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ernmark · 8 years

Note

not a fic prompt but at what point during the ending of final resting place do you think juno decided to stay on mars

Ooh, a meta question!

The short answer is, I don’t think he ever made the decision to stay, because I don’t think he ever actually intended to leave.

(More under the cut)

We see evidence of this right away:

NUREYEV: Though I can’t say I understand why you insisted we come to a clinic in Hyperion City when Olympus Mons was so much closer.

JUNO: (SIGH) I… just wanted to see the place one last time. That’s all.

(Final Resting Place)

That’s bullshit.

He was exhausted, he’d been mauled by a monster, and he’d lost an eye. You don’t make a guy drive you across a desert and into another city out of nostalgia. His plan from the beginning was to go home and stay there.

I think on some level Peter knew that-- things said in the heat of the moment really shouldn’t be held against a guy, especially when he’s just gone through a trauma conga-- and he gave Juno plenty of opportunities to walk away. But Juno wasn’t willing to take any of those opportunities, becasue that would have required a conversation, and that would have required being able to articulate the things he was feeling. Which, in this case, is pretty damn hard.

Why not leave with Peter?

Running off on grand adventures with Peter was never a real plan for Juno. It was a fantasy, idealized past the point of perfection. And something like that is wonderful to daydream about, but it’s actually terrifying when it’s put right in front of you.

Because what if you get everything you ever wanted and something goes wrong? And more importantly: what if that something is you?

It’s actually a fairly common real-life problem. People will sabotage the hell out of themselves rather than pursuing their dreams, because it’s easier to say “It would have been amazing if I’d done it, but unfortunately I never had the chance because [invented reason here]” than to say “I tried and I gave it my best and I failed anyway because it turned out I wasn’t good enough.”

So Juno invented reason after reason not to go with Peter:

Taking off takes a lot of things I don’t have. Money. Self-respect. (Murderous Mask)

JUNO: Fine. Do I want to trust you? Sure. Hell, I want to trust Engstrom, too, and Valencia, and this whole sorry planet. I want to gather us all up in a big group hug and kiss and slobber and talk about how nice it is that we can all be so honest with each other. That sounds great, sure, whatever. And it also sounds like a good way to get dead.

NUREYEV: Is it? I’m still alive, aren’t I? And I trust you.

JUNO: (WITH A SIGH, THEN, KIND OF PLEADING. JUNO WAS BEING SARCASTIC ABOVE, BUT HONESTLY? HE REALLY DOES WANT TO TRUST NUREYEV.) And I have no idea why you do.

(Train From Nowhere Part 1)

I’ll help you stop this weapon. But at the end of the day you’re a thief, and I’m a guy who hunts down thieves, and that’s the end of it.

(Train From Nowhere Part 2)

...everyone thinks they’ve got the answer, the silver laser that promises they’ll be happy forever.But nobody’s ever been happy forever.And all those people, chasing after all those promises, running full-tilt toward a thousand paradises that never were and are never gonna be, Steel, no matter how bad you want it… well, it makes a big mess.

(Final Resting Place)

Hell, he even sabotages his budding relationship with Alessandra the second it sounds like she might get serious:

JUNO: It’s not gonna work, between you and me. I wish it could. But it won’t.

STRONG: That doesn’t make any sense.

JUNO: I know.

STRONG: If you want it to work, it’ll work. That’s how it works.

JUNO: Should be.

STRONG: (AS SHE REALIZES) There’s someone else. (PAUSE, THEN A SIGH) Of course there is.

(Prince of Mars)

Could he have made it work with her? Totally. They’re wonderful together. But it’s a lot easier to blame the relationship ending on something outside of his control than it is to blame it on his own shortcomings.

So why say it anyway?

When he locked himself in with Miasma and that bomb, he didn’t think he was walking out of that room alive. So when he gave his little speech to Peter, he got to sound all romantic and heroic but he’d never have to deal with any of the consequences. His relationship with Peter would forever be perfect and unblemished as only could-have-beens can possibly be. Which, for a guy like Juno, actually sounds like a pretty sweet deal.

But then he didn’t die, which means that suddenly he has to own up to what he said. Or not own up, and be the biggest jackass in the galaxy.

#the penumbra podcast #penumbra meta #pnureyev

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ernmark · 8 years

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Juno who's gotten kinky before but has never got aftercare and nureyev teaching the beauties of it

Obviously NSFW under the cut.

There’s not much negotiation beforehand-- one minute they’re kissing and the next they’re in bed, and everything along the way is less planned and more a reaction to the not-so-subtle signals Juno gives.

Juno’s cock jumps when he’s held down. His pupil positively blooms when Peter ties him to the bedposts. His back arches. His toes curl. Peter can track the spread of Juno’s blush from his cheeks to his neck, down to his chest, and while Peter sits back to survey him, Juno licks his lips in anticipation.

Which is to say nothing of the more overt clues he’s receiving.

“Dammit, Nureyev, stop teasing and get in me.”

“God, yes-- fuck me harder--”

“--want you to sink your teeth into me--”

“Fuck yes-- just like that-- please, Nureyev, please don’t stop--”

When it’s over, Juno looks dazed, and he’s breathing hard. He flinches, likely still oversensitized, when Peter unties him and kisses the raw skin on his wrists.

“Wait here,” Peter whispers, dragging himself up from the bed. His own knees are weak, and he feels giddy and unbalanced. “I’ll be right back.” When he pads back into the bedroom, his hands are full, and he spreads his finds on the bedside table before he climbs back in beside Juno.

The damp washcloth is pleasantly warm, but Juno startles when he feels it against his skin.

“Shh, love,” Peter murmurs. “It’s just me.” He wipes away the spots of blood from his more enthusiastic love-bites.

When he starts cleaning up the splash of come on Juno’s stomach, Juno fidgets underneath him. “It’s okay,” he hedges. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. I can take care of it.”

“I know you can, love. But I want to.” The washcloth is set down, and a soft cotton ball takes its place, soaked in ointment, and Peter begins treating the fresh wounds, along with a few older ones that opened up thanks to the rough sex. Juno watches him the whole time, his brow furrowed, silently perplexed.

“I happen to enjoy taking care of you, Juno,” he hums as he works. “I get far too few opportunities to pamper you the way--” He catches himself before he can say ‘the way you deserve’. But that phrase is too loaded for this moment. Instead he finishes the thought in a way Juno might still find acceptable: “The way I want to.”

“I don’t know why you do,” Juno murmurs, but he doesn’t resist when Peter brings a water bottle to his lips.

“Because I love you, Juno. I cherish the time we spend together. And as much as I enjoy getting rough with you, I never want to hurt you. Not if I can’t be there to make it better again afterward.”

Juno sighs, half contented and half defeated. “Alright, I guess. If it’s so important to you.”

#the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction #pnureyev

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ernmark · 8 years

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jupeter established relationship: Peter comes back to Mars to learn that juno is in a coma

So here it is: my own little Choose Your Own Adventure.

Peter Nureyev and the Blue Persephone.

At various points, the story will diverge, and I’ll include links to the next sections. I’ll also include a link to the previous section, so you have the chance to catch up if you missed one.

I’ll include places for you to respond, so you can give feedback or suggestions for ways the story can go from this point forward. No one path is bound by the same continuity as any of the others. You can also submit suggestions via asks.

Like it if you’ve read it, feel free to reblog if you want. The sections will always be hidden under a “read more” bar, so it may or may not show up on mobile.

I’ve thrown in some OCs for the sake of building the setting. Whether they stick around or not is entirely up to the suggestions of the readers.

Warnings for body horror.

Peter has to call in three favors to get this lead, and another four to pinpoint the exact location of the door. It’s in a shady nightclub on Venus, tucked behind a janitor’s closet in a hallway so dark that he could walk right past it if he didn’t already have his hand out for the doorknob.

But that’s nothing compared to the darkness he finds when he opens the door. It isn’t just dark– it feels like someone cut a piece out of reality itself, like staring into a black hole. He thinks, not for the first time, that this might be a trap.

He steps through anyway.

There was nothing to tip him off when he arrived in the spaceport in Hyperion City. He was tired from the journey, eager to see Juno again and tell him about the places he’d been and the people he’d robbed, just to see his detective’s face light up at the stories. He’d been looking forward to it the whole trip. More and more often these days, the best part of leaving was coming back again.

When he arrived at home– when had he started thinking of it as home?– the apartment was empty. But that didn’t disturb him at all. Sure, it was late, but Juno had never kept the most steady hours. He could be at the office, finishing up paperwork. He could be out on a case.

He considered going to the office to check, but why waste the trip if Juno wasn’t there? He could always meet him in whatever dark little alley he was staked out in. He called Rita’s phone, the better to catch him by surprise– Juno always looked so darling when Peter startled him.

But when Rita picked up, her voice was hesitant. Wary. “…Hello?”

It wasn’t the first sign that something was wrong. Just the first one he couldn’t rationalize away.

“Rita, it’s Peter.”

“Oh gawd. Peter.”

“I know it’s late, but I just got in and Juno isn’t home. Is he on a case, or–”

“Peter, you– oh gawd. Gawd, Peter, I’m so sorry. I tried to call, but I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“Rita, what’s happened?” His skin was crawling. His ears were ringing. “Where’s Juno?”

“Hyperion General. In the ICU. Peter, he’s not waking up.”

This has to be an enclosed chamber of some kind, so completely closed off from the sun that it’s pitch black. It stretches on for what might be miles, but that doesn’t make sense– he saw the restaurant on the other side of this wall. A teleporter, perhaps? It isn’t as though he hasn’t seen those before, even if the effect is nothing at all like what he just experienced.

The night-vision goggles he brought for the journey allow him to see, but they aren’t much help in making sense of it all.

It’s an artificial forest, with hundreds– thousands, perhaps– of dead trees standing upright and ghostly silent in the absolute darkness. Pine needles pad his footsteps, adding to the unnatural quiet.

It’s even more unnatural because he knows he’s not alone.

Things keep moving in the forest, crawling on the trees and slithering on the ground at his feet. They might be the size of rats, but they don’t move like any kind of rodent he’s ever seen. They move too quickly to be properly identified, their temperature a few degrees cooler than the bark under his fingertips.

Something else moves in the distance– something enormous, its heat signatures barely visible through the trees. Something that huge shouldn’t be able to move silently, but it does.

All at once, the silence is broken. Something else is broken, too, by the sound of it. It’s the crack of fingers. The snap of a femur. The pop of joints being forced out of alignment. There should be screams to follow the violence, but there’s nothing but footsteps.

He’d be more comfortable if the noises were coming from the huge shape looming in the distance, but it’s not. It’s right behind him.

“Don’t run,” Valles Vicky told him. “Whatever you do, don’t turn on the lights, and don’t run. You run, and the things in there will start chasing in you. You run, and you’re dead.”

Ordinarily Peter would make some flippant remark about not being too subtle, but there was a dark pit in his chest where his sense of humor used to be.

“Listen,” Vicky said, her voice softer. “I like you. You’ve always been reliable, and you’ve always treated my boys right. It wouldn’t be right to send you in there without a warning: most of the people who go in there don’t ever come out. The ones who do– they don’t come out the same. The smart thing to do is not go.”

“I have to. For Juno.”

“And that’s the only reason I’m telling you any of this at all.” She sighed. “He’s good people, Morales. You don’t need me to tell you that. I really hope you can make this work.”

“I will,” Peter said. I have to.

She dug into one of her wall safes and pulled out a set of night vision goggles, still in their original box. “These might help some. Take care of yourself, Morales. And remember: don’t run.”

He wants to run now. He wants to rip the goggles off his face, just so he won’t have to look at it, but he knows it’ll still be here, in the dark, an arm’s length away from him. The thing in front of him is the size of a cerberus, with half a dozen legs and several dozen eyes spread unevenly across its grotesque hide. More than anything else, it looks like Miasma when she revealed her true nature– only Ancient Martians didn’t seem to have bones, and this creature is popping and snapping with every step it takes.

If he doesn’t run, he might just faint. There’s only one thought that anchors him in place: Juno.

“Oh, good,” he says, slipping into the persona of someone braver than he feels. “Just when I was wanting to ask for directions. By any chance, could you point me in the way of your leader?”

Teeth protrude from its flesh, forming dozens of grisly, misshapen mouths. He might be sick.

And then they speak, all at once: “Well. If you’re going to ask politely, I don’t see why not. Do you have an appointment?”

“I did try to call ahead, but her number seems to be unlisted.”

“Yeah, it’s a problem,” the thing admits in chorus. “But what are you gonna do? The boss likes her privacy.”

“Does that mean she won’t see me?” he asks carefully.

“Oh, she’ll see you alright. But whatever it is you came for, I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“I don’t know how it happened,” Rita said. “It was just a regular case, same as any other. I mean, sure, there was a fight. And he got a little roughed up, but that happens all the time, and he’s always been fine. He was fine then, too. Came back to the office and filled out his paperwork and went home and everything. And then he… he just didn’t come in the next morning. I went to the apartment to check up on him, and he was in bed– I thought he was fine, he looked fine– but I couldn’t wake him up. He isn’t waking up. And it’s not like in the movies, either. The doctors are saying if he doesn’t wake up soon, he ain’t ever wakin’ up again. I don’t understand what happened, Peter. I don’t understand.”

“This is as far as I go,” the creature tells him, standing aside so Peter can see the edges of a doorway. “Just follow that hall. She’ll know you’re coming. She always does.”

The hallway is winding, but finally it opens into another huge chamber. There’s light in this one, and no trees– just hundreds of interlocking pathways and intertwining statues. They’re each made of a different material, and each one catches and reflects the heat of the lights differently. The heat-vision goggles won’t be any use in this place, and so he takes them off. He can’t make sense of this room any more than the last one, and he suspects that’s most of the point. Everything about this place is meant to disorient and confuse him. The only way to fight back is to keep his head.

Easy enough. He’s been living with Juno long enough that he’s practically an expert.

“Are you going to waste my time ogling the scenery,” drawls a voice from far away. “Or are you going to tell me what you came here for?”

It takes a moment to pick her shape out of the decor. When he does, he only manages by her palette. She’s shrouded in cobalt and azure, her face almost covered by veils. Almost.

The woman on the other end of the chamber goes by many names. On Mars, though, they call her the Blue Persephone.

She stands up, and Peter notices that she’s missing an arm. Is it her left arm or her right?

#the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction #rk #pnureyev #cyoa game #Peter Nureyev and the Blue Persephone

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ernmark · 8 years

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"Addicted to you" song + music video by Avicii for young vingrid maybe?

Here’s the music video. Just be aware that there are bare asses in this video, so beware of where you watch it. And blood. And death. Just FYI.

youtube

The fic includes blood and references to suicide.

This is bad. Real bad.

That laser hit Ingrid hard, and now she won’t stop bleeding, no matter how much pressure I try to put on the wound. Christ, she won’t stop bleeding.

We’re surrounded. The cops are closing in.

Maybe that’s for the best, isn’t it? Let them catch us. At least then they can get her to a hospital, right? At least she can get out of this alive.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Ingrid,” I tell her. “I swear, everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I know it will.” She takes my hand and smiles. God, how can she smile like that at a time like this? “We have each other, right?”

Even now, there’s starlight in her eyes. There’s so much hope. If I put it into words, I know I’ll just snuff it out: that when we turn ourselves in, they’ll lock us up. They’ll separate us. She’ll be alive, but I’ll never see her again.

I can’t live like that. Looking into her eyes, I know she can’t, either.

She squeezes my hand. “Maybe not here, then. Maybe in our home beyond the stars.”

Her other hand is reaching for the holster at my side. I know what she’s gonna do.

I’m not gonna let her do it.

I catch her hand and push it against her wound. “Put pressure on that. And hold on. The stars are gonna have to wait a little longer.”

I stand up and scoop her into my arms. She’s no featherweight, but I’m strong and I’m determined. I make sure I’ve got a good grip on her and I take off running.

#the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction #pnureyev #music

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ernmark · 8 years

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vfdbeatrice replied to your post “WTF is up with Peter’s cologne?”

It’s axe body spray, probably

In which case my next question is WTF is up with Juno’s nose?

I can smell that junk from across a room.

pnureyev replied to your post “WTF is up with Peter’s cologne?”

i just had this image of peter accidentally pouring a bottle of cologne into junos couch because he wanted to spray the note he left behind

You know what, I can totally see Peter doing that. Trying to be all sneaky and sly, and then completely fucking it up. I’ve just got to wonder how Juno didn’t notice the sudden surge of cologne in the room.

coloredink replied to your post “WTF is up with Peter’s cologne?”

lmao this has bothered me for ages because rly a master thief wouldn’t want to wear anything with a noticeable sillage??don’t wanna leave behind too many clues yanno

coloredink replied to your post “WTF is up with Peter’s cologne?”

but I will allow for artistic license, also it’s super romantic

I imagine the super thief part is why it’s supposed to be so subtle in the first place. It’s also a little bit of a middle finger to whoever he steals from, I imagine-- by the time you notice something’s gone, he’s already on a spaceship to the next planet. A whiff of cologne might be enough to arouse suspicions, but it’s not going to be enough to positively identify the guy, or even stand up in a court of law. If he’s never going to visit the same planet twice, who cares if somebody suspects him as the culprit?

#pnureyev #coloredink #vfdbeatrice #the penumbra podcast

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ernmark · 8 years

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oooooh that was so goood can we also get "Not each other's soulmates" from peter's perspective? or a reverse scenario?

I’m going to be combining this with another one that you sent me way long ago.

I didn’t tell Juno that my case ended a few days ahead of schedule, or that I’d be on the first spaceship headed to Hyperion City. My plan was to sneak into Juno’s apartment, rest my eyes for a few hours while lounging in his favorite chair, and catch him by surprise when he came in.

But when Juno steps in the door, he doesn’t look like he’s up for any surprises, even the pleasant variety.

He staggers inside and shuts the door tight behind him. His face is lined and gray, and even though I’m sitting only a few yards away from him, he doesn’t seem to notice me. Instead he goes straight for his liquor cabinet and pours himself a drink.

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

I rise to my feet and cross the apartment toward him. I took off my shoes at the door, and so I barely make a sound until I say his name. “Juno?”

The tumbler slips from his fingers and shatters on the floor. Glass cracks under the soles of his shoes as he backs away from me.

“Juno?” I’m alarmed now. “Juno, are you alright?” Is he sick? Poisoned? He looks like he might faint, and I start forward to catch him before he falls onto the broken glass.

He throws out both hands to stop me. “Peter, stay back.”

I freeze instantly. Because I trust him. “What’s wrong?”

“The glass.” His eye flashes to mine for barely an instant before he averts his gaze, like looking at me directly hurt him. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“I can handle it,” I say. “Juno, sit down--”

“I’ve got it.” More glass crunches underfoot as he crosses the kitchen to grab a broom and dustpan. “I’m wearing shoes.”

“Yes, and that can’t be good for them.” But I content myself to watch from a distance while Juno crouches low and sweeps up the offending shards.

He keeps sneaking glances in my direction, but he won’t raise his eye above my feet. He arranges himself carefully, his left side to me. At first I assume he’s trying to keep me in his peripheral vision, but then I notice the awkward way he’s moving his left hand. He’s trying to keep the back of his wrist toward me.

Alarm escalates into full-blown panic as I run through a list of things he could be hiding on the inside of his forearm. An injury? I’ve seen poisons and bombs forced into people’s bodies in the form of sub-cutaneous implants. Could something have happened to him?

I want to dive across the kitchen and grab his hand to get a better look, but I force myself to remain still. I trust Juno. I trust him. He’ll tell me what’s going on.

Any time now.

Though maybe with some prompting.

“Juno, please. Tell me what’s going on.”

He sweeps up the last of the glass and grabs a handful of scavenged takeout napkins to sop up the scotch before answering. “I met someone today on my way back from the office. Someone I used to know.”

My mouth goes dry. Miasma?

But he just turns his wrist toward me, like he’s revealing a deep, dark secret. The name scrawled across it reads Xabier. When I last saw him, the script was so faded it was barely visible on his skin. Now it’s dark and vivid, strengthened by fresh exposure to his soulmate.

I finally cross the kitchen to meet him, and there’s no pretense of broken glass to keep me back. I sweep my fingertips over his skin lightly, ready to pull back if he flinches. “Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Juno can handle himself in most cases, but he’s reluctant to hurt people he loves-- and it’s not unheard of for soulmates to turn violent when they’re denied.

“What? No. I’m fine.” He doesn’t seem to appreciate the flat stare I give him. “I’m fine!”

Gently, carefully, I slip my arms around his neck. “Alright. You aren’t hurt.” I believe you and I’m willing to listen. Please, talk to me.

He takes a few steadying breaths before he accepts. “He’s married-- was married-- to a friend of mine, back from the police academy. Was married, before I got involved. She introduced us. I don’t think she knew what she was getting into-- I was still going by Jay at the time, and I don’t think she even knew my real name. And I just took one look at him, and...” He falters and looks away. There’s shame in his eye.

I kiss him softly and try not to wonder if he’s comparing my lips to anyone else’s.

“She was one of my first clients, you know,” he says miserably. “Right after I got kicked off the Force. Wanted to know who was sleeping with her husband.” He laughs, but it sounds like breaking glass. The rattle of a broken heart. “Easiest case I ever solved.”

“Oh, Juno...” I don’t know what else to say. There’s nothing I can say that will stop him from hurting. So I lean my forehead against his and listen.

“They tried to make it work. I tried to be somewhere else.” I suspect that this is the part he’s already told me: months spent drowning himself in the men, women and drinks of Valles Vicky’s Vixen Valley. He told me that it was a rough breakup that sent him there-- he never mentioned that it was with his own soulmate.

Seeing him now, I understand why.

I let out a gentle sigh. “You said you saw him today. How is he?” There’s no room for jealousy here. Not when Juno’s hurting this way.

“Single, apparently. Guess the counseling didn’t work.” His eye is still downcast. “He wanted us to try again.”

“I see.” There’s no room for jealousy here, but it tries to squeeze in anyway. I shove it back as best I can. “What do you want, Juno?”

Finally he pulls back to look me in the eye. His expression is wary, but sincere. “You, Peter. I want you.”

#the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction #pnureyev

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ernmark · 8 years

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"What would you do if I had died?" jupeter prompt

I have two entire series answering that question.

Juno thinks Peter is dead | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 (Peter’s POV) | Part 4

#writing prompts #pnureyev

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ernmark · 8 years

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jupeter pushing daises type of power au (Juno is a detective who can bring the dead back to life with a touch but if he doesn't touch them again within a minute to kill them again, someone else dies in their place)

I’m particularly happy with how this one turned out.

Warnings for referenced gore and child abuse. And, you know, death.

He’s dragged out of the car by a pair of shaved yetis and thrown onto the diamond-studded lawn of a house he’s only ever seen on the streams.

He knew this place existed, but he didn’t think it was real– just an elaborately-painted set, all caricature and cheap imitation.

Boy, he was way off. This place is real, alright. But it’s a whole other kind of rabbit hole than the one he’s used to. The mansion is floating over the city, suspended by the same anti-grav thrusters that keep cars in the air. The grounds unfold from the main house, split with hedges and decorate walls in odd, sharp angles that might be great for getting a good camera angle but make him dizzy to look at. The house itself is too big to make any sense, perfectly balanced for ambient lighting and acoustics, but not for actually walking through like a regular human being. So when he’s dragged into the emergency wing, he’s half wondering how they got the body here in the first place.

Because it’s just that: a body. Shot up by lasers and shredded by shrapnel. The poor bastard is in so many pieces that he’s better off dead.

Which is why Juno’s heart sinks at the sight of him.

There are plenty of reasons somebody might drag him up here– his bookie might have sold his debts to a higher power, for example, and the Kanagawas might need a guest star for their next ritual execution program– but there’s only one reason they’d bring him to look at a corpse.

The room is empty, besides two women and their bodyguards. One of them is slight and small, pretty but in a way that would get lost amidst all the glitz and glamour of a place like this. Juno doesn’t think he’s ever seen her on the screen, but everything about the way she stands says that she belongs here. This place is her domain, and everyone knows it. But right now her face is gray, her brow furrowed in a way that wouldn’t be flattered by cameras if they ever caught her face. It’s the face of a strategist who just found out she had to rearrange all her pieces.

The other woman he’s seen before. She’s powerfully built, with imposing muscles stacked on an already intimidating frame. Most of her streams focus on the gym or the shooting range, though she inevitably makes guest appearances on other shows when she gets in one of her rages. Cassandra Kanagawa.

But he’s never seen her like this before. He’s never seen her look small before. But she’s shrunken into herself, her broad shoulders slumped, her knees hugged tight against her chest, her head bowed.

“Ah. Mister Steel,” says the strategist, stepping forward. “What a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad to see you could come so quickly.”

“I didn’t get much of a choice,” Juno says warily.

She doesn’t seem to hear him. “You’re quite a difficult man to find, Mister Steel.”

“Funny, I have a website and everything.”

“Oh, of course, that little investigative business. It’s darling, really. But your more specialized talents were harder to track down.”

“That reminds me, how did you find out about me?” He’ll need to know whose nose to break later. Already he’s compiling a list of people who know his secret. Sasha knows, but she wouldn’t tell anyone. Mick-- well, he was young when he let that one slip. Rita... he wouldn’t break Rita’s nose, but he’d definitely do... something.

But before he can get an answer from the strategist, Cassandra Kanagawa unfolds herself from her fetal position. She’s shaking when she strides toward him, but it reminds him an awful lot of the rattling of a tank under fire.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” she says. “The guy who brings people back?”

Juno tries to inch away, but he only gets so far before he crashes into one of the men who dragged him here in the first place. There aren’t a lot of places to run to.

“Listen, lady,” he says. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about what I do, but it doesn’t work like that. There are rules--”

“Screw the rules,” she snaps, and her voice sounds all too familiar. “My brother is dead, dammit! If you can bring him back, then bring him back!”

He wants to say “I’ve seen your streams-- did you even like your brother?” but he can’t. Because it doesn’t work like that. He didn’t like his brother half the time, either, but that never once stopped him from loving him with everything he had. That didn’t stop it from hurting when their mother killed him. That didn’t stop Juno from trying to bring him back. And it didn’t make it any less devastating to lose him again.

Cassandra’s hands are wrapped around Juno’s biceps. She’s got the kind of grip that could break bones if she wanted to, but she holds him gently. There are tears welling in her eyes.

“Please,” she whispers, and his heart breaks all over again. “Please bring him back.”

He should say no. He knows he should. That’s the responsible thing to do. What she’s asking for is wrong, and he knows it. But looking at her, he can’t. He just can’t.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. But there are rules--” He’d like to get further than that, but right then the air is crushed out of his lungs by a violent hug.

There’s an upside to working with the Kanagawas: they live and die by the contracts they sign. They’ll never double-cross what they’ve put down in writing, and all the tricks they intend to pull on you will be spelled out in black and white (even if it is two-point font and written in invisible ink).

Cassie handles his side of things, and she knows all the tricks, and she writes in protections into his side of the contract. A healthy compensation package, for one. A promise of protection by the Family from its enemies, in exchange for an exclusivity agreement (”that’s to make sure nobody else can force you into this kind of position,” she explains). They’ll keep his secrets, and reinforce that nobody else spreads the word, either. Cecil won’t be revived until he’s outfitted with cybernetic implants, so he won’t die on the operating table. And then there’s the matter of cost.

Somebody has to die. That’s just how it is. Juno can bring people back for a few seconds at a time, but if they’re going to stay any longer, he has to exchange their lives for someone else’s. A dog won’t cut it-- he found that out the hard way. A rabbit might, but the poor things don’t deserve that, and besides, there’s no way of telling if they’ll work to revive a human anyway.

It’s got to be another human.

Not a kid, he has Cassandra write into the contract. Not some innocent nobody off the street. Cassandra’s the one who suggests they pull from the people slated for a ritual execution. They were going to die anyway, she argues. And at least this way it’ll be quick and painless, instead of whatever her father’s got planned for them.

Juno doesn’t like it, but he’s already agreed to take part in this, and there’s no turning back now. It’s the best option he’s got.

And Cassandra agrees. Which is why she-- well-meaning, he’s sure-- takes him to a sub-basement one night.

“We found him,” she says, excited, throwing open the door. “He’s a thief who tried to make off with one of Father’s favorite sculptures a few weeks ago. He’s slated for dismemberment for our Shark Week special, but I talked Father into letting us use him for Cecil.”

Juno wishes she hadn’t done that.

The man is maybe Juno’s age, but tall and willowy. Imprisonment hasn’t been good for him-- his shiny dark hair is disheveled, his glasses are broken, and his skin is starting to look sallow from lack of sun-- but he stands with a grace so deliberate it’s nearly defiant.

“A visitor,” he muses, but there’s a sharp edge in his tone. “I do wish you’d given me some warning. I would have made myself presentable.” He extends a hand, and Juno notes with dismay that one of the fingers on that hand has already been broken. “Rex Glass.”

“Would you cut that out?” Cassie snaps, but Juno takes Rex’s hand, careful of the broken finger.

“Juno Steel.” He lets go, but Rex’s hand lingers on his for a moment. This might just be the first gentle touch he’s felt since he got caught.

“Not a Kanagawa? What a surprise.” He flashes a cherubic smile, and Juno’s insides twist a little. “Tell me, Juno. What brings someone like you to a place like this? Not my new bunkmate, are you?” His eyes flick up and down Juno’s body just once, appraising what he sees there-- and apparently liking it, if the curl of his lips is any indication.

“Your executioner, actually.”

Rex sighs. “Oh, how dull.” It’s a good act, but it’s an act all the same, and Juno knows it. This is a man who has lost everything but his dignity, and now he’s brandishing it like a shield between himself and everything the Kanagawas throw at him. “Ah, well. It’s a pleasure to meet you all the same, I suppose. Though I imagine our parting won’t be nearly so pleasant.”

But any shield can break. Even the most dignified man can be broken to grovelling with enough pain. And being cut into chum while you’re still alive and kicking-- that’s enough to make any man beg.

“Probably not,” Juno agrees grimly. “But there’s been a change of plans. Your Shark Week debut’s been cancelled. You’re still going to die, but it looks like you won’t be snuffing it in front of a live audience after all.”

“Oh. Well.” He tries to act dismissive, but it takes him a few moments to catch up with his act. The relief on his face is gut wrenching. A man shouldn’t have to be grateful to not be tortured to death. “I do appreciate the change in schedule. Might I ask what brings about the change in plans?”

“Family matters,” Cassie growls, and Juno almost jumps. He forgot she was still here.

“You’ll be needed for something else,” Juno says, because he he has to say something. “You’re still going to die, but it’ll be quick. And it’ll be private.”

Rex’s smile is soft, and so sincere that Juno suddenly wants to grab him by the wrist and run. Out of this mansion. Out of this city. Out and away and safe, because he doesn’t deserve to die like this. He doesn’t deserve to die here, now. By all rights he should be angry and railing against the world, but all he does is smile. "What more could a man ask for?”

Even with all their fortune speeding up the process, it takes almost a week to get Cecil outfitted with all the necessary cybernetics. In that time, Juno is a mandatory guest of the Family-- a safeguard in case something happens to him between now and the big event. He was only allowed a single trip off the grounds to gather his things and lock up his apartment.

He spends as little time as possible with members of the Family besides Cassie, and not just because of all the cameras. Being here dredges up uncomfortable memories of his own family, and it reminds him why he spent so much of his childhood running away from home.

On Cassie’s advice he keeps to the backstage tunnels reserved for the technical crew. He gets lost once, and finds himself in the sub-basement that holds Rex.

When he goes back, it’s intentionally, and with a finger splint he’s stolen from a first aid kit. The bone won’t have time to heal, of course, but at least that’ll keep it from getting painfully jostled every time Rex tries to use his hand.

Juno sits with him longer than he should, just talking. Apologizing for what he has to do. Rex tells him about the places he’s been, the wonders he’s seen, the people he’s met. It all sounds so beautiful when he describes it. There are entire worlds out there, and he’s genuinely in love with all of them. You can see it in the way his eyes light up.

How can his eyes be so bright all the way down here?

The day comes.

Cecil is thawed out and set on a hospital bed. The family is watching through cameras from well out of reach, their likenesses projected onto screens around the room. The doors are all locked, leaving Juno alone with Rex and the body and the growing hollow in the pit of his stomach.

“Ready when you are,” says a technician over the intercom-- one of an army of doctors set to come in and attend to Cecil once he’s revived.

But Juno can’t do this. He can’t.

He’s seen Cecil’s streams and feeds. He knows the kind of thing that man has done. And it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. You can’t just trade a man like that for someone like Rex. But the goddamn universe doesn’t care about fair, it just cares about balance, and it doesn’t understand that there’s nothing balanced about this.

“Juno?” Cassie says, her voice tinny and hesitant. “Is there a problem?”

Juno doesn’t look to her concerned face plastered across the far wall. His eyes are on Rex.

He can’t do this.

“Somebody else,” he says, his voice raw. “Get me somebody else.”

There’s a frustrated sigh from a cousin whose name he can’t remember right now, but their voice is covered by Min’s. “Of course, Juno, dear. I understand. It can be so easy to get attached. Niko, darling, what does the Shark Week schedule look like? We’re going to have to make a last-minute substitution.”

For the first time since he’s met Rex, panic flashes across the thief’s eyes.

“Juno,” he whispers, so low the cameras can’t overhear. “Juno, please.”

Min is still making arrangements over the intercom. The substitute will be brought in, and Rex will take his place, where he’ll be sliced into pieces an inch at a time.

This is a locked room in the heart of the Kanagawa stronghold. There will be no daring rescue.

There is no saving him from anything except the sharks.

So Juno crosses the room and he touches Cecil under his remaining organic eye.

Cecil wakes with a gasp. He’s shocked, bewildered, grabbing at an arm and legs and half a face that weren’t there before. His family and medical team fill the air with their words, welcoming him back and asking his condition until the intercom squeaks with feedback. All the cameras are pointed at the risen man. Nobody notices when Juno sets his watch and trudges away from the bed.

A hand grasps his sleeve and slides down to take his hand. When he looks up, Rex is there. Fifty-three seconds to live, and his eyes are still impossibly bright.

“You did what you had to, Juno,” he says softly.

“I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be.” Another hand, warm and soft on his cheek. “There are secrets I swore to take to my grave. I don’t think I could have kept that promise with what they had planned for me. Now I can.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!”

“Thus is the way of things.” He smiles. He’s got such a beautiful smile. “It’s alright.”

It’s not alright. There’s nothing right about this. Rex shouldn’t have to die like this. He shouldn’t be comforting the man who’s just murdered him.

But he leans his forehead against Juno’s and squeezes his hand, and they breathe together in shared silence as the seconds tick by.

Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.

“I’m glad I had the chance to meet you, Juno.”

Twenty-two. Twenty-one.

Even after weeks behind a prison door, his lips feel like torn silk. His hands are gentle and soft. It’s the kind of kiss that should last a lifetime, but not like this. Not like this.

Juno wishes he could give himself entirely to the kiss, but a part of his mind holds back, counting down the seconds. There’s only five left.

Four.

Three.

He pulls back, out of Rex’s grasp.

Two.

Rex’s hand is still stretched out to him. His eyes are wide with fear, but still impossibly, painfully bright.

And then the light behind those eyes goes out.

If Juno never sets foot on these grounds again, it’ll be too soon.

He’ll get out of here the moment the support staff finish loading up his car. Mostly what he arrived with-- and a body bag laid across his back seat.

Cassie arranged to let him take Rex’s body back with him, and she was kind enough not to ask questions.

It’s only a matter of time before decomposition starts to set in, so Juno will have to move quickly, but he’s already got a destination in mind.

If he’s going to bring Rex back, he’ll need someone to pay the cost. Someone who deserves to die almost as much as Rex deserves to live. Someone nobody will miss.

He gets onto the freeway toward Oldtown and pulls out his phone. The number is programmed into it just so he’ll know never to answer it.

It picks up on the fifth ring.

“Who is this?”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel. “Hello, mother.”

“Juno? What the hell are you doing calling me? Do you need money or something?”

“Just came into some, actually.” He glances at the body bag in the back seat. “Really got me thinking about the importance of family.”

#pnureyev #the penumbra podcast #fanfiction #writing prompt

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