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starrylothcat · 1 year

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Sparks

Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader One-Shot

Summary: You and Hunter realize your long-hidden feelings for one another. Warnings: Wee bit of angst, kissing/making out, slight suggestiveness. This is my first fic! Excuse any formatting or grammatical errors...I haven't stretched my writing fingers in a long time. I also have no idea how Tumblr formatting works, haha. I needed some fluff after that finale. This one got away from me...3,000 words. Please leave your thoughts and enjoy!

@wanderer-six tagged as requested! :)

The bonfire was now huge, burning fast and bright, much to Wrecker and Omega’s delight. Sparks flew in to the clear night air, illuminating the figures sitting around it.

Clone Force 99 and you had just finished a tiring mission and were taking the night to decompress on a desolate, forested planet. The bonfire was actually your idea, a memory you had stored deep in your subconscious from when you were a very young Jedi Padawan. After a tough training or difficult mission, your Master would often start a fire while you meditated and reflected. The heat and cackling from the flames helped calm you, oddly enough. It was something that you continued to do, even as a Jedi General during the war. It was something that burned bright in the darkness. Something that you were all now desperate for in this new Imperial galaxy.

You didn’t speak much of your past as a Jedi at first. It was too painful, too fresh. But as you spent more time with Clone Force 99, you became more comfortable sharing small snippets on occasion, much to the excitement of Omega who hung on to every word. Echo would also sometimes add his own stories from his old squad, which would then inspire Wrecker to tell stories (sometimes embellished ones) of their missions, reminiscing on battles won. It was nice to connect again, to have those who understood you, as you were now all outcasts. Chewed up by the war and tossed to the side, now struggling to find your place in the galaxy.

Somewhat recently after Order 66, they rescued you from bounty hunters who had suspicions you were a Jedi. You tried to keep it a secret, but Hunter found you out with his heightened senses. You warily came clean to them, telling them the truth.

You were only supposed to stay with them for a short time, only until you found a new place to hide. Hunter was wary with having a Jedi on board, especially since they already had a target on their back. But a short time turned longer. You were helpful on missions and were careful to never expose yourself as a Jedi. Omega became particularly attached to you, and Hunter saw how much Omega was benefiting from a woman on board. You also became close with them, especially Hunter. You both connected over the baggage of being a leader, and what it meant to fail as one as well. Other feelings began to blossom, that neither you or Hunter knew how to act on, or even if you should. You found yourself talking to him late in to the night, discussing next mission plans or plans from the past. But you both always left those conversations wishing you had said more.

Tech had just carefully landed the ship on the empty, forested planet in the only clearing he could find. It was Hunter's idea to do inventory, seeing when you would need to do a supply run next. You casually mentioned the bonfire memory as you were all rummaging through gear and supplies, as this planet reminded you of that distant memory.

Omega’s eyes widened and asked, “Can we do that tonight? That sounds fun!” while looking excitedly between you and Hunter, who was sitting down and cleaning his knife. He chuckled, a low chuckle that made butterflies swirl in your stomach. Something you’ve realized has been happening more often. But you pushed that thought aside, for now.

“Sure, kid. This planet is empty enough. I don’t think it will attract too much attention.” Tech adjusted his goggles and looked up from his datapad. “I do not see any settlements on this planet. There is no current need for worry.” He said before becoming absorbed once more in his research.

Wrecker, with much glee, shot up from begrudgingly organizing his gear, and announced, “Fire, I like this idea! This is boring anyway. Let’s take a break and go gather some wood!” He turned to look at Hunter for approval, who shrugged and nodded. “Omega, let’s go!” Wrecker hurriedly threw the rest of his unorganized gear on his bunk. Omega grinned, also happy to get away from inventory, and began after Wrecker down the ramp of the Marauder. She stopped at the top of the ramp and looked back. “Thank you!” She beamed at both you and Hunter, and skittered after Wrecker.

Hunter had put his knife away and was now leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, gazing at you. You felt your heart beat quicken when you matched his stare. “You’ve done it now.” He teased as he watched Wrecker and Omega run toward the tree line. You shrugged with a small smile as you stood up from putting the last piece of equipment back in your gear pack. “Well, I have to admit, I need a break too. Let’s just hope they don’t burn the whole planet down.”

Hunter released a low chuckle again and you felt heat rise up your neck. “With Wrecker involved, I’m not too sure.” Echo quipped from the pilot seat, where he was researching where they could get supplies before the next mission. “Given the current wind speeds and our distance from the trees, it would be difficult to start a blaze that big.” Tech called from under a piece of machinery he was now working on. “But I have to agree with Echo. With Wrecker involved, statistically the odds are higher.”

You gave a small laugh, which made Hunter’s heart involuntarily quicken. It was your laugh that he often thought of deep in the night, when he was having trouble sleeping. The way your shoulders moved when you chuckled, the way your eyes glinted when you smiled. How sometimes he’d find himself almost getting out of his bunk to wake you up and take you in his arms, telling you how he feels as his lips meet yours….

A sudden crash snapped him out of his thoughts, setting his senses haywire. You heard the sound too, and you looked at each other and ran down the ramp to see what the commotion was, hands on your blasters. Hunter breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Wrecker standing with Omega at the tree line, who were both excitedly picking up branches from a dead tree Wrecker had just knocked over. Hunter ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but always be on high alert, especially with Omega. He could see relief in your eyes as well, once you realized it was nothing to be concerned about. You lightly touched his arm, asking “You okay?” “Yeah…” he breathed. “I’m not used to…calm.” You nodded, understanding.

“I guess we better enjoy it while it lasts.”

Your lips ghosted a smile, realizing you were still touching Hunter’s arm. You moved your hand, suddenly embarrassed. Hunter opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Echo coming down the ramp to see what the commotion was. He also needed a break, and was interested in this fire idea. “Yeah, you’ve really done it now, _____.” Echo teased as you all looked at the growing pile of logs and branches that Omega and Wrecker had collected. “Hey, don’t just stand there, come and help us!” Wrecker called as he balanced more giant branches in his arms. You gave Hunter a look and continued down the ramp to help.

The sun was getting low, and Wrecker was adding the last log to a massive pile he and Omega collected. You were collecting small sticks and brush for kindling. Wrecker put down the last one, wiping sweat from his face. “Phew! Do you think this is enough?” He huffed. “If you are trying to light a fire big enough for the entire Galaxy to see, then yes.” Tech said casually as he came down the ship’s ramp, also now having his interest piqued. “Oh, it’ll be a massive fire, I can’t wait!” Wrecker exclaimed as he winked at Omega.

“So now what? I’ve never made a fire before. Hunter, can you teach me?” Omega asked, looking up at Hunter with large, pleading eyes. Hunter looked at her softly. “Yeah, sure kid.” He glanced at you and then put his hand on Omega’s shoulder, leading her toward the log pile.

As Hunter and Omega began to make a space for the fire, you and Echo were maneuvering some of the bigger logs for everyone to have a seat once the fire was going. Since this planet was desolate, you used the Force to move some of the larger logs. Hunter noticed out of the corner of his eye, always secretly impressed with your graceful power. It was rare when you used it, and it captivated him.

“What’s next Hunter? Hunter?” Hunter snapped out of his thoughts and Omega was looking at him, curiously. “You were staring again.” She said quietly. “I don’t know what you mean, Omega.” He lightly scolded, trying to change the subject.

She gave a small smirk. “You sometimes stare at _____.” Hunter cleared his throat. “And I see her stare at you sometimes, too.” She said matter-of-factly, looking back at the pile of kindling they had placed for the eventual fire. “I think she likes you.” Before he could respond, you had suddenly appeared behind them. “How’s it going?” You asked. Hunter bristled, hoping you hadn’t just heard their conversation, not even realizing you were approaching. “It’s uh…going well. I’m just about to teach Omega how to actually light the fire.”

“I have something embarrassing to admit.” You said sheepishly. “I actually don’t know how to start a fire, either. My Master just always used his lightsaber.” You laughed and Omega smiled.

“Mind if I watch?” You sat down next to Hunter, eager to learn as much as Omega was. Or maybe you were just eager to be close to Hunter. His senses were suddenly overwhelmed with your scent, another thing he was noticing lately. His stomach felt like it was on fire. Get a grip, Hunter. he thought. He snapped himself out of thinking about you once again, and continued with his lesson. “Im going to start with the hard way first. Say you’re stranded without gear. This is important to learn.” He took a small stick to use as a spindle and a small flat piece of wood. “This takes awhile and is a pain, but this is the most basic way to start a spark.” He began to spin the spindle between his hands quickly in to a divot he had made on the flat piece of wood on the ground, held steady by his foot. Omega watched intensely, soaking up every word and action. You saw a small gleam of sweat form at his brow, and watched the concentration in his eyes. Your heart fluttered again, suddenly imagining his sweaty brow and intense look above you in a moment of passion. The smell of smoke brought you back to reality, before your imagination went further. Hunter had made a small ember that was smoking. He carefully moved it to the kindling and gently blew on it to start a small flame.

“Woaaah, let me try!” Omega gasped excitedly and went to work the same way Hunter did on a new piece of flat wood. You watched as he patiently moved her hands to the correct position, gently correcting her when appropriate. For a dark and broody Sergeant, you recognized his moments of softness. Moments that he also sometimes shared with you, which you knew were special, especially coming from someone as guarded as him.

After trial and error, and some frustration, Omega finally got her own spark. “I did it!” She yelled. Hunter smiled.

“Good work, kid. You might just be a natural. Now, carefully put it in the kindling.”

She gently moved it to the already growing flame and looked at Hunter for approval. “There you go, you did it. That was all you.” Omega beamed and said “Now it’s _____’s turn.” She jumped up and brushed dust and dirt off her knees, and began to walk away. “Wait, where are you going?” Hunter asked. Omega turned and called, “I want to tell the others the fire is almost ready!” She gave Hunter a look and ran back to the Marauder where the rest of the boys had gone to rest, before Hunter and you could respond.

It was suddenly quiet, only the gentle crackling of the small fire was to be heard.

“I guess it’s my turn to try, huh?” You said softly, realizing it was just you and Hunter for a moment. The sun was almost set, and the small fire was casting a soft glow on the both of you. “You don’t have to-“ he began but you stopped him.

“No, I want to! What good am I to the team if I can’t even start a fire? I need to impress my Sergeant." You smirked playfully. "Also, I can’t let a kid get the best of me.” You teased as you began to spin the stick between your hands.

“You bring other skills to the team, you don’t have to worry about fire making.” He stated. “Leave that to Omega and I.” He smiled, looking at you. “Also, you don’t need to impress me. You already do that.” Suddenly, you felt shy. Hunter glanced away from you, embarrassed about what he just said, wrestling with his feelings, wondering if he had said too much.

“Thank you, Hunter. I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how grateful I am to you, and to your brothers, for taking me in.” Hunter looked at you. “You don’t need to thank me. But I’m glad you’re here. Part of this team.” He murmured, turning away from you and looking at the fire. “Me too.” You acted before you could think, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, closing the distance between you, forgetting all about the fire lesson. Hunter stiffened a little while facing you, feeling your hand on his unarmored shoulder. The touch he often thought about late in to the night. The touch he wondered if he’d ever feel. If he even deserved it.

Once again, you felt heat climb up your neck to your face and you began to remove your hand, but before you could, Hunter brought his other hand and placed it on top of yours. Your feelings for Hunter exploded in your chest, realizing how handsome he looked in the soft light, his brown eyes shining in the dark, wondering what you should do next as you felt the heat from his hand encapsulate yours. You were taught no attachments, but that had no meaning anymore. Was this just desperation for something that used to be taboo? You tried to read his face, as he gazed intensely at you. Hunter moved closer to you, “____...I want to tell you something…”

Your intimate moment was suddenly cut short by voices as Wrecker, Tech, Omega, and Echo emerged from the falling darkness toward you. Your hand left Hunter’s shoulder and you practically leapt away from him, startled by the intrusion. You caught a small look of disappointment on his face. “Aww yeah, it’s fire time!” Wrecker bellowed as he held a huge armful of sticks and logs. “Let’s get this going!” You were still sitting near Hunter, and Echo gave you and Hunter a sly look as he sat down on a log near the still small fire, carrying ration bars. You were suddenly distracted by the giant roar as the fire grew due to Wrecker and Omega gleefully adding more and more wood to the fire, blissfully unaware they interrupted…something. Tech tried to explain the optimal way to place logs to get the most efficient fire, but his remarks were ignored and Omega and Wrecked piled more in to the blaze, and he soon gave up.

The heat blazed and sparks flew in to the air, the wood cracking and popping. The fire was massive, and Omega had never seen anything like it and was in awe. You saw Hunter out of the corner of your eye as he stared in to the flames, his face unreadable. You all enjoyed the light and intense warmth the large blaze gave, sitting in silence for a bit. You desperately wanted to be alone with Hunter again, as you listened to Wrecker tell another taller than life tale, with an annoyed Tech trying to interject the facts. Your memory was brought back to you and your Master, quietly enjoying the fire and reflecting on your day’s mission. After Wrecker finished his story, Omega turned to you, waiting for another glimpse in to your past. She understood it was hard for you to talk about, but was hopeful to hear something from before the Galaxy she currently knew. “Omega,” Hunter warned. “____ might not want to discuss it.” He gave you a soft look. The look almost melted your heart. You wanted to desperately take his face in your hands and continue what had started before.

“It’s okay, Hunter. I have a story.”

You told Omega of your first solo mission as a Jedi Knight. You had infiltrated a pirate base. It wasn’t too exciting, but to Omega it was the most amazing story she’d ever heard. Echo passed out the ration bars as you told your story. After you were done, you nibbled on your bar as you stared in to the flames. There was a comfortable silence as everyone ate, enjoying the small bit of calm before you were all off again on another mission.

After awhile, the fire began to dim and there was no more wood to add. Omega let out a yawn, satisfied with her first bonfire. “We should do this more often.” She proclaimed as another yawn overtook her. “Yeah kid, we can.” Hunter whispered. Wrecker had already fallen asleep, laying over a log in an uncomfortable position, snoring away. Tech nudged Wrecker, also ready to go back to the ship to sleep. One by one, they went back to the ship, leaving you, Hunter, and Echo. Echo then stood up, bidding you both a good night. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” He raised an eyebrow and then he was gone before you either of you could respond.

Once again, you were alone with Hunter and the slowly burning fire. He looked at you, the fire reflecting in his eyes.

He never thought he’d be grappling with feelings like this. Especially for someone like you. But you cared about him. Worried about him and his brothers, something he’d never experienced before. It was new, and frankly, it scared him. He’d never admit it out loud, but that was the truth. But here he was, with you within arms reach again, staring at him and waiting for what might come next. You looked beautiful, ethereal in the glow of the now small fire. “Hunter…” you whispered as you maneuvered closer to him, like you were before earlier in the night. Your hand was close to his on the log you were both sitting on. You couldn’t wait any longer, the tension between you was about to snap. “You wanted to tell me something earlier?”

He stared intensely at you, trying to find the words to say.

“____, I…I wanted to tell you…I care about you.” His voice was deep, almost inaudible. You fully took his hand, looking right in to his eyes. He was suddenly overwhelmed, waiting for your response. “Hunter, I care about you too.” The second he heard you whisper those words, he boldly closed the distance, acting purely on instinct, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, quick kiss. He pulled back slightly, hoping he didn’t mess this all up.

“____, tell me to stop and I will.” Hunter’s voice was husky and deep. Almost a whisper. It sent shivers down your spine. “Never.” You murmured as you brought a hand to his face, gently cradling his head. Relief washed over you, happy you finally revealed how you felt. He closed his eyes and leaned in to your touch, sighing a deep sigh. You moved your hand from his cheek and gripped his collar, needing more. You pulled him back to your lips for a more passionate kiss. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as the tension between you dissipated, flying in to the sky with the embers from the fire.

It was his turn to bring his hands to your face, cradling your head gently as he deepened the kiss, your heart feeling like it was about to explode out of your chest. The sensation of your lips moving on his was almost overwhelming. His hands were strong, yet gentle as they maneuvered down to your hips, leaving a trail of fire down your body. You both pulled away again, panting slightly, looking in each other’s eyes. All the unsaid words, all the silent looks, were now completely understood by both of you.

Your hand that was on his collar moved to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his long, soft locks while your other hand gripped his shoulder. You whispered his name as he pulled you in impossibly close for another kiss, getting drunk on your scent, your body.

His tongue slowly made his way in to your mouth, which pulled a groan from deep in your chest. Your reactions spurred him on, his hands on your waist ghosting underneath your tunic, his gloved hands moving over your bare skin making the butterflies in your stomach explode. You desperately wanted those gloves off, to feel his skin on yours. After what felt like an eternity, you parted for air once again. The fire had now died down quite a bit, leaving you both in almost total darkness. You were illuminated by the stars, the only sound being your shallow breaths. You both wanted so much more, but now wasn’t the time. Hunter nuzzled his face in to your neck, and moved one of his hands from your hips to grasp yours, which had fallen to your side. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” He whispered against your neck, his heart thudding against yours. “Yes, Hunter.” You whispered back, squeezing his hand. He moved his head from your neck and brought you against his chest in an embrace, his chin leaning on your head. You both gazed at the glowing embers of what used to be the giant fire, wondering what comes next. But at least for now, you were at peace.

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katkeyboardmastah · 4 months

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My 20+ page lore doc that explores the continuity between SoP, DFF & FFI is FINALLY done‼️

#this doc was 2 years in the making!!!#i hope you all enjoy it #now I can finally get back to rambling about KH lore #final fantasy #stranger of paradise #stranger of paradise final fantasy origing #sopffo #final fantasy 1 #ff1 #dissidia #dissidia final fantasy #dffoo #katvtalksff

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knight-rider-fan-2000 · 3 months

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Something About "Autonomy" and all that

Summary: Kitt is programmed to follow Michael's every order. And on a calm day, Michael finally realizes this, and he can't put into words what it might mean.

4601 words

---

"Not this station again." Kitt lamented as Michael tweaked the radio dial.

"Oh, come on, pal, they're playing Cindy! You can't say no to Cindy."

"I certainly can." There was a smile in his voice as his modulator lights flashed- Michael knew him well enough to tell that.

The radio fizzed, and the bright vocals were replaced by the whine of violins. How Kitt even found this stuff was beyond Michael.

"Geez. Turn the radio back, Kitt. Quit teasing-"

In an instant, the station changed back to the one Michael had selected. Kitt's voice modulator lights did not even flicker. He waited an extra second, five seconds, ten seconds for any sort of protest from the AI, but there was only silence.

Well, not silence, but Michael couldn't hear the singer on the radio anymore. Not when he was listening for any other sort of sound in the cabin around him; the hum of fans, the activation of dashboard lights, the subtle moves and changes of the car.

"Kitt?" He asked.

"Yes, Michael?"

"Why'd you change the radio back?"

"You told me to."

"But you don't like my music."

"An astute observation, Michael."

"Then you didn't have to change it back."

"Of course I did. Don't be absurd."

Michael gripped the steering yoke tighter. "No, you didn't."

"Michael, really. Part of my annoyance with your music is merely comedic. Please don't be concerned about it. I can stop if you'd like."

"No!" Michael said louder. The word had slipped out, like a tire on an icy road. He took a breath and quieted his voice again. "No. I don't want you to do that."

"Then what would you like?" Kitt's tone was calm, but Michael knew it was an illusion- it was clinical, the kind of tone that he only used when speaking with authorities on the phone.

"I don't want you changing yourself for me."

Kitt's lights flickered, but he said nothing.

"We clear?" Michael asked.

"Again, don't be absurd. I'm a learning computer. It's my purpose to modify myself to best support you."

"You don't serve me."

There was a garbled pitch preceding his next sentence- was that a laugh? "Of course I do."

Michael couldn't speak.

"To further elaborate, both you and I have emphasized that ours is an equal partnership. In that way, you could argue that we are both serving each other- but do not get confused, Michael. I'm programmed to follow your orders."

"Turn the music off." Michael says, on instinct, only to have his breath catch in his throat as the song dies immediately. Instinct. Pure instinct.

"Your heart rate is elevated. This is causing you distress." Kitt replies.

"You're my partner."

"I am also your car. Do cars not need drivers?"

"You don't."

"Actually, I do. Michael, it's not like you to doubt your importance to our mission. What is going on?"

He breathed, trying to calm his heart as well as the unnamed thing that felt like it was crawling around in his chest. It was something like dread. He didn't feel dread very often. Couldn't say he liked it very much.

He started off slowly, giving time for his thoughts to solidify. It must have seemed like an eternity to the AI. "Kitt, every police officer knows what he's getting into when he signs up for the job."

"Understandably."

"You don't become a cop on accident. In fact, you don't do any sort of work as an accident."

"Surely people don't plan on working in drive throughs, do they?"

"They still have to fill out their application and hand over their resume." Michael snapped. "But people, people have got options."

"And?"

"Kitt. . . if you had the choice, would you be doing this line of work?"

"Of course!" Kitt raised his volume. "Michael, what has gotten into you? Of course I'd stay with you. This is what I was built for. I'd surely feel unfulfilled anywhere else. Could you imagine me trying to find other employment? Trying to be a taxi, or heaven forbid, a delivery driver? I shudder just thinking about it."

"But you don't have a choice."

"Why on Earth would I need one? I have you, Bonnie, Devon, the Foundation- I couldn't ask for a better set of circumstances."

"But you don't have a choice." Michael tried to inject even a fraction of the feeling within his chest into his voice, even if he knew Kitt couldn't figure it any more than he himself could.

"I fail to see your-"

"What if I was a jerk to you, huh? I was a real jerk to you at first, don't you remember? What if I never got better? What if I left trash in your seats and never let you listen to your own music or-"

"Permission to interrupt?"

Michael's first instinct was to snap- he didn't like being interrupted. He'd already told Kitt that long ago. . . and Kitt had listened, hadn't he?

"Of course." He said.

"What you're proposing is irrelevant. That is purely a hypothetical scenario, not reflective of reality. A strawman argument." Kitt replied.

"Just consider it. If you had ended up with a sleazebag, how would you have gotten out of that?"

"I would have reported any behavioral infractions of this hypothetical version of yourself to Devon."

"And if he ignored them?"

"He wouldn't."

"But what if he did?"

"Michael," Kitt paused, something like a breath, "what you're arguing about is just semantics. Let's end this conversation, and let me take the wheel so that you can calm down."

"No. I want to keep driving."

It was in the silence that followed that Michael's grip on the steering yolk grew looser as he realized what he’d done.

---

"Bonnie."

"Hmm?" The mechanic looked up from her book.

"Kitt's programmed to follow my orders, right?"

"Of course. Has there been a problem?"

A problem, she asked. A problem with Kitt, as if it would somehow be his fault instead of-

"So he doesn't have a choice."

Bonnie closed her book. "Yes?"

Under her gaze, he struggled to organize the thoughts in his brain just the same as he struggled under Kitt's. "Is that right?"

"Michael, what's going on?"

"You and I both know that Kitt is more than just silicon and wires." That was a statement he could be confident of. "So is it right that he has no choice?"

"He needs to follow your orders. You're his driver."

"Does he need a driver?"

"Are you arguing against your own employment?" Bonnie put her book on the end table and stood from her chair. "As much as I'd love to remove humans from the equation entirely, the technology isn't there yet. I can't give Kitt legs and hands yet, so I have to settle with you."

"I'm being serious!" Michael snapped.

"As was I!"

"Kitt's a person! People have rights, don't they?"

She looked him up and down. "Didn't take you for the philosophical type."

"I'm not being philosophical, I'm being a good person!" He spat. "If I'm holding Kitt here against his will-"

"Against his will? Michael, he likes you more than I do."

"Because he doesn't know that he could have other options. Because there's code in his head telling him to obey me even if he doesn't like it."

Bonnie opened her mouth, but didn't say anything.

"So you're gonna remove that code." Michael continued.

"Hold on. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I know what I'm-"

"And we need to have this conversation with Kitt."

That much he could agree on. "He should be finished discussing data with Devon by now."

Bonnie grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. Michael led the way out of the drawing room of the mansion, tracing the fastest path back to the garage, a route so routine he could walk it blind.

Kitt's glossy frame was parked in the same spot as always inside the garage- there was not even a tire mark out of place on the concrete. His scanner swooped back and forth at a pace equal to that of footsteps, before calming as he noticed Michael and Bonnie's entrance.

"Apologies. I wasn't expecting you."

"You done with Devon?" Michael asked.

"Yes. I just finished sending the last of my report."

"Good job." He replied instinctively.

"Bonnie, you look upset. And Michael, I can't say you look much better. What is going on?" Kitt asked, sliding his scanner in their direction.

"Michael got it up in his head that you don't want to be here." Bonnie said. "So we're going to-"

"I didn't say that!" Michael snapped.

"Oh. This again." Kitt lamented.

"You've talked about this before?" Bonnie asked.

"He doesn't get it! None of you get it!" He gestured to them both. "Something's wrong."

"Alright," Bonnie crossed her arms, "tell us exactly what it is you have a problem with."

Michael paused. Yet again his brain was having trouble forming simple words. This was starting to get irritating- he'd thought faster under fire of actual bullets before, so what was tripping him up so badly?

Bonnie tapped her fingers against her arm. Kitt waited without a sound.

He went with something he'd brought up earlier. "Kitt doesn't have a choice."

"You're going to have to be more specific." Bonnie replied.

"I don't see how that fact is relevant." Kitt added.

"Kitt is forced to follow my orders-"

"By design." Bonnie replied.

"Bonnie, let him finish." Kitt said.

Michael gave a nod to him, breathed out whatever retort he had planned for her, and then started over.

"Kitt is forced to follow my orders. . . and I'm not okay with that."

A small few pixels of Kitt's scanner lit up, but he paused, waiting for Bonnie. She, however, only stared at her arms.

"Why are you not comfortable with our arrangement anymore?" Kitt asked.

"Because I didn't think about it when I really should have. You're my partner. My buddy. Pal, I consider you an equal."

"I don't doubt that, Michael."

"Which means that you shouldn't be forced to follow my orders."

"It's not 'being forced'." Bonnie looked up. "It's how he's programmed."

"You stuck a rule in his head that he can't say no to me."

Kitt spoke. "Michael, that is a vast oversimplification and I still fail to see the issue. It's my purpose to follow your orders."

Michael looked Bonnie in the eye and gestured to Kitt's hood. "You don't see the problem here?"

She paused. "Michael, he's an AI-"

"Put him in a human body and he could walk and talk like the rest of us. Don't act like he couldn't."

"I strongly disagree." Kitt routed his voice through his interior speakers instead of his external ones, creating a sort of muffled effect not unlike that of a whisper.

The fact that Kitt had bothered to figure out a way to achieve that sort of effect at all was further evidence to prove Michael's point.

Bonnie walked over and put her hand on Kitt's hood. "I see what you're getting at, but he's not a human. He needs his programming to function."

"I know that! It's not about that."

“Michael,” Kitt said, “do you know that I’m quite fond of our arrangement?”

“Because you don’t know any better. Because you can’t know any better, not with that rule in your head that says you can’t disagree with me.”

“I certainly can disagree with you! I’m doing so right now. Seriously, Michael, do you remember the countless times we’ve bickered or quarreled?”

“That’s not what I. . .”

“I do not simply agree with everything you say. Do you really think of me so lowly?”

“No. Of course not. But you’re still under the control of whatever I say, right? If I told you, right now, that I didn’t want you to like your music anymore, would you be forced to change your mind?”

“While that would be cruel and unusual punishment, I would do so.” Kitt replied, but before Michael could speak again, he continued, “because I trust your judgment.”

“I- thanks.” Michael said quietly.

“And that’s the root of it. I give my suggestions, I disagree with your actions, yet at the end of the day, we all know that you have the ability to make decisions that I can’t even fathom that lead us to success. If I had a coin, as they say, for every time I failed to understand your reasoning, I’d have a significant sum of change. I can calculate the exact dollar value, if you’d like.”

“No need.” Bonnie covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

Michael wasn’t laughing. “I’m glad that you trust me that much. That still doesn’t change the fact that I have the power and you don’t.”

“Come here, Michael?”

Kitt opened his door. Michael walked over, ran his hand over the handle, before slipping into the driver’s seat. Before he could reach out and shut the door, Kitt did it for him.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Kitt’s lights flickered dimly. “I don’t want your ‘power’.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t make decisions like you. And frankly, I don’t want to. It sounds very stressful. I’m already managing a menagerie of functions. I do not intend to add decision-making to that list.”

“Of course you can follow my lead, pal. I’m not saying I don’t want you with me.”

“Then what are you implying?”

“Humans follow orders. But humans always have a choice to not follow an order they disagree with.”

“And that delay in decision time could cost you your life.” Kitt raised his volume.

“What do you mean?”

“Bonnie, could you explain something for me, please?”

Kitt opened his passenger door and Bonnie sat down.

“What’d I miss?” She asked.

“Can you explain what factors determine the length of my response time?”

“Sure. That’s easy, unless you really want me to dive into the specifics.”

“An overview would be more appropriate.”

“In any given scenario, Kitt has to consider all of the relevant data from his scanners. Where his body is in the world, what’s around him, and so on. Then he determines what’s needed of him, and how he can best operate to fulfill that need so long as it doesn’t defy his core programming to protect and uphold human life.

“And if I’m not provided with a need to fulfill?” Kitt asked.

“Well, then you have to decide what to do, right?” Bonnie shrugged towards the dashboard. “And that is the tricky part. Most of the breakthroughs that we made with Kitt were towards his ability to figure out what to do in the absence of input. Think about it- there’s a million things that you or I could do at this given moment in time.”

“We have choices.”

“Exactly. But computers need to know what variables to calculate in order to function. Where Kitt is special is that he can determine his own instructions to operate by.”

“Okay, makes sense.”

“And it’s extremely intensive on his operating system to do. Driving is one thing- the rules of the road provide a good, defined set of decisions for him to choose from -but everything else is significantly more of a struggle. Right, Kitt?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Kitt said meekly.

“Frankly, when we first designed him, we never imagined that he’d do much more than be able to drive himself.”

“I resent that.” Kitt said, significantly louder.

“-Which means that he’s proven more successful than our wildest hopes.” Bonnie smiled and placed her hand on the dashboard.

“That’s interesting and all,” Michael said, “but what does this have to do with him following my orders?”

“Michael, if I had to stop and evaluate every alternative option to your commands whenever you gave them, my reaction time would be in minutes, not seconds.” Kitt replied. “Because I’m programmed to follow your orders, I don’t even have to think about it, and that saves me a significant amount of processing power and time that could be better used to keep you safe.”

Michael paused.

“Therefore it’s to my benefit that I remain programmed the way that I am.” Kitt continued.

“I get it.” Michael said. “I really do. But that’s a lot of trust.”

“Is this new to you?”

“‘Course not.” Michael couldn’t help but laugh a little. “But it still doesn’t erase the fact that you’ve never had a choice otherwise.”

“I’ve tried to explain it to the best of my abilities. If you still don’t understand, perhaps you never will.” Kitt replied.

“No, I think you’re the one not understanding. You’ve been programmed this way since the day you came online, right?”

“Yeah, he has.” Bonnie replied.

“So not even for a day, not even for a second, you’ve never experienced otherwise.”

“I’m failing to understand what ‘otherwise’ might mean.” Kitt replied.

“Okay, how about this.” Michael sighed. “I want you to try having that programming removed for a little bit.”

“What? Michael, don’t be absurd. I refuse to go on a mission with you while my system is compromised-”

“Not on a mission. Just around here. Surely Devon can schedule us a day off to try this.”

“Still, it would be a significant modification, wouldn’t it?”

“Actually,” Bonnie said, “it wouldn’t be too difficult to disable.”

“It wouldn’t?” Kitt sounded aghast.

“From a technical standpoint. What I’m saying is that it is doable.”

“Kitt, I’m not trying to hurt you. But I want you to try this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important to me.”

There was only a second’s hesitation. “Alright. I trust you.”

—

It didn’t take Bonnie long to get Kitt plugged into her work station. Soon, the lines of code that made up Kitt, strands of everything that he was and maybe everything he ever would be scrolled up and down the screen according to Bonnie’s touch. Michael couldn’t read any of it, of course. The one book he’d tried to read on binary already didn’t make much sense and he knew that Kitt was vastly, vastly more complex than that.

Bonnie narrowed in on a specific line, typed in a command, and turned around. “That should be it.”

“What?” Michael asked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that?” Kitt asked simultaneously.

“It should be. But we’d have to test it to confirm. Michael?”

“Kitt,” Micheal hesitated. “Open your door.”

Kitt opened his driver’s side door immediately.

“Hmm.” Bonnie turned back around.

“There’s no need, Bonnie.” Kitt said. “I’ve verified that the corresponding section of core programming has been nullified for the time being.”

“Then why did you open your door?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Michael stared into Kitt’s interior, stared at the flickering lights of his voice modulator.

“Kitt, turn on my favorite radio station.”

“We’re out of range of that one, how about 98.6, Pop Central?”

“Turn it on.”

Kitt’s speakers activated and Madonna blared into the garage.

“Okay, stop, stop.” Michael waved. Kitt stopped as soon as the first hiss of an ‘s’ left his mouth. “Buddy, you’re supposed to try saying no to me.”

“But why would I?”

“Because you hate my music.”

“But it’s harmless.” Kitt retorted.

“But you didn’t have to turn it on.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Okay, this wasn’t working. Bonnie, who was now leaning up against her work station, only gave a shrug, before glancing towards the garage door.

Michael got an idea. “Kitt, back through the garage door, now.”

“Wha-” Kitt’s voice fizzled out. “Michael, that’s absurd.”

“Do it. Now.”

“That would cause property damage to the FLAG facility! There’s absolutely no source of danger anywhere near here, and therefore no justification-”

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Michael smiled.

But instead of a witty comeback, or a snarky insult, or even a swoop of his scanner, Kitt grew deathly still.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“Michael.” Kitt said quietly.

He walked closer. “What is it?”

“I don’t like this.” Kitt cracked his window and spoke from his interior speakers. Michael had to lean his ear close to the window to even hear it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ever give me a false order again.”

“Huh?”

“Do not command me to do something that you do not intend me to do.” Kitt enunciated every consonant.

“Kitt, that was just an-”

“I don’t like this. How much longer do you want Bonnie to disable the code?”

Michael put his hand on Kitt’s roof. “I was hoping to go out for a drive with you at least.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t, but I want you to feel what it’s-”

“No.”

Michael stopped. He felt a shudder pass through Kitt’s frame, and the hum of cooling fans leaked into the open air.

“I refuse.” Kitt said, quieter. “You have asked me to express my ability to refuse, and I’m doing so now. If an emergency were to occur when we were off FLAG premises, I want to operate at my full capacity.”

“But-” Michael stopped himself. “Okay.”

“. . . this is strange. I don’t like denying you like this.”

“I know you don’t.”

“You were worried that if I was given the choice, I would leave you.” Kitt continued.

“I’m not worried about that. Never was.” Michael lied. “I was more worried about forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do.”

“Sure,” said Kitt, “but since I sense that it’s important to you that I tell you this during this time: I want to continue being your partner. I want to serve you and follow your orders.”

Michael smiled.

“And that while I don’t like your music, I will tolerate it because it makes you happy. While sometimes your decisions seem questionable, your judgment is sound, and you have yet to steer me wrong, both figuratively and literally.”

“Well!” Michael slapped Kitt’s roof. “That’s great to hear.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Kitt swooped his scanner once. “Imagine if I had ended up with a driver who didn’t care about my opinion. I certainly can’t.”

The reminder made Michael pause, but he recovered quickly enough. “Me neither, Kitt. Me neither.”

“Now that this is settled, Bonnie, if you would?”

Bonnie turned back to her computer and began typing away. Kitt was silent until she turned around again and gave a thumbs up.

“There. That’s better.” Kitt said. “Michael, are you satisfied with our experiment?”

“Yeah.” Michael tapped his fingers against Kitt’s roof in whatever pattern he could think of, anything to distract him from the lingering traces. “I am. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some rest!” Kitt opened the door and bumped Michael slightly. “You know it’s never long until our next mission.”

Michael walked to the exit to the garage, only turning around to give a salute to his trusty getaway car. “Yes sir!”

—

He tried his damndest but he couldn’t follow Kitt’s orders. He sat up in his bed. The bed here at the Foundation mansion was more comfortable than most of the hotels he usually stayed in. Whether it was comfier than Kitt’s interior was up for debate. He rubbed his face with his hands.

On his nightstand was his commlink. Kitt felt comfortable enough here at the mansion to let him take it off at night. Yet its weight was missing from Michael’s wrist. Maybe he’d sleep better with it on, but he didn’t want to disturb Kitt from his own rest. Or. . . whatever it was that Kitt did at night while the world was asleep.

Michael sighed. He reached over and grabbed the commlink. Immediately the red light on it flashed. Kitt was awake and metaphorically looking his way, so he might as well let him get the full picture. He slipped the commlink on and tightened it against his wrist, ensuring that all the biological monitors were lined up how they were supposed to be.

The red light flickered, before growing solid. “Michael, what is it?”

“Hey Kitt. Can’t sleep.”

“It’s about me again, isn’t it?”

Right on the money, as always. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Here’s fine.” Michael gestured around his room.

“I’ve done some reading on the subject to try and understand what is bothering you.” Kitt said. “So far I haven’t been able to understand much of it. I’m afraid I’m not the target audience.”

“Gosh, you aren’t reading the really old stuff, are you? That stuff’s all quacks.”

“You might not want to tell Devon that.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. “You haven’t told him about this, have you?”

“I have not.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I. . . don’t think he’d understand.”

“In all fairness, it appears I don’t either.” Kitt replied. “Do you want to try and explain it to me?”

“Trust me, pal, I’ve been trying to do that all day.” Michael laughed. “But I’ll try it again.”

“Take your time.” Kitt said gently. His light on the commlink gave a slow blink.

Michael closed his eyes. Rubbed his face again. Tried to think back to his days before he met Kitt. It was days like these that he felt out of touch with normal society- days where he was thinking about things that a normal person wouldn’t spend half a second on, things like “personhood” and “free will” and all that stuff. Bonnie was right. He wasn’t a philosopher.

After a few minutes, he still couldn’t come up with anything that sounded reasonable. All he had was his own discomfort. Maybe that was it.

Michael tapped his commlink. “You still there?”

“Of course, Michael.”

“Maybe it’s like- maybe it’s that I would hate to be in your position.”

“You would?” Kitt was aghast.

“Now don’t take it the wrong way.” Michael wagged his finger as if Kitt could see him. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t imagine being forced to do whatever someone says, regardless of how much I trusted them. If someone had total control of my life, could override my movements, could even override how I think with just a few words. . . I’d be terrified, not going to lie to you.”

Kitt paused. “You would be.”

“I’d hate it.”

“It’s as you said: you could not imagine it.” Kitt stated. “Perhaps I’m beginning to understand your discomfort.”

“And the idea that I could be doing that to somebody else is. . .” Michael couldn’t think of a word.

“Equally terrifying?”

“Maybe.”

“Michael, if it helps, I’m grateful you consider me to be your equal. But I’m not a human. You are. I think your idea of what is ‘terrifying’ might be very different from mine.”

“But that’s the kicker- should it be?”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. Perhaps one day I’ll have a greater understanding of your fear. But until then, I will have to settle with making sure my opinion is heard.” Kitt injected some levity in his voice.

“I’d appreciate that, pal.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you get some rest?”

“Unfortunately not. That’s between me and my dumb human body, I’m afraid.”

“There it is again!” Kitt exclaimed. “That difference between body and mind that seems to preoccupy a large portion of human philosophical thought on personhood.”

“Goodnight, Kitt.” Michael laughed.

“Goodnight, Michael.” Kitt lowered his volume again.

Michael slid off the commlink and set it back on the nightstand. He pulled himself back under the covers and closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep, but the clenching feeling in his chest finally lifted.

#knight rider #k.i.t.t.#Kitt #Michael Knight #fanfiction #I was writing something in another fandom about a robot overwriting its directives to obey another person #and it immediately reminded me of Kitt #and before I knew it this one-shot had appeared #I hope you all enjoy it #Michael isn't good at talking about his feelings #and he continues to struggle not to apply his very human perspective to Kitt #It's a fascinating dynamic

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robininthelabyrinth · 11 months

Text

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 1

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

Summary: Lan Qiren still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

He was married.

He had a wife.

That wife was Wen Ruohan.

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A/N: Title from the idiom “The other mountain’s stone can polish jade” (他山之石，可以攻玉), meaning improving yourself through external criticism or accepting advice from others will help you overcome your shortcomings.

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Wangji was missing.

Wangji was missing, and Lan Qiren was frantic with worry. Lan Wangji had always been a solemn child, perhaps too solemn for a six-year-old, and he had always adhered firmly to routine, the way Lan Qiren did. But now he was nowhere to be found, not in his rooms, not in the classroom, not in the training yards, the Library Pavilion…he was simply gone!

Not that Lan Qiren could blame him for running away.

Not when –

Lan Qiren had to pause in his search through the corners of the Library Pavilion and close his eyes, his chest abruptly too tight for no physical reason at all.

Everything was different now.

The moment it had all changed had been viscerally seared into his brain, every single sensation so clear that Lan Qiren needed only to close his eyes to be back there at once. Had no choice but to be back there, every time he did, whether he wanted to or not. He could feel his shoulders suddenly too-tight and too-heavy, could feel his nose filled with the damp smell of dirt and death that had permeated the room, his throat choked by the stuffy heat of it, all the windows closed…

His ears ringing, his breath too fast. His entire body frozen with sudden inextricable tension.

And the blood, of course.

There had been so much blood.

Wangji had not seen the blood, at least, and for that Lan Qiren was deeply thankful. He could not even imagine his little nephew’s reaction to such a thing – not his Wangji, who had always been so rigid, so formal, so distressed when things did not happen as they should…he’d never been especially good at dealing with change. The Lan sect’s teachings counseled acceptance of change, the recognition that it was inevitable, but Wangji had always been deeply suspicious of it.

In that way, he was…a little too much like his uncle.

Change had never been good for Lan Qiren, either, not in his whole life.

His mother’s too-early death, his father’s decline, his brother’s love and his decision to abandon his duties to save his accused murderess of a wife – it was all the same, all bad, every change a change for the worse. Every time something changed, he was forced to change with it, and never into anything he wanted. He’d been so young, so painfully inexperienced and immature, when he’d been forced to start taking over sect matters, and he hadn’t wanted any of it. He hadn’t wanted to spend his time in the confusing and unpleasant marsh of politics. He hadn’t wanted to become the acting sect leader.

He certainly hadn’t wanted to be a father.

Lan Qiren loved his nephews, he did, but at the same time…no, he hadn’t wanted to be a father.

And that was what he was to them, really, though he’d never been granted the title and had been scrupulous about never doing anything to indicate he might deserve it, even when he felt inside that perhaps he might. As usual, he’d gotten all the duties and none of the benefits, and all the months he’d had of foreknowledge of his nephews’ arrival had somehow still been utterly insufficient to prepare him to take care of two small children.

He’d never wanted any of it.

Lan Qiren hadn’t wanted the years of sleepless nights, using one hand to write out sect correspondence by candlelight and the other to comfort sleeping infants that no one else could settle, that he didn’t dare entrust to anyone else for too long for fear that they would never be returned to him. He hadn’t wanted to be burdened with so much responsibility, always worrying about them, always chasing after them, always thinking of them, having to keep in mind two other schedules other than his own, always having to accommodate them. He hadn’t wanted to endure long and agonizing waits, filled with anxiety – raising children seemed like nothing but waiting, sometimes. First waiting for them to be born from a woman he barely knew, then waiting for them to fall asleep, waiting for them to heal after an illness, waiting for them to grow up…

Lan Qiren hadn’t wanted to have to figure out how to parent a child, two children, when he felt as though he were still barely old enough to figure out how to behave properly himself.

For them, Lan Qiren had had to learn to balance love and discipline, simultaneously worrying that too much kindness and laxity would hurt them in the future and that too much strictness and censure would hurt them in the present. He’d never been sure which one to pick and he had been convinced every time that he’d picked the wrong one. He’d had to try to manage the frustration and self-hatred that came with raising his two nephews, the way he constantly questioned and second-guessed himself, the guilt that came with every decision he made for them because there was no one else available to make them.

He had been constantly dogged with the feeling that he wasn’t enough.

That he could never be enough.

Lan Qiren had at one point found himself regularly waking up in the middle of the night, utterly terrified. Terrified that he was ruining these children – terrified that they would grow up and one day realize that Lan Qiren was not only inept but inadequate, and grow to resent him in the same way that he’d grown to resent his own father, in time.

Lan Qiren’s father had resented him, blaming him for his mother’s death from the complications of childbirth, and Lan Qiren had known it, known it and suffered terribly from it.

He hadn’t wanted to resent his nephews the same way.

He hadn’t – and yet he had, at least a little. How could he help it? Lan Qiren had been a young man when his brother had retreated into seclusion, now going on ten years ago, and in truth, by the standards of his sect elders, he was still a young man. But he’d grown old before his time, trapped at home by duty during the age when most young men went out to travel the world, to do good deeds and earn fame and fall in love. He’d had to give all that up in favor of the soul-crushing drudgery of politics and the day-to-day management of a sect with so many people. He’d had to give up travel in favor of security because the sect couldn’t risk their last remaining heir, give up all thought of devoting himself to something of his own choosing, give up everything in order to fritter away his youth in endless, endless work. He’d had to give up that part of life that should have been marked by independence, autonomy, and agency, a time to learn and to figure out who he was. A time of freedom.

He hadn’t had that chance.

He never would.

From the very first moment that He Kexin’s pregnancy had been disclosed to him, that had been the end of it, the extinguishing of all hope. His nephews had shackled him to the Cloud Recesses more thoroughly than even the sect leader position, and although he loved them, it was because of that love that he was so thoroughly bound in place. He’d adored them from the first moment he’d seen them, loved them more than he loved himself, but he could not say that he had wanted them.

That would be a lie, and the Lan sect rules said: Do not tell lies.

From there came the resentment, from there came the guilt.

He hadn’t wanted them.

He certainly hadn’t wanted the closest adult relationship in his life to be with He Kexin, who he did not like and did not love and who he had certainly never touched – he, who’d never even kissed anyone – and yet he had no choice, for to do anything less would be to deny his nephews access to the mother they loved or He Kexin to the sons she’d birthed. He had had no choice but to see her every month when he took his nephews to see her, and then again even more often to ask her questions or bring her something she wanted.

Lan Qiren had resented her, too, even though he pitied her for her eventual fate, which she had brought upon herself. For his nephew’s sakes he had never said a word against her, keeping silent where he couldn’t say anything good – speak meagerly for too many words bring only harm – but in his heart he could not help but blame her for his predicament, for all the dreams he’d lost, even though he tried not to. The one who was ultimately at fault for ruining Lan Qiren’s innocent dreams of freedom was his brother, not the woman he’d married, but Lan Qiren still couldn’t help thinking that it had been her actions, her decision to kill a Lan sect elder within the Cloud Recesses, that had kicked off that terrible sequence of events.

If only she had never come to the Cloud Recesses.

If only she had chosen another way, any way, to resolve whatever her troubles had been other than murdering their teacher.

If only –

If only his brother hadn’t been so mad for love!

If only they hadn’t been so selfish, both of them - his brother in marrying his love to save her life despite everything she’d done, in declaring he would enter seclusion in penance rather than carry out the duties he’d sworn to uphold…if only they had not had children together, the second time with full knowledge that the child would be given to Lan Qiren as yet another burden he’d had no choice but to accept. They’d made him a father twice over without his consent, and sometimes it bewildered him how much he resented them both for that.

When Lan Qiren was being sensible and reasonable, he knew that his brother and He Kexin hadn’t had children for the purpose of hurting him, but that didn’t make him feel better about it.

He hated her for it.

In truth, he hated him for it.

He didn’t want to admit it – do not, the Lan sect’s rules counseled, do not, do not, do not – but he did, he really, truly did. Lan Qiren hated his brother.

He hated his brother.

As a child, Lan Qiren had adored him. His brother, ten years his elder, had seemed like a giant in Lan Qiren’s eyes, and he had for the longest time disregarded the fact that his brother had always disliked him for reasons that had never wholly made sense to Lan Qiren…but no love could live one-sided forever.

Years and years of crushing duty had curdled whatever love Lan Qiren had had for his brother into disdain and disapproval, a toxic stew made up of all those endless nights of wondering why, if he could sacrifice himself, his brother couldn’t or wouldn’t do the same. All those days of labor, those pointless sessions in front of his brother’s locked door attempting to report to him about matters of the sect that he ought to have cared about and maybe did, and receiving not a single word in response, not once.

Not one single time in all those ten years.

Yes, Lan Qiren hated him.

He hated the great and powerful Qingheng-jun, the man who should have been elder brother and father both, who should have cared for Lan Qiren instead of disdaining him. He hated the man who had been the Lan sect’s prized treasure and hope for the future, once upon a time, before he’d thrown it all away for a love like disaster, a love that no one had wanted, not even his wife.

Especially his wife.

He Kexin…

There had been so much blood.

Lan Qiren had been the one to find her.

Had it really only been four days ago? Only four days, four sleepless nights, and seemingly endless hours, since Lan Qiren had gone to see He Kexin – thankfully without his nephews – to ask her some pointless question he no longer remembered, and had instead found her dead upon the floor of her beautiful prison of gentians?

This will change everything, he’d thought at that moment, staring down at her body, mute with shock. Everything.

He Kexin had been a beautiful woman, a fact that had been unchanged by age or imprisonment, but now – now her beauty had been marred, irreversibly marred. The pool of blood around her, the bloody sword at her side…

Lan Qiren had rushed over at once to try to help, not yet realizing she was dead, not yet realizing what must have happened – what she must have done to herself, since there was no one else around. In his memory, he was still there crouched above her, his fingers still pressed to her neck to seek a pulse that wasn’t there, his other hand still cupped under her nose, trying desperately to feel the warmth of her breath on his palm and finding nothing.

Ironically, between the Cloud Recesses’ strict rules on segregating male and female disciples and how young he’d been when he’d been suddenly forced to become an elder, it was probably the most bodily contact Lan Qiren had ever had with a woman. Even Cangse Sanren, who he’d known for only one brief and bright summer, had had enough propriety to avoid unasked-for contact, or at least she did if one put aside her one late-night adventure in shaving off his beard while he was asleep. It was certainly the most contact he’d had with another adult in years, he who had only his nephews and his work and basically no friends. He was surrounded by family, that was true, but he was not close to any of them. Even the cousin he’d liked most as a child, a boy by the name of Lan Yueheng, had since gone out into the world to seek his fortune, or at least to go get more of those dreadful plants he was so fond of.

(He’d written, at first, but at the time Lan Qiren had been dreadfully jealous of his freedom, so he hadn’t responded. He’d instead let himself sink into the muck and mire of sect business, drowning in it, insensate to and rejecting the rest of the world in his bitterness and resentment, and by the time he’d resurfaced and realized he really did need other people, that relationship and all the others like it had weakened, grown distant. And now he had no one at all.)

Touch had long become something Lan Qiren had grown to deeply crave but didn’t know how to ask for. A friend, a lover, even someone who only wanted his body, a thought he’d initially disliked but in the intervening years had grown more open to…he’d thought to himself that he’d welcome anything, really, as long as it could touch him. And then, in some grim parody of his life so far, instead of what he’d really wanted, he’d ended up instead with a lifeless corpse in his arms.

Change, he’d thought, trapped in that dreadful moment, this means that things will change, and he had been afraid.

Not afraid enough.

He hadn’t thought – he hadn’t realized –

No, Lan Qiren couldn’t blame Wangji for having run away in the face of all the things that had changed, all the things that had happened, all the things that were still to come. These days, Lan Qiren found himself yearning to run away as well.

But empathy aside, Wangji was still missing, Wangji still needed to be found. He was not in the Library Pavilion, not even in the Forbidden Section, and so Lan Qiren left to continue the search.

“Have you seen him?” he demanded when he saw several of the disciples he’d sent out looking for Lan Wangji returning, but they all shook their heads in the negative. “What are you doing back here, then?! There are more places to check! It is winter, cold, and Wangji is young and likely not sufficiently dressed, liable to get sick. We must find him at once. He could be anywhere –”

“Qiren.”

A feeling of icy cold ran down Lan Qiren’s spine, a match for the absolute frozen calm of that voice.

It wasn’t because of the winter weather.

He turned and saluted formally. Too formally, really, given that they were inside the Cloud Recesses, alone among family, but he wasn’t stopped or excused from doing it.

He’d known he wouldn’t be.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren said, his head bowed down and his eyes fixed firmly on the ground for as long as he could manage before propriety required he look at who he was speaking with. “I did not see that you were there.”

“And yet here I am,” his brother said. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light, the gleaming Qingheng-jun in all his majesty – he looked perfect as always, and standing there in the gently falling snow he looked like some idealized dream of ink given form in real life. Ten years of complete seclusion seemed to have taken no toll on him, and he was as tall and broad-shouldered and beautiful as he had ever been. “Where else would I be?”

Anywhere, Lan Qiren thought, and tasted the bile of his hatred on his tongue. Anywhere but here.

Back in seclusion where you belong, maybe.

When Lan Qiren had found He Kexin’s body, he had known that it meant that things would change. Foolishly, perhaps, he had thought only in terms of the impact it would have on Xichen and Wangji. He had known that it would crush them. They were good boys, loyal and filial, and they loved their mother deeply; it was for that reason that he had tortured himself visiting her so often, despite his resentment of her. He had not known how to make her loss easier for them.

Xichen was old enough to understand death, at least, but Wangji wasn’t, being only six; Lan Qiren had worried about how he would take it. Lan Qiren knew how delicate his younger nephew was, how stiff and strict…how similar to his rigid, rule-bound shufu, to Lan Qiren’s agonized mix of pride and shame. He had worried about him all the more because of that, knowing how badly he himself would have taken such a thing at that same age.

He hadn’t thought to worry about anything else.

He hadn’t thought…

It had been ten years. Ten years that Lan Qiren had borne the weight of his sect on his shoulders, alone, and only a little over nine since Xichen’s birth. Ten years since he had been summoned home from some sect business he’d been sent on because his brother was too busy being in love to do it, the note in his hand speaking only of disaster. Ten years since his brother had married his beloved lady instead of letting her stand trial for murder. Ten years since his brother had declared that he would be entering seclusion to pay for his sins in marrying her.

Sins which, as Lan Qiren belatedly discovered, his brother considered to be paid off by He Kexin’s death.

Lan Qiren had been in a daze after discovering He Kexin’s body – no matter what he felt about her, she had been a reliable constant in his life, and he hated change – and he had been worried for his nephews, putting that fear before everything else. He had mechanically gone through the expected motions, the sort of thing that would happen with any unexpected death in the Cloud Recesses: the servants with access to the house questioned, though as expected all of them had been attending to duties elsewhere at the time, arrangements made for the body to be moved until the funeral, the house cleaned, a musician appointed to play spiritual songs in honor of the deceased, all the usual. Lan Qiren had done everything he needed to do as sect leader, and everything he had needed to do as the closest adult relative of her family as well.

Well.

The closest available adult relative.

Lan Qiren hadn’t thought twice about reporting the fact of He Kexin’s passing to his brother’s door, that useless practice he had maintained less out of conviction than out of habit. He had felt…sorry, he supposed, that he had had to tell his brother that his wife was dead, that the great love he had sacrificed everything for was gone. But at the same time he hadn’t paid very much attention to it, either. It hadn’t seemed all that important at the time, not in comparison with the agony he knew awaited his nephews when he told them the same news.

Lan Qiren hadn’t thought about what it might mean – for his brother, for his sect, for his nephews.

For him.

After all, with his wife, the reason for his seclusion, dead, there was no reason for Qingheng-jun to continue abstaining from the mortal world. He had come out once more, Lan Qiren’s elder brother, and in so doing he had taken back from Lan Qiren all that was rightfully his.

His sect.

His sons.

“There is no reason to waste other people’s time searching for Wangji,” Lan Qiren’s brother said, voice flat and disinterested. “When he is finished with his temper tantrum, he will come out to face punishment for his defiance.”

Lan Qiren’s nails dug into his palms.

Defiance? He wanted to shout. How can you speak of defiance, of punishment – Wangji is six! He is too young for punishment to be a lesson! At his age, he does not yet know how to trace the connection between his actions and their consequences. He is hurting, as anyone could expect; his mother has just died! To punish him now when what he needs is comfort would be worse than pointless. He would learn nothing from it, nothing but that those who he should be able to trust are willing to hurt him.

Don’t you dare, he wanted to scream. Don’t you dare touch him, don’t you dare…

But it was Lan Qiren, now, who could not dare.

He had raised both boys from infancy himself; he had done everything for them, more than a man of his position strictly should have. He had fed them with goat’s milk when the wetnurse the sect had hired couldn’t manage, he had had changed their dirty clothing, he had tucked them into bed, given them baths, wiped away their tears. He had taught them to speak, taught them to walk, taught them the rules, taught them everything he could – but in the end he was still only their uncle, not their father. He wasn’t even their sect leader, with power enough to stop that which he thought was wrong.

He could do nothing.

Lan Qiren had always believed that he did not love power in its own right. He had always been quite proud of it, even, patting himself on the back with the knowledge that he, unlike so many of his fellow sect leaders, had never sought the position, had never loved it for the power it gave him, had never yearned greedily to increase that power and been willing to make compromises in order to do so. It was only now that all power had been stripped away from him, rendering him absolutely helpless to enact his will and leaving him only his useless words that could change nothing, that Lan Qiren realized how accustomed to power he had become.

It was only now that he realized that power was necessary not only for duty’s sake, for tradition and for the sake of his sect, but to let him protect that which he held dear.

“I do not believe Wangji intended to be defiant,” Lan Qiren said, forcing the hatred and bitterness out of his mouth and trying to sound as humble as he could manage. He was still half-bent in the salute, trapped in the posture because his brother and sect leader had not seen fit to give him leave to stand back up; the humiliation was deliberate, the insult pointed, and it burned more than he might have thought it would, if he had ever thought about it. Lan Qiren had grown too arrogant, these past few years of reporting to his brother’s locked door as if to nobody, and his brother had not forgotten nor forgiven it. “I believe he has merely been overwhelmed by all that has been happening around him and fled in order to master himself. He reacts badly to change, and always has…the failure in teaching him is mine.”

“Yes, it is,” Lan Qiren’s brother agreed, and finally waved his hand – twitched his fingers, more like – to allow Lan Qiren to straighten. “They tell me you have made yourself some reputation as a teacher while I was gone, but I must admit I haven’t seen much evidence of it.”

While I was gone, he called it, as if he’d just ducked out for a quick night-hunt or a casual visit to see friends, rather than forcefully reordered the sect for ten years, stolen away Lan Qiren’s life for ten years, while he indulged himself in his sacrificial penance. While I was gone.

Just hearing it phrased like that made Lan Qiren’s blood boil. The rules said Do not succumb to rage, but Lan Qiren’s temper had always been poor, one of his many failings.

And yet he wondered how anyone could not succumb to rage in the face of such provocation.

“I admit to my failings,” Lan Qiren said again, hoping that his self-abnegation would satisfy his brother’s apparent desire to see him torn down. His brother had never liked Lan Qiren, an ancient hatred that had grown to be mutual in time, but seclusion seemed to have sharpened it into something very near to cruelty – it had only been three days since his brother had exited his seclusion, and Lan Qiren had already accumulated enough punishments that the end of the month would see him reporting to the discipline hall to be whipped like an immature boy. He’d already been obligated to spend one long bitter night kneeling outside in the cold winter wind instead of grieving or working; his brother had even come to watch, as if he’d thought Lan Qiren couldn’t be trusted to actually follow through on the assigned discipline.

He had been smiling.

“Still, as the fault is mine, I worry that Wangji may not realize that he has erred,” Lan Qiren said carefully, trying to strike the balance that would let him protect his nephew from a punishment he did not deserve and would not think to expect. “I am certain that he would make amends if he did. If only he can be found, first…”

His brother’s face did not show any sign of yielding, and Lan Qiren’s anxiety spiked. Didn’t he understand?

“It is snowing, Xiongzhang,” he said, stressing the word. “Wangji is still very young, young enough that a fever could be very dangerous to him, and he is likely not sufficiently dressed for the weather. If he isn’t found, he could linger outside and grow ill. If we could only find him…”

“You can do as you like with your own time,” his brother said, and Lan Qiren nearly lost his breath at the sheer dismissiveness of the statement, at how little his brother seemed to appreciate all that Lan Qiren had done in his absence. As if all of Lan Qiren’s sacrifices for the sect had been merely the misbehavior of an unattended child. “But do not waste that of others.”

That was the best he was going to get, Lan Qiren realized, and gritted his teeth in suppressed anger, wondering why his brother didn’t seem to realize, didn’t seem to care, even though Wangji was his son…but such thoughts were meaningless. His brother had decided, and his brother was sect leader, his word as immovable as any of the rules on the Wall of Discipline.

There was nothing to do but accept it.

So Lan Qiren did, nodding stiffly and saluting his brother once more before he turned to go.

“Once you find my son,” Qingheng-jun said from behind him, and Lan Qiren couldn’t help but wonder if he emphasized the words my son just to remind Lan Qiren that his nephews had never truly belonged to him, “you are to return him to his rooms and then report to my rooms at you shi. It is time to discuss your future.”

Lan Qiren swallowed. “My future?”

Change again, he thought, his stomach clenching in terror. Not again –

Although Lan Qiren didn’t turn around, he could feel his brother stepping forward again, coming closer to him.

“I think you’ve done enough here, Qiren,�� his brother murmured into his ear, voice low but cold. Always cold. “Don’t you?”

No.

“Don’t be late.”

Lan Qiren nodded once more, stiff now with terror rather than rage, and left as quickly as he could. It was better not to think about it, he told himself. There wasn’t time to worry about himself right now.

He had to find Wangji.

Only…he still had no idea where his nephew could have gone. The Cloud Recesses were large, and Lan Qiren was only one man; he could only cover so much ground. He’d already checked all the usual places: his rooms, Xichen’s rooms, Lan Qiren’s own rooms, the classroom, the library, the discipline hall, the places he was usually assigned to do chores, the garden he preferred to play in. Lan Qiren knew that Wangji took after him, that he was also a creature of habit, that he preferred to walk the same paths whenever he could. And yet he wasn’t in any of his favorite haunts. Where could he be?

Lan Qiren wished he could at least ask Xichen for his insight – his older nephew could read his younger brother like no one else – but Xichen would be at his lessons now, and Lan Qiren had already been instructed not to interrupt or distract him. Xichen was his brother’s eldest son, his heir, and since Lan Qiren’s teachings had already been found to be inadequate, his brother had decreed that it was necessary for him to be thrown into a punishing schedule meant to help him meet his father’s expectations. Lan Qiren hadn’t seen Xichen for nearly two days by this point, and it was probably the longest period of time they had ever spent apart while they were both in the Cloud Recesses.

He hadn’t been allowed to see him.

Lan Qiren’s brother really was treating him as if Lan Qiren were still some stupid child messing around and causing trouble for everyone, rather than a man of thirty. As if Lan Qiren hadn’t led one of the Great Sects for ten years, managing the elders and tricky internal sect strife on one hand and the complex and subtle play of intersect politics on the other, as if he weren’t the man who’d raised his brother’s children for him, who for ten years had done everything for his brother, even tended to his older brother’s own damned wife –

Wait. He Kexin. Of course.

Today was the day of the month when Lan Qiren normally took his nephews to see their mother.

Lan Qiren had explained to his nephews that they wouldn’t be going to visit her this month, or ever again. He’d tried to be kind about it, but still explicit enough to make clear what had happened.

Wangji…Wangji must not have understood.

He had cried, of course, because Xichen had cried, but he hadn’t understood. Lan Qiren had stayed with them all night, first holding them in his arms and then playing them music meant to help them sleep. At the time, he’d planned to try to slowly coax his younger nephew towards some semblance of understanding. He had meant to repeat himself several times, to explain more, to give them both books or stories that would help them understand and come to terms with what had happened, but then the next morning Qingheng-jun had come out of seclusion and everything had so very suddenly changed…

No matter. Lan Qiren hurried his steps towards He Kexin’s house, and was relieved to see a small figure crouched there in the snow in front of the closed door.

“Wangji,” he called, though there was no response. “Wangji, there you are…”

He went over to where Wangji was stubbornly kneeling, red-nosed and red-cheeked from the wind.

“I’m here to see Mother,” Lan Wangji announced before Lan Qiren could say anything. “I’m not going.”

“Wangji…”

What could Lan Qiren say?

Your mother is dead, and you should mourn her. Your father is alive, and you should mourn that, too.

You have already lost so much, and though you do not know it, you have more yet to lose. Death has already taken your mother away, and your father is going to take me away, too. He has already barred me from Xichen, and he will do the same with you, I know it. I should tell you, prepare you for it, but I can barely bring myself to believe it, so how can I explain it to you? I do not know what my brother has planned for me, nor for you both, but I know that there is nothing I can do to stop him.

I do not know how to tell you.

I do not know how to tell you that I have failed you, Wangji. You and Xichen both. That I am not strong or wise enough to defend you.

I do not know how to tell you that things are going to change, change for the worse, and I will not even be able to be there to help you with it.

I have let you down.

You are still so young, Wangji. You probably will not even remember me after a few years, except maybe to hate me for abandoning you. You will not know that I did not do it voluntarily, only that it happened. Only that I did not stop it from happening.

If only I could stop it.

If only –

But there is nothing I can do.

I am useless, I am hopeless, I am worthless, just the way my brother has always thought me to be.

I am sorry, Wangji. I am so very sorry…

“…Shufu?”

Lan Qiren tried to say something.

It probably would have been something inane like The rules say ‘Do not grieve in excess’ – but all of a sudden he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, all of them congealing abruptly into a sob he could not suppress. And that was even worse, because once there was one, there was another, and another, and then he was kneeling next to Lan Wangji in the snow with his hands futilely cast over his face to hide his disgrace, sobbing pointlessly like the immature child his brother so obviously thought he was.

“Shufu?” Lan Wangji sounded alarmed, as well he should in the face of such a wretched display by someone who ought to be setting a good example for him. “Shufu, don’t cry! I didn’t mean to upset you – I am sorry –”

“It is not your fault,” Lan Qiren choked out. He didn’t really think it was his own fault, either, not really, since he didn’t think he’d ever done anything to earn his brother’s hatred other than being born, but he blamed himself regardless. He blamed himself for Wangji having run away, he blamed himself for He Kexin having killed herself to escape her endless solitude, and he blamed himself for not being able to do anything to stop his brother from stealing away every source of joy he’d ever managed to spare for himself.

Was this the ultimate price of his dreams, he wondered wildly, the price of his secret resentment? Lan Qiren had never wanted to be a father, never wanted to run a sect, hadn’t wanted to be He Kexin’s caretaker – well, here it was, all his stupid selfish wishes finally fulfilled.

He wasn’t any of those anymore.

He wasn’t anything, anymore. In his brother’s eyes, he was scarcely even the second son of the Lan sect.

“It is not your fault,” Lan Qiren said, tears still spilling down his face as he wept, unable to stop himself. Do not grieve in excess, the rules said, but surely this was not excess. Surely this was exactly as much grief as his stricken heart felt fit for the situation. “It is not your fault. It is important that you know that, Wangji. You must listen to me, listen to your shufu. Know that none of this is your fault.”

“Shufu –”

“Listen to me. It is not you, it is not Xichen. You must both know that. None of this is your fault, none of it will ever have been your fault. It is only that – that things have changed, Wangji. Things have changed. They are never going to go back to the way they were.”

He could feel Wangji’s small hand on his arm, patting him lightly, seeking to comfort him.

But there was no comfort to be had.

“We cannot go back to the way things were,” Lan Qiren said again. “Not for your mother –”

And not for me.

#mdzs #my fic #my fics #lan qiren #lan wangji #lan xichen #madam lan #qingheng-jun #Megafic #here it is #I hope you all enjoy it #do mind the AO3 warnings if you prefer to have them #including for this chapter #when this is all posted I may share what the self-assigned prompt I used for this was

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