Look sharp; don’t let him see you’re scared.”

“Uh, Cut Man?”

“Wha!”

Cut Man spun around, fear clear on his face. His optics scanned Rock and he only seemed to get more scared.

“Dr. Wily was right. You really have become a bad robot.”

“No Cut Man, I’m just here to help you.”

Cut Man took a step back as he reached for the rolling cutters on top of his head.

“You already took out Bomb and Guts, so I guess it’s up to me to get you to cut it out.”

He grabbed the shears and let them fly at Rock. However, Rock was ready and effortlessly jumped out of the way. He then had to duck under a few more sent his way.

“Cut Man please, I don’t want to have to fight you too.”

“Then why don’t you cut the fighting robot act and give up.”

More rolling cutters were thrown and one did manage to scrape against Rock’s side, sending him stumbling.

“I can’t do that.”

“Guess that means fighting no matter how you slice it."

Cut Man was then knocked back from a shot from Rock’s Mega Buster. This gave Rock time to think of what to do. He looked around for something he could use when his optics landed on a stack of large metal crates. Switching the super arm he ran over to them and picked one up.

At seeing what Rock was doing Cut Man froze and stared in horror as the crate was flung at him. It hit him full force and the horrible sound of metal crushing metal could be heard.

Rock cringed and held his hands to his auditory sensors to block out the noise. Once it stopped he opened his optics and slowly went over to the crate. He lifted it up to reveal a severely damaged Cut Man underneath.

Cut Man wasn’t built to be as durable as Bomb Man and Guts Man and taking a fully loaded metal crate to the chest had done a number on him. Still his optics were still lit meaning he was still online.

Tears started to pick at the corner of Rocks eyes as he tossed the crate away. He then bent down next to Cut Man who was looking to Rock with both fear and determination, and desperately trying to get his broken arms to grab his weapon.

“Cut Man pleas just shutdown. It’ll make your pain receptors stop and make things easier for both of us.”

“No, you’re bad… I gotta… gotta cut… you down...”

His optics dimmed and he fell back to the ground offline.

Rock wiped away his tears and copied Cut Man’s weapon before standing back up. He then activated his communicator as he walked out of the room.

“Cut Man is down you can sent me to the next one.”

“Ok, are you alright though?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Before you seemed rather upset.”

“Yeah, but Roll helped me with that. Thanks Roll”

“I just told you what you needed to hear.”

“It still helped a lot though. Oh Dad there is one thing I wanted to ask you about.”

“Yes what is it, Rock?”

“Bomb Man, Guts Man and Cut Man all said they needed to fight me because I was an evil fighting robot now. Why would they think that? And why wouldn’t they give me time to explain?”

“That’s a very good question. I assume that it’s part of their reprogramming.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Well since Robot Masters AI systems are so complex and revolutionary, reprogramming isn’t as easy as flipping a switch. To truly make them want to attack the city and fight you Dr. Wily would have had to completely rewrite all of their coding which would take days if not weeks to do all of them. In order to do what he did all in one night he most likely only change part of their surface programing to make them perceive incoming information differently. Their underlying personality is the same but what they believe to be true has changed.”

“So Wily made them think I’m the dangerous robot that needs to be stopped?”

“It appears so, and if that’s the case they’re all most likely going to attack you on sight. Taking them down quickly is your best bet at getting them back to normal as soon as possible with minimal damage.”

“I understand. Send me to whoever’s next.”

“Very well, the rolling cutter should help you against Elec Man.”

Rock was then teleported away.

He appeared in front of the power plant which now looked much less inviting than it used to. Not only were there several hostel drones everywhere but electricity arched across many surfaces, making the simple act of moving forward a death defying stunt. For the most part Rock was able to avoid most of the danger sent his way, until he was nearly hit with a stray bolt as he was climbing up a ladder.

“Whoa that was close.” He smiled to himself. “Guess I’m just too quick to hit.”

He got to the top of the ladder and found the door to the command center. That was the most likely place for Elec Man to be.

“Alright Elec Man, let’s see what you got for me.”

He opened the door and stepped inside. On the other side he saw Elec Man at a terminal talking to Wily.

“That’s not good.”

“What’s not good? What’s happening over there? You didn’t let him slip past your defenses did you? I don’t need to remind you what’ll happen if he makes it to the command room.”

“Don’t worry, if any of these bolts hit him, he won’t be able to move.”

That was when Rock decided to make himself known.

“That’s a pretty big if.”

Elec Man instantly turned to Rock with shock clear on his face. “How? There’s no way. Ugh never mind I’ll call you back when I’m done here Doc.”

He shut off the video call and turned to face Rock fully. Electricity crackled in his hands as his face grew solemn.

“I don’t want to have to do this.”

Rock raised his buster.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t either but I know there’s no talking you out of this so I’ll just make this quick.”

He let his buster and armor change once more and pulled out a rolling cutter. He through the weapon at Elec Man, who simply ducked under it and smiled.

“You’re going to have to do better than that. Oh no…”

Elec Man was cut off as another rolling cutter him in the face followed by one to the chest.

“Alright, looks like I can’t hold back anymore.”

A bolt of electricity shot across the room and sent Rock flying into the far wall. Rock landed in a crouch as he tried to blink the glitches out of his optics. He got his vision back just in time to get out of the way of another bolt sent his way.

He pulled out another rolling cutter and threw it at Elec Man as hard as he could. It met its mark, lodging itself deep into Elec Man’s chest.

Elect Man stumbled back as he looked down at the blade in his chest then to Rock, shock and disappointment on his face. He then fell back into the control terminal and shut down.

“It took less time to take him down than it did with some of the others. Looks like I’m getting better at this.”

He placed one hand on Elec Man and brought the other too his communicator. “I got Elec Man’s thunder beam. I’m ready for the next one, Dad.”

“Ok, you’re going to have to go a bit out of logical order. The thunder beam would be more effective against Time Man but I’m still unable to locate him or, Oil Man for that matter. However, the hyper bomb should work fine against Ice Man so that’s who I’m sending you to next.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

With that he was once again teleported away.

[inawickedlittletown]

Whatever It Takes (1/?)

Summary: It isn’t easy being Spider-Man, but having Tony Stark in his corner makes it that much easier. Or, Tony didn’t know he could be parental or care that much and Peter really needs a father figure. 

On AO3

Part One

The worst part about the whole ordeal was that Mr. Stark didn’t even offer him a ride. Peter had to only assume that it was part of the punishment. No, it definitely had to have been a part of the punishment especially since Mr. Stark had picked out Hello Kitty pajamas for him and what could have only been the lamest NYC tourist t-shirt in size XL. At least he was in NYC and no one really cared what he was wearing as he made his way home. Peter was too upset about letting down Mr. Stark and getting everything wrong to care about any stares he might have gotten on the subway at any rate. He had just – he had messed up so badly when all he wanted was to prove himself and show Mr. Stark, and Happy for that matter, that he could handle being a Superhero. Of course it had blown up on him. He should have known that despite everything Mr. Stark wouldn’t ignore any information that Peter brought his way.

Then, when he finally made it home there was Aunt May to deal with. She worried, Peter knew, but her anger justified as it was, had faded the moment she realized that Peter needed a shoulder to lean on and not to be questioned about his whereabouts and why he’d lacked the responsibility to get in touch with her. Peter hadn’t been sure if it felt worse to disappoint Aunt May or Mr. Stark. They both felt about the same.

“And why are you wearing Hello Kitty pajamas again?” May asked when Peter had calmed down enough from the ordeal that had been his day.

“My clothes got ruined,” Peter said, “this is what Mr. Stark got me to wear home.”

He could tell that she had more questions. Peter would have had more questions. Instead, because she was May, all she had to say on the matter was: “Okay. I guess I like this idol of yours just a little bit more even if you lost the internship.”

“So now you like him,” Peter said.

“He was growing on me,” May said and moved into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Peter shook his head. “No, he wasn’t,” he said.

“No,” she admitted, “but I liked how good this internship was for you even if you were too busy than you should be at your age.”

His stomach churned with the lie and he wanted to tell her and spill everything but he knew that it would change things between them to an extent. May would be upset and scared and she might wrap him up in bubble wrap and a blanket and never let him out of her sight. Peter’s parents had died when he was so young that May was really the only mother figure he’d ever had and she was a mom in every sense of the word down to how much she loved him and Peter just knew that things wouldn’t ever be the same when she found out that he was Spider-Man.

Peter hated how comfortable the Hello Kitty pajamas were. He didn’t even bother changing out of them due to their comfort but he ditched the t-shirt for one that actually fit and was less touristy. He tried not to think about the ferry and the winged guy or even Mr. Stark, but it was hard. Peter had just messed up so badly and he was lucky that everyone had gotten out of it alive.

He was just about to rejoin May in the kitchen when his laptop made a sound. He lifted the lid and found a Skype call. He answered it out of sheer curiosity. Mr. Stark stared back at him.

“You made it home alive,” he said, “good.”

“Um, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked and then paused – “Why are you Skyping me?”

Mr. Stark looked unkempt. Peter couldn’t really tell where he was, but his hair was askew and his face seemed to be smudged with something black.

“I – well – I wanted to be sure you made it home and that you weren’t stolen by a tourist family,” Mr. Stark said, somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh,” Peter said, “well I did. Make it home, that is. I – I really am sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t think I was in over my head and I didn’t think you – well, I wasn’t sure if you heard me about the weapons and everything because Happy really doesn’t seem to listen when I call. I mean, he rarely answers me back and today was a disaster and I’m just really sorry.”

Mr. Stark didn’t say anything for a while and then he sighed. “Happy will pick you up from school tomorrow.”

It seemed to be the end of their talk. Peter nodded. “Okay,” he said, “sure.”

“And, Peter,” Tony said, “you are better than me, already, kid. You are so much better than I ever was at your age but you’re fifteen and I don’t want—” He coughed “—I don’t want you to end up like me.”

He hung up before Peter could respond. So Peter just said it to himself and his empty room. “But you’re amazing, Mr. Stark. You’re better than anyone I know.”

Tony slumped against the work table in his workshop. He dropped his phone on the surface of the table and sighed. Tony was still upset. He was angry and frustrated and mostly just worried that he had made a mistake when recruiting Spider-Man. He was just a kid. Tony had to remind himself that it wouldn’t have stopped Peter from continuing to be Spider-Man and that taking away his suit now probably wouldn’t stop him either.

Peter’s suit was out on the table in front of him and Tony hadn’t been able to help himself from poking around the suit and improving on some of the features and fixing others. He replaced the tracker and added two extras just in case. Then, he went through the surveillance. A combination of Friday and the AI in the suit, filtered everything Tony wanted to see. Some of it he had viewed in the past when checking up on the kid, but not any of the recent stuff.

Watching how things got out of hand with the ferry made Tony cringe. They were lucky that Tony had realized what was happening and that he was near a suit and capable of getting there in time. Tony was also glad that he had gone there himself instead of just sending one of the suits because he could still remember the look on Peter’s face when he wasn’t in the suit the last time. That just couldn’t have been helped, though, Tony had been out of the country. There were just so many things falling on his shoulders and no one else to really deal with all the fall out.

Of course, then Tony had had to tell him off. Tony had been so angry and scared not just because it was all on him, but because he could have lost Peter. He could have lost Peter to overwhelming guilt or just straight up lost him entirely and Tony didn’t think he could handle that. Peter was just so young and so absolutely smart and full of potential and Tony cared about him.

“Did I do the right thing?” Tony asked out loud.

“About what, sir?” Friday asked.

“Peter. Taking away his suit. If he’s just going to go back out there then what difference does it make if he doesn’t have my tech? Maybe – maybe it will mean he can’t survive something when he gets in over his head and he’ll be hard to keep track of and—”

“Parenting, it seems, is very difficult,” Friday responded.

Tony groaned. When had he become a parent? Still, Friday was right. It was hard and Tony had never expected to need to deal with it and yet despite knowing this kid for a very short period of time, he had crawled into the list of people that Tony cared about and settled himself there permanently. Tony had the whole night to think about the suit and if he was going to give it back. He had until he saw Peter again. First, he needed a drink, and it was only going to be one.

Flash saw him getting into the Rolls Royce that Happy drove and Peter saw him stop to stare for a while before beginning to motion to one of his friends to the car. Peter rolled his eyes. He knew he would hear all about it the next day.

“Hey, kid,” Happy said.

“Hi, Happy,” Peter said and dropped his backpack on the seat next to him.

“How was school?”

Peter shrugged. “Same as it always is,” he said and stared out the window as they drove away.

Peter felt awkward – not that he didn’t feel awkward most of the time – but he felt somehow worse after everything that had gone down the day before. Happy probably knew all about it.

The drive at least wasn’t too long and when they got to Avengers tower, Happy took the car into the underground parking which was surprisingly devoid of any other cars.

“Just take the elevator up,” Happy said, “I have other things to take care of but Friday will show you the way.”

Peter had never been to Avengers tower even though of course he knew exactly where the building was. He walked hesitantly to where Happy pointed and the elevator doors opened for him at once. Behind him he heard Happy leave and he stepped inside.

“Hello, Mr. Parker,” a voice that sounded a bit like Karen’s, said. It had to belong to Friday.

“Hi,” Peter said.

“Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the workshop,” Friday said and then the elevator began to move.

It didn’t take long to get to the workshop and when Peter exited the elevator he found himself in a small hall. At one end there were stairs, but across from the elevator was glass walls that showed into what must have been the workshop. Tony Stark was inside turned away from Peter and leaning to look at something.

“Would you like me to inform Mr. Stark that you are here?” Friday asked, startling Peter.

“Oh, um, sure,” Peter said.

A moment later Mr. Stark looked up and he walked over to open the glass door that Peter hadn’t seen.

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said, “nice to see you in normal clothes for once.”

Peter looked down at what he was wearing. Jeans and a plain t-shirt. He glanced back up at Mr. Stark but he was motioning for him to walk into the workshop.

Seeing it from outside the glass had been one thing, but when he walked inside, Peter was in awe. The room was everything that anyone with even a little penchant for science and engineering would dream about and of course Tony Stark had all the latest technologies and basically anything else that he might need.

Then something beeped at him and an actual robot had rolled over to him and Peter could only stare.

“Peter, meet Dum-E.”

Peter reached out and Dum-E bumped his claw into his hand gently, almost like a fist bump. He beeped again multiple times and Mr. Stark actually laughed.

“Well, he likes you,” Mr. Stark said and walked closer. Dum-E beeped again. “That doesn’t mean that you were being useful before.”

His next beep was a bit sadder.

Mr. Stark pat the robot and it rolled away to join another.

“Dum-E was my first attempt at a learning artificial intelligence,” Tony admitted, “but in the end he’s just an almost helpful extra arm but he was my basis for Jarvis and then Friday and Jocasta and even the AI I put into your suit.”

“Karen,” Peter said.

“Who?”

“That’s what I called the AI in my suit,” Peter said and looked away from Mr. Stark to keep some composure.

He distracted himself with the rest of the workshop. In a corner of the room, Peter even spotted stuff that belonged to the other Avengers including what appeared to be Captain America’s actual shield. Peter considered for a moment walking over to look at it closer but it seemed to him that Mr. Stark had put those things as far away from everything else for a reason.

Either way, Peter was distracted when he saw his own Spider-Man suit on the table that Tony had been bent over earlier.

“I’ve been repairing it,” Mr. Stark said when he saw him looking.

“It wasn’t damaged,” Peter said.

“Not yet,” Mr. Stark said and motioned for Peter to join him, “but it does need good maintenance and you removed the tracker.”

Peter sighed. “I had to. I was following up on a lead and it was the only way I could go.”

“Or,” Mr. Stark said, “you could have told Happy and we would have done something about it.”

Peter dropped his head. Being stuck in the DODC for as long as he had could have probably been prevented if he did, Peter realized, not to mention that Happy had been passing along his messages to Mr. Stark. Then, he could have even made the decathlon and not disappointed everyone. Maybe the whole elevator fiasco could have gone differently too. It was hard to say.

Mr. Stark sat down on a stool and he motioned for Peter to grab another one. “I think,” he said, “that I was just a little bit too harsh on you yesterday. Peter, what you do and the way you care is amazing and that isn’t all just this suit. It’s you. I just have made a lot of mistakes and so has everyone else and I don’t want you to look back a few years from now with regret for all the wrong steps you take or to have guilt piled on your shoulders because no matter how hard you tried something went wrong and someone died. If I can prevent that, kid, I will, even if it means that I tell you to stay away from something that is clearly over your head. I just, I need you to keep me in the loop.”

Peter couldn’t find words. He just didn’t know that Mr. Stark cared that much. He tried to look at him, but his vision was blurry and it took him a moment to realize that he had tears in his eyes. Dum-E nudged him and Peter blinked. The bot had brought him a rag. It was dirty and covered in grease but Peter felt touched.

“Thank you,” he murmured. The bot beeped.

Mr. Stark coughed awkwardly next to him and then stood up. “Anyway,” Mr. Stark said, “I’m willing to give you the suit back, Karen included, but training wheel protocol is back on and I get daily updates from you and Karen both. Also, I’ve replaced your tracker and if it ever goes off line again I will take the suit and destroy it.”

Peter couldn’t believe it. “Are you sure, Mr. Stark?” he asked. “Because you don’t have to. I know I messed up. I know that I disappointed you and that I messed up with the ferry and I probably bother Happy too much but—”

“I realized that to you it won’t matter if you have the high tech suit or those red and blue sweats with the goggles because you’ll go out there. I can’t stop you and neither can your aunt so I’d rather keep you safe.”

“Oh,” Peter said.

Mr. Stark dropped a hand to Peter’s shoulder and he looked up.

“Come on, you’re already here, so you might as well help me out with some of these upgrades.”

Tony felt at peace with it when he finally went to bed that night. Peter had his suit back and Tony had Friday monitoring his every move when in the suit. At one point in the night he had even considered figuring out how to put a tracker on Peter himself for when he wasn’t in the suit but decided it would be just a tad too invasive.

Tony felt all that more comfortable with Peter out in the suit. He thought that maybe things hadn’t ended in the best possible way when he and Happy dropped him off at home after Germany but then Tony hadn’t been in the right state of mind. It was so soon after Siberia and finding out that Steve had been keeping things from him and there had been just so many things that needed looking into that Tony probably hadn’t really put his all into watching out for the kid. He’d put Happy in charge of it and forgotten that Happy wasn’t exactly versed in dealing with the superhero kind on the daily basis and that Happy had a lot of other things on his plate that he would deem far more important. He should have handed the reigns over to Vision or Rhodey instead but Vision was acting odd and not exactly human and Rhodey had his legs and recovery to worry about. Tony had refused to put any more burdens on either of them and because of The Accords there was no one else.

He slept better knowing that he and Peter finally had a talk of sorts and that Peter seemed to truly understand why Tony had been so upset with him. He was happy with the decision and he went to bed and tried not to think about all the other problems that he needed to deal with.

The next morning Tony was in meetings all day. Some of them were SI related and others Avengers related. It was a long day and by the end of it, Tony wanted nothing more than to just hide out in his workshop and tinker on the new suit.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Peter showed up in the middle of it. He gave off nervous energy and seemed to move without knowing he was moving.

“Friday, what happened?” Tony asked.

“Nothing that I am aware of, sir,” Friday said, “I don’t believe this is related to Spider-Man at all.”

Tony tried to stare Peter down. “Tell me what happened, kid.”

“I – I have – Liz Toomes is going to homecoming with me,” Peter said and looked incredulous.

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. Girl trouble, of course.

“I just – I asked her and she said yes and I didn’t think she would. She’s a senior, you know, and she’s just cool and doesn’t hate me even though I’ve been flaking left and right but then she agreed to go with me and I have no idea what to do.”

He kept running his fingers through his hair and moving spastically as if he were a kid on a sugar high.

“Am I supposed to be your new tailor or something, kid?” Tony asked, trying to break the tension.

Peter stopped moving and he shook his head frantically. “No, no, not at all, Mr. Stark. I just didn’t know what to do and Aunt May can probably help me out but this is just so crazy and I can’t believe it’s happening, you know.”

Tony grabbed him by the shoulders before he started pacing again. “Kid…Peter, calm down. It was a joke.”

“Oh,” Peter said.

Tony didn’t know how he had ended up becoming the person that Peter went to when he had an issue that didn’t revolve around Spider-Man, but he found somehow that he appreciated being thought of as someone that could actually help.

“Now, all I can really tell you is to be yourself and that you should practice dancing because you don’t want to step on her feet. If she said yes then she likes you, Peter, so you just have to have fun and let yourself relax. Okay?”

Peter nodded but Tony could tell that his mind was running through scenarios and who knows what else.

“And we’ll see about clothes,” Tony added, “a different kind of suit might give you the confidence to not freak out that night.”

Peter blushed a little. “You don’t have to, Mr. Stark,” he said, “I’m sure Aunt May and I can find something for me to wear.”

“You came here, kid, this is how I operate. Friday, could you get Spiderling’s measurements to my tailor.”

In the end, it didn’t matter that Mr. Stark returned the suit to him. It became useless when Peter left it home the night of homecoming. Mr. Stark had given him the idea, telling him that it was his night off to relax and have fun. He kept stressing that he would personally still be in NYC and so Peter had nothing to worry about.

Of course, when Peter got dropped off at Liz’ house in the suit that Mr. Stark had personally delivered earlier in the night, he didn’t expect to come face to face with the winged man with all the alien tech. Liz’ father was the bad guy and Peter was so shaken by it that he couldn’t even manage to send Mr. Stark a text and then when he did think of doing it, they were in the car and Mr. Toomes seemed to be watching his every move even as he drove them to the dance.

During their talk, where Toomes figured out who Peter was and warned him off, Peter even had to leave his phone behind in the car for a way to track Toomes so he couldn’t exactly get in touch with Mr. Stark or Happy that way and he knew that even though he’d promised to stay out of trouble that it had found him and Peter couldn’t just let something happen when he could stop it.

He hated telling Liz that he had to go and felt even worse because it was her dad that he’d be going after.

Peter had his old suit stashed under some lockers so for lack of anything else he fetched that and Ned really became his guy in the chair. Peter set him on getting in contact with Happy even though he knew it’d be a long shot when it was Ned on the phone and not Peter, but Peter needed to go after Toomes. He couldn’t let him get away.

Then, he was stuck under a building. Then, he was on the outside of a plane. Then, the plane crashed. Then, Peter saved Toomes and limping and bleeding he collected everything from the remains of the crash and webbed Toomes to it and left a note. He hung around long enough to see Happy get there and then he swung his way home and tried not to think about all his injuries or what Mr. Stark’s reaction might be to it all.

Moving day had meant that Tony was packing the bots to be driven over to Avengers Compound. It was a necessity of Tony being needed at the compound more than before and Tony just not feeling that great about the tower and all the memories that it held. When he was living there on his own things had been different because the Avengers were just a drive away and Tony didn’t mind that they weren’t there anymore. Ever since The Accords and that mess Tony had felt their lack of presence everywhere he looked so instead he set about renovating the compound and deciding that he might as well move in too and bring all his things along which also meant all of their things and the Shield things and the alien things.

Still, Tony had felt confident that despite how busy he was that Peter would get to enjoy the night without being bothered. He had taken a break to drop of the kid’s homecoming suit earlier and stuck around to see him put it on while May got teary eyed and took pictures of everything.

Tony had been only a little surprised when Peter turned to him with his tie.

“We – um – we tried to figure it out but the small part always ends up being longer. Could you…I mean you wear ties all the time so—”

Tony had felt somehow honored that Peter was asking him even though of course he was aware that there literally was no one else for him to ask except his aunt who was watching them from the kitchen with a strange almost melancholy look.

Tony had tied his tie for him and fixed it until it was just right and if he felt a pang of pride watching Peter turn around to look at himself in the mirror he tried not to show it.

When May went to the bathroom, Tony told Peter to leave the Spider-Man suit behind.

“You’re wearing a different type of suit tonight, kid,” he told him, “and I’m around to make sure things go alright tonight so it’s not on you. This night is for you. You get to be a kid and enjoy homecoming with a girl you like and your friends. That’s what you do tonight.”

So, Tony had Friday keeping a watch for anything strange and crime related and had a suit on hand. Somehow, it wasn’t until Friday mentioned a building collapse that Tony began to suspect that something was awry.

He had gone to check it out but it was all rubble. The few walls left standing gave him nothing, but a few of the remaining things told him that this had been the place where Peter’s bad guy was operating from.

Tony spent some time looking through what he could until Happy sent him a message that the plane was on its way. Nothing had gone wrong, then. Happy was personally seeing to the plane’s tracker and then sending out the more important stuff in the car that Vision was driving to the compound.

Friday didn’t alert him to any more activity and Tony decided that the flying guy had probably destroyed the place on purpose. He made sure Friday alerted DODC to check the place out and then walked back outside.

He went back to the tower to finish packing up the last of his workshop as well as the lab in the floor underneath his that had gone untouched since Bruce’s disappearance.

Friday didn’t alert him to anything being wrong for another fifteen minutes when Happy called and she was already showing him that the plane had gone down at Coney Island.

“Shit,” Tony said.

“I think the kid’s there,” Happy said, “I think his friend called for him and was trying to tell me about something going on with the plane.”

Friday brought up his tracker immediately but the suit was offline and there was nothing to track. It gave Tony only the slightest bit of hope that Peter was still at the dance and that this was an entirely unrelated situation.

“The DODC is headed there,” Happy informed him. “I will go myself and make sure everything is accounted for and brought back here or to the compound.”

Tony nodded. There wasn’t much more for Iron Man to do and showing up just to check for Peter felt like it would put more of a spotlight on something that didn’t need it. The plane’s destruction would be given an excuse but if he showed up then it would destroy any of that. The public needed to have the right perception of superheroes at the moment due to all the business with The Accords. The negotiations for amendments were going well but anything could change that.

Still, Tony couldn’t stay behind. He couldn’t be still. He got back in the suit and flew to Peter’s apartment. He didn’t go to the front door because he didn’t want to alert May to anything being wrong. It felt entirely different from hours earlier when he’d been there and walked in through the front door. This time Tony found Peter’s window.

It was a crack open and Tony didn’t have a hard time getting it fully open and sneaking inside.

Peter wasn’t there. Tony reminded himself that Peter could still be at the dance, that he could be awkwardly trying to talk to his date and making a fool out of himself. It was a low chance that’s what was happening, but Tony decided to wait anyway. He got out of the armor and let Friday take it out of the apartment.

It didn’t take long for Peter to climb in through the window just like Tony had. He was in the old suit and he almost fell as soon as he was inside. He let out a low groan and Tony rushed to his side to support him. Peter jumped.

“Mr. Stark,” he said, “what are you doing here?”

Tony took him to the bed and laid him down on the bottom bunk.

“I’m checking up on you,” Tony said and tried not to upset any injuries as he helped Peter remove his mostly tattered and scorched makeshift suit – the one that he’d been using before Tony’s upgrade. “Why are you wearing these rags?”

“Left the other one here,” Peter said, “I had no time.”

Tony threw the rags away. Peter had cuts and bruises everywhere. His entire torso looked a mixture of blue, purple, green, and red.

“You had your phone, didn’t you? Couldn’t call me or Happy?”

Peter groaned and Tony anxiously checked him over. There wasn’t anything that Peter’s metabolism and quick healing couldn’t handle and yet Tony wanted to make sure that Peter never suffered more than even a paper cut.

Peter tried to get up but Tony pushed him back into the bed. “What do you need?” he asked.

“I wanted my pajamas,” Peter said and pointed in the direction of his closet.

Tony was surprised to find the Hello Kitty pants in there and he grabbed them mostly because he wanted to make the moment lighter but Peter just grabbed for them and Tony watched him put them on before passing him a t-shirt.

“They’re actually really comfortable,” Peter said.

Tony shook his head. “What happened tonight?”

Peter covered his face with his hands while Tony grabbed Peter’s computer chair and sat down, rolling himself over to the bed.

“So my date’s dad turned out to be the guy with the mechanical wings,” Peter said, “I went to her house and he opened the door and I should have just texted you or, I don’t know, done something. Anyway, he figured out I’m Spider-Man on the drive to the dance and then he sort of warned me off and told me to let him go but I couldn’t, okay. But his wife said he was going out of town so I knew there wasn’t going to be a better time to catch him and then I figured out that he was going to steal the stuff from the plane. Anyway, I left my phone in his car and I couldn’t get back here to get the suit or anything before he got away. Ned was tracking him and I borrowed Flash’s parent’s car and then Ned was supposed to call Happy but I think he was busy and we ended up crashing the plane but I saved Mr. Toomes and I left him there for the authorities to pick up.”

By the end of it Peter was shaking. He had gotten pale too and Tony couldn’t help but reach out and grab his hand. Tony had never been a hand holder but then Peter brought something out in Tony that just couldn’t be explained and Peter relaxed and Tony just held his hand.

“You did good, Peter,” Tony said.

“I did?”

Tony smiled. “Yes. No death or great destruction and you handled yourself without all of my tech even if I wish you’d been wearing the suit. You did great. I don’t want you going after bad guys like this on your own again, but given the circumstances you did good.”

Watching him yawn as all of the adrenaline faded, Tony wondered if maybe Peter did deserve to be considered an Avenger. He was still very young but Tony knew that he needed to have Peter closer. He needed to be trained better and to stop ending up all on his own in dire situations. Tony didn’t necessarily think that adding him to a group that consisted of himself and Vision at the moment was the answer, but it might cool Peter’s need to prove himself and if nothing else it would keep Peter closer to where Tony could watch and protect him. On an added note, Peter was good PR. People loved Spider-Man. His addition to the team would be a boost as real conversations on changing The Accords continued.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said. His voice was full of sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for looking out for me.”

Part Two

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Chapter 45: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 45/68 Word Count: 3016 Words

Chapter Summary: I unfortunately don’t have a clever chapter summary for this one (probably won’t for the next one, either). It’s hard for me to try to be clever about this subject matter, because it hits a little close to home. So I do have a minor content warning. If you’re also reading on AO3, I have this fic tagged for mentions of cancer. The mentions of cancer are much more prevalent in this chapter and they spend a lot of time in the hospital in both this and the next chapter. 

(Also, I’ve been doing a new editing thing and this chapter went from 2200 to 3000 words... I thought editing was supposed to be cutting things not adding 800 words to an already depressing chapter.) Next chapter should be out in a couple days, so hopefully this “cliffhanger” isn’t too horrible.

Also on AO3; Start from the beginning on AO3

Wells had this infuriating habit of tricking Clarke into family functions. It seemed impossible that he could forgive her mother for letting him shoulder all that blame for years. The logical part of her knew he was more forgiving and she had never had an easy time with it. That didn't make it any less frustrating when he convinced her to go home for Thanksgiving and she arrived at her mother's house to find out that the Jahas were out of town for the holiday.

Clarke 11:27am I can't believe you thought this was sneaky. I can't believe you in general.

Wells 11:30am What was that? azzxdfaesgxvz Sorry, my phone is breaking up. sarezvxdgawesgz We're in a really bad service area.

Clarke 11:32am Oh, you're sooooo funny.

Wells 11:34am You love me.

Clarke 11:35am Not right now I don't.

Abby retreated to the kitchen once it became clear that Clarke wasn't there of her own volition. She seemed content to let Clarke make up her mind about whether or not she would stay. When she said she understood why Clarke was upset and would give her all the time she needed, Clarke was pretty sure her mother had been replaced by an alien. Or a robot. Or some creepy AI that didn't know who it was emulating.

The only other place she wanted to be was with the Blakes, but she wasn't sure she wanted to continue to infringe on their family time. There was a fine line and she wasn't sure if she was crossing it. Bellamy and O swore she wasn't, and Aurora did always invite her to family dinner, but Clarke tried not to go every time.

But they were still the only people she thought of when she wanted to run away. She could just go home, but they'd probably be more frustrated with her if they found her there later.

Clarke 11:51am Were you in on this little conspiracy?

Bell 11:54am I wondered if he'd actually make it until today without you finding out. I told him it was a stupid idea. But he wanted to try anyway.

Clarke 11:56am I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.

Bell 11:58am For what it's worth I already told mom you might be coming by today anyway. We can also bring you leftovers if you don't want to drive all the way up here.

Clarke 12:02pm Thanks Bell. I'll let you know, okay? I might try to stick it out.

Bell 12:03pm No pressure. But make up your mind soon. We have only have 2 more hours with our phones.

Clarke 12:05pm No promises. And don't worry about me. I'll only call in an emergency like if we decide to murder each other So change my ringtone to something appropriately alarming and leave your volume on high.

Bell 12:08pm I don't know if she'll be more pissed at you or me. But for highest impact, call around 4:30.

It wasn’t ideal, but Clarke finally listened to her mother’s apology. It hadn’t quite been four years, but that wasn’t that long and it was hard to reconcile herself with the fact that her mother had her followed, because she thought her daughter was getting out of hand. Wells hadn’t made the call (which Clarke already knew), but it was Abby who pushed Jake to get behind the wheel that night.

Neither of them wanted what ultimately resulted from all of it.

There was nothing cathartic about the revelation, so Clarke eventually changed the subject. She stayed for her father’s sake. It was always a big deal to him to have the family together for the holiday, and she wasn’t honoring him well by ignoring her mother. Things didn’t have to be perfect.

Neither of them felt much like cooking after their talk, but they did it anyway. Clarke even humored her mother by changing into her pajamas. It was what they had done their first Thanksgiving alone. Her dad would have liked it.

They were preparing to put a game hen in the oven when Clarke’s phone rang. It wasn’t the alarm she had set for herself to call Bellamy. She shot her mom an apologetic glance (old habits die hard) and jogged across the room to look at it. Her stomach tied itself up in knots when she saw Octavia’s name.

“O? What’s going on? Bell said you guys had to give up your phones like an hour ago.”

“Clarke?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s–”

“Are you still at your mom’s? Can you come to Ark Memorial? Can you bring her?”

It had felt like her insides couldn’t drop any lower, but she was apparently wrong. “Yeah. Yes. Of course. Are you okay? Is Bellamy okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah. We’re fine. It’s…. Mom collapsed.” O’s voice finally broke.

“We’ll leave right now. Right now, okay?” Clarke ran out of the kitchen and grabbed her shoes, along with a pair of her mom’s. “Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“I need to call Lincoln. But you’re coming?”

“Yes. Thirty minutes max. I promise.” Clarke waited for O to say anything else as she hurried back into the kitchen. When she pushed her mom’s shoes into her arms, Abby’s mouth fell open, but Clarke turned around to find their coats before she could protest. She could still hear Octavia’s jagged breathing on the other end. “Hey, O, I love you, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks Clarke. I love you, too.”

If there was one thing Bellamy hated in the world, it was the incessant beeping from hospital equipment. Even after his mom got better, any time he heard it in a movie or a TV show, he cringed. Being in an actual hospital again shook him to his core. They were out in the waiting room, but he could still hear the beeping everywhere. It was surrounding them. It was deafening. He kept his head in his hands, staring at the floor.

The air around him started to crackle. He could feel it on his skin. It pulled his gaze up in time to see Octavia already halfway across the room. He stared blankly, because he wasn’t entirely convinced that Clarke wasn’t the hallucination his brain had come up with in an attempt to comfort him. But then his sister was throwing her arms around her neck. Clarke pressed a kiss to her cheek and they stood there, foreheads pressed together while they whispered back and forth. Tears poured down both their cheeks.

Minutes felt like hours and also seconds. He had no idea how long they stood there that way before she turned her eyes to him, but she did eventually and he could feel the weight of the air on his skin again. Octavia had left the room, but Clarke was walking toward him. When she sat down next to him on the couch and opened her mouth, the beeping stopped.

“Bellamy.” His name was all she said, her voice rough in an attempt to contain her emotions. He couldn’t look at her anymore without breaking, so he put his head back in his hands.

At first, she settled her hand on his lower back. When he didn’t move, she slid her other arm between his stomach and arms and set her cheek on his shoulder. His strength left him, then, and he relaxed into her with a broken exhale.

“Bellamy, it’s going to be okay. My mom’s in there now and she’ll come out soon and tell us everything is going to be okay. She’s going to know how to fix this.”

He listened to her chant platitudes like prayers and set his head on hers. She linked her left ankle behind his right and grabbed his hand. He stared down at their linked fingers and watched as her thumb moved in circles along the back of his hand. When she started rubbing circles into his lower back, he sighed and leaned into it.

Octavia finally came back with Lincoln. Bellamy wondered what he had thought when he pulled up to their house only to find it empty. They sat on his other side and settled in for the wait.

By the time Abby came out with a chart in her hand, sweats tucked into her fluffy boots, he realized that the Griffins hadn’t even taken the time to change clothes before driving across the city to get there. He hadn’t even registered the fact that Clarke was wearing almost the exact same outfit. Abby’s eyes swept across the group, her mouth in a tight line. She looked tired as she pulled up a chair in front of them. Clarke somehow managed to hold both of his hands in one of hers and reached across him to grab onto Octavia’s knee.

“Bellamy, Octavia. Do you want to talk alone?”

He couldn’t speak, but O turned it down for the both of them. He was glad, because he was pretty sure that if Clarke left, the beeping would start burrowing into his brain again.

“Okay, well.” She hesitated. He could feel what she was about to say in his bones. This part of her job had to suck. “I wish I had better news. I spoke with your mother’s doctors and… well, it sounds like she’s been ignoring these symptoms for some time. They’re running a few tests to confirm it, but it is highly likely that your mother’s cancer is back. Frankly, I’m a little worried. I don’t want to give you false hope. If the cancer is back, they’ll try everything that they can, but early detection is incredibly important in these cases.”

Bellamy didn’t want to hear about the tests they needed to perform or the treatment options that might work. It was all still fresh in his mind, even though it had been six years since he heard them. Of course, there were new clinical trials. That was when he stopped listening and buried his forehead into Clarke’s neck.

Clarke sat in the passenger seat in silence. It was hard to be mad at her mother after seeing what Bell and O were going through, but she was frustrated that they were leaving. She toyed with her phone, not sure if she should wait to text Bellamy. Octavia knew Clarke would be back first thing in the morning, but she wanted to make sure that he knew they weren’t alone in everything.

“Clarke? Honey?”

“Hmm?” She wondered how long her mom had been trying to get her attention. “Sorry, I’m distracted.”

Abby patted her on the knee. “I know. It’s hard to know how to be there for someone in a situation like this. You were so great with them, though.” She started to chew on her lip and tapped a nonsense rhythm into the steering wheel. Clarke was content to wait until she said whatever else was on her mind. It didn’t take long. “This seems like a strange question to ask at a time like this, but I’m curious. How long have you been with Bellamy?”

That was enough to fully snap Clarke back to the present. “What?!”

“You didn’t tell me you two were dating. I was just wondering how long you and Bellamy had been together. The last time we really talked, you two were still figuring out how to be friends.”

“What are you talking about? Bellamy and I aren’t together.”

Abby laughed softly. “So, you hold hands with all of your friends?”

Clarke hesitated, thinking about it for a moment. She wasn’t not affectionate with her other friends, but she could see where the confusion might come from. They all hugged and occasionally sat on each other or cuddled on the couch if they had been drinking. It was true that she and Bellamy were probably the most physical with each other out of the group. They were always in each other’s personal space and it had really just happened without her realizing it, so there was no good way to explain it.

“I guess not,” she finally responded. “But… it’s Bellamy.”

“It’s Bellamy?”

Clarke shrugged even though Abby wasn’t looking at her. “Yeah. That’s just what we do.”

She was grateful that Abby let it go at that. If her mother asked for more of an explanation, Clarke wasn’t sure what she would say.

Aurora went home after a couple of days. She claimed that she didn’t want to drain their already meager inheritance away with hospital bills. One of the Blake siblings had a harder time “allowing” that than the other. (“I don’t always like your decisions. You don’t have to like mine.”) The two of them worked out a schedule so that someone was with her almost all of the time. It took some doing, but Clarke and Abby managed to insert themselves into the schedule as well.

Still, she ended up back in the hospital after a few weeks. Clarke finished up her shift at the clinic and checked her phone to find a voicemail from Octavia.

Hey, it’s me. Mom collapsed again. We’re back at Ark Memorial. Your mom’s already here…. Her voice trailed off for a moment, but the steady beeping in the background kept Clarke listening. Things don’t look good, Clarke. I know you’re working, but come as soon as you can. Mom keeps saying she wants to talk to you. Love you. I hope you get here soon.

It was all too surreal. It didn’t feel like a thing that was happening. Even in the face of a grim prognosis, Aurora had been constantly optimistic. The Blakes seemed immortal, impervious to harm, and the last few weeks had been a rude awakening for Clarke.

When she arrived at the hospital, she found Aurora’s room and rushed back. Bellamy was sitting in a chair at the side of the bed and O was sitting on the bed, both clinging onto one of her hands. She saw Clarke first and greeted her, voice weaker than the last time they had seen each other. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you could make it.”

It was the same thing she said any time Clarke showed up for lunch or dinner on the weekend and it hurt. Both Bellamy and Octavia jumped and turned their heads, but Aurora kept speaking.

“Bellamy, will you go find me something to eat? Chips or something from the vending machine? Octavia, you should go call that handsome boyfriend of yours and see when he’ll get here.”

They both reluctantly assented. O squeezed Clarke’s hand on the way out. Bellamy hesitated more than his sister, but eventually agreed. He attempted to smile and almost walked right past her, but Clarke grabbed his arm. They shared a wordless conversation. Are you okay right now? and How could I possibly be okay right now? She hugged him tightly and he let it last longer than she expected, but he still left without saying anything.

“Will you come sit with me?” Aurora patted the bed next to her.

Clarke swallowed hard and nodded. The first step was the hardest. It was like trying to walk in the shallow end of the pool and it didn’t get easier as she crossed the room. Aurora’s face was gaunt and pale. It looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Clarke took her hand as she sat down on the bed and could feel each individual bone. She had lost too much weight. But it was a time for strength. Crying could, and would, come later.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about me.” Aurora patted her hand. “I knew this was coming.”

Clarke frowned. “How long have you known for sure?”

“It’s been a few months. Before that hospital visit. And you know the doctors weren’t optimistic about treatment options. I wanted to enjoy the time I had left, not suffer through it, poked day in and day out, tubes everywhere. You and your mom were more than enough medical supervision.”

Aurora smiled and Clarke tried to come up with the laugh she wanted, but it wouldn’t come. “There isn’t anything they can do?”

“There are no guarantees.” A tear ran down Aurora’s cheek, making it harder for Clarke to maintain her composure. “I wish I didn’t have to leave them, but I’m ready to go.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m ready to go, because I know I’m not leaving them alone. It’s important to me that you know how much I appreciate how much you’ve done for us. For my kids. Not just helping us out the last few weeks, but ever since they met you. You’ve had such an impact on both of them and I’m so happy that they know you.” She paused for a moment to cough and Clarke handed her the glass of water from the table. When she finished taking a drink, she smiled. “I’m so glad they have you, Clarke. I hope you know how much you mean to this family.”

“I hope you know how much your family means to me.”

“I really do.” A truly contagious grin spread across Aurora’s face. Clarke couldn’t help smiling back, even as a heaviness weighed down on her chest.

When Bellamy came back, Clarke could see him trying to figure out what they had talked about, but she wanted to hold onto it for a little while. She gave Aurora a long hug and managed not to cry until she left to go find Lincoln in the waiting room.

Clarke knew that things were bad, because Abby didn’t try to make her go home once Bellamy and O were set up in Aurora’s room for the night. She was grateful that Lincoln stayed, because Abby was back with the staff, so she would have been alone. They talked about finals, the classes they were going to take next quarter, but her heart wasn’t in the small talk. Once Lincoln realized it, he just squeezed her hand before leaning back in his spot. It took some time, but eventually, they both fell asleep.