#how can i use this to break ortegas mind and/or get him to actually retire

[aro-ortega]

i think ortega should accidentally get sidestep pregnant

[erintoknow]

everything breaks in me

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Well, you know what they say; no plan survives contact with the enemy intact. [Wolf] Originally: [Everything Breaks In Me]

[Read on AO3]

You breathe a sigh of relief as Herald shuts the break room door behind him. He’s not that young, but just the air he has around him makes you feel decrepit by comparison. To say nothing of the stars in his eyes, plain to see in every two sentence exchange with the kid. Try not to think about the limp in his gait, his preference to hover over walking, the night at the Gala.

Damnit. How are you going to take them down for good if a broken leg is enough to make you feel like shit? These people aren’t your friends or allies. They’ll turn on you the second they know the truth. That was true before Puppetmaster hit the papers, and it’s only become more true now that Ghost is making regular headlines.

Something like you can’t have allies, never mind friends.

You can’t afford to forget that.

Never again.

You won’t go back.

Glance around the break room, no point trying to raid the fridge while you wait for Ortega. You need time to figure out how you’ll approach that conversation. Things have been… strange for months. Just thinking about her is enough to bring on the nausea. How can she not see you for what you are? How is she not repulsed?

You run your hands through your hair. Maybe you can help yourself to some hot chocolate. Get your hands something to do before you dig a hole in your skin. You drift over to the coffee collection, flip a finger through the bags looking for the cocoa.

It would be easier if you could just cut contact with Ortega completely. Just fucking ghost the fuck out of Julia. But, one, that would just get Ortega hounding your heels and two, would lose you access to the Rangers. Maybe if you hadn’t kissed her in the hospital? The two of you have never actually discussed that night, despite your promise. You’re terrified to bring it up. A moment of weakness you couldn’t afford.

You’ve been having a lot of those lately.

Well, you know what they say; no plan survives contact with the enemy intact.

You’ve just finished pouring yourself a mug of hot water and cocoa powder when the door opens. “So.” Chen announces as he steps into the break room, leaving the door open behind him. “You’re back.”

You settle against the window pane, cross your legs at the knee as you lean back. Make it clear you’re not about to leave. “I th–thought we already got past this part, Chen.” You hold the mug tight to your chest, one hand spinning the little red stirrer stick round and round.

You pick up a burst of frustration, but Chen’s face betrays none of it. “You were very insistent on being retired. And yet,” Chen stoops down to search through the refrigerator. “And yet, here you are again.”

You take a sip, ignoring the burn on your tongue. “Free country, Chen,” you lie. “You’re the – the Marshal, if really you want me out you could just have me barred from the building.” Maybe you’re playing your hand a little strong here but you can’t keep having this conversation with Chen. It’s exhausting.

He pulls out a squeeze bottle and shuts the fridge door as he stands up. “I could,” Chen concedes, and for a moment your heartbeat quickens. Is he seriously going to call your bluff and have you tossed out? Chen sighs, rubbing his nose. “But I won’t. You aren’t a threat.”

You blink. “I uh – I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Chen’s mouth twitches in the ghost of a smile. “You aren’t a threat yet.”

“There we go.”

“You haven’t tried to ‘improve’ the coffee machine, for example.”

You close your eyes and rest your head back against the glass. “Jesus Christ. Are you all still holding that against me?”

You hear Chen sigh, he sounds exhausted with you. “Is that really what you think this is about?”

You narrow your eyes at him, staring down from across the room. “Then explain to me, Chen. What is this about then?”

Chen meets your glare head-on and you have to will yourself not to break eye-contact. “I meant what I said before. I’m glad you aren’t dead.”

There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere...

“But–”

Yeah, there we go.

“It doesn’t change the reality, that for the rest of us, you did die. You were dead for seven years Becker. And now you think you can just, what?” Chen’s frown deepens. “Come back like nothing happened?”

Something between nausea and fury bubbles up in your throat and it is all you can do not to throw your mug across the room at him. “You have no fucking idea what I went through Chen! So back the fuck off!”

The silence stretches into seconds, then a minute, then “It was that bad, huh?”

Fucking hell piss goddamnit the bastard got you again.

“I’m not fucking tell you anything.” You clench your jaw, don’t look at him. Don’t look at his stupid face. Don’t peek at his stupid trap thoughts.

“You should tell somebody.”

You glare into your mug of hot chocolate. “Why do you even give a damn Chen.” If you had heat vision, the cup would be boiling.

“The way I see it, Becker, I’m wondering the same thing about you. Ever since you started coming by again you keep fixing little things, giving Ortega advice...,” Chen takes a pull from his squeeze bottle. “You act like you hate it, but no one’s forcing you to give Herald lessons. Argent’s the only person you’ve really avoided.”

“I just–” you hiss, frustrated to be on the back-foot once again. “If – if Ortega’s going to–to–to keep calling me over, I might as well make myself useful.”

Chen is staring straight at you and you have to hold your mug with both hands to keep them from shaking. “You asked me before, about choosing between two futures. If you want to retire Ariadne, then retire. Don’t let Ortega drag you into a half-life. That’s not fair to either of you.”

You tighten your grip on the mug, grind your teeth. “But why do you care?”

“You mean besides Ortega being my friend?” Chen’s voice drops as he talks. “Because I don’t understand why you do.”

“I–I–I just…” Are you sick? Mad? Both? What is Chen’s fucking deal? You need to go on the offensive again before he drives you from the building. “Look.” You raise a hand towards him, still not looking in his direction. “It’s obvious you guys are in trouble. I… I don’t want the Rangers to fall apart.”

Is that the truth or a lie? You’re not sure.

“Kind of you.” Chen’s voice is deadpan. “I think I know more about teamwork than you do.”

“Just – I might not have joined but – but that doesn’t mean we didn’t all make a good team.”

A wave of want and nostalgia seizes your heart.

If you could only go back to how things were before. Anathema and you pranking Steel, giving Sentinel a thumbs up. Talking with Sunstream about her garden. The nights with Ortega, her watching you at Derby games, the celebratory dinners or the consolatory milkshakes. Making sure Ortega got home safe after a hard fight. Fixing her hair for her. Helping to stitch her back up until the medics could come. Being her sounding board as she butted heads with PR and city officials. So many other little things you’re sure you’ve forgotten…

It’s all gone now. You’ll never get it back.

A lie. A dream.

And when you woke up–

“I wish you would have.” Chen says, pulling you out of your reverie.

Wait.

“What? J-joined?” Seriously?

“Yes, I wish you had.” When you look at Chen, he’s no longer staring you down, instead looking past you, out the window.

“I… I wouldn’t do a background check, you know that.”

He looks back to you and now it’s your turn to look out the window. “And you wonder why I didn’t trust you.”

“Not – not everyone is tight with the U.S. Government, you know.” You have to take a breath, scratch your fingers against the sides of the mug. “That doesn’t mean they’re bad.”

“The chances increase.”

You bite your lip a little too hard and wince at the pain. From the very beginning Chen has been trying to push you out. Reminding you that you don’t belong. Can’t belong. But… Chen has always been something of an outsider, like you. Why can’t he understand? “But they… they might have enemies.”

Chen takes a long drink from his squeeze bottle. Finally, he says “I’m sorry.”

You look up from your mug. “You’re… you’re sorry?” You choke back a laugh. “For what?”

There’s a… you can’t read the expression on his face. Something you don’t think you’ve seen before on his face. Regret? “For a lot of things,” He says. “I…”

“W-what?”

“I went looking for you.”

You manage to put the mug down on the table before you can drop it. He can’t – He can’t really mean? But? Why? What did he? But then? You cough, run a hand down your leg, pressing familiar patterns. “Didn’t they tell you I was dead?”

“Yes.” Steel nods. “I had a bad feeling. Something didn’t add up.” He shakes his head. You don’t think you’ve seen him this tense, this nervous in a long, long time. “They tried to tell me it was trauma from whatever the hell Heartbreak was.”

“An experiment, or…” you pull your arms tight against yourself. This is dangerous territory. “That’s my guess anyway.”

Steel doesn’t look directly at you, but his frown intensifies, eyebrows dip down. “You think someone… did that on purpose?”

“Uh – maybe not on… purpose.” You hug yourself tight, fall back against the wall again. “But they… they had been kept somewhere. There was…” You have to swallow down the bile. “Still equipment attached. Med-medical.”

“Huh. Interesting.” If Steel notices that you’re literally trying to hold yourself together, he doesn’t comment.

You furrow your brows, clinging to the twinge of irritation at being ignored. Better that then– “What? It’s interesting there’s something more than just a screwed up boost?”

Steel finally looks back at you. His frown doesn’t let up. “There’s always something more to everything in this city. You know that. It’s just not smiled on to look into it.”

“You did anyway.”

“I needed answers.”

“You’ve always been nosey.”

“Your words, not mine.”

You take a breath. “Well? Did you find any?” It’s like peering over the edge of a window. Testing the air.

“I… didn’t find you.” He glances away from your face, towards the break room door.

“So you found something then.”

“Bits and pieces.” He admits and your heart freezes. “Who’s Chelsea?” Steel watches you, and you have to struggle to keep your face blank. Swallow down the burst of panic. The sudden urge to run, to jump.

“Nobody important,” you lie. Even as the words leave your mouth you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he knows that you know he doesn’t believe you. You close your eyes. “Was that really it? The best you could do? Some old ghost?”

“There was more, a lot of dead ends.” Chen shakes his head. “Enough that I stopped looking.”

That gets you to look at him again and he won’t meet your eyes. “What? Why?” A bitter twinge in your stomach churns at your throat. “I thought you didn’t like mysteries?”

“I don’t. But… I needed to put the team first.”

You can feel the frustration bubbling again. The team first. The team you weren’t a part of because of a stupid piece of paper. The team he just told you he wished you joined. “Fuck that noise.” You hiss. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Plenty.” Steel steps away from the table, back towards the door. “Maybe you should ask yourself why.”

“Hún dàn.”

Chen’s eyebrows shoot straight up, and then his mouth quirks to the side in amusement. “Your pronunciation could use some work.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you want to know so badly, Becker, just read it from my mind.” He only breaks eye contact with you to put his drink back in the fridge.

“I’ve told you it doesn’t work like that.”

“And I’ve told you, I don’t believe you.”

“Fuck you, Steel.” Pick up your mug again and take a sip. You make a face and curse. It’s gone cold.

He gives you one last look back as he leaves the room. Chen’s face is a careful blank. “If I see Ortega I’ll be sure to tell her you’re here.”

You don’t have to wait long before Ortega shows her face. Sauntering through the door, cool as anything just as you’re pulling your mug out of the microwave. “So. I won’t even ask what you two talked about.”

“It’s just Chen. Being an asshole.” You huff, staring her down, clutching your cocoa to your shawl.

“Sure. Chen was the problem.” There’s a quiet, knowing smile on her face and it makes your heart hurt. She knows this song and dance just as well as you do. “I’m sure that’s it.”

“W–whatever. Believe me or don’t.”

“Hey, I’m pretty much done for today so…” She jerks her thumb to the door. “What do you say we get out of here?”

You groan. “God, yes.”

–––

The Los Diablos beach is more stone than sand. One of the many lasting scars of the disaster that killed Los Angeles, a city you’ve only seen in photographs and old movies. When you first came here over a decade ago, the bay still had the metal skeletons of ruined buildings rising out of the sea. It looks like they’ve finally cleared them all out now.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ortega’s fault you’re out here. You don’t know what to make of that. The ocean carries a cool salt breeze. In the fall air, it’s almost cold.

You don’t understand, don’t understand your own body’s reaction to her. How all your higher reasoning seems to go out the window around her. Is what is was like before? Were you always this bad around Ortega or is this a new development? So many frayed, half-forgotten memories, and which ones are even real rather than desperate dreams?

You can’t afford to be like this, can’t afford to lose control.

You lost control and broke Herald’s leg. Lost control and didn’t properly finish Charge off. Lost control and got shown up by Argent. You’re going to fall prey to the same problems you’ve watched countless other villains fall to. At this rate you won’t even last long enough to register as a blip in the steamroller the Directive has poised to flattened all dissenters

Fuck.

“Ari!” Ortega snaps her fingers and the sound makes you jerk your head towards her, startled out of your brooding. “Are you okay?” She’s watching you, brows knit in worry, and you feel sick.

You wince, “I’m fine,” shoot a glance in her direction, “really.”

“Uh-huh. Liar.” She shifts position, leaning against the guard rail, moves a little closer to you. “What are you thinking about so hard?” The sun’s right in her face, lighting her up. Is she frowning or squinting, you’re not sure.

You pull your head away from her, stare out across the water. “I don’t know.” You run your hands up your arms, even under all the fabric you can make out the little bumps and divots from the scars.

“You don’t know?” Ortega taps you on the shoulder with the back of her hand. A fleeting touch but it makes your heart jump.

“W-would you rather I lied?” You stretch your face into a smile.

Ortega doesn’t have an answer for that. Stares out over the water. You follow her gaze. The way the waves crest and break against the rocks. It wasn’t that long ago you were out there. Water filling through a puncture in your suit. Air supply compromised. Could have drowned then. You didn’t.

But you could have.

“It’s okay.” Ortega’s hand presses into your shoulder and you freeze up. “It’s over. We’re still here.”

“What?” You breathe out.

“The Nano-surge?” Ortega points across the bay with her other hand. The crest of land, still oddly clear of anything but grass and shrubs. “Ten years this year. We just passed the anniversary. It’s been in the news a lot.”

You blink, try to relax. “Oh.” Swallow down the tightness in your throat.

Truthfully, you haven’t paid much attention unless it concerns you or a future target. It takes less effort than you’d like to get sucked back there. To hear Elysie screaming. The shifting of the ground under everyone’s feet as it literally dissolved into a silver dust. And now you carry a piece of it with you. A sword to point at your enemies, at the entire world.

“Oh…” You try to clear your throat, “Can you believe it?”

That gets a laugh from her. She takes her hand from your shoulder and rubs the sleeve of her arm, the one you know must still have patches of mismatched skin where the grafts didn’t take correctly. “I really thought that was it for me…”

Something in your chest twists and you have to rub at your eye. “I’m glad I saved you back then.” You say, and to your surprise find it’s still true.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I still get nosebleeds sometimes.” You admit, surprising yourself. “Not as often… but ever since then.”

“Yeah?” Ortega moves closer to you, shoulders touching. So close. Too close. “Have you ever thought to see a doctor about it?”

“Ortega, please,” you arch an eyebrow, the smile on your face turning genuine. “Have you met me?”

“Ah-hah, the real reason you retired: fear of doctors.”

You laugh. “You’ve found me out.” Without really thinking about it you press your shoulder back against hers. Enjoy the warmth of the falling sun against the cool of the salt air. “You ought to think about it too.”

“What? Retire?”

“There’s plenty of other people that could save the world, you know.” You bite your lip. “It doesn’t have to be you.” You wish she’d stop. Let it go. Don’t.. don’t put herself in danger like that again.

“Hah. Well.” Ortega straightens up, pulling away from you. “I think saving the entire world might be beyond my pay grade…” She steals a glance at you from the corner of her eye. “I’ll be happy if I can just save people.”

You turn away from her, shift down on the railing. “What about stopping them?” You can feel the railing shift as she turns to you but you don’t look back.

“You know there’s only one I care about.”

“Really.”

“Well, alright.” She sighs. “There’s Hollow Ground and then there’s Ghost.”

“Banshee.” You correct her.

She blinks. “They changed their name again?”

Oh.

Shit.

You shrug, try to play it off like it was nothing and steal a glance at her. “That’s what the paper said this morning.” You force a laugh, smiling at the ocean. Have to play this cool. “Ghost was kind of stupid name anyway, wasn’t it?”

“Whatever they go by,” You can feel Ortega’s eyes on the side of your face. “They need to be stopped.”

“But–” you swallow the words in your throat, try again, “but why does it need to be you?”

Ortega’s gaze is still boring a hole through you. “They made it personal.”

You close your eyes, try not to think about her looking at you. “It doesn’t – it doesn’t have to be. There’s other heroes, and – and – and it didn’t go well for you the last time.” You grip the railing tight, rub your hands against the metal. “I worry about you.”

“You don’t need to.” You open your eyes and she’s smiling at you, confident, and there’s something about her eyes, wrinkles casting a shadow in the sun. Whatever seven years might have done to Ortega, it hasn’t damaged her ability to look stunning in the spotlight.

You collapse against the railing, chin on metal. “I keep trying to… to tell myself, and it hasn’t helped.”

“You don’t have to protect me,” she laughs. “When did you get to be such a mom?”

You groan, a sound that turns into more an anguished noise than you had intended. “You don’t – you don’t get it.”

Everything she’s ever worked for: a lie. A lie you need to destroy, burn down to the ground. Yourself included. What would she do if you came clean right now? Right here? Zap you and turn you back in? Kill you? If you really believed she’d actually kill you, maybe you’d tell her. Let her do the thing you keep chickening out of. Take the choice out of your hands.

“You keep saying I don’t get it, Ari.” Ortega’s voice dips, hurt? Serious? “So, explain. Talk to me. Make me get it. Please.” Ortega’s voice by your ear is too much. You’ve got to… you’ve got to move. Get out. If only it was as simple as running away.

You test the railing in your hand. “W-why don’t we, uh, why don’t we walk?” You glance behind you, then up and down the promenade. No obvious witnesses you can detect. You vault over the railing and pick your way down across the rocks of the jetty. Behind you, the sounds of Ortega scrabbling over the railing after you.

“Not planning on a swim, I hope.” Ortega picks her way from stone to stone after you.

You shake your head, glance back while you let her catch up. “I don’t swim,” not in this body, “I– I just wanted privacy.”

Ortega looks at you, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. The wind pulls at your hair, clothes. “Not much more private than this, ‘less you count the seagulls.”

You take a breath, try to steady yourself. “Look Ortega, I – I…”

You wilt, look away. This isn’t the time. Sooner or later you’ll have to give up this delusion but you can’t bring yourself to jump just yet. Just… Just a little longer. One more day even. “I have my reasons. I’m sorry. I– I can’t talk about it.”

Ortega watches as you carefully balance yourself from one rock to the next, the wind blowing your shawl around your body in waves that mimic the sea. “Not ever?”

You wince. “N-n-not yet.”

“So… someday then?”

You grit your teeth, hop rocks, teeter for a second. “D-don’t push your luck, Ortega.”

She hops to a rock next to you, flashes you a smile. “And why not?”

“One day you’ll…” You pause to pull your shawl tighter against yourself. “You’ll get more than you can handle.”

“You’d have to start talking to me first.” Ortega sounds tired as she says it, and something in your heart or your gut or both twists at the tone of her voice.

“I’m– I’m talking.” You hold your shawl shut tight, wrapped around you.

She catches your eye, tries on a smile. “It’s a start.” She holds out a hand towards you. “Well. Since we’re here, and we’re talking, I suppose I should tell you…”

You look at her hand, then up at her face, the smug smile slowly starting to grow there. “What?”

“I’d really like to kiss you.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow. “Am I not sexy enough without 36 stitches and having lost a pint of blood first?”

You can feel the heat in your face. “Th–th–that’s not it! I mean…” A jumble of words gets caught in your throat and for a moment you open your mouth and no sound comes out.

Ortega laughs, “You okay there, Ari?”

You take a breath, glare at her. “Don’t make me push you.”

She puts a hand to her chest in mock shock. “My Ari?” –You heart skips a beat– “Never.” She offers her hand, shaking it. “Well?”

A dozen different alarm bells are screaming in your head in all the ways this is even worse an idea than last time. “F-f-f-fine.” You take her hand, letting your shawl flap loose in the breeze again. And you’ve jumped the ledge. “M-maybe I’d.. I’d like that.”

Ortega laughs, “Ariadne!” You could cry at the way she says your name if you weren’t already straining to hold yourself together. “I’m not going to shoot you.” She hops onto your rock.

“Just. Shut up.” You hiss, face burning. You grab her shoulders as she pushes against you. To steady her or yourself? Both?

It’s a soft inhalation of breath and then warmth against you, every point of contact a spark demanding your attention. Hand on your back, neck, lips too close to yours. You cling to her as it gets harder to stand.

Swallow back panic. Swallow back memories of white. You are stronger than it now. You have to be. What was the point of all this otherwise? “If… If you drop me–”

She pulls you in, barely audible over the city and the waves. “I won’t. Never.”

[impossible-rat-babies]

Lucky number 13 for the microstory prompt list!

13. Too Loud

[microstory prompts]

–

Phone buzzing, bed creaking and blankets tangling in his legs, hand appearing from the heavy layers cocooning him. Groping blindly through the dark and he fishes the device out from under his pillow, dragging his face from the depths of his pillows. Cursing at the bright light of his phone and it rudely tells him it’s 5 in the afternoon.

Are you still in bed?

Ortega’s text flashes across his screen and Pollux rubs his forehead, chewing his lip.

You asked me three hours ago and it hasn’t changed.

Pollux should have just left it, not bothered to reply and left the phone to buzz on repeat, forgotten in his sheets and the haze of hours slipping by like sludge, watching the sun cross the outside of his curtains and the orange street lights follow behind, bringing the sounds of the city shuffling her hand once more.

Three hours ago he’d promised Ortega he would clamber out of bed and go do something, but he’s still buried in his nest. The day before he said he would get up, and the day before that too.

Pollux you need to get out of bed.

What if I don’t want to?

He replies quicker than he should, the florescence of his phone joining his beside lamp still aglow. His hand buzzes again and he groans, closing his eyes.  Call it cruel but he just wants to shove his face into his unwashed sheets and blankets for a little while longer, wrap himself up in layers and layers until there’s just weight all around him, pulling him in tight. Used to hate it, back when the crushing weight was a prelude for worse things to come.

Pollux you’ve been in bed for three days.

Pebbles? Come on.

Now the weight is a penance, a strange comfort even in the pain of it, something he deserves–something he controls. Facing the reality, facing what’s hidden behind his eyes in a round about way. Trick his head into fixing itself and that isn’t how it works, but it’s worth a try; can’t fix what’s broken inside, can’t put the coding back in the rogue little machine. Morbid how easy it is to compare himself to a coffee maker.

Hey did you fall asleep?

Pollux please.

Wait, a coffee maker is more useful than he is; it’s not going to get up one day and convince itself that it’s real and stab you with a knife for good measure. No it sits pretty on the counter top and does it’s happy little job day after day, being used over and over again. Never protesting, not until it’s too late and it’s there broken and you’re cursing at it for failing you now. But it doesn’t get hair-brained ideas, like ones where stabbing was the least of the things he did, blood not his own on his teeth, alarms screeching, people running and fear is an acquired taste but he’s gotten it on his tongue and it’s addictive–

A shrill sharp ring and it’s a snap of the fingers back to reality, curses flying from his lips. He scrambles through the blankets, yanking his phone out from under a discarded pillow, roughly answering the shrieking.

“What the actual fuck, Ortega?!”

He grinds his teeth, picking hairs out of his face and he sure fucking hopes he can hear the displeasure in his voice, heart still pounding.

“Hey, hey Pollux! Geez, I was only worried!”

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t hang up right now.”

“Hey I was only worried, that’s it Pebbles. Sorry if I woke you up, I know you don’t sleep good.”

There’s the regret bleeding in from his voice and he’s surely pacing around whatever room he’s in. His office if he’s working late, or the break room if he isn’t. Getting ready to leave, call him, ask him if he’s doing anything. He can’t read Ortega’s mind but old habits die hard.

“But you had to call me?”

“You weren’t answering my texts.”

“Like that’s anything new for you.”

“You’ve been in bed for the last three days. Forgive me for being a little worried about you.”

“I’m retired.”

“Retirees don’t lay in bed all day.”

“Last time I checked it was none of your business, Ricardo.”

“Fine,” He huffs into the microphone and Pollux bites the tip of his tongue, holding back a retort. “I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

“Fine just fantasizing about unicorns and how they shit glitter.” It still slips out from behind his teeth.

“I thought it was rainbows and puppy dogs?”

“Well in your fantasy they can do that. In mine they shit glitter and tell Ricardo Ortega to mind his own fucking business.”

“Sheesh, fine I get the point Pollux.” Ortega sighs and he’s definitely doing that stupid run his fingers through his hair or that stupid tweak of the edge of his mustache.

“Glad we see eye to eye for once.” There’s a joke there but Ortega doesn’t take the bait, but he hears the smile in his voice anyway.

“So now that you’re awake, will you humor me?”

“I’m not going to Hoots.”

“Okay, what about I make you dinner?”

“I’m not showering or putting on nice clothes.”

“Okay that’s fine.”

“Ricardo I’ve been laying in bed for three days.” Pollux laments, twisting blankets around his fingers.

“Seen you when you hadn’t showered in five and we were in the middle of the desert, sweating our asses off. Can’t be worse than that.”

“You know you’re supposed to say something like ‘oh well maybe we can try again tomorrow or the next day!’ You know like normal people do.”

Ortega tsks and Pollux resists the urge to flop back into his now ruined nest of a bed.

“Going to have to decline that normal people card.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. What if I make you dinner? Nothing fancy.”

Pollux pinches his lip, enough that it hurts and he takes a deep breath. Last time it was more than dinner, last time it was far more than anything having to do with dinner and he still remembers every inch of that night in details enough to make his face still flush. Apprehension curls his stomach and it’s the unfamiliar kind–the one that flushes his face and leaves him paralyzed by bedroom doors, fingers on light switches. Bedrooms in darkness and fuck he never knew how much I love you really meant until that night. Always thought it was cheesy to compare it to a man finding an oasis when he’s dying of thirst, but it’s every inch the truth.

“We don’t have to do anything.” Ortega’s voice is soft even through the grain of the speaker, soft like any louder and he’ll chase Pollux away.

“Watch some TV, eat some food. Maybe ask you to dance? Hold your hand, hold you close, brush a hair out of your face, kiss your lips…”

Pollux scoffs, picking a hair out from his face..

“And that’s all?” He asks quietly like taking a deep breath against the roll in his gut.

“If that’s all you want, Pollux.”

Silence fills the space between their phones and Pollux lets it lay there, lets it rest, only the soft sound of breathing in time–breathing in the same motions like bobbing among waves or slow circles spinning to singing saxophone. All quiet, nothing too loud–inches and seconds all too precious for words.

“I’ll be there in a half and hour.”

[chaniters]

Coming out

The ending of this edulcorated Chargestep nightmare fluff I’m writing, The plan is revealed and the farm confronted with it’s greatest enemy so far. 

Also, Ricardo Ortega and Sidestep go for their dinner date, following up from the last fic (Supersize me).

The waiter leaves after taking your orders The place is actually fancy. It's one of Los Diablos finest restaurants.

You can't help feeling foreign here. You were always faded in the background whenever you had to be in places like this.

And you can hear their thoughts. People wondering who's the guy in Charge's table. There’s curiosity and even a hint of jealousy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat... And he takes your hand with his. You tremble as you hear the collective mental gasp of everyone looking at you two.

"Would you stop thinking about them and look at me?" He asks. You force yourself to look up. There's his stupid smile... the big eyes... And then he makes it even worse. He presses your fingers in his hand and speaks.

"You know, you're looking so fucking hot right now... I should have done this a long time ago. Just show you how I see you."

"You... really like this?" You say motioning to your own self. You had no trouble believing he liked you in costume, after all, you were always proud of your skills. But here, in plain clothing is another story.

"Yes, dumbass, I like you. How many times do I have to tell you?. We kissed like ... so many times. What else do I have to do to convince you?"

He takes a sip of wine before going on.

"You know, sometimes it's EXHAUSTING to endure how dense you can be."

"Alright, alright... no need to rub it in my face, I get it" you say looking away.

"No, I don't think you do! I've been throwing curve-balls at you for about a decade and not ONCE did you pick them up except for the AWKWARD moments."

"Well..."

"I started to think I just wasn't your type"

"No! THat's not it... I mean..."

"AM I, OR AM I NOT YOUR TYPE CYRUS?" he asks raising his tone. "BECAUSE IM STILL WONDERING RIGHT NOW."

"OF COURSE YOU ARE MY TYPE!" You burst out. And then you lower your volume since everyone can hear you "From when we started training together... I had to make an effort not to look at you all the time and..."

"Uhu... I see. Go on" he cues you to continue

And then you can't stop. You tell him stuff you hadn't even remembered until now. About how you hated it when he was with someone else. About how confused you were after he kissed you at the party. About the fight with Psycopathor and the dreams, you had after he saved you. About calendars that you had hidden in your apartment when Anathema bought them for you as a joke. You go into even some very embarrassing stuff, like when he carried you out so many times. You confess about using Steel's hostility as a tool to keep him away and protect your secret.

"Oh. I see... Tell me more" he says with an absent look.

And then you go on about how you love his smile... his eyes.. his arms and...

And then you choke when you realize the intensity of his gaze. Like he's going to devour you alive.

He's been enjoying this from the start. Watching you agonize and talk on and on about how you thirst for him.

The two of you don't finish your meals, pay early and head home. Home. You would have said "His place" not too long ago.  You stumble with the keys and they fall down from your hands. He takes them from the floor and opens the lock.

The moment you enter he pushes you onto the wall and kisses you like a wild animal. And you have basically lost all self-control by this moment.

He starts taking (ripping) off your clothing.

"How many ... layers??" he asks frustrated... until he gets to the last nanomesh. And then he notices the panicked expression.

"I've thought this through," he says, pulling you towards the bedroom. He just pushes you on the bed, and you collapse there, moving on your back towards the center. 

He leaves the room briefly... returning with something in his hand, hoping in, landing by your left side.

He opens his hand. A blindfold.

Ricardo puts it on over his forehead.

"Will this do?" he asks You nod, surprised. He lowers the blindfold over his eyes.

"Now take that thing off"

And you both do...

He climbs on on top of you. Kissing you... feeling you.

It's not triggering your alarms. You know him. And don't feel threatened.

"Hey... stop... stop," you say.

He freezes immediately. "W.. what did I do?" he asks

"Nothing... just... " you extend a hand and remove his blindfold.

"But then you'll..."

"I think I can handle it?... Just... go slow please"

He gives you the widest smile.

--------Several days later-----------

Brushing your mind against his, you find an entrance and take hold, firmly. The senator is asleep, you can't work like this. You take his body and make him take a few steps. You need to wake him to access his thoughts... not to control a zombie.

You find them. And you do what you've done dozens of times already. Set his fixation ready, burning white hot in intensity, for the time when the signal is given.

And then you free him, making him think he just sleep-walked a bit. Float like a ghost, back to your own body.

The return is brutal. You hadn't possessed that many people in succession since... ever. This is new territory.

And possessing people is not your only activity these days...

Ricardo finally confessed to you that he couldn't keep up a few nights ago. That he's not that young anymore. You saw the failure in his eyes. Mission accomplished you said, trying not to tease him too hard.

You've lost several pounds from this.

Your body is a wreck, but you are at the top of the world. Having Ortega for yourself and destroying your enemies have quickly become your two favorite activities and now you do them together, daily.

The routine goes on for about two months until all the pieces are in place.

And then Charge casually talks with the first domino piece and gives him his verbal trigger command.

The retired scientist goes to the media, whistleblowing on the farm's human rights violations. He dies on an accident shortly after.

He is followed by a senator, a decorated general, and two low-tier bureaucrats. One of them is imprisoned on drug charges. The two other die and the fourth has a mental breakdown.

Ten other witnesses go public to the media immediately after, revealing droves of information. As one of them dies, the FBI reveals it had begun an investigation on the killings.

Dozens more witnesses come trough, and the scandal reaches national levels. You've mind-controlled about a hundred and fifty in total, changing their minds into scandal timebombs. And you commanded them to seek others, and get more evidence as well.

Soon enough the killing stop, and the Special Directive, unmasked, becomes a pariah among government agencies.  Senate commissions and federal investigations fall upon them like birds of prey. It's director removed and in custody.

-------The stage is set.----------

"Good morning Los Diablos! We are joined on studio here by Charge, here for an interview about...

You sit awkwardly behind the cameras. Waiting for your cue... at any moment he will ... There.

"I have some important personnel announcements to make" Ortega interrupts her

"Oh? Personal you say?"

"Yes, Mia. I'm very proud and happy to introduce everyone to... My boyfriend, Cyrus Basri. Yes, I'm coming out!" he says motioning for you to come forward.

You've been seen together in enough public spots to have people question your relationship. A ton of photos of you together will surely surgeon the media within minutes.

You force your legs to get you in front of the camera because if this goes wrong, you might actually not live to tell the tale. This is the most critical part of the plan. All up to you.

She asks you questions. You answer them. You are his boyfriend. You love him. No, you are not yet engaged. When you tell them you've known him for more than 10 years, they wonder who you are.

They go back to Ricardo.

"So we're coming out," he says holding your hand, giving you the confidence you still lack. "But that's not all. We have one more revelation to make" he ends looking at you.

You take the longest breath of your existence. And speak to the country.

"My Name is Cyrus Basri. I used to defend the city as the Hero Sidestep. I stopped the Nanosurge. I fought against Heartbreak... And..." you pause. Not because you are terrified, but for drama. They made you an actor after all. "And seven years ago, I was kidnaped by the Prime Directive. I was abused, beaten, drugged and experimented upon. My humanity was denied, and I was subjected to the most heinous experiment ever devised. I am a victim and a survivor of the Special Directive" you say removing your shirt before the cameras for all to see.

Everyone goes silent as the final bomb explodes.

You cry on live tv. Ricardo holds you. The audience gasps. You make sure to make all of their reactions are positive and supportive. You're surprised it would have been that way even without your power.

Mia is shocked but instantly begins asking questions. More reporters show up. You answer each and every one. You break up several times, showing yourself even more vulnerable than you actually are.

You tell the Truth. You reveal the connection between the Directive And Heartbreak.

And then you also lie. You accuse the Directive of all sorts of despicable things that your witnesses have fabricated evidence about. Ortega backs you up. You couldn't ask for a finer wingman.

As the show finally ends, federal investigators come to talk to you. Then, finally, after you've gone with half of their questions, a high ranking official from the White House shows up to talk to you.

You demand Ortega be present and he sits by your side.

After a few words, he offers you a deal. You look at Ortega, and he finally nods.

You shake hands.

By the end of the day, you are truly Cyrus Basri, with a birth certificate, and social security number, a driver's license, and a bank account full of stolen money that now legally belongs to you.

Your past is erased. You're no longer a regene, but a civilian victim who was manipulated, enslaved and experimented upon by a rogue organization.

And most other regenes will get similar deals. They'll never admit they created life. Fine by you.

Your problems fixed within hours.

And now you are Ricardo's official gay boyfriend. That is new...

The rangers reactions were shocked as you said your goodbyes.

Chen was tearing himself apart. "YOU WERE GAY?" he repeats over and over talking to you and Ortega. Herald can't stop telling you how proud he is about you coming out like that. And Argent is maybe not your closest friend but she's beaming for Ortega and you being a thing.

You flee the country together a few days later to avoid the rest of the media storm.    

Private cruise through the Caribbean. You go on false names. It's part of your deal. To spend a whole year outside the media's reach.

And they know you can do that.

Because you beat the odds.

You are the cuckoo who became a real boy.

______________________________________

My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero    

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[chaniters]

AU Fanfic Fallen-Hero Ranger Adventures. 1

Starting another Fanfic because of reasons.

This takes place in an AU (which is basically the end of my first fic)

Basically, Sidestep and Charge are together, Sidestep is trying to become a full ranger, and is no longer hunted by the government.

Midnight Terror

Years ago. Late night. Somewhere in the Lacandon Rainforest.

Hurried steps took him right to the very edge of the chasm.

The intense rain had made visibility a luxury and finding an escape route a guessing game

A game that he was clearly loosing. Crossing was impossible.

"Fuck!... Fuck Fuck fuck! Is this a joke?!"

But rain wouldn't compromise and he couldn't find a way across.

He had wrongly assumed the carnivore minds would stop searching for him once they consumed the bodies of his brothers.

He had been wrong. They had surely counted them, found one was missing, and reassumed the hunt. He had only gained some advantage, that was thinning quickly. He could sense them approaching faster than he could ever fathom.

Only a choice now. Left.. or right. Life or death.

Left! He ran as fast as he could. There seemed to be no end to the chasm. no way to cross. The rain gave the ground a muddy, disgusting texture. He looked at the bottom. No. If he tried to climb down, he would slip and break his spine on the long fall.

So he kept running.

A guttural howl. They could speak, he knew that. They just chose not to. However did the Catastrofiend create his demons, they hadn't been able to find out before she had found them instead. And she also had chosen not to speak.

Something in the distance... he could see... ropes. Crossing the chasm.

Rotten boards and ropes... remains of a bridge, still dangling over the chasm.

This path was his doom or his salvation, but that wasn't for him to decide. He could only try and follow it.

His mind couldn't recall a moment where he had been more afraid. He had cheated death many times before, but ...

He crossed as fast as he could. Keeping the balance, stepping on ropes, on dangling boards that gave in as he stepped on them, on thin air when his balance failed. He was certain he would fall and break every bone at the bottom, yet he somehow managed to reach the other side.

He took his knife and cut the dangling ropes loose, letting the whole thing fall down. That could gain him some time at least.

The operative had memorized all maps regarding this operation. That was his main task. His telepathic training wasn't as advanced as the rest of the team, so he would help bringing his knowledge of the area to their mind link.

Thanks to it, he had an approximate idea of where the military base was...

He expanded his mind, looking for threats. Soon enough, the Minds were on his sights... and they were heading straight for the bridge.

"Fuck!" He ran faster. He felt, struggled into the mud, stood up and kept running. He had cut off the bridge but he knew the speed those things could achieve. They would cross the chasm.. climb it down and up again... And fall on him like wolves.

"FUCK!" he screamed while running. It was futile, they'd catch up with him before he could...

...

The minds went pass the bridge without even stopping and headed east. They were going to cross the chasm some other way.

He started running again. He understood. They were not after him.  

.................................

He reached the base two days later. He had hurried as much as he could.

But by them there were no officers to report to, no scientists to take him back, no drugs to put him to sleep, no psychics to erase his trauma and leave him battle ready once more...

Piles of corpses... he looked for survivors.

They had devoured most of the soldiers and left the rest to rot. He had cheated death many times before, but he would have taken any of those deaths before the one the Catastrofiend liked to inflict.

After examining the third pile, and nearly walking away, he sensed a mind regain consciousness. He returned, and found someone alive. He was breathing. But the wounds were far too severe. Dying. Dying, and not giving him more instructions, or orders of any kind.

A young man. He was suffering. There was no way to help him. So he did what he had been trained to do. Put an end to the suffering. A single cut.

His eyes looked at him in understanding as he did it. His mind was afraid, but it relaxed for a few minutes once the pain was gone... and then.. there was nothing.

Drenched by the rain, sweat and blood, he let go of the dead. There was no one else. He was the only survivor.

He wandered a few steps towards the shattered tents, then fell on his knees and screamed. But only the dead could hear him. ..........................................

Present day.

"Hey!" Ortega shook him lightly. "It's just a nightmare"

"Wha...?" Cyrus woke up in a daze and just stared at Ortega, startled for a few seconds, until it all came back to him. He wasn't in a jungle. He was in the Ranger's Headquarters. And he was in Ortega's room.

"Nightmare" Ortega repeated.

"Oh." Cyrus managed to acknowledge. "Sorry" He felt guilty. He had so many of these, and he wouldn't let Ortega sleep.

Sleeping pills helped, but he didn't always take them, it messed his telepathy and gave him headaches afterwards. And sleeping pills couldn't cure PTSD anyways.

Ortega felt he needed to wake him up every time, which was really not an easy thing to do when he had one of the bad ones, so it would take a good 10 minutes of his sleep time trying to wake him, and then there was no way to assure he wouldn't have another one the moment he shut his eyes.

"It's ok" he said. "How do you feel?"

Cyrus pondered on the question for a split-second. "I'm alright. It's nothing"

"Do you want to write it down?"

"No.. just go back to sleep Ricardo"

"But..."

"I'll go get something from the fridge, read an article or something and then go back to my room and sleep. Don't worry"

"But..."

But Cyrus just gave him a pat on the shoulder, and quickly made for the corridor. He could tell Ortega to stop mothering him but that would only lead to mortifying the both of them further. Ortega was just doing with they had discussed in therapy to the letter and none of this was his fault.

He had PTSD that had gone untreated for his entire lifetime until last year. The more he understood therapy, the more he got used to the idea that nightmares were going to be part of his life (Dream-life?), and no amount of discussing their hidden meanings with the shrink was going to make them go away.

Of course he would still do it.. but he didn't really hope for improvement in that front anymore.

He made a beeline for the fridge, and as he laid a hand on the cold trove of treasure, he froze. There was another mind, a few steps from him, fixed on his same prize. They couldn't see each other in the cover of darkness, but it was there...

"So... it seems we meet again" he let out.

He heard an immediate stumble.

"Not again! I swear you'r trying to kill me..."

"Sorry Chen.. seems i beat you to the fridge this time. What shall it be?"

Steel sighed. "I think there are some pizza leftovers."

"Yes. You get that, i'll make myself a sandwich." He said, passing two slices to Chen. He also passed him a beer before he asked.. because.. telepathy.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Chen asked, taking the added beer without a word.

"Nope."

"What was it this time?"

"Back at the jungles escaping the Catastrofiend's creeps”

“That’s when you first broke out from the Special Directive right?”

“Yes...  Ortega woke me up. You?"

"The attack a the embassy all over. Woke up on my own. Always do"

"Shit."

"Same to you."

"Thanks."

They sat on the couch, fiddling with their smartphones. This had become a sort of routine. Eventually, they'd go back to sleep, after calming their nerves a bit. Oddly enough it had actually made him closer to Chen than ever before.

"How are you?" Chen asked. It was weird, but Cyrus was feeling more comfortable with him asking lately.

"You really want to know ?"He smiled lightly

"Yup."

"I... I don't know. I feel like i'm not getting better. And then we argue... and I apologize. And he feels guilty for all the shit I've been trough.. and I tell him it's not his fault... And then i keep thinking that i'm going to fuck it up for real at some point."

"Then don't fuck it up"

"Oh wow thanks for the sage advice" Cyrus cracked.

"Happy to oblige" Chen said extending a his beer in his general direction with a smile.

"I'm trying."

"That's all he asks. Don't stop."

"I won't.... Anyways, how about you?"

"Too much stress. The mayor's a... -ahem- ... major pain in my ass."

"Ha... You know, if you had let me carry on my master-plan further, he wouldn't be in office"

"What, you feel like wearing that clown villain costume again? I don't see anyone stopping you.."

"Sorry, too late... " he held his hand to Chen "That ship has sailed... I'm a glorious honorary hero these days. Fuck me."

"You really should tell that to Ortega"

"Fell right into that one didn't I..."

"Yes. Anyways, you you could always retire" Chen grinned.

"Like anyone's going to fall for that one again."

"Hell no. So.. did you pass the physicals?"

"Yeah. My government-issue body regenerated just on time for that. Psych tests... i have no idea. I had to do a written test, they don't trust sending an examiner on the same room"

"I'll call them and have them e-mail me the results tomorrow." Honorary member status was not regulated, tough no one had really objected it so far. Becoming a regular ranger member required a background check, a psych test and a physical test.

"Thanks... Oh and.. uh.. Chen.. If I don't pass.. can you..." Cyrus started, a bit insecure

"I'll sugar-coat it sure. But stop being so worried. This isn’t a race”

"You know how he gets when he sees no progress"

"I know..." Cyrus had taken the test twice now, and Ortega thought it had only been once.

They stayed silent for a few minutes.

"Question." Steel spoke after a while.

"Yes?"

"Why the Catastrofiend? You did get closure on that nut-job, you shot his head off"

He shrugged “No idea . It's just another stupid night terror"

Steel nodded.

Cyrus finally stood up

"Want me to go to the meeting with you tomorrow? I can wave my big "Telepath pariah" sign and scare out the political creeps away just by standing next to you. It's my new superpower"

"You know I can't say no to that..."

"It's a date then" Cyrus washed his plate then head back to his own room.

Steel stayed for a while longer, wondering when exactly had he really befriended Sidestep. Sans the mystery, he had turned out to be a really ok person...

_________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.