#muscle car + paperclip

[macgyverrewatch2020]

2x02 Muscle Car + Paperclips

Today’s episode is 2x02 Muscle Car + Paperclips

Using a necklace and a microwave transmitter, Mac and the team attempt to locate Riley after her first solo mission with a group of dangerous hackers goes off the rails.    

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[bloodfromthethorn]

Broken Trust

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say.

Tag to 2x02. Mac didn't walk away from his encounter with Jack as unscathed as he might wish to appear.

Also on AO3

..

Mac knew he was being stupid.

Yes, Jack threatening him with violence was no small matter and he was certainly justified in his surprise and betrayal, but he knew that he shouldn’t read any further into it. Jack had just been worried about Riley and hadn’t been thinking straight and in all likelihood, that was absolutely all it was. There was no deeper meaning, no hidden message. He shouldn’t be dwelling on it. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting on his deck at 3:30 in the morning contemplating all the times Jack had promised to have his back, to keep him safe, only to immediately turn on him when Mac put himself between his Overwatch and someone Jack cared about more.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get it: Jack had technically known Riley for far longer than he’d known Mac and he’d cared for her when she’d been a child – of course he was going to feel paternal. Mac had never been under any illusion that the relationship he had with Jack would outweigh that and he wouldn’t want it to, but he’d kind of thought that he still at least ranked somewhere near the top. Was that being presumptuous? A few days ago he wouldn’t have doubted it for a second, but now he couldn’t help but think maybe he’d been projecting his own feelings onto Jack and the reality of the situation was actually nothing like he’d thought it was.

But, then again, that was just a little overly dramatic, no? Jack had proven willing to go to the mat for Mac time and again, and this was the first time since their ill-fated meeting that the man had ever seemed willing to come to blows with him. They’d rib and tease each other, but he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times there’d been true animosity between them. Mac’s quiet crisis of faith was surely nothing more than an overactive imagination and a history of being second choice to the people he loved.

And even if he wasn’t imagining anything, Jack had apologised for all of it – or at least he’d tried to. In the end, despite having waited to hear it, Mac had found that he just couldn’t stomach the thought of listening to Jack try to justify himself, to directly tell him that his loyalty to the woman who was basically his daughter was more important to him than his loyalty to Mac. Instead he’d shut down the apology before it could reach the light of day, brushing off Jack’s concern with a shrug and an easy smile. Better to let everyone think that it really was no big deal and was easily put behind them, no matter how far that might be from the truth. If Jack had had any notion of how badly Mac had been flying to pieces inside his own head, he hadn’t shown it.

So far as Mac could tell, everyone had mutually agreed that the whole thing had been a bizarre incident of heightened emotions with no deeper meaning and they could all quite happily sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. If only things were so simple for him.

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say. Bruises he’d been very careful to hide pulsed quietly beneath his skin.

It shouldn’t matter, he knew that. Jack had been going out of his mind with worry and Mac knew better than anyone how much he could overreact if someone he cared about was in trouble but at the same time… He’d put Mac in trouble. Mac wasn't in any doubt that if Riley hadn’t chosen that particular moment to convince Bedlam to trust her, he would be nursing a black eye – or worse – by now.

Worse still was that Bozer had also been in the unfortunate position of having to get between Jack and Riley that very same day and he’d managed to walk away entirely clean. Mac was unendingly grateful for that of course and he’d never wish any harm on his friend, but he couldn’t deny that it stung to know Jack wouldn’t raise a hand against Boze when he’d been perfectly happy to against Mac barely an hour earlier.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair for the hundredth time, huffing out a heavy breath as he battled to get his thoughts under control. This was normally what Jack was good at, helping him to get out of his own head and see the truth of things so he could work through the problem, but even if it hadn’t been the early hours, Mac wasn’t about to disturb him with this. Either he was wrong and being paranoid and there really wasn’t anything to worry about, or he was right and asking about it would mean having to hear one of his worst fears realised.

He wasn’t really up to confronting either outcome tonight.

Instead he was stuck out here, unable to sleep but too tied up in knots to try doing anything productive. The best he could manage was sitting beside the unlit firepit with a beer he hadn’t touched once. Letting himself go and getting drunk was distantly tempting, but work tomorrow was going to be tough enough as it was without throwing a hangover into the mix. Besides, if he did that, then people were going to ask questions and there really was no unembarrassing way of saying ‘I’ve been having a bit of a breakdown because a man I considered a brother nearly punched me in the face and I’m having to rethink a decade-long relationship.’

Mac’s usual approach to emotional problems had always been resorting to logic – with mixed results. It was all well and good to explain his childhood dog’s perpetual escape attempts as animal instinct rather than personal dislike, but it became a lot more complicated when he tried to pinpoint the reason a man would abandon his only son and never look back. Unfortunately, this problem looked like it was going to fall into the latter category.

The facts were thus: Jack loved Riley like a daughter; Riley had been in imminent, but not certain, danger; Mac had put himself between the two; Jack had chosen to disregard what Mac was saying in favour of physically moving him aside so he could reach Riley.

There was no logic in the world that could explain that away without demeaning Mac’s relationship with Jack in a way that was deeply hurtful.

It wasn’t a competition and even thinking of it in those terms left Mac swallowing down guilt and disgust at his own neediness. Jack cared loudly and widely; he was in possession of a heart so large, Mac was quite certain he could love a hundred people equally without breaking a sweat. It was no great stretch or challenge to accept that Jack was capable of loving both Riley and Mac, and that those two things had absolutely nothing to do with each other. There was nothing unreasonable about that. 

So it wasn’t a competition, but if it had been then Mac had very definitely lost.

God, he needed to get it together. He was self-aware enough to realise that the only real path forward here was to forgive Jack the minor transgression and move on, accepting it for what it had been without trying to place any excess baggage onto it. If he really couldn’t manage that alone, Jack would no doubt be willing to offer the apology he’d tried to give earlier, should Mac reveal his concerns. Nothing anyone said or did would take back what had happened, and wishing otherwise was childish. He just needed to put it behind him.

Then again, that evidently wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He’d ended up out on the deck sometime around midnight, waiting sleeplessly in his bed until Bozer was well and truly unconscious before sneaking out, driven by a vague desire for air and a need to see the stars. He was only one for two on that – a heavy blanket of cloud had managed to erase the few bright night sparks that usually managed to make it past the light pollution – but that wasn’t such a bad score. At the very least, the still quiet made a nice contrasting balm to his inner turmoil.

The quiet didn’t last however – the hour hand on Mac’s watch had just started creeping past 4 when he heard the purr of a familiar engine pulling up outside and he breathed a long sigh. He had no idea what had drawn Jack there – he’d often joked about having a sixth sense when Mac was in trouble, but he couldn’t possibly have known about this – and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. He toyed with the idea of slipping back into his bedroom before Jack had a chance to make it into the house, but he was sufficiently torn that he was still contemplating that course of action when he heard the door unlatch.

There were a few moments of quiet footsteps tracing through the house, first checking on the bedrooms and then, after presumably finding Mac’s empty, more hurried movement until the door to the deck squeaked open and Jack’s boots appeared in the corner of Mac’s vision. Exhausted and frankly too tired to even try to pretend otherwise, Mac didn’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly. His whole evening had felt fragile and a superstitious part of him he’d never been able to ditch warned that it was in danger of shattering if he didn’t speak softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was the equally gentle reply. “You?”

“It’s been a long few days.” The words sounded heavy, containing too much meaning. He took an unenthusiastic swig of beer to cover it. “There’s more in the fridge if you want one,” he added, shaking the bottle a little.

“Little early to start drinking, isn't it?”

“To be fair, it was late when I started.”

“…I think that might make it worse hoss.”

He snorted indelicately and took another pull. Now that he’d started drinking it, he found himself vaguely comforted by the familiar flavour. There wasn’t enough alcohol in it to do more than warm him, but the sensation wasn’t unwelcome.

Jack seemed to sigh, then his boots disappeared as he worked his way around behind Mac to sit beside him on the lip of the firepit. Now on the same level, Mac couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. He looked as tired as Mac felt, so he said as much.

His Overwatch offered an unconvincing smile. “I’ll have you know that I look good no matter what,” he replied, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. “Truth be told, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse.”

That raised concern. “Are you getting ill? I think I’ve still got some of those antipyretics in the cupboard-”

He made a jerking motion to get to his feet, but Jack waved him back down before he could go anywhere. “Nah, it’s nothing man, don’t worry about it. It’s just like you said – been a long few days. Think I’m still working through it all.”

Mac felt his heart sink in his chest. Of all the conversations he didn’t want to have right that second. “I know how much you didn’t want Riley out there. I can’t imagine how stressful this has all been,” he said, aiming for compassionate and just barely hitting the mark. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Jack, weirdly, looked sheepish. “You and me both kid, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

There was a pause as Mac processed that and came up empty. “Oh?”

Despite the fact that whatever was going on in Jack’s head had been fierce enough to drive him all the way to Mac’s house in the middle of the night, he suddenly looked tremendously uncertain. One hand snaked up to rub at the back of his neck, dragging his head down so that he didn’t have to maintain eye contact. Mac half expected him to start shifting in his seat.

“Jack? What’s going on?”

He sighed gustily, apparently rooting around for his courage, and met Mac’s gaze again. “Look, I know you brushed it off before and I appreciate your understanding and all that but-” He hesitated ever so briefly, then the rest came pouring out of him like he couldn’t stop it. “Man, I was way out of line yesterday. Like so far past the line I couldn’t even see it any more. Yeah I was stressed about Riley and I ain’t ever going to be sorry for looking out for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that for a split second I was willing to go through you to do it. There’s nothing that could ever make that right and I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.”

He broke his gaze away again, bringing up his other hand to bury his face in his palms in pained desperation. Mac blinked at him in surprise, utterly stunned.

“And it’s stupid anyway because I know how much you care about Riley and me, and I know that you were trying to stop me to protect us both – I should have just seen-” He bit himself off, grumbled, pressed on more calmly: “I was so focused on my own inability to see what Riley could do that I lost sight of her, the mission, and you. It’s my job to keep you safe – that’s my only job – and I was so far out of my own head that I put you in danger because of my own stupidity. There is nothing about that that’s okay and even if you don’t need me to say it, I had to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m not expecting forgiveness because shit, I really messed it up this time, but for whatever it’s worth, I swear I’ll never do that again.”

Mac forced himself to swallow, desperately willing his exhausted brain to kick itself into gear and process everything Jack had just dumped on him. When he’d considered asking for an apology after all, this hadn’t been quite what he had in mind. In response to it, all he could manage was a sort of stunned silence.

Jack rubbed at his face one last time, then pulled himself upright again and forcefully met Mac’s eyes. He looked as though he was bracing for a hit, but he didn’t flinch. Mac, for his part, had absolutely no idea what he was possibly supposed to say.

A part of him desperately wanted to grasp the lifeline he was being offered, accept the explanation as the reassurance it was evidently meant to be, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After a lifetime of those he cared about proving that Mac was a very easy person to leave, some self-preservation instinct was finally picking up its head and warning him not to trust so blindly. A few days ago he had been utterly certain that Jack would never willingly hurt him – now, he knew what it was to hear his Overwatch’s voice dip low and threatening, warning him that if he didn’t step aside, he was going to get hurt. He knew what it was to go cold at the humiliation he’d felt when faced with a thoroughly dismissive, ‘Boy, get out of my face.’ He knew what it was to have Jack look at him and see nothing but an obstacle in his way.

Hours too late and in the worst possible moment, Mac suddenly realised that the anger he’d been quietly cultivating wasn’t really anger at all.

As he always seemingly managed to do, Jack chose that same moment to pick up on the fact that something had gone wrong with his partner, because his earnestness immediately dropped away behind guilty concern. He hesitated for several heartbeats, absorbing whatever was going on in Mac’s expression, then tilted his head consideringly. “When you stopped me apologising earlier,” he said very slowly, “You didn’t mean it when you said it was fine, did you?”

Mac forced himself to shrug, trying to shake looseness into limbs that had frozen in place. “Like I said, Riley’s lucky to have you. You were just watching out for her.”

“Yeah, and throwing you under the bus in the process. God, I almost- I could have hurt you Mac.”

Now was probably a very bad time to reveal that he had hurt him. At least the bruises were in places easy to hide.

“You didn’t,” he lied instead, running his eyes over the skyline rather than let Jack see the mistruth in them. “I appreciate the apology, I really do, but I understand. Riley’s family, Jack, of course you’re going to do everything you can to defend her.”

Jack let out a humourless snort. “You say that like you’re not every bit as much my family as she is.”

There was a sudden, telling silence. Jack blinked. Mac’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

“You- You do know that… right?” Jack said haltingly, his voice so quiet as to be almost unheard even in the silence. When there was no immediate response, it turned more forceful. “Mac, tell me you know that.”

He swallowed hard. In the face of such honest concern, Mac couldn’t bring himself to lie or to brush it off, but at the same time he had no idea how to explain the tangle of thorns in his head without sounding as stupid as he was afraid he was being.

“Jack,” he started carefully, weighing up the words as he went, “We’ve been partners for years now. I know how important that is and I’m grateful for it every day, but… But you knew Riley when she was just a kid.” He twitched his hands in a vague attempt at encompassing the sheer scale of their relationship. “I get that things have been kind of weird between the two of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s basically your daughter. I should never have tried to get in the middle of that.”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, I would have gotten her killed,” Jack shot back immediately. “You did everything right Mac. I’m the one who fucked up here.”

There wasn’t a lot Mac could really say to that since it was technically accurate, but he was spared the effort by Jack refusing to take the bait of his deflection.

“And besides,” he continued firmly, “That’s not even slightly the point here. You- You really don’t think that I see you as family?”

Goddamn it he sounded hurt and that was so not what Mac had been going for. He sucked in a breath and cursed himself when it shook. “That’s not- That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” he managed lamely, wanting to reassure but deeply unwilling to make any presumptions. That was precisely what had gotten him into this mess.

Jack’s eyes were dark and sad and knowing. Mac could scarcely stand to look at them. “Maybe not, but it’s what you’re thinking, right? You’ve got it in your head that everything that happened was because Riley’s more important to me than you?”

Hearing the words said aloud in such a level, careful tone sent a rush of blazing shame right through him. It sounded so pathetic when put so simply. This time the anger that burned hot on its heels was genuine, though aimed more at himself than anyone else. He shook his head sharply as though to rid himself of the feeling but he still couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes when he said, “No. I know it doesn’t work like that. I’m not some kid in need of coddling Jack. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re tired because you’re sitting on your deck at four in the morning instead of sleeping, and I’ve known you long enough to know that happens when you can’t get something out of your head. So, if I’m wrong, what is it? Because it has been a shitty few days but somehow I get the feeling this isn’t about a missing EMP or you having to figure us a way out of a crashing plane with no chutes.” His expression was complicated; some combination of worried and open, like he was pleading with Mac to just speak with him. “C’mon Mac. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Mac shook his head slowly, too many thoughts crowding in at once to make sense of anything. “Jack-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Mac-” Jack bit off whatever he was about to say in frustration, shaking himself. “God I really fucked up. Should’ve known you’d come to the worst possible conclusion. Never did know your own worth.” He ran a tired hand over his face, then drew himself upright and faced Mac head on, a rare seriousness shining in his eyes. “Okay, this is something I clearly should be saying more often since you still don’t seem to believe it but, you’re my brother Mac. You’re every bit as much my family as Ri is and I know that I made you doubt that, but it never for one second stopped being true. You hear me? I’m so sorry for what I did outside that warehouse – you didn’t deserve it one bit and I should never have done it. But it didn’t mean what you’re thinking it did.”

“I’m not thinking anything Jack,” he said quietly, even while his brain raced away from him. He wanted so, so badly to believe what he was hearing and Jack had sworn long ago to always be honest with him. To Mac’s knowledge he’d never once broken that promise…

But it was also exactly what Mac wanted to hear. Of course he was going to be inclined to believe it.

“That’s never once been true and you know it,” Jack shot back, not losing an ounce of his seriousness. 

Mac didn’t rise to the implied joke. A sudden swell of frustration at Jack’s presumption climbed his throat and he was scoffing before he could help himself. “Tell me then,” he said sharply. “What exactly is it I’m thinking?”

Jack flinched lightly at the acid in his tone, but he held Mac’s gaze steadily like he was prepared to take any blow he threw his way. “I’ve never tried to pretend I can follow everything that goes through your head hoss. I don’t have near the IQ for that. But I think even you’d agree that I’ve gotten pretty good at following you.”

Mac’s face tried to twitch into a scowl but he forced it down with a will of iron. 

His partner continued without interruption. “Now maybe I’m overstepping here, but I’m gonna bet that right now you’re feeling angry and hurt because you trusted me and I let you down. I let you down real bad.” There, he did hesitate very slightly, before deciding to voice what they both already knew. “I know I’m not the first person to do that, not by a long shot. You’ve had to deal with all kinds of shit you never deserved, but betrayal isn’t something anyone gets used to.”

Burgeoning anger aside, that felt like a step too far. Mac shook his head sharply. “You didn’t betray anyone-”

“Yes, I did,” he cut in firmly. “I betrayed your trust. I promised to protect you, but I got so caught up in my own bullshit hang-ups that I broke that promise. You’ve got every reason to be pissed as all hell about that Mac, don’t let anyone tell you you don’t.”

“You were just trying to help Riley,” Mac said again, sounding weak to his own ears. Everything Jack was saying was everything he’d thought he’d needed to hear, but now that it was all laid out so plainly before him, the only sensation he could summon was bittersweet resignation. Jack wasn’t wrong - he felt betrayed. 

“Yeah, maybe. That’s not an excuse.”

There was a long, still pause. “No,” he finally admitted quietly. “It isn’t.”

The corners of Jack’s eyes were damp when he nodded, accepting and agreeing with that in equal measure. He looked crushed. “And you deserve every apology I can give you for that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to take a swing at me.”

Mac shot him a dark look, irritated by the joke, but he found only seriousness in Jack’s face; he’d meant it. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, offended at the implication. 

“I know you won’t,” Jack soothed carefully. “I’m just trying to say - very badly - that I do know how badly I’ve fucked this up. I broke a promise to you that I swore my life on and you know I don’t take that sort of thing lightly. I can’t ever explain how sorry I am for it, but I can spend every moment you let me trying to make up for it.”

They let that sit between them for a long few minutes. Mac felt torn; even with the anger and hurt and fucking devastation rocking around in his chest he could admit that Jack was saying everything right. The real question then was whether or not Mac could trust it when Jack had already blindsided him once. 

His Overwatch’s smile was bleak and pained. “I can see that brain of yours whirring away,” he said at length. “Trying to work out if I’m telling the truth, huh?”

As he said it, his façade crumbled ever so slightly and for just a moment, he looked deeply, unbearably sad. Like he knew he’d earned every inch of that mistrust and was regretting it with every fibre of his being. In all their time together, Mac had seen Jack wear that expression exactly once: a thousand years ago in an Italian hospital room as he told a barely conscious Mac that Nikki hadn’t made it. The context might have been different, but those eyes- their grief was the same.

That- that Mac could believe. No one who looked like Jack did in that moment could be insincere. Jack was a hell of a good liar when he needed to be – requirement of the job, really – but the raw, honest heartbreak in that expression was not something even he could fake. For the first time since Jack walked towards him with violence in his eyes, Mac found that he could trust this, if nothing else.

No matter what had happened between them, how readily Jack had been willing to throw away every promise he’d ever made to Mac, he could see the evidence of his regret right in front of him. It didn’t undo what he’d done, not by a long shot, but it was… something. 

Something important. 

Maybe something so important it was really the only thing that actually mattered. 

There was no amount of words that could entirely mend the hurt that Jack had wrought that day, but perhaps they were enough to start the process. Jack was right here, swearing to do better, and despite a lifetime of reasons not to trust an offer like that, Mac couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth. For now, perhaps that had to be enough. Healing always came with time and with Jack willing to make amends, Mac had a feeling that they’d get there together in the end. 

He sucked in a hard breath, and finally, finally forced himself to let his anger and hurt go. They would do nothing for him now.

“I believe you,” he said, and meant it. He caught Jack’s eye. “And I accept your apology. My own messed up head aside, I do know that you were only trying to protect Riley.”

“Hey now, your head’s doing just fine. I’m the one tying it up in knots, even when I should know better. You’ve been given plenty of reason to think the worst of people in your life Mac. That it’s not your first response is- well. Incredible, I guess. I don’t blame you a bit for not trusting me after… Everything.”

Mac’s eyes dropped to the floor again, feeling oddly self-conscious about how easily Jack was able to see through him. It was always easy to forget how little time they had really known each other when Jack could look at him and immediately see the heart of whatever was bothering him. Bozer might have known him for longer, but Jack had still been the one who got to see the darker sides of him born in desert heat and sandy plains. That was exactly why this whole mess had hurt as much as it had.

“I always trust you Jack,” he said honestly. “You caught me off guard, but nothing is about to change that.”

Jack blinked hard, swallowing as he processed that. “After everything that happened this week, I know that I don’t deserve that but you don’t know how good that is to hear, man.” He rubbed at his face, pulling his emotions back in line. “And just so you know, while I appreciate you accepting my apology and all, I know I’m nowhere near done earning your forgiveness. What I did was-”

His eyes suddenly turned distant, and whatever strength had bled back into his frame drained in a rush. He looked… fragile.

“Jack, you don’t need to earn anything,” Mac said, suddenly feeling vaguely guilty for taking it all so badly while at the same time desperately trying to throttle that sensation. He wanted to forgive Jack – already had, if he was honest with himself – but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right to be upset in the first place. “I’m glad you apologised, no matter what I told you before. That’s all I needed.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Well, that and for you to talk some sense into me, maybe.”

“That’s my job, remember?” Jack said with a shrug of his own. “Keeping your head on straight is half the battle.” He winced in the same instant as he said it, apparently realising the irony in him being the one to throw Mac off this time. He visibly forced himself to straighten out, trying to accept the truth of Mac’s forgiveness. “Well, lesson learned, I guess. Just wish I didn’t do it by hurting you.”

Mac snorted softly, even though his heart wasn’t really it in. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“That is one hundred percent true,” Jack agreed without hesitation, “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was a dick and you caught the worst of it. Which would be bad enough at the best of times, but in this case you were only doing what you could to protect me and Riley, which is like, I don’t know, a double dick move on my part?” He broke off momentarily with a frown as if trying to work out the maths of that specific scenario, then shook himself like a dog shaking off water. “Whatever, the point is-” A pause. “What was my point again?”

Despite himself, Mac snickered. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was an ass, I won’t do it again’. That about sum it up?”

Jack grinned in that knowing way he did when he’d succeeded in pulling Mac out of his own head without him realising. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” He sobered, catching Mac’s gaze. “And I mean it. I’m not ever going to take a swing at you man, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to feel like I might again.”

 Mac’s first instinct was to brush the reassurance off once more, remind Jack that he already had his trust, but he caught himself before he could. He was determined not to punish himself for reacting badly to something he had every reason to react badly to, and besides, it seemed like Jack needed to say it just as much as Mac needed to hear it. After everything that had happened that day, it felt good to hear that promise put into words. “Thank you,” he said at length, letting truth settle into his tone. 

He went to say more, but the words were lost as a jaw-cracking yawn forced its way up his throat. Jack chuckled quietly at him. 

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, dispensing with his heavy tone for something lighter, something healing. “Think it might be past time we got you to bed, man. You look knackered.”

“I am,” he admitted. There was very little point pretending otherwise; he knew what he looked like. “You’ve got to be exhausted too.”

Jack shrugged easily. “Yeah, but I’ll get out of your hair. I knew you weren’t exactly expecting visitors when I decided to turn up unannounced at four in the morning.”

“That’s literally never stopped you,” he said, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, he was glad Jack had shown up when he did - it was only thanks to it that he thought he might actually be able to get some honest to god sleep before he had to show up at work tomorrow- or, well, later today. “You’re not driving home this late. Just sleep here.”

“I didn’t exactly bring a go-bag with me.”

“Unless you’ve changed dramatically in size in the last two months, I’m pretty sure the clothes you left in my dresser are still going to fit you.”

Jack looked like he was bending, wanting to give in to the comfort readily being offered, but something dark and wary in his eyes was holding him back. That line of guilt that ran rigid along the back of his shoulders had eased slightly during the course of their conversation, but it still lingered on even now. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to lose it for a long time. 

“I don’t want to impose,” he said after a strained moment of silence. His gaze dropped to his lap. “I think I’ve disturbed your sleep enough tonight to last a lifetime, bud.”

“In case it wasn’t abundantly obvious, you weren’t disturbing anything.”

“Just ‘cause I wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.”

Mac couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “C’mon man, it’s done. We’re all good, remember? But if you keep arguing about driving home at four AM when you look like you’re going to fall asleep at the wheel, then you are going to keep me up when I would much rather be sleeping. Matty’s already going to be mad as it is; we don’t need to pile sleep deprivation on top.”

His Overwatched hissed, pulling on a peeved frown. “You’re too sneaky for your own good, you know that?”

Mac released what felt like his first genuine laugh in days and drained the rest of his beer, easing himself carefully to his feet. “Someone might have mentioned it in the past. Come on, big guy. I’m not carrying you inside if you pass out here.”

“You could just wake me up.”

“And give up the opportunity to listen to you griping about that bad back you pretend you don’t have? Ooh, that’s a tough call.”

“You’re an ass.”

Mac’s laugh chased them into the darkened house.

[saintsurvivors]

every time I see charlie my urge to write my maclie charlie comes to work at the phoenix au becomes ever stronger

[bisexualstokes-archive]

Riley. Riley. Ri? Hey. Come here, baby. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, I got you. I'm right here. I got you.

[thethistlegirl]

I hope everyone’s ready for another original episode...

There was no way that in this universe Riley was only having her first solo mission now. I already knew I was going to need to do a major overhaul on this episode, but I wanted to keep the title, and then ended up having the great idea of Mac and Jack going undercover with a street racing gang...

I had a lot of fun writing this episode (it is a teeny bit dark so please heed the warnings in the notes...).and I hope you enjoy reading it! 

(PS: Please excuse my photo editing, I don’t have photoshop so I might have kind of improvised...)

@alchemist-rising @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @boozy-the-ghost @constantbellpepper @dickgrysvn @impossiblepluto @patriotproblems @sassysarcasticlove @silentheartedone @telltaleclerk @whumpwriterforlife

[geminidaydreamer]

Muscle Car+ Paperclips Tag

Just posted a new story at AO3.I should really work on the titles.

[306saint]

details from my recent post / stuff in andrew's bag

list of objects below the cut and my headcanons abt them :)

packet of cracker dust he meant to throw away

packet of cracker dust he meant to throw away

pens n pencils (not that he ever really needs to write anything down), paperclip (for picking locks), lose change, buttons, safety pin

money clip for cash

carabiner with a braided leather keyring and a palmetto foxes keyring

spare jewellery, studs, nose rings etc

phone with one unread message from neil and a phone charm allison traded him for letting her borrow a tshirt

a flower, sugar packet, paper crane, all from renee

a flip knife lol

eyedrops for days when he doesnt get a lot of sleep to help him feel less tired

key to the maserati

iron and vitamin d supplements (would be important for someone coming off anti-depressants. vitamin d deficiency is actually very common so if you feel like you have low energy, sore muscles and joints, even some feelings of depression, go ask your doctor for a blood test to get your iron/vitamin d levels checked. ANYWAY)

palmetto state university ID with the numbers 0310 (andrew and neils jersey numbers), 803 (columbia area code) and 54321 referencing the countdown on neils phone. idk they were the best numbers i could think of

sticks of gum and candy

omamori from kevin which offers protection from evil spirits/wards off bad experiences. i also like to think he had a traffic safety ward hanging from the rear view mirror of his car, and that kevin always likes to keep a ward on the bench during games for good luck.

four-leaf clover stuck between a piece of folded-over tape (neil saw it on a run) ((andrew is confused why do people keep giving him bits of plants and good luck charms.))

cigarettes and a lighter (i dont smoke so i just went with the most generic sort i could think of)

athletic tape

black nail polish (he only paints his nails when he wants to get out of something. eg "andrew come wash the dishes" "cant im painting my nails" "your insolence will catch up to you one of these days")

necklaces

spare soy sauce fish

phone charger

torn off part of a note from neil that says "wish i was with you all the time". clingy mfs

[willowbird]

1 + 1 + 4 Renee/Dan if you do them

Grad school sic fic, in Abby's car! I've never tried Renee/Dan before but lemme give it a whirl!

---

"Oh no. No you don't. Not this again."

Renee jolted at the voice, her arms shooting out from where they'd become a pillow of convenience over the seemingly endless pile of grading she had been working on before her impromptu nap. Essays went flying, as did at least two pens and a small dish of paperclips.

"Mm what?" Renee closed her eyes, desperately tried to push back the throbbing steadily chiseling a tunnel through her cranium, and then opened them again to look blearily up at the speaker.

As soon as the other woman came into focus, Renee snapped awake like she'd just downed three back-to-back espresso shots.

"Dan! What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be covering Professor Wymack's lectures today?"

Dan's brown eyes narrowed. "Yes, and I have been. Dad's got a break before his 5:15 lecture, remember?"

Renee blinked, she frowned, then blearily dragged her gaze from Dan to the clock on the wall. It took several long moments for the little dashes and squiggles to assemble into numbers, then she was half-falling out of her chair in a scrambled attempt to launch to her feet.

"I'm late!" she gasped. "Shoot! Oh no, oh no no no.. I'm supposed to be in Professor Dobson's class right now!" The movement was too much, though, and the blood in her body was sluggish in keeping up with the rapid lurching of her limbs. Instead of emerging from the chair upright and jogging to the door (which had been the idea), Renee's head got suddenly very fuzzy, her vision doubled, and her knees went out from under her.

"Whoa!"

Why.. was the floor so soft and strong and supple and warm? That didn't quite add up. It was a tile floor with a couple of mismatched area rugs that were about as worn-through as the office chairs (that was to say, just about threadbare). It shouldn't be this comfortable, shouldn't make her instantly feel this supported, this safe. It shouldn't cradle her like--

"Jesus Christ, Renee you're burning up. That's it. I'm taking you home. Now."

Dan's voice snapped her out of the weird tangent her mind was going on. It also brought her back into her own body enough to realize that the reason why the floor had felt weird to her apparently fevered brain was because she wasn't on the floor at all - she was leaning against Dan. The other grad assistant had caught her on her way down and was holding her up, one strong arm around her waist and the other cupped under one of her elbows.

Gathering the last vestiges of her strength, Renee reclaimed her weight and shakily pushed away from Dan. "What? No. No, I'm okay," she attempted to insist. "It--"

"You are not," Dan countered, her tone stubborn and firm. Renee and Dan... did not always get along. Renee did her best to cover the tension with smiles and aggressive politeness, whereas Dan skipped the politeness and instead antagonized the tension even more by being brash and intelligent and so freaking beautiful, especially in tank tops like the one she was wearing today because they showed off the breadth of her shoulders and the swell of her muscles and--

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Dan's arm was around her again, fingers snapping in Renee's face - which was something that Renee absolutely loathed when people did.

Forgetting herself, Renee snarled.

"Don't fucking do that!" she snapped without thinking.

It was like all the air sucked out of the room. A tense, stunned silence bristled between them like static electricity - and it took really far too long for Renee's brain to catch up to her mouth. When she finally realized what she'd done, Renee pressed her eyes shut, prayed for patience, and then opened her mouth to attempt an apology. Maybe she was feeling a bit sick...

Before she could say anything, though, Dan barked out a sharp, deep laugh that had Renee's eyes blinking open in surprise.

"Hot damn! Did Good Girl Renee just swear at me?"

Unamused, Renee's wide-eyed surprised shifted smoothly into a glower.

Dan smirked cheekily back. "Come on, you. I'm driving you home. I've got Mom's car today, though, so you've got to warn me if you need to throw up."

Renee grimaced, but since she still needed to lean significantly on Dan as the other woman began leading them out of the room, she didn't really think she was in the position to protest. Instead, as they maneuvered slowly down the stairs toward the parking lot of Foxx Hall, she asked, "Why do you have Professor Winfield's car?"

"Mine is in the shop," Dan said with a weary sigh.

"Again?"

Another sigh, heavy with exasperation. "Yes. My shithead little brother borrowed it over the weekend to go to his friend's house and somehow blew out both driver's side tires."

Renee chuckled in spite of herself. Her limbs were so heavy, her head impossible to keep up. She didn't mean to, but somewhere between the stairwell and the sidewalk she'd propped her head on Dan's shoulder.

"Hey, come on now." Dan's voice was soft. It was so warm, too. A little raspy, but with a steady glow - like a strong hearth, warming a home from its heart. "Stay with me, Renee. You can sleep when you get home. This is what you get for overworking yourself you know. You always push yourself too hard."

Renee didn't really know what to say to that, and by the time she'd finished actually computing all the words they were already at the car. Dan settled her into the front seat, even going so far as to lean in and buckle her seat belt. This seemed so strange, so right and so wrong at the same time, that Renee frowned and managed to lift her hand, tugging on Dan's sleeve before she could completely pull away.

"You can't stand me," she reminded the other woman. They worked together when they absolutely had to, sure - they were grown adults who could be civil in the workplace even with people they didn't get along with - but Dan had made it very clear from day one that she was not Renee's number one fan. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Dan looked startled for a moment, and the surprise smoothed out her face, widening her eyes so that Renee could see past those criminally long lashes to see the specks of bronze hidden in the deep brown of her irises. The moment didn't last long, and Dan signed, fixing Renee with a stern look.

"Of course not," she confirmed. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to just let you suffer. I'm an anthropologist not a monster."

Renee chuckled. "Fair. Mm. Thank you, Dan. It's nice."

"Sure, sure," Dan rumbled quietly, then shut the door.

Renee didn't quite remember giving Dan her address, or really most of the car ride. She just kept thinking about Dan, and how nice she smelled. How strong she was. How pretty her eyes were and how she rather wished Dan would smile at her the way she smiled at the other members of their department. She wasn't sure why Dan hated her, but maybe if she could figure it out and fix it, they could be friends. Or at least more friendly. She liked when Dan was friendly to her. It was a warm, good feeling. Warm, like Dan's eyes. And her laugh. And--

"Okay here we go! Keys! Got your keys?! I bet you have your keys, right?!"

Renee blinked, then she frowned, sitting up a bit and looking around. The car was parked at her building and Dan was sitting straight-backed in the driver's seat, her hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

"Dan?" Renee's voice came out a little mumble and dry. She had to swallow a few times to wet her throat. "What's wrong?"

Dan looked at her, eyes still a bit wide. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Then she said, "You mean you don't-- you just-- I... nevermind. Yes. I'm fine. You're feverish and delirious and... let's just... I need to get you in bed. TO BED. Into. Your own bed. Without me. You're sick and delirious with fever."

Renee raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Without saying another word, Dan got out of the car, the door shutting loudly behind her. For a moment Renee thought Dan was going to leave her there, but that was ridiculous, because this was Professor Winfield's car - Dan wad going to need it to get back to campus and get home.

Before she'd even finished that fever target though, her own door was opening with Dan there to fetch her. Renee managed to unbuckle her own belt, but she had to let Dan help her out of the car. She passed the other woman her keys and directed them up to her third floor apartment, where Dan effortlessly got her not only all the way upstairs, but into the apartment and to her room.

"Someone will check in with you tomorrow but don't you dare come to campus you hear me? You take a few days, let your fever go down at least," Dan chided her as she very sternly tucked the covers in around her.

Surrounded by her own bed, though, Renee was already fading, sinking toward a sleep deep enough to banish her fever. Which was probably why she dropped right into a bizarre dream where Dan stayed, and put water on her bedside table and then sat on the edge of the bed stroking her hair. It was a dream, definitely, that before Dan finally left an indeterminate amount of time later, she leaned down and very gently brushed her lips against Renee's forehead. It had to be a dream, right? Because Dan.. Dan hated Renee.

Didn't she?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Part Nine

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Aaaaangst Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. I hope you lovely people had a lovely week Summary: Things between you and Santiago had been a little… Weird lately. 

You tried not to be presumptuous at first. When you saw that Pope had left the table, you’d figured, well...Maybe he’d gotten a call from Diego. Or, maybe he’d headed back to the office ahead of you. When you got back to the office, though, there was no one else there. Diego actually reached out to you to find out if Pope was around. You’d told him that he wasn’t at the office, so Diego had thanked you and hung up. Alright. Not with Diego, not at the office… Maybe he was just tired. It had been a long couple of days for him.

You settled in at your desk, ready to comb through the footage that Pope had sent, and desperately trying not to think about the evening that you’d had.

You knew that Santiago tended to get a little protective of you, but the one-ups-manship between him and Alex had almost been interminable. It had stopped just short of Alex saying, “Well I’ve fucked her and you haven’t.” Frankly, you wouldn’t have put it past him to say so, especially considering his proposition that had followed.

You straightened up in your seat, grabbing your headphones and tugging them on to focus in on the footage that had finally fully loaded. You wanted to text Pope, make sure he was alright, but you fought that urge. You were worrying about him needlessly - you always worried about him. -- “Come on, you know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.” Things between you and Alex had been the same as they always were, even after you’d turned him down. The two of you were more focused on work than anything else. You’d been able to track down a few leads from the footage that Pope had gotten, intel that you’d passed on to Alex, Diego, and Pope. The four of you had been working on your own ops and leads for the past few days, but now Alex was reaching out to you, asking you to scope out a potential hideaway of Hernandez’s. “You know the area better than I do, Q. I wouldn’t ask if I really didn’t need you.” And maybe it was naïve of you, but you believed him. “Gimme five,” You said, standing and closing your files, adding, “I’ll meet you in the car.” You watched him go before you carried your files over to the wall safe for safe keeping (and then wondered if that was why they called it ‘safe keeping’). You also jotted a quick note down to Santiago about where you’d be. Things between you and Santiago had been a little… Weird lately. He hadn’t been reaching out for the sake of anything other than work. Usually you saw the guy a couple of times a week at the office, and this… This was like nothing you’d ever experienced with him before. It would be easy to pass it off as his being distracted by the op, but part of you knew better than that. You’d told yourself the past couple of nights that maybe he had a new lead, some new informant that was taking up his time. When those ugly little thoughts had crept in, you’d slapped them down in a game of emotional whack-a-mole that had felt more tiring than usual. -- “Park the car here,” You ordered Alex. He glanced behind you guys before he pulled into a space. “Why here?” He asked. “We’re gonna walk the rest of the way. The roads up ahead are really shitty, I’d rather not risk hitting a pothole and fucking up an axel.” “As wise as she is beautiful,” Alex sighed, and you rolled your eyes. “As dramatic as he is stupid,” You retorted before getting out of the car. -- “She lives.” You hadn’t expected Pope to be in the office when you turned up. Maybe that was ignorant of you, but he hadn’t been in all week, and he’d never texted you about your absence from it that day, so you’d assumed that he hadn’t seen your note. “Hey,” You greeted, stepping around to your chair and trying to ignore his dry-as-napkins tone, “How long have you been here?” “Couple’a hours.” You nodded, opening your laptop and waiting for it to load up. You glanced over at Pope’s desk. He was looking something over - you just couldn’t see what it was. You wouldn’t be able to get a good look at it without getting up and leaning over, and that was just a bit too overt. He wasn’t looking at you, either. This was beyond his being focused on his work - he was making it a point not to look at you. Usually if you so much as moved a paperclip on your desk, his eyes instinctively darted to the movement. Now, as you got yourself set up to do the other things you’d meant to get taken care of that day, before you agreed to check out the spot with Alex, Pope’s eyes remained focused on his work. The two of you worked in silence for a little while. You finally asked, “What are you working on?” “Diego asked me to look over a bust recce.”

That had your eyes widening.

“Another one already? You gonna run this one by me first?”

Pope lifted his head from the file.

“You would’ve been briefed, too, if you were here.”

A pang of -- Shame? Guilt? Irritation? They were all jockeying for position but irritation won out -- spread through you, and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I wrote on the note to text me if you needed me to come back,” You reminded him.

“Look, I’m already pretty sure I won’t be in on this--”

“Well let me look it over and you can be absolutely sure.”

Santiago’s eyes flickered with warning, a muscle in his jaw twitching. With anyone else, you’d take that as a signal to back down. But Santiago had never been anyone else.

“I’m perfectly capable of examining a recce myself and I’m not spoiling for a fight the way I was the last time Diego brought something to us,” He argued, voice low and measured.

“That may be so, but part of my job here is evaluating the clarity and viability of recommendations for plans, including, but not limited to, busts and heists. Remind me which one of us wrote that job description,” You matched his tone, careful to hold his gaze. This was hardly the first time you and Pope fought; one of you looking away was as good as tapping out.

“Let me do my job,” You added.

Pope shut the file, turning it around and sliding it across your desks.

“Be around to do it,” He snapped.

You gaped at him as he got up, striding out of the office and slamming the door behind himself. Tag list: @justanotherblonde23   ; @revolution-starter​ ; @emurlemur​; @badbitxhbuckybarnes

[macandriley]

Hi! I'm new to the show and it's a lot to catch up on. What are your favorite episodes from each season?

Regretfully, I must inform you my list of favorites is about five miles long—particularly for the first three seasons. So this might still be a touch overwhelming.

But I’ve been asked this once or twice, so I guess now’s as good a time as any to compile all the requests into one post.

To satisfy the various different asks for watchlists, this post will include both episodes I think are important to the plot/characters, and episodes that I consider my favorites. Feel free to skip any: this is completely arbitrary.

Color Key:

Essential episode titles will be colored blue. If I also consider them one of my favorite episodes, they will have a purple * next to them.

My favorite episode titles will be colored purple.

Without further adieu...

The Essential MacGyver Watch List

Season One

The Rising *

Wire Cutter

Wrench

Can Opener *

Corkscrew *

Scissors *

Large Blade

Magnifying Glass

Hook

Ruler

Flashlight

Compass

Hole Puncher *

Cigar Cutter

Season Two (aka the best season)

DIY or Die

Muscle Car + Paperclips *

Roulette Wheel + Wire

X-Ray + Penny *

Jet Engine + Pickup Truck *

Packing Peanuts + Fire

CD-ROM + Hoagie Foil

War Room + Ship *

Bullet + Pen

Mac + Jack *

Mardi Gras Beads + Chair

Murdoc + Handcuffs

Hammock + Balcony *

Riley + Airplane *

Skyscraper - Power

Wind + Water

UFO + Area 51

Macgyver + MacGyver *

Season Three

Improvise

Bravo Lead + Loyalty + Friendship

Bozer + Booze + Back to School

Guts + Fuel + Hope *

Murdoc + MacGyver + Murdoc

Revenge + Catacombs + Le Fantome***

Matty + Ethan + Fidelity

Mac + Fallout + Jack

Wilderness + Training + Survival

Father + Bride + Betrayal *****

K9 + Smugglers + New Recruit

Murdoc + Helman + Hit *

Friends + Enemies + Border

Treason + Heartbreak + Gun

Mason + Cable + Choices *

Season Four

Fire + Ashes + Legacy = Phoenix *

Kid + Plane + Cable + Truck

Windmill + Acetone + Celluloid + Firing Pin *********

Mac + Desi + Riley + Aubrey *

Father + Son + Father + Matriarch

Code + Artemis + Nuclear + N3mesis *

Tesla + Bell + Edison + Mac *

Loyalty + Family + Rogue + Hellfire *

Save + The + Damn + World

Season Five

Resort + Desi + Riley + Window Cleaner + Witness

Banh Bao + Sterno + Drill + Burner + Mason

Jack + Kinematics + Safe Cracker + MgKNO3 + GTO ***

Quarantine + N95 + Landline + Telescope + Social Distance *****

Golden Lancehead + Venom + Pole Vault + Blood + Baggage

Rails + Pitons + Pulley + Pipe + Salt

Diamond + Quake + Carbon + Comms + Tower ********

C8H7ClO + Nano-Trackers + Resistance + Maldives + Mind Games **************

[hiscyarika]

Some Things You Just Can’t Speak About

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Reader and Javier work through the emotional baggage that comes with their jobs in Colombia. (Unofficial Prequel to When It’s Finally Over)

Warning(s): Heavy Angst, Hopelessness, Grieving, Mentions of Death, Blood, Mentions of Violence/Terrorism

A/N: So like a lot of people, I’ve fallen in love with Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. And when I heard the song “epiphany” (which I highly recommend you listen to while you read. I would link it but I’m afraid the post wouldn’t show up in the tags. The hellsite has been weird about that lately), it immediately sparked the idea for this oneshot. I just hope that this hasn’t been done yet, because I’ve already seen that a couple of authors have used songs on the album as inspiration. I really hope you guys enjoy this. It’s taken a couple of days to get it just the way that I want it. And a special thanks to @bestintheparsec​ for beta reading this for me! I love you Lauren! ❤️

Masterlist

Tag Lists (Open!)

Gif by @pascvl​, originally from this post. Please let me know if you’d rather me not use the gif! I’ll take it down immediately with no questions asked.

The thing about Colombia is that even after the smoke clears, the blood remains. It’s a crimson river that runs through the streets of Bogotá, then dries as a deep, lingering stain. The blood of men, women, and children. Guilty and innocent alike. And so long as Pablo Escobar lives, the stain will never wash away.

Even the sky burns scarlet with the dying sunset when you finally step out of the hospital. Ambulance sirens glow bright as paramedics attempt to bring more people into the already overwhelmed building.

Early in the afternoon, over two hundred pounds of C4 had been detonated outside of a crowded shopping center. Dozens were killed on impact and the death toll has continued to rise throughout the day. For hours, you haven’t stopped moving, trying desperately to save those who’d survived long enough to get to the hospital to be treated. Fortunately, recovery will be possible for some, but what weighs more heavily on your shoulders are the countless others that you could do nothing for.

Even now that you stand outside with a chance to breathe, your lungs can’t draw in enough air. The sharp stench of antiseptic still burns your nose, turning your stomach in violent knots. Every muscle is sore with a bone deep ache as you force one foot in front of the other in the direction of your car. But none of it compares to the stabbing pain in your soul, the helplessness and defeat that throbs more fiercely with every passing second.

You climb into your car, meeting your own eyes in the rearview mirror. You tear the nursing badge from your scrub shirt and toss it onto the passenger seat, not caring when it slides off the vinyl and onto the floor. Immediately, you have to close your eyes at the sight of the bloodstains on your clothes, a gruesome token of a day spent battling death.

All your years of schooling never prepared you to fight this war. You know how to read vitals. You know how to staunch bleeding and stitch wounds. You know how to intubate someone, to breathe for them. These are all things that can be taught. And you’ve learned them well.

But watching a woman die on the table, one close to your own age, is something entirely its own. You never get used to the shrill cry of the heart rate monitor as it flatlines. Nothing can prepare you for standing in front of an elderly woman, telling her that she’s outlived her daughter. They can’t teach you how to crouch down in front of a six-year-old boy and explain to him that he’ll never see his mother again. There’s no way to gently shatter someone’s world. As their reality crumbles, it takes a piece of you with it, and you only have so much of yourself to give.

The drive back to the apartment passes in a blurred haze, your mind on autopilot as you navigate your way in the growing darkness. You repress every emotion that threatens to bubble to the surface of your consciousness. Forcing numbness is far easier than letting your humanity tear you apart.

The last of the light dies from the sky as you pull into the parking lot, right next to Javier’s Jeep. You find your only solace in the fact that he’s home. In what little news you’d been able to hear, you’d learned that the DEA had been called to the scene. Escobar had never claimed responsibility for the attack, but a confession wasn’t necessary to know the truth, so you knew Javier would be part of the investigation.

Sucking in a deep breath, you try to prepare yourself for whatever state of mind he might be in. Javier brings work home in the form of endless files and a guilty conscience. Both he processes with whiskey and sleep deprivation. But you understand. You’re fighting with him on the front lines of this war. Losses are shared just the same as victories. Even the hard ones.

You drag yourself from the driver’s seat, locking the car up once the door is closed. The stairs to the apartment seem so much steeper as you stare at them now, and it takes what little remains of your perseverance to make it up.

The usual squeal of the front door grates on your nerves as you enter the apartment, more so than it normally does, anyway. You stop for a moment in the doorway, toeing off your shoes and listening carefully for any sign of Javier. From where you stand, you can see the soft yellow glow of the lamp in the living room and after a moment you realize that the voice you hear is coming from the television.

Padding quietly into the room, you feel your heart clench when you see what’s playing on the screen. It’s one of the local news stations, replaying footage from earlier in the day. You’re too tired to mentally translate the quick Spanish that the news anchor speaks, but when the numbers appear next to her to note the casualties, it’s not something that you can ignore. There are more than you thought.

You lose yourself in that news report, your mind running back through all of the trauma that you’ve seen. The shouting and screaming and crying becomes the soundtrack of your thoughts, all blended together in a somehow deafening cacophony despite the fact that it’s all in your head. You see that little boy again, the confused look he had given his grandmother as he asked her when his mother was going to come back from heaven. Oh, how her tear-filled eyes had pleaded with you to give some kind of an answer. And you’d tried. You really had.

You’re pulled from the violent reverie when the news report is replaced by a commercial. You pay it no mind, instead looking around the room for any sign of Javier. It doesn’t take you long to find him.

He’s passed out on the couch, sitting up with a glass of whiskey still in his hand. Even in sleep, his brow is furrowed, and worry lines cut deep into his forehead. Upon further inspection, you find the liquor bottle and a messy array of manila folders on the wooden coffee table in front of him, just as you expected.

You shake your head slightly, though he can’t see the action. The ache in your heart grows stronger as you watch him, his lips parted slightly as he breathes deeply and evenly. You suppose it’s the one thing that you have to be grateful for. As closely involved as he is with the hunt for Escobar, every night he comes home is a blessing. And for him to be sound asleep despite the day’s tragedies is truly invaluable.

You decide to leave him. Better for him to rest uninterrupted than to wake him. And though you know it’s better to work through the horrors you’ve been subjected to before you sleep, you don’t have the energy to face any of it right now. So you step closer to Javi, carefully prying the glass from his hand. Against your better judgement, you finish it off. You wince at the way it burns down your throat as you place the empty glass on the coffee table, but the warmth in your chest that follows is a welcome relief.

You scan the room then. It takes you a minute, but eventually you find the remote on the floor by his feet, probably dropped after he’d fallen asleep. You don’t hesitate to press the power button on the TV, and it brings you a bit of peace to watch the screen go black. Silence falls over the room, interrupted only by a soft snore from Javi.

You turn back to the coffee table, making sure that there’s a paperclip in each file to mark where he’d been. All the while, you try to avoid reading over any classified information, not that your brain could truly process a word of it in your current state of exhaustion. You then close the folders and stack them neatly on top of each other, letting out a heavy breath as you push yourself to stand upright again.

Your face falls in sympathy as you look at Javi once more. Even in sleep he looks exhausted. Your own emotional turmoil aside, it pains you to see the way that Colombia has worn him down. Every day he grows more desperate to find the man responsible for so much suffering, and with each day that passes, you know it only seems like he’s getting further and further away. You wish there was something more you could do to ease his mind.

After another moment, you take the blanket that’s draped over the back of the loveseat, unfolding it and gently covering Javi with it. Your movements are slow and cautious in an attempt to keep from waking him. Once you have the blanket situated, you cradle his cheek lightly in one hand, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his forehead.

You close your eyes at the contact, the first and only gentle interaction of your day. As your eyes flutter shut, you feel your chest begin to swell, and emotion wraps around your throat like barbed wire. Your lips linger for a few seconds longer than necessary as the dam inside you cracks, threatening to give way to a flood at a moment’s notice.

But as you pull away, you feel the feather light brush of eyelashes against your cheeks. You open your eyes, finding soft, tired brown eyes staring back at you. You’re frozen in place as he takes a moment to rouse himself, and once he’s more alert, his eyes trail down your body, catching sight of the blood on your scrubs. When he looks at you again, there’s a knowing glint in his eyes. You don’t have to tell him what you’ve seen, because he already knows. He’s seen it too.

Javier places his hands on your hips, gripping them gently as he tries to pull you closer to him. You brace yourself against his shoulders, resisting him while you’re still wearing your scrubs. Your chin falls to your chest in defeat. It only takes a moment to understand, and he carefully pulls the shirt up and over your head, making sure to keep the bloody fabric away from your face. Once it’s off, he tosses it carelessly to the floor.

You collapse into him as the dam breaks, and he takes it in stride, cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his shoulder. Your knees land on either side of him, and with his free hand he guides you into a more comfortable position against him. In any other context, this arrangement with you straddling his lap would be carnal and passionate, but all Javier can feel now is the same pain that you force from your body with each gut-wrenching sob.

There are no words he can give you that will ease your pain. It’s something he knows from experience, repeated experience that he wishes you didn’t share with him. He knows what this constant fight against death and injustice can do to a person. He’s not blind to the ways that he’s changed in the years since he came to Colombia. Javier would do anything to make sure that you don’t suffer the same fate. You’re too good to have your gentle soul torn to shreds.

But he knows that all he can do for now is hold you. He can let you cry and mourn and release every emotion you’ve had to keep caged since you first stepped into the hospital this afternoon. And as you wrap your fists around the fabric of his shirt, he only holds you closer, clutching you tightly as his own pain begins to bubble back up into his chest. He’d tried so hard to drown it in booze and escape it in sleep, but Escobar had taken it too far this time. The saving grace is that the rest of the country agrees.

Javier cries silently with you, and though the manifestation of his grief is much quieter than yours, it’s by no means trivial in comparison. This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. And break he does, in the safest place that he possibly can. He knows that there’s no judgement here, and that there never will be. So he closes his eyes and presses himself closer to you, your proximity being the only thing that could possibly soothe him.

Time is rendered tangential as you mourn together, though eventually you both fall quiet again with no more tears left to shed. Only when you stir against him does Javier lift his head and open his eyes. He manages a halfhearted smile as you meet his gaze, gently wiping away the remnants of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. In turn, you do the same for him, and he turns his head just in time to press a kiss to the underside of your wrist before you pull away again.

He watches you intently, and for just a moment you seem to hesitate, but then you capture his lips with yours. Javier lets out a soft breath in surprise, but soon melts into your touch. You are the salve to his very being, soothing his soul in a way that no one and nothing else can. At the end of the day, when the smoke has cleared and it’s time to count the dead, he thanks whatever god looks down on him, because he has you. Never will he march into battle alone. And he’s grateful, because he knows that he would never survive the war without you by his side.

You pull away again, and the look in your eyes says far more than words ever could. Because in your eyes is the same reverence for him that he holds for you. It’s night like this where you question why you chose the life you did, why you endure more anguish than any one person ever should have to. But then you look at Javier, and you know that you’re fighting the good fight. You know that with him, you can keep going until you reach the end of it all.

Javier presses a quick, soft kiss to your forehead, then shifts again to turn out the lamp light. In the dark, he carefully maneuvers you with him to lie down on the couch. You’re both still in work clothes and the couch is far less comfortable than your shared bed, but that’s not important now. What matters is the feeling of his heartbeat under your cheek as your head rests on his sternum. In just a few hours, the sun will rise again and you’ll both be forced to return to the battlefield, but for now you can find just a glimpse of relief in each other’s embrace.

-

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[macgyverrewatch2020]

2x02 Muscle Car + Paperclips

Today’s episode is 2x02 Muscle Car + Paperclips

   Using a necklace and a microwave transmitter, Mac and the team attempt to locate Riley after her first solo mission with a group of dangerous hackers goes off the rails.    

Tag your Muscle Car + Paperclips posts with Macgyver Rewatch 2020 so we can find and reblog.

Want to read some fanfic? Fics tagged with Muscle Car + Paperclips on AO3.

[the-gory-gardner]

Nightingale Part One: The Beginning

(The Meeting Between A Huntsman And A Lonesome Kitten One Year Ago) 

Jonathan West x Katrina Evans 

The soft melody of a violin filled the nearly empty music room. It was light and almost shy as if scared to be heard. The violinist’s eyes were closed her mind falling away to different far away place. That was until a sudden knock pulled her from her trance. The girl’s eyes fluttered open to look at the doorway. “Oh um hello Ms. Garcia”. She greeted the music teacher politely. 

“Hello Katrina, school ended ten minutes ago what are you still doing here”. The teacher not upset but curious of what would be keeping the quiet girl here after all of her peers had left. “Just wanted to get in a little more practice before the recital next week ma’am”. Katrina replied shyly pulling the violin down from her shoulder to almost hug it against her chest. The teacher gave her a sympathetic smile. “Are you okay Katrina”? The teacher asked her. The teen nodded. 

“Yes ma’am I’ll um getting going now before it starts snowing”. Katrina stated quickly putting her violin and bow it their case and scurrying from the room. Ms. Garcia tried to speak with her again but Katrina quickly disappeared down the hall. The senior was quick getting to her locker and removing everything she needed. Once her coat was on she left the building nodding politely at the security guard who’d become accustom that she left a little later than the other students. 

Katrina shivered as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was walking the long way home as she usually did, because the longer it took her to get home the less she’d have to be home alone. She was slightly regretting not taking the shorter way home when it began snowing. She jumped when the sound of a car horn went off behind her. She was startled to turn and see a car slowly coming towards her. She rarely saw any cars on this road which was another reason she took this way home. 

Katrina felt uneasy when the car stopped next to her causing her to take a few steps back away from the car. “Hey kid little chilly to be going for a stroll isn’t it”. Remarked the driver. He was an older man in his middle to late thirties, dark hair with a receding hairline, he had a little muscle but also a bit of a gut. “J-Just getting home si-sir”. Katrina answered shuffling her feet nervously. “In this weather nonsense why don’t you hop in I can give you a lift”. The man stated. “N-No thank you i’m okay”. She replied. 

Katrina that it wouldn’t be safe to get into a car with a stranger. But then a rather big gush of wing hit her before the snow seemed to get heavier. “Come on kid in a couple more minutes you’re not going to be able to see though this”. The man stated trying to give her a reassuring smile. Katrina knew it was a bad idea but between her quickly numbing limbs and the man’s quite nice smile- she nodded. Katrina took a hesitate step forward grabbing the door handle and pulling it open. 

“Welcome aboard kiddo I’m Rick”. The man said holding his hand out. “K-Katrina”. She greeted politely in return. The Man- Rick smiled before turning back to the road. 

--------

Pain in her skull was the first thing that Katrina registered when she came tough. The next was how cramped her body felt. She could barely contain a whimper as her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw were ropes specifically ropes tied around her wrist. “You awake back there kiddo”. Katrina jolted at the voice. She looked up from where she lied in what she realized was the backseat of a car. In the driver’s seat she saw the man who’d introduced himself as Rick.

“Wh-What’s going on”? Katrina asked her voice slightly slurred and her head feeling scrambled.  “Just going on a little trip”. Was all the man said. Katrina shivered at the tone of his voice. His voice was light and amused with an underline darkness to it. Katrina blinked her eyes a few times trying to get her vision to focus. When it did she realized that it was now dark outside how long had she been unconscious. She needed to get out of this situation asap. 

Katrina looked down at her feet seeing that her shoes had been removed along with tied. Unlike her wrist instead of ropes they were tied with chains that had a small lock on the front. It made her feel sick at how prepared the man seemed in kidnapping like he’d done it before. She looked around looking for some kind of escape. She was almost becoming hopeless when she spotted something shiny on the floorboard. She looked back to her captor to see if he was watching her.

When she saw he wasn’t she reached down careful not to roll off the seats and draw his attention. Once she grabbed the object she pulled her bound wrist back up seeing that the object was a rather large paperclip. She almost huffed before looking down at the lock to the chains. Thinking it over it was a longshot but it was her only chance, she really hoped reading those books on lockpicking out of boredom really worked. 

She jumped when the man began to walk mostly monologuing it seemed. Katrina cursed herself mentally as the man pretty much admitted he’d done this before and wished she’d listened to her gut earlier. “Hey what are you doing”? The man asked finally looking back to see her fiddling with the lock. Just as he had however the lock clicked open. The second the chains fell away from her ankles Katrina scurried up with still bound wrist and opened the car door before he had a chance to lock them. 

Katrina let out a loud yelp as she made impact with the snow covered ground. She had no time to register the cold or pain before the sound of the car screeching to a halt made her bolt upright. She’d just managed to get to her feet when Rick came out of the car slamming the door shut behind him. The clear annoyance and rage on his face left Katrina no time to think before she took off into the woods. Her lungs were burning, her feet were getting colder with each passing moment. That wasn’t even mentioning the ache in her side and arm that was only numbed by adrenaline. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been running or where she was even going when she suddenly collided with someone. Katrina’s mind was panicked thinking that her captor had somehow gotten in front of her and now cornered her. But when she looked up she realized that it wasn’t him. Instead it was another man this one in his early to mid twenties, he had long brown brown hair that almost reached his shoulders, with dark brown eyes behind framed glasses. 

The other man was obviously startled by her appearance but had no time to say anything when Katrina heard yelling behind her. Recognizing the voice as her kidnapper’s she quickly ran behind the man gripping the back of thick jacket. She knew he was her only chance against the other man. “Don’t let him get me please don’t let him hurt me”. she pleaded tearfully behind him. Just then Rick made it to the opening. 

Despite how panicked she was Katrina found herself scuffing slightly when the man began to lie. Katrina was barefoot and her wrist were still tied unless her hopeful savior was utter idiot there was no way he’d believe the lies. Still she curled into the other man’s back afraid Rick would simply hurt them both. But in her panicked stated she hadn’t noticed the loaded crossbow in his left hand. “Shh it’s okay I won’t let him get you”. The other man finally spoke making Katrina jump. 

Almost in slow motion the man lifted his weapon and fired. In one clean shot her kidnapper found himself with a bolt in his throat. Katrina’s eyes were wide as her savior turned to her a look up concern clear in his eyes. He was speaking to her she knew that but the cold, exhaustion and throbbing in her side was finally becoming too much for her to handle. The last thing Katrina saw was her savior as he leaped towards her as her vision went black. 

[detectivejigsawpines]

Twinpathy (Pain)

Based on the lovely work of Artsymeeshee and RenConnor; little snippets of life indicating that even when they were apart (physically or emotionally), the boys were still connected without realizing.

The night he was banished from his home and told not to come back without a fortune, Stanley Pines went down to the beach with a can of gasoline that he “liberated” from a nearby station and his trusty lighter, and he set the almost-completed Stan O’War on fire.

There was no way he could take it with him, and he sure as h_ll wasn’t leaving it for that traitor to use.

Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone who would care.

It took hours for the flames to finish consuming it; he stood there the whole time, hands clenched in trembling fists at his sides, and forced himself to watch no matter how much it hurt.  He barely even flinched when he got hit by stray sparks that burned his skin and made his damp eyes sting, as he watched all his dreams literally go up in smoke.

By the time it was reduced to dying embers it was almost dawn; Stan walked away to his car and curled up in the back seat, feeling more alone than he had in his entire life.

********

Ford barely slept.

For some reason he was just too hot; even if he kicked off all the blankets and sheets, he felt like he was burning up.

Even if he hadn’t been experiencing an odd temperature problem, there was no way he could sleep with the cocktail of rage, betrayal, uncertainty and not-very-well-suppressed guilt brewing in his skull.

His room had never felt so empty before, or been so quiet during the night.

Parts of his skin were actually stinging a little; if he was having a fever, it was like nothing he’d ever had before.  Not even cold water seemed to help much, but somehow he couldn’t work up the will to wake up his parents.  Not after they’d-

He shoved the thought away.

It wasn’t until dawn that the heat rushing through his system finally died down a little, but even then Ford couldn’t relax enough to sleep.  He went to school looking and feeling like hell, and passed it in a dull haze.

A week later, when he went to the beach (he hadn’t meant to go near the boat, he’d told himself that he wouldn’t, that there was no reason to go near it, but somehow his footsteps took him there anyways), all he found was an enormous chunk of ash.

And his gut churned with that cocktail again, as he realized his brother really wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

****************

Stan was beginning to realize that making that deal with Archer had been a mistake.

Namely because he was chained up and dangling by his ankles in a slaughterhouse, and one of Archer’s goons was approaching him with a cleaver in one hand and a meat hook in the other, and it wasn’t because he was planning on giving him a fancy haircut.

“It’s nothing personal, Pinowski,” Archer said solemnly, staring down at him.  “I like your moxie; really I do. But it’s bad business if I don’t make an example of you to anyone else with dumb ideas.”

“Yikes,” Stan grunted, face red from all the blood rushing to it, “you always talk like you’re Edward G. Robinson or something?”

Archer smiled thinly, and nodded to the guy who looked a little too enthusiastic about his grisly task.

By now, though, Stan had managed to put the paperclip he’d been using as a substitute cufflink to good use, and when the thug got close he swung his fist, with the chain wrapped around it.  It hurt, but it was worth it to knock him into Archer, sending them both to the floor like ninepins. Frantically Stanley began wriggling like a worm on a hook, trying to reach his ankles before they could get up.  Instead he found himself sliding backwards, his body thudding into one of the dead cattle dangling behind him like one of those stupid balls on strings that you can smack two together and the ones at the other end will move-Newton’s cradle, that’s what Ford had said it was called.  Ugh, of all the times for him to be remembering his brother-

He barely managed to dodge the cleaver, which was swung with a vengeance at his neck, and almost on reflex his arms flew up, catching the thug’s other wrist.  Despite his efforts, the hook pressed stubbornly forward, catching into the flesh of his stomach and digging in. On the bright side, it brought the thug close enough for Stan to pound an unexpected fist into his gut.

Eventually, of course, Stan managed to get away.  But not without a somewhat-gaping hole in his stomach, and a need to run quickly before the police and the fire department showed up at the slaughterhouse to find out what the heck was going on.  Together, these were not the most pleasant combination in the world.

********

Far away at a second-rate college, Ford nearly fell out of his desk with a gasp of agony, clutching at his stomach.

At once Fiddleford was at his side, asking frantically what was the matter.

“I-I dunno-something hurts-”

“Have y’got yer appendix removed?”

“No-never had to.”

“C’mon, let’s get ya to the doctor.  Maybe it became inflamed or somethin’.”  Fiddleford pulled his friend to his feet and slung his free arm over his shoulder, shepherding him out the door.

Surprisingly, the doctor found nothing wrong with his appendix.  Nothing seemed to be wrong period, except for the unexplained throbbing sensation.  Eventually he just gave Ford some painkillers and sent him back to the dorm to get some rest.  Ford speculated on the possibility of it being pain for an injury that he hadn’t received yet or something else supernatural like that, and gulped down some of the medicine with water so he could get back to work.

(Far away, in a remote field where he’d managed to hide his car until the heat died down, Stan felt the burning ache in his clumsily-stitched gut miraculously recede a little, even though he hadn’t managed to steal painkillers yet.  Maybe life was giving him a break from being its chew toy for a while.)

****************

It had been a long week, and the coming one wasn’t looking any better due to impending finals.

Ford couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept instead of either studying or drinking copious amounts of coffee.  Of course, sleep was a terrible waste of time that he avoided whenever possible anyway, but he had to admit that sometimes it was a necessary evil.  If nothing else, because it helped get rid of throbbing headaches like the one filling his skull right now. But dang it, this was important! The sooner he graduated, the sooner he could get into the important research he wanted to study.  And he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he got anything but the best possible grades.

Rubbing his gritty eyes under his glasses, Ford made some fresh coffee and forced himself to focus on his notes.

********

It was the worst hangover Stan could remember having in years.  He slumped back against the brick wall behind him, eyes closed, wishing he was dead.

...Which happened more often than he wanted to admit, even without hangovers.  But at least this time he had a semi-decent excuse.

He didn’t even think he’d drunk that much; certainly not enough to make his skull feel like rocks were rolling around inside it and banging together.  Geez, it felt like he hadn’t slept in a week.

With a groan, he finally got up, grabbing the hat containing the few coins a few people had dropped in it (he was sure close to making those millions now, ha ha ha), and staggered to his car, collapsing in the back seat.  To his relief, he managed to fall into a dreamless sleep fairly quickly.

(Ford began, after a few hours, to feel strangely refreshed; he chalked it up to his body adjusting to an alternative sleep schedule and double-checked his term paper.)

****************

As Stan got older, he noticed that his body would develop odd aches and pains, especially in his joints, and sometimes he would wake up feeling utterly exhausted, like he’d been boxing in his sleep.  It wasn’t too surprising, since he hadn’t exactly had a peaceful lifestyle in his youth and he was probably paying for it now. He just learned to deal with it all when he got up in the morning, and focused on the important things: fleecing the hides off customers, and trying to figure out that stupid portal.

Nothing else mattered.

********

Ford didn’t have many opportunities to wash properly while traveling through the multiverse, what with constantly hopping dimensions and fighting for his life here and there, but if he’d had a chance to look at his right shoulder, he would have seen that for weeks after he first arrived the skin was bright red, like he’d gotten a bad sunburn.  Of course, this being Ford he might have just dismissed it as an allergic reaction to something in his clothes or whatever.

****************

The Stan O’War II needed fresh supplies.  Again.

The Pineses went their separate ways in the busy port marketplace-Ford to pick up scientific gear, and Stan to get food and fishing tackle.

Ford was just fishing his wallet out of his pocket (and really missing the dimensions where currency had been rendered unnecessary), when he gasped and doubled over against the counter, clutching a hand to his cheek.

“Sir?” the shopkeeper asked, looking at him with concern, “Are you alright?”

He managed to nod and straighten up, handing him the cash.  “Yes, I’m fine, sorry. Just...a muscle spasm or something.”

That...was odd, even by my standards, he thought as he gathered up his things and headed for the boat.  It was almost like someone had up and punched him (and believe me, by now he knew what that felt like).

Stanley was not back yet, so Ford was about to make himself busy putting things away, when the sensation came again, except it was in his ribs.

And this time, he had an odd feeling that it had something to do with his twin.

It defied all the logic his mind prided so highly, but then again, things like the M Dimension and leprecorns defied logic and they still existed, so he just tucked his gun into its holster and hurried back onto shore.

The throbbing in his side became almost a pulse; like a dark version of “Hot and Cold,” it grew stronger as he turned certain directions, leading him to a remote corner of town with a big white van parked nearby-never a good sign.

An even worse sign was the group of men trying to force Stanley into the truck.

To be fair, Stanley appeared to be handling it reasonably well-several of them were lying on the ground, clutching themselves in various areas and groaning, while the ones still standing were sporting a lovely assortment of black eyes and bloody lips, among other injuries.  And while he was suffering some wear and tear himself, Stan was still weaving back and forth, using his feet and hands and fingers in ways that were not strictly fighting fair, but were doing the more important job of defending himself and not allowing them to move him any closer to the van.

And then one of them pulled a knife out of his belt.

Ford didn’t think twice.

There was a loud fizzing sound, a brief agonized squeal, and then the smell of charred flesh filled the air.

The group of thugs froze, and turned to see Ford marching towards them, outstretched gun still with a puff of smoke at the end just like in the movies.

“What the bleep-” one of them began to ask.

“Leave.  Now.”

None of the six men left standing needed to be told again.

To Ford’s slight relief, Stan looked surprised at his vicious conduct, but not appalled by it.  He just shook himself, adjusted his glasses and made his way over to his twin, “accidentally” stepping on a few of the people he’d brought down.

“Good timing,” he said.  “Sorry, I kind of lost the stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter; we’ll get it in another port.  Come on.”

“Just a sec.”  Stan turned back to the thugs lying on the ground, and began rifling through their pockets.

Ford rolled his eyes, but trained his gun on any of them who looked like they might be thinking about moving.

Once they were back on the boat, Stan happily counted their newly-acquired wealth, and began calculating how much they would need to use to restock their lost supplies.  Ford put away his gun and then busied himself with setting up what he’d managed to acquire.

“Who were those men?” he finally asked.

Stan shrugged.  “They said their boss wanted to see me, but I can’t remember who he is.  Probably just another in a long list of people I p_ssed off once upon a time.”  Then he added, “Thanks, by the way.” He still didn’t seem bothered by what his brother had done.

Ford gave him a small nod.  Then he said, “You’d better let me take a look at your ribs.”

Stan blinked.  “How did you know they’re hurt?”

It was Ford’s turn to blink.  “I-it’s how I found you. I...it sounds crazy, but I felt it.”

“...You felt my pain.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.”  Ford gestured for him to take his coat off; Stan sighed, but complied and perched on the edge of the table, hiking up his shirt.  His entire left side was almost a completely solid bruise, with a few scratches where one of the thugs must have been wearing a ring or something.

“Pretty sure nothing’s broken,” he said.  “It’s just gonna hurt like h_ll for a while.”

Ford tested the sore places anyway to verify this for himself, as gently as he could get away with, before getting some disinfectant and bandages for the scratches.

He was almost done, when Stanley suddenly reached his hand over and flicked him hard on the ear.

“Ouch!” Ford squawked, ducking his head away.  “What was that for?!”

“I wanted to see if it worked both ways,” Stan said in a ‘duh’ tone.  He tilted his head, probably waiting for his ear to start hurting too.

“I don’t think it works like that,” the older twin scolded, rubbing his head.

“How d’you know?”

“I’m just guessing, okay?  Now hold still.”

“Bossy, bossy.”

Just then Ford’s eyes fell on a long, pale scar going down the right side of Stan’s stomach.

“What’s that?”

Stanley glanced at it, and after a long moment he managed to pull some of the memory together, prompted by the sight of the injury.  “I...I think I got that a long time ago when...when some guy tried to kill me with a meat hook.”

Ford was nursing a memory of his own, of having sudden unexpected pain but the doctor not seeing anything wrong.

Interesting...

[hot-scotch]

god I am just the biggest asshole to ted huh

Ted mumbled to himself as he laid against the table, swinging his almost-empty bottle of brandy about wildly.

“Are you happy to have killed two people?”

The other two survivors looked at each other with concern, until Emma stood up, moving to the table. She began running a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm the beast while she grabbed the bottle, setting it on the table.

“He had to, they weren’t people anymore-“

“But yours were!”

Ted grabbed Emma’s wrist and tugged, pulling her down to collapse on the floor.

“Don’t touch her, you creature. Emma didn’t kill anybody,” Henry barked, a voice so angry and rough that even if the words weren’t true they’d be convinced they were. Emma scratched at Ted’s hand, but he kept a firm grip, grabbing her shirt and pulling her close.

“Are you expecting them to come back then? Bill and Paul?! They’re dumbasses! Bill can’t tell a staple from a goddamn paperclip! They’re probably in the streets somewhere, after stealing the car and fucking gun!”

“They’re gonna be okay!” Emma screamed out, struggling.

“Paul promised me-“

“Paul’s promised me a lot of shit! He promised me ten bucks for walking over to your shitty little place to grab the exact thing I could’ve gotten at Starbucks! Am i getting it? No! He’s a goddamn liar!”

Emma burst into tears, shaking her head no. Ted let go of her shirt, watching her hit the ground hard before curling up into a ball as she sputtered about Paul promising.

“I’m not as bad as you! I killed one person, and even then your little fucking king killed her too! What makes the little barista so special that she can keep people from dying?”

“Because I love him! He’s not dying on me, you asshole, he loves me and I love him!”

“Do you think Charlotte didn’t love me? Do you think I didn’t love Charlotte?! This is what fucking happens when you play hard to get, they go back to their shitty husbands and get their intestines ripped out!”

Ted grabbed the bottle and slammed it against the table. Glass shattered and lodged itself into the couches, along with Ted’s leg. He screamed, holding his leg tightly. Henry ran over to him, pulling Ted’s arm over his shoulder.

“You’re acting insane, Ted! Come with me, I have a first aid kit by-“

“No!” Ted pushed Henry, causing him to fall back and smack his head on the table.

“Professor!”

While Emma ran to her professor, sobbing as she attempted to help him, trying to wake him up, then yelling at his unconscious body for where the first aid kit was, Ted limped his way to Charlotte. He sat down by her body, setting the bottle by her.

“Do you remember, Charlotte? The first time we kissed, at the office party. You couldn’t do it when we all played spin the bottle, but you brought me to the supply closet for a smooch. I was so worried it’d land on Bill, or Paul, or god, even Mr.Davidson: he’s a terrible kisser, I think he learned it from Melissa. Do you remember?”

Ted leaned down, and gently kissed Charlotte. A ringing started in his ear when he felt the bottle slammed into his back, splintering into his muscles. He screeched, collapsing onto the ground.

“Charlotte...”

He received another gentle kiss, before he finally stopped breathing. Charlotte pulled the bottle out with a pop, turning it to watch the red blood drip down: when it bubbled from his back, it was blue, and it hissed at the air for the first second it was out.

“Professor, professor Hidgens we have to go!”

Emma grabbed Henry’s arms and pulled, causing him to fall forward. The back of his head was absolutely soaked in blood, and Emma thought she could see his brain.

“Oh my god, okay, professor, it’ll be okay-“

A long note broke her concentration. Charlotte pointed at her with death in her eyes. Slowly behind her, Ted began to move. His shirt twitched with each sudden movement he made, and Emma could see the blood had dried it to his back. He gave the melody as he began pointing. They both took steps: steps, but no limps.

“Professor, professor!”

“Emma!”

She turned around to see Paul, with a gun aimed at the infected.

“Oh my god, Paul! You’re here!”

Paul grabbed her elbow, pulling her back.

“Emma, we have to run. I’ll be behind you, just run.”

“But-! Professor Hidgens!”

“He’s gone! We can’t do anything to save him, it’ll kill us.”

“No, Paul, he saved us, we have to help him-!”

Emma was lifted over Paul’s shoulder, before he began running.

“No! No, professor Hidgens, we have to save him, we have to-let go of me, damnit!”

She began pounding on his back, kicking wildly.

“Emma, I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

“I’m not leaving without him! Let go of me, you asshole, I’m not leaving my dad!”

“We have to!”

Once out of the house, Paul set her down, holding her hand as she tried to run back inside.

“Go! Get the fuck out of here, I’m going to go get him! There’s still time!”

“We don’t, there’s a helicopter landing in four minutes that we need to be on.”

“I don’t want to be on it without him!”

“What about with me?”

Emma turned to Paul, unable to process what he meant. He just carefully cupped her cheek, beginning to wipe away tears with his thumb.

“I love you, Emma. And I came back here for you, and I’m leaving with you if it’s the last thing I do. I’m gonna get you on that god damn helicopter, and you’ll be safe, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Emma stared at him, stunned.

“Oh, damnit,” Emma muttered through gritted teeth, swiping at her tears with one hand as she began running with Paul.

Part 2

[fillogree]

So @ifsomebodyhadsomegarlicbread requested some medical Roman angst, & I wanted to try my hand at it. This fic is simultaneously longer & shorter than I want it to be, I just hope it's okay.

“And that’s a match!”

Roman removed his fencing mask panting softly, sweat slicked his brown curls to his forehead as he flashed a tired smile to his partner. “Nice job, Adrien!”

The blonde grinned and nodded. “Thanks, Roman. You sure you’re okay, though? I’ve never scored against you that many times. Don’t be going easy on me now.”

The brunette laughed and shook his head. “I may be a little sleepy. Practice ran late last night, but I wouldn’t hold back against you, you’re just getting that much better.”

Adrien beamed up at Roman and nodded. “Then you better get plenty of sleep for our next match, I want to face you again in top form!”

Roman laughed and patted his sparring partner on the shoulder. “Consider it done.”

In the locker room however, Roman was a frantic mess. He was scrambling to get his fencing gear put away while firing off a text message to the leader of his theater troupe.

‘omw’ he managed to type, pushing send with his nose as he zipped up his duffle bag.

“Okay, lets see.” Gear packed, phone, wallet, keys—” Roman tugged open his backpack, thumbing through folders and paperclipped sheets. “Script, creative writing assignment, apron.. okay good!” He threw both bags over his shoulder and raced out of the locker room. He darted down the hallway, zigzagging between other students, offering apologies as he ran. He was grateful to have secured a position with a local theater company for work. He had been in two local plays in the past few months and was excited to be rehearsing for another, but between two jobs and university, he was getting a bit tired.

Roman hopped out of his car as he arrived at the studio, ignoring the growling in his stomach. He snatched up his backpack and bolted inside. His current role was that of a watchmaker in the city of Avalon a city filled with gears, cogs and machines. His character Hector was distraught, because his services were required all over town, but he could never sit and work on his cuckoo clocks at home. It was feeling Roman felt all too familiar with.

As Roman ran through his lines with his scene partner, he couldn’t help but notice a pinprick of pressure beginning to form between his eyes. He was probably getting a headache due to not eating all day, and he made a mental note to eat his granola bar he had stashed away on his way to work. He pushed through it even as they pain became a bit more persistent as he ran through his lines with the rest of the troupe. He stumbled over a few lines as the pressure began to build. Thankfully rehearsal was called a bit early and Roman managed to say his goodbyes.

Once in his car Roman couldn’t help but frown at the growing pressure.  He felt a little dizzy but tried hard to push the feeling away as he pulled away from the studio and headed down the road. By the time he pulled up to the café his head was throbbing. The brunette found himself squinting, brow furrowed as he tried to push the pain away. He pulled open his backpack, tied on his work apron and pushed through the door of the café. He instantly regretted it.

The synthpop music that was blaring over the speakers felt entirely too loud, and the overlapping chatter of everyone enjoying their drinks and sweets was near deafening. He shut his eyes tight for a moment but that just pinched the muscles in his face and sharpened the pain. Sighing heavily Roman made his way back behind the counter anyway.  He carefully guided one of his co-workers into the back room, slumping into a chair.

“Taz, please tell me you or Tucker have something for my head.”

The younger male grimaced, sucking air between his teeth as he shook his head, softly. “Tess drove us today and was in a hurry, so we forgot our bags in his car.”

Roman groaned pressing the balls of his palms to his forehead, “There are five of you and none of you carry anything for migraines?”

“Maybe caffeine will help. Your shift doesn’t start for another 10 minutes, so let me make you a latte.”

Roman nodded, waving the younger male off before burying his face back in his hands. He had 6 hours to plow through on register, and then a paper he needed to go home and write. His head continued thudding on, but curiously Roman noticed shaking in his fingers. He pulled his hand from his face, squinting at the light and looked down at his hands, they were trembling now.

His heart began to pound a bit faster. What exactly did this mean?  He went to stand up, but felt his legs trembling too, and quickly sat back down.

“T-T-Taz..” Roman frowned. As he tried to speak it felt as though he had to force the words out, the hard stutter a result of them gripping his tongue and almost refusing to leave his mouth. “I-I think I need t-to go to the h-hospital..”

Taz came back with Roman’s latte to see him in full body muscle spasms his arms and legs shaking and bouncing wildly. “Roman? What’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t know.. g-get help.”

 Virgil stared at the unknown number blinking across his cell phone's home screen. He didn't like having his music interrupted, particularly by unknown numbers. With a heavy sigh he clicked the answer icon & put the phone on speaker, muting himself quickly. He wasn't in the mood for any telemarketers today.

"Hello, this is Rosa calling from North Community Hospital, may I speak with Virgil Grimments, please?"

Virgil’s eyes widened, and he felt his heartbeat quicken reflexively. He took a deep breath and unmuted the phone. “Speaking.”

“Virgil? As I stated, this is Rosa. We have a Roman Pierce here in the hospital, you were listed as his emergency contact. Can you come in?”

Virgil’s pounding heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach as he nodded, clutching the phone tightly to his ear. “Is he okay? What’s going on?”

“He’s okay, it doesn’t look like anything too serious, but we would like you here at your earliest convenience, to discuss his health.”

Virgil continued nodding despite himself, the butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings wildly. “Yes, yes of course. We’ll be there soon.”

Virgil pocketed his cell phone and all but ripped his door off the hinges, taking the stairs up to the living room two at a time. “Pat! Patton!”

Patton jolted upwards from his position in the couch, pausing the cooking show he was watching. He turned around to see a disheveled Virgil, his eyes wide with worry. “Hey Virgil, what’s wrong?” He asked making his way over to him.

“Ro-Roman’s in the hospital. I dunno what happened. We have to go.”

Patton nodded making his way over to Virgil and cupped his hands. “Okay, we’ll go right now. Deep breaths, okay? Did they say what condition he was in?”

“They said it wasn’t too serious, but they needed me there right away.”

“Okay, okay. So, it’s nothing serious. He’s at the hospital surrounded by people who are qualified to take care of him. So, he’ll be alright, we’ll leave right now, okay? Did you call Logan?”

Virgil shook his head as Patton slowly released his hands, taking deep breaths to calm his rising worry. He watched as Patton grabbed his hoodie, and cell phone before scampering into the kitchen. “You go call Lo and I’ll meet you in the car, okay?”

Virgil nodded, pulling up Logan’s number on his phone as he headed out the front door. Logan answered on the second ring.

“Virgil. Normally you’d be resting at this hour, what is it?”

“Ro’s in the hospital, Lo. They said it’s nothing too serious, but Pat and I are headed up there right now. Can you come?”

Logan looked down at the stacks of paper across his desk. He still had tests to grade, essays to examine, and an entire lesson plan he needed to write up by Monday. Still, the health and safety of his partners came before his job.

“Which hospital?”

Virgil gave a sigh of relief, as he relayed what he was told from Rosa, and gave Logan the address. While Roman was of course the focus, he felt much better about heading into a hospital with the two people who helped calm him down the most. What he wasn’t prepared for was to see someone as infallible as Roman in a hospital bed. He stared at his phone after Logan hung up and sighed softly. The others deserved to know too. With much reluctance he unlocked his phone and pulled up his text messages.

‘Dee. Ro’s in the hospital, tell the others.’  That should be enough, Dietrich could let the others know, and Virgil wouldn’t have to be involved.

‘Which hospital?’

‘No.’

‘FamILY only, huh?’

Virgil sneered at the response, something in the pit of his stomach was coiling in on itself. He didn’t want to talk to his ex-boyfriend any more than he had to. The fact that he and Roman were even talking was.. well, Virgil felt a lot of things about the two of them getting along. He took a few more deep breaths and typed his response.

‘You can come over when we get him home.’

‘Thanks for your permission.’

Virgil pocketed his cell phone fighting back waves of nausea as he made his way to Patton’s car. The sight of the pastel blue Volkswagen helped to lighten his mood. Patton had decorated the car with tons of bumper sticker and his back window was home to several plush kittens. It was hard to be upset in Patton’s car; it was almost a rule. He waited by the passenger’s side door as Patton came rushing outside, clutching a canvas backpack in his arms.

“A change of clothes, a puppy plushie, and some shortbread cookies.” Patton explained as he handed the bag over to Virgil, unlocking the car.

“You think he’ll be there overnight?” Virgil tried to keep the growing concern from creeping into his voice.

“Hopefully not, but it never hurts to be prepared, right? And if he does come home today he’s got everything he needs for a cozy nap.”

Virgil nodded, trying to relax against the seat as Patton drove.

 Logan couldn’t stop tapping his foot as he waited in the lobby. He had arrived at the hospital as quickly as he could, triple checked Roman’s room number, and tried very hard to distract himself by reading over a few articles on his tablet. He tried to tell himself his partner was fine, that he’d see his smiling face in a few minutes, and they’d all go home together. He couldn’t be certain though. He didn’t have all the facts. What he did know was Roman wasn’t being held in the ICU, so his condition wasn’t that bad. He did know the woman who spoke to Virgil said his condition wasn’t serious, and more than anything he was positive Roman had insurance because Logan signed him up for it. With the facts he did have in place there was a very high percentage rate that Roman was fine. However, the bit of him that craved certainty didn’t like to be dwelling on the unknown.

“Logan!”

Logan stood up instantly and felt his worry subside seeing Patton and Virgil approach. Patton threw his arms around him and Virgil gave a soft smile, gently touching his shoulder.

“Which room?”

“413, let’s go.”

Quietly Logan and Patton reached for Virgil’s trembling hands as they walked towards the elevators.

“He’ll be alright.” Logan said softly.

 Virgil stood timidly at the door as Patton lead the way inside and Logan brought up the rear.

“Hey there, handsome. You doing okay?” Patton asked giving Roman’s hand a gentle squeeze. Roman turned his head to look at Patton and gave a small smile.

“A p-prince is always fine.” He croaked.

Patton chuckled, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roman’s forehead. “Always, huh? So what are you doing in here? Wooing all the nurses?”

“I-I would n-never. N-not when I have s-such amazing boyfriends.” His voice was a low rasp, the stutter only making him sound feebler. Virgil clutched at the front of his jacket just at the sound of him. Logan gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to step into the room.

“There they are. T-tall, dark and broody and Ti-85. What are you all doing here?”

“Virgil received a phone call earlier, apparently we need to have a discussion in regard to your health, Roman.”

The usually lively and boisterous male sunk lower into his hospital bed, pulling the blanket up to his nose. “N-noo..” he whined pitifully. I’m fine..”

“Evidently not.” Logan chided, gently as he ushered Virgil inside. “So, care to explain?”

As Roman opened his mouth to protest a nurse stepped into the room. “O-Oh, I wasn’t expecting such a full house.” She laughed softly. “I’m assuming one of you is Virgil?”

Virgil shuffled awkwardly and gave a small wave to the nurse. “That’s me.”

“Oh, good. Do you mind if I speak with you out in the hallway?”

Virgil shook his head as Logan came to stand behind him. “If this is to discuss Roman’s current condition, I would like to be present as well.”

The nurse nodded, ushering the two of them outside. Patton stayed put at Roman’s bedside, humming softly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“You gave all of us quite the scare, you know. Virgil was a mess when he got the phone call.”

Roman glanced away, smiling sadly. “I-I’m  sorry.”

“Mmn.. For what, kiddo?”

The door to the room was opened once again and Virgil pushed his way through looking equal parts irritated and heartbroken. Patton glanced up in confusion to see Logan beckoning him out into the hallway.

“What the hell, Princey?” Virgil fumed once the door was closed. “Are you serious? What’s all this about you not eating? You almost passed out at work? What are you doing?”

Roman flinched and tucked further into the blankets. “I-It was just o-one day..”

Virgil raised an eyebrow giving his boyfriend a hard stare. “Go Ahead and say that again. Look me directly in the eye and tell me this is the first time you’ve been skipping meals or ignoring your headaches. She said your blood sugar was so low it was a wonder you hadn’t fainted yet. How is that possible in just one day, huh?”

Roman pouted refusing to meet Virgil’s heated stare.

With a heavy sigh Virgil knelt at Roman’s bedside and clutched his hands. “Why, Ro? Is something wrong, are you.. Do you need to see Emile?”

“Do I..? N-No. No. V-Virgil I’m not..” Roman swallowed, turning away from him, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t want you to see me like this.. I just. Between school, and clubs and work I forget to eat sometimes, and it’s usually not a big deal, b-but then today the migraines came a-and it got h-hard to talk, and I was so scared, but.. I didn’t.. I didn’t want to let anyone down.”

“Let us down? Roman, how—”

“You all were s-so proud when I got this acting job, Logan even took off work to see my performances, you fought through your social anxiety for me. B-but I didn’t want to walk out on the café, or any of my clubs when things got too busy, but I-I’m so tired Virgil.. I’m just so tired all the time, but I can’t just quit or give up, so..”

Virgil sighed and gave Roman’s hands a squeeze, pressing his forehead against his.

“Roman, I am proud of you. There’s nothing you could do or not do to make me not be proud of you. You’re.. You’re always so confident and charismatic and you work so hard and you’re talented at so many things, it’s amazing. I admire you for that. But even if you only did one of the things you’re good at, or dropped them all, my feelings wouldn’t change, and neither would any one else’s. Now I’m going to tell you something that’s hard to hear, but you need to learn to put yourself first.”

“I know..” Roman sniffled softly.

“No, you don’t. I know you don’t or else you wouldn’t be here. Roman. You need to put yourself first. If you are tired you take a break. If you haven’t eaten you stop, and you eat. If anyone has anything bad to say about you taking a break or working fewer hours they can answer to Pat. You need to find what your boundaries are, and don’t let others cross them, not even yourself. Give yourself some time, okay?”

“When did you become the therapist?” Roman chuckled, wiping his eyes.

“When you encouraged me to go see one. It really helped, now’s my turn to help you. Take care of yourself.”

“Well spoken, Virgil.” Logan said from the doorway. The two jumped as Logan and Patton returned. Patton’s arms were crossed but there was concerned softness in his eyes.

“I’m packing you more snacks, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, got it?”

“I will help you come up with a suitable schedule, so you don’t run into this issue again.”

“And I’ll text Remus your every location to check up on you in the most embarrassing way possible if you don’t listen.”

“We’re here for you Roman, you don’t have to do it all on your own anymore.”

Roman nodded and gave a soft smile. “I love you guys, thank you.”