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fallenwhumpee · 1 month

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"I'll try."

• Masterlist •

Warnings: abandoning, rib injury, knee injury.

Ten year was a short time.

Spent with their sincere feelings, bundled with joy and naive victories, those years passed in a blink. Memories, maybe the only good things circling in their mind, were precious, sincere. Each built up warmth in their chest and fluttered their stomach.

Thinking back, Right Hand knew they were lucky. They were the luckiest person in their small world. They had a chance to work with people they could laugh and cry together. They were lucky that even while bleeding on the floor, they were thrown jokes with worry hidden. They were lucky that each time after work, they were fretted over like a mother cat would do to its kittens.

They were lucky that a decade had passed with their family. And ten years, for that family, was too short. Life was always fast when they were laughing.

But ten years was also too long.

The next decade, spent without any of it, was taxing. Being deprived of the warmth of their captain's arms, their rookie's pranks and their cmo's constant prodding was like a slow acting poison, rotting their mind from inside.

Right Hand would give everything to get those back.

But here they were, sitting in a cafe the team used to hang out, waiting for Youngest— or a call from them. It had been a while. Five years, eight months, eleven days, and seventeen hours to be precise if they counted from their last call with them. But it had been even longer face to face. The team's disbanding was always going to be Right Hand's biggest regret.

The waiter eyed Right Hand once more. Right Hand ordered a coffee just to get rid of that look. Their intention wasn't to invade the space. They were just too early, unable to sit still in their house.

Right Hand stared. They subtly eyed around, but the customers changed from head to toe at least two times. Looking down, they checked their phone once more.

"No coffee today. You're only getting a lemonade."

Right Hand flinched, shooting a glare to the waiter only to see it was Youngest.

Older, different. Even that smile was foreign. How could Right Hand assume they'd meet the same energetic person when it had been too long?

"I didn't think I'd treat myself today. I don't have enough on me."

The handmade lemonade with ridiculously big size was the times of what they'd pay for coffee. They couldn’t afford this— the lemonade and changes on Youngest. Right Hand's will to form a connection was now gone. They didn't think they could accept that this was not the Youngest they remembered. They didn’t want change. Be it their order or their now distanced sibling.

"I don't either," Youngest grinned, drinking half of their lemonade in one go. "But anything we order is pre-paid." The smile faltered. "It was, always. Medic and Leader's arguments about who was gonna pay was always one-sided. This cafe won't make us pay one penny as long as we dont eat the whole buffet. This place owes a favour to Leader, but you know them—"

"They never collect those favours, so the shop sqid its on them every time," Right Hand completed with a bitter smile.

"Yeah. Even though I'm sure they came back every time without us and paid the order." Youngest muttered. They fidgeted a little, hitting their fingers to the glass a few times.

"I missed... I missed the action," Right Hand confessed, their voice tinged with a mixture of longing and reluctance— they didn't know what they were supposed to feel. They glanced at Youngest, trying to gauge if they would grasp the weight of their words. Would Youngest understand what it meant to just... sit back? To watch the people go on with their jobs, to... to just get the news from a few messages every now and then?

"Me too. That's..." Youngest drew a sharp breath, their eyes darting to the side as if searching for the right words. They let out a slow exhale, their shoulders sagging. "That's why I'm here."

Right Hand frowned, a flicker of unease settling in their gut. "What do you mean?" they asked, their tone cautious.

"We... I need you back," Youngest breathed out, their eyes digging into Right Hand's for a positive answer desperately. Youngest leaned forward, their hands gripping the glass. "Officially, I'm asked to see if any of us wishes to return, but I need you. I will refuse the offer if you do, too."

Right Hand hesitated, their gaze dropping to the table as they mulled over Youngest's words. "It's been a while," they murmured, unsure of what to say.

"I know," Youngest admitted, averting their gaze..

"You know why I didn’t stay," Right Hand sighed.

Youngest nodded, their expression faltering. "But I need you. Especially now with Leader missing—"

Right Hand's head snapped up, their eyes widening in shock. "What?"

Youngest's face paled, and they almost shouted in their panic. "You... you haven't heard?" they asked, their voice rising with alarm.

"Youngest," Right Hand warned, their voice low and firm. They were tired of beating around the bush. "Tell me what's going on."

Youngest shrunk back slightly, their voice dropping to a near whisper. "When you decided to leave, we got assigned to calmer positions.. Except Leader," they muttered, their fingers nervously tapping against the glass.

"Get to the point," Right Hand urged, their patience wearing thin.

Youngest swallowed hard, their voice trembling as they spoke. "Leader had been acting like a mercenary, and we lost contact almost a year ago."

Right Hand felt their heart skip a beat, a cold dread settling in their chest. "Maybe something went wrong in their last commission," they suggested, though they didn’t believe it.

Youngest shook their head, their expression grim. "No... They abandoned us. Not— not like that, but they... Leader left. Told us it was their last job and disappeared."

Right Hand kept their head down, trying not to draw attention in the bustling tavern. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, and the low murmur of hushed conversations filled the air, adding to the tension in Right Hand's chest.

Right Hand could feel crippling worry crawl its way into their mind. If Leader had gone back to acting like that...

-•-

They didn’t know how all these annoying missions kept finding them, but they had to get this one done. There was no room for error, not now. Not when the higher ups were breathing on their neck.

A single figure sat there, huddled in the furthest corner of the room. While Right Hand couldn't see the figure's face, they recognised the ring on the table. A simple silver ring that acted as only identification even in the agency's detailed file.

Right Hand walked over to the table, tapping it lightly before sitting down. The sound was enough to draw the attention of the person across from them, who slowly looked up, eyes wary and cold.

"I don't have enough on me for a company," Leader muttered, their voice rough, as if it hadn’t been used much in recent days. They glanced at Right Hand, and for a moment, Right Hand though they were being read like an open book.

"You only drank water so far," Right Hand retorted, their eyes narrowing as they assessed the person before them. Leader was thinner, gaunter than they imagined. There was a hollowness to their cheeks, and dark circles framed their piercing eyes. They looked like someone who hadn’t slept or eaten well in days, maybe weeks.

"Is that a problem?" Leader asked, the edge in their tone sharp enough to make Right Hand flinch.

Right Hand shook their head, leaning back slightly in the chair. "No."

"Then what is the problem?" Leader asked, their gaze boring into Right Hand’s, as if daring them to speak.

Right Hand hesitated, choosing their words carefully. They knew how fragile this situation was, how easy it would be to lose any chance of getting Leader back. "Is it your working hours?"

Leader’s expression remained neutral. "Depends."

"Up for work?" Right Hand pressed. They needed this answer, needed to know if there was a chance to bring Leader back into the fold.

"Depends."

Right Hand felt a flicker of frustration rise. They bit back their first answer filled with insults. "Is this the only answer I'll get?" they asked instead.

Leader smirked, though it didn’t reach their eyes. "You won't get a good answer if you don't ask the right questions."

Right Hand let out a slow breath, trying to remain calm. "Ever tired of working alone?"

For a moment, Leader didn’t respond. They simply stared at the glass in front of them, their fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. Finally, they spoke, their voice barely above a whisper. "Is that an interrogation or an offer?"

"I thought I'd ask questions here," Right Hand scoffed.

Leader chuckled, a sound devoid of real humour sending shivers down to Right Hand's spine. "Not everything goes as we would like. Do you pay well?"

"Oh I—I'm not the employer. I'll probably be in your team," Right Hand admitted. They didn’t want to push Leader too hard, didn’t want to drive them away.

Leader raised an eyebrow, their scepticism clear. "My— is your employer, by any chance, an idiot? I'm not taking responsibility for other people. I don't do office jobs exactly, y'know. Can't give people insurance."

"You have the experience," Right Hand shrugged.

"And a bad record of completing jobs as I'm asked to," Leader shot back, their tone bitter. They crossed their arms over their chest defensively.

"Yet you do nail the job with your way," Right Hand countered, refusing to back down. They knew Leader’s reputation, knew that when they committed to something, they saw it through—no matter the cost. And possibly with methods that drove the employers mad.

Leader’s eyes narrowed. "Now you're just telling this to get to my good side."

Right Hand didn’t flinch under the sharp tone. "Did it work?"

For a long moment, Leader didn’t respond. They simply stared at Right Hand, weighing their options. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until finally, Leader exhaled and shook their head with a resigned sigh.

"Yes," Leader admitted.

-•-

“Youngest... no,” Right Hand began, their voice laden with the weight of the years they had carried alone. They shook their head, looking down at their hands as if they might find the right words there. “You… really don’t want me - or Leader - back.”

Youngest’s eyes widened, but they got a hold of their face quickly. “I don’t care how things have changed. I need you. And I need Leader. If you know anything about them, please—”

“If I know anything about Leader,” Right Hand interrupted, their voice growing quiet, almost distant, “they’re not the Leader we know anymore.”

Youngest blinked, taken aback by the finality in Right Hand’s tone. “What do you mean?” they asked, their voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern.

Right Hand met Youngest’s gaze, their expression hardening. “I mean, don’t ask me this,” they said, their voice firm. “You don’t want to find the person Leader might have become.”

“But I need to,” Youngest insisted, almsot yelling. They took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “I know you. You won’t let me down. Neither you nor Leader ever did. Even if Leader changed, you can get them back. You... you tamed the monster once.”

Right Hand suprassed a flinch and let out a long, weary sigh, their shoulders slumping. They hated that Youngest was right— not in tamsing part but still. No matter how much they wanted to walk away, they couldn’t. Not from this. Not when it involved the people they once called family.

Right Hand finally gave up. “I’ll try,” they said, their voice carrying a quiet determination. “But you need to be prepared for what we might find, if we find anything at all.”

Youngest swallowed hard but nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line. “Just… bring them back,” they said, their voice cracking slightly.

Right Hand paused, their gaze softening as they looked at Youngest. “I’ll do my best,” they promised, though a part of them wondered if their best would be enough.

-•-

Right Hand had lost count of how many dead ends they had followed in just three months. Every lead was colder than the last, every contact more hesitant to speak. The trail that Leader had left behind was barely more than a whisper—scattered rumours that always ended absurdly, as if it was purposefully set up.

But Right Hand wasn’t ready to give up. Not when they had seen the look in Youngest’s eyes, the hope clinging to the edges of desperation. Not when they owed it to themselves, to the family they once had, to find Leader and at least try to bring them back.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally found a lead that seemed promising—a small, rundown apartment on the outskirts of a forgotten town. The odd tenant paid rent in cash, kept to themselves, and was rarely seen except for the occasional late-night trip to a nearby convenience store. If Right Hand wasn’t so desperate for a lead, they could've overlooked it.

In the blink of an eye, Right Hand stood outside the door, their heart pounding in their chest. They had no idea what to expect on the other side. They weren’t even sure they were ready to face whatever—or whoever—they might find.

Taking a deep breath, Right Hand knocked on the door. There was no answer. They waited a moment before knocking again, louder this time. Still nothing. Anxiety gnawed at them as they fumbled for the set of lockpicking tools they hadn’t used in years.

They moved in after breaking in, their footsteps heavy on the worn wooden floor. In the dim light, Right Hand could make out the remnants of someone’s life—an unmade bed, a table cluttered with empty bottles, a chair knocked over in the corner.

Right Hand's eyes darted around, taking in the sparse, almost desolate surroundings. There was something about the place that felt wrong—a heaviness that hung in the air, pressing down on them as they cautiously stepped forward.

A faint rustling came from the couch, the backrest blocking Right Hand's view. Their breath caught in their throat as they turned toward the sound, their heart pounding louder with each passing second.

"Who's there?" they called out, their voice steady despite the fear gnawing at them from the inside.

The rustling stopped, followed by a low, pained groan. Right Hand's grip tightened around the handle of their gun, their eyes straining to see through the dimness. Slowly, a figure rose and turned back, and Right Hand's heart sank.

Leader.

They looked different— worn down but not completely defeated. Their clothes were rumpled and faded, as if they'd been worn for days on end. Their hair, still mostly neat, was streaked with grey that hadn’t been there before. And their eyes - those once bright, determined eyes - were clouded with exhaustion and something else Right Hand couldn’t quite place.

But despite it all, Leader still held themselves with a certain dignity. Even the hollowness in their cheeks and the dark circles under their eyes told a story of sleepless nights, there was still a spark of the person Right Hand once knew— or Right Hand wanted to see it that way.

Leader blinked, as if trying to focus on the figure standing before them. For a moment, they looked confused, as if they weren’t sure if Right Hand was there. But soon, Leader’s expression shifted from confusion to something more guarded— almost defensive.

"Right Hand," Leader rasped, their voice rough from disuse. They straightened up slightly, trying to pull themselves together, though the effort seemed to cost them dearly. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Right Hand replied carefully, trying to keep their tone neutral, non-threatening. "I’ve been looking for you."

Leader let out a short, humourless laugh, though it sounded more like a cough. "So you finally found me," they muttered, running a hand through their hair in a weary gesture. "Congratulations. You can go back now and tell people that I’m still alive. Just what I needed."

Right Hand shook their head, refusing to let Leader brush them off so easily. "That’s not why I’m here," they said firmly. "I’m here to bring you back."

"Back? Where?" Leader spat. They stood up, their body bandaged. Right Hand could see a makeshift rib corset peeking under their shirt, and Leader's knee was properly braced— more of a mobility choice rather than caring about their health, in Right Hand's opinion.

Leader’s sharp tone cut through the stale air, the bitterness in their words evident. They leaned heavily on the back of the couch, trying to steady themselves as they stared at Right Hand with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Back where?" Leader repeated, their voice lower but no less biting. "There’s nowhere to go back to. The team is gone. That life… it’s over. It was never my life to begin with."

"No, it was!" Right Hand snapped. "Leader, we are from the same fabric. I know what must be done, and I know what's really eating you alive. You have to take what is yours. Will you let Youngest think you abandoned them?"

Leader's gaze hardened, their posture stiffening as they straightened up, wincing slightly from the effort but also stepping closer, towering over Right Hand. "But I did leave them behind," Leader almost snarled. "You’re delusional if you think I can be any help. Look around you," they gestured vaguely at the rundown apartment, their eyes narrowing. "I'm in no state - and mood - to play the same game. I'm not interested in anything you have to tell."

Right Hand clenched their fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "You don’t get to decide that," they said, their voice steady but firm. "We need you, Leader. Youngest needs you. And deep down, you know you need us too."

Leader’s expression wavered for a moment, a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or doubt—crossing their features before they quickly masked it with anger. They scoffed, turning away. "Need is a dangerous thing, Right Hand. It makes you weak. It blinds you. You don't need me."

"And what I need, then?" Right Hand pressed, refusing to let Leader retreat into themselves again.

"You ned to move on," Leader began, their voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "I’m not the person you remember. I’m not the leader you followed. And I won't be that person again. You need to move on and forget."

"I don’t believe that," Right Hand said with a determination that cut through the tension in the room. "And I don’t think you do either. We’ve all changed, Leader. None of us are who we were, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way forward."

Leader shook their head, exhaling a shaky breath as they rubbed a hand over their face. "You don’t get it," they muttered, their voice wavering. "You’re holding on to a ghost. The person you’re looking for… they’re gone. There’s nothing left to bring back."

"That’s not true," Right Hand insisted. "I can see it in your eyes—there’s still a part of you that wants to fight. You never back down from your duty."

Leader’s eyes darted away, unable to meet Right Hand’s gaze. They looked like they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, the burden of their own self-loathing almost too much to bear.

"Why did you run?" Right Hand asked, their voice gentle. "Why did you leave and get away from what made you happy?"

Leader’s jaw clenched, their fists tightening at their sides as they wrestled with the question. "You were keeping things together. It was always you." they admitted after a long, painful silence. "When you decided to back down, i tried. I really did, but... things fell apart."

"Running away didn’t help anyone, least of all yourself," Right Hand replied, their tone softening with understanding. "I had to leave. You knew, and I'm grateful you never blamed me for it. But it wasn’t me. You kept us together when I couldn't. For years. You tried, and it didn’t work. But that doesn’t mean we should give up on each other— or ourselves."

Leader’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of them as they sank back onto the couch, the weight of their guilt and despair pulling them down. "I can't do it again," they whispered, their voice trembling. "I don’t even know how to help myself, let alone the team."

Right Hand sat on the table in front of Leader. "You’re still here," they said firmly, gripping Leader’s hands in theirs. "And that’s enough. We’ll figure out the rest together. You’re not alone in this, Leader. We will all try this time. You won't have to keep us together."

A tear slipped down Leader’s cheek, and they quickly brushed it away, but not before Right Hand saw the vulnerability in their eyes—the pain, the fear, the longing for something they thought they had lost forever.

For the first time in a long time, Leader allowed themselves to lean into the comfort Right Hand offered, the warmth of their touch grounding them in a way they hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity.

"I don’t think I can do it," Leader murmured, their voice trembling. "But… I’ll try."

Right Hand nodded, their own eyes misting over as they squeezed Leader’s hands. "That’s all I’m asking."

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #Abandonment #knee injury #im not dead yet #have this random one shot

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