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elvenbeard · 1 year

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Lucky

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: V is lucky to be alive still after a heist gone right but many other things gone wrong lately. Maybe it's not too late yet to pick up the pieces, but even with fewer and fewer options to go forward, his path seems unclear. (Post-Sun-Ending, Chapter 3/?, 4477 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, no warnings except for angst and a hospital setting >.>)

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The next thing V remembered was his biomonitor going off, beeping on high alert, the emergency protocol reciting its little speech.

“Vincent, it appears you have been in a car accident,” it said, “Remain calm, Trauma Team are on their way. Estimated arrival time: 90 seconds. Try not to move.”

He could barely breathe, let alone move. In his initial shock he didn’t even feel the pain as much, but he was squeezed in between his seat and steering wheel. The windshield was cracked, casting a kaleidoscope of red and blue and golden light across his face, blurry shapes running around outside. People were screaming and there was one hell of a commotion, more gunshots fired, police barking orders, but long before he could fully grasp what was happening, V’s consciousness faded again.

“Vincent?” a gentle voice brought him back from the darkness – how much time had passed?

“Stay calm, we’re getting you out of here.”

The man wore full Trauma Team combat gear. Before V had even come to his senses, they’d already forced the warped door open, put a neck brace on him, and maneuvered him out of the car. He didn’t remember how exactly, only that one moment he was still trapped in there, the next he lay on a stretcher, surrounded by medics, Megabuidling H10 towering above them. Police sirens were blaring, and the deep droning of the Trauma Team AV not far left of him made his head hurt even more.

“Client is conscious but disoriented,” one of the medics said, another listed V’s vitals and the drugs she was about to administer. At least four people were all over him cutting open his clothes, poking him with needles, shining lights into his eyes, and strapping him to the stretcher in preparation for transport.

“Vincent, do you know what year it is?”

“It’s just V,” he barely managed to croak, his throat dry and tight.

“Sorry?”

“Just call me V,” he repeated, “And it’s 2077. The fourth of September.”

“Very good,” the medic said, “Do you remember what happened? Where were you going?”

“Was on my way home,” he said as a strangely warm, numbing sensation washed over him, the painkillers probably, “Tygers crashed into me… right in front of my front door…”

The stretcher was lifted from the ground as soon as they’d fixed him to it. Due to the brace, he couldn’t really look around, but quickly the view of his old apartment complex was replaced by the interior of the Trauma Team AV. He’d wondered if he’d ever see the inside of one again, and he was actually very thankful now that Kerry had coerced him into purchasing a membership not that long ago.

“Kerry…” V murmured, but he barely recognized his own voice. Whatever they’d given him, it was the good stuff.

“Is he your emergency contact?” was the last thing V remembered one of the medics asking before he drifted off to sleep.

He wasn’t sure if what followed was a dream or not, flashing images of people he didn’t know talking to him, bright lights, strange noises, a sense of urgency and worry and confusion. Then just soothing darkness for a long, long time. There were worse ways to die than just fading out like this… he knew from firsthand experience. There was no fear in just falling asleep and never waking up again, no pain, no hatred and betrayal, no sorrow and regrets. There was no glory either… but by the time it came to it, V realized, that wouldn’t be his concern anymore anyway.

A familiar but unexpected noise slowly pulled V out of his deep, almost dreamless sleep. For a moment he wondered if any of this had even happened – from meeting Mr. B to infiltrating the Crystal Palace, to ending up in front of a red stoplight with the worst possible timing. But when he opened his eyes to bleak white hospital walls, reality hit him even harder. He was still here, still breathing, his heart still beating. He could still barely move his head either, but even without doing so, the warm calming presence squeezed onto the left half of the bed beside him was undeniable. He realized it was Kerry’s gentle snoring that had woken him up, that usually helped him fall asleep.

One of the perks of them both being kind of short and slim, they comfortably fit into a bed made for one person only. As far as he could see, Kerry still wore his dark grey jeans and V’s old smiley-face t-shirt – he usually did when V was gone for a couple of days at a time. His leatherjacket was draped over an armchair nearby and guessing by the soft warm light falling in through half-closed blinds, it probably was the morning after. At least V hoped so, and he hadn’t lost more than half a day unconscious in a hospital bed.

Wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through Kerry’s tousled hair, pull him closer, just hold him, in disbelief still that he was really here and not a drug-induced figment of his imagination, V tried to lift his left arm. But he couldn’t. Despite the painkillers, every little movement hurt, his limbs felt like they were made from concrete. Weakly he laughed to himself when the ironic thought “feel like I was run over by a car” crossed his mind.

Kerry’s eyes fluttered open at V’s croaky laughter breaking the relative silence of the room. The quiet whirring of the medical monitors and machines was barely louder than white noise. He shuffled and looked up at V with great worry at first, but it slowly turned into a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he said, voice still heavy with sleep, scooching even closer so that they were more at eye level. He reached up to gently caress V’s face with the back of his hand, shaking his head just slightly.

“Almost gave me at least three heart attacks yesterday,” he said quietly, his expression growing more somber again.

“Didn’t mean to,” V apologized, his own voice still sounding strange and distant to him. But he truly meant what he said. He hated to see Kerry worry about him, especially over something so stupid.

“I know,” Kerry said, resting his head into the crook of V’s neck, his arm across V’s chest now, holding him close but making sure to not press onto his hurting ribs too forceful, “Fuck… I’m just so glad I didn’t lose you. Dunno know what I’d’ve done.”

V shivered. Clenching his jaw and biting back the pain he reached up to put his right hand on Kerry’s arm draped across his chest, fingers gently massaging and trailing along his tattoo. It had always reminded V of armor in a way, protecting him against a world that had been anything but kind to him for so long. The last thing V wanted was to also make the list of people Kerry had been hurt by.

“I don’t really know anymore what’s going on with me lately,” V blurted out, but that was all he really managed before his throat closed up again, the words he’d seen so clearly in his mind slipping and fading away. Kerry didn’t move away one bit, and V couldn’t see his face, but there was audible concern in his voice.

“You’ve been… weird, yeah,” he said after a couple of seconds, “Preoccupied. Thought it was the stress of… y’know, everything. The bad news from the docs, that big gig, managing the Afterlife, all that?”

“I mean, yeah…” V shrugged. It was true, all that had been stressing him out, on top of it the secrecy, working for Mr. B of all people… But he’d done worse things for Arasaka, been under similar stress then and afterwards, and he’d never felt so out of it at any point in time before.

“But… it’s more than that,” he said slowly, “On some days it’s like I barely recognize myself in the mirror anymore.”

A long pause, just filled with the quiet buzz of the machines, distant voices on the hallway, and the faint roar of an AV’s engine flying by outside.

“Think this is… like, the aftermath of the Relic? Gettin’ worse?” Kerry asked, and it hurt V how frail his voice sounded.

“I mean, could be,” V said, and the thought had certainly crossed his mind, “Like… It was like this before, worse even. A few times I actually saw Johnny in the mirror for a second, not myself. And it was still bad for a few weeks after Mikoshi. But I actually thought it was getting better… For a while at least, Vik doing what he could.”

“Seemed like you were more at ease with it all, yeah,” Kerry mused quietly.

V didn’t even want to think it but… maybe Alt was really right this time. Maybe there was no way out of this. He’d been living on borrowed time ever since he woke up in that landfill. Any semblance of things improving could have been just wishful thinking, all the brain experts poking and prodding him with great interest and enthusiasm creating a false sense of hope that he clung to like a drowning person to a lifebelt.

But Viktor had been underestimating how much time he’d have left, and Alt had been wrong with her first assessment of the situation, too. Even the great fucking Hellmann was surprised at V being the living proof of something he’d deemed impossible. So many smart people, time and time again wrong with their assumptions and estimations as soon as the Relic was on the table. V just didn’t want to believe there was no way out. He wanted to live. Being held close by Kerry like this now more than anything reassured him in this wish. They deserved more time than what had been offered…

But maybe a “happily ever after” just wasn’t written in the stars for V. Hell, did happy endings even exist? V’s last hope was whatever Mr. B and his associates were up to, the people even Johnny Silverhand had warned him to not fuck with. V had seen them literally delete and overwrite other people’s memories, whole personalities, to achieve… what exactly? Turn them into puppets for their own goals, whatever they were? Or just as an experiment to see how far they could take it? Would he end up being something like that for them, too, or would they actually be able and willing to help? Even if he was only a good investment to them, to V it could make a huge difference… Or should he test his luck one more time and not put his fate and trust in their hands, and just… hope for the best and that all of this would somehow resolve itself on his own?

None of his options were appealing, and none seemed any more promising than the other…

“You said you needed to tell me somethin’,” Kerry said after a while, and V was thankful for being pulled out of his dark thoughts, “On voicemail, yesterday. ‘Not over-the-holo stuff’?”

He sighed. All roads seemed to lead to Mr. B, somehow. But before he could say anything, there was a brief knock on the door and a young medtech walked in.

“Ah, you’re up. That’s good!” she said with a bright smile, pressing a few buttons on the control panel by the doorway, and the blinds in front of the large windows slowly opened fully. Kerry reluctantly sat up, stretching briefly and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to somewhat get it back into its usual shape.

“It would have been no issue to get a guest bed in here, Mr. Eurodyne,” the medtech smiled.

“Nah, all good,” he shook his head and waved his left hand, with his right briefly squeezing V’s arm before getting up and making room for the tech to do her thing. V had never liked doctors much, neither hospitals, or anything that fit that overall category.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to have a quick look at your biomon readings and superficial injuries, then I’m outta your face again,” the tech said, “I’m not sure if you remember by the way… We spoke briefly yesterday, but you were a little out of it.”

“Um, no, I don’t, actually,” V confirmed.

“No problem! I’m Jayda,” she said, “Dr. Fuentes is your attending physician, she’ll come in shortly with a few more questions.”

“She’s alright, talked to her yesterday,” Kerry chimed in as he put on his shoes over by the armchair.

“Okay,” V just nodded as Jayda tapped around on her datapad.

“Your cyberdeck and a few of your neural implants got a little bit shaken up from the accident yesterday. Your personal link broke, too, but nothing our techies couldn’t fix. I’m just checking if everything’s in order. Got any visual glitches, something feeling off? How bad is your pain on a scale of zero to ten, and where is it worst?”

She continued with her questions. V answered everything to his best ability but was relieved when she finally left the room again with the promise of breakfast being brought in soon. Kerry had meanwhile settled down on the armchair, leaning forward with his elbows propped up on this thighs and hands loosely folded. His right leg was bouncing slightly, and he looked at V with a light frown.

“So, I guess if the doctor gives her okay you can take me home with ya today,” V said, trying to smile.

“Hm-hm,” Kerry hummed, “And ya better believe I’m gonna make sure you finally rest your ass a bit.”

V chuckled, but instantly regretted it when the pain in his ribs reminded him just how right Kerry was about his demand.

“I actually told Rogue already I’d economize a bit. Not come in for a week or so,” he remembered, “Couldn’t have planned it better, I guess...”

Kerry’s face lit up.

“So… I’ll have you all to myself, until you’re better?”

“Until I’m better,” V said, “And beyond, I hope. What’s the point of workin’ my ass off trying to save my life and then not living it with the people that matter.”

Kerry smiled, but then hesitated, tilting his head.

“Wait so… your super-secret gig… It was actually, literally…”

His expression and voice were a mix of all sorts of emotions, confusion, curiosity, concern… but also a sliver of hope. V almost regretted having said what he did now because he didn’t want to raise any hope where there might be none.

“I… don’t know for sure yet. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he explained, and Kerry slightly slumped back after perking up in careful excitement first.

“But not here,” V decided, half expecting a nurse to come in any moment, “As soon as we’re home.”

“Alright,” Kerry nodded, a little more soberly, but still smiling at him.

Hospital breakfast was, well, hospital breakfast. Not the worst, but also not particularly good.

“With how much you fork out for that Platinum policy you’d expect them to serve ya a full 5-star menu here,” Kerry muttered before he took a sip of V’s coffee, then made a face and put the cup back down, “I’m gonna go for a smoke, and maybe grab some proper coffee from around the corner. Want me to bring you anything? I’ll be quick.”

“I don’t think I have any clothes actually…” V noted as he looked around, and he was dressed in only a hospital shirt. His right hand shot up to his chest, his neck, searching for his necklace, but it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. His pulse sped up, but thankfully, Kerry didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll take ya home naked, too,” he teased instead and kissed V on the cheek as he got up from his chair, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

V chuckled, and ran his fingers through Kerry’s beard, tracing his jawline, trailing down his neck, along his cyberware to his collarbone… he really had to get his act together before he’d pull Kerry down into bed with him again.

“I’ll hurry,” Kerry said quietly, and V couldn’t help but notice the desire in his voice, reflected in reluctant movements, not quite willing to pull away and actually leave him now... So much so, that by the time he’d finally made it to the door, he almost collided with Dr. Fuentes coming in.

“Oh, apologies,” she smiled and stepped to the side to let Kerry pass.

“I’ll be right back!” he called over his shoulder before heading out. The doctor then walked over to V’s bed, and his uneasiness rose again.

“I’m Dr. Fuentes,” she introduced herself, “Very glad to see you up and well, all things considered.”

She held a datapad and linked it up to the monitors beside V’s bed, quickly checking the readings the same way Jayda had done earlier. V couldn’t really guess her age, she looked quite young for a doctor, but the way she moved and spoke made him guess that she was much older than she appeared. Maybe not quite Kerry’s age but seasoned for sure. There was no hint of grey in her dark curls tied back into a ponytail, and she studied the monitors with keen eyes. In the strangest way she reminded him of Takemura, but he wasn’t even sure why that was his first connotation. There was little they had in common, appearance-wise. It was more the energy she gave off, calm and professional outwardly, but something else slumbering beneath the surface.

Dr. Fuentes looked up from her datapad, smiled at V, and then she pulled up a chair and sat down to be more at eye level with him.

“Everything’s looking good, we got your toxicology report as well now, and there is nothing out of the ordinary either,” she said, “Although your liver values aren’t as good as they should be for someone your age. Do you drink regularly?”

“No, I don’t drink. Don’t react well to alcohol,” he said truthfully.

“Hm. Any drugs, strong medications? Some painkillers have a harsh impact on the liver.”

V hesitated, and Dr. Fuentes continued to gently smile, but it somehow made him even more suspicious of her.

“I’m not asking to condemn, just to make sure I have all the information I need to be able to help you,” she said calmly.

V almost wanted to say “I sincerely doubt you’ll be able to help me” but he bit his tongue.

“Can you tell me a little bit more about your condition?” she then asked, catching V off guard, “We did a brain scan yesterday, but what we found did not align with what we expected.”

She turned around her datapad, showing him the results. V looked at the familiar images intensely, trying to make out any differences to the last one that Dr. Williams had done, the head of that team of specialists Kerry had assembled. He didn’t notice any glaring differences, but overall, it still didn’t look good. He didn’t know where he’d even start explaining, or if he even wanted her to know anything about this. All it would lead to was a mountain of uncomfortable questions.

“Mr. Eurodyne said you have consulted with specialists about this already,” Fuentes said, “Neurology is my area of expertise as well. We obviously only have this snapshot of something that seems to have been going on for a while, but to me, it looks like a degenerative disorder of some sort? Resulting from an old injury, Mr. Eurodyne said?”

“That’s partially correct,” V said quietly, “It’s a long, complicated story, and I don’t want to go into details, frankly. Brings up a lot of bad memories.”

He had hoped that that would discourage her enough to let it go.

“I see,” Fuentes said, taking the datapad back, “Do you have any older scans, from when the injury was still fresh, or the time in-between then and now? We don’t have to discuss details or specifics, but if I could get an idea of how this started and progressed, maybe…”

“Let me stop you right here,” V said, much harsher than he’d planned to, but he couldn’t take it back now, “I… appreciate the concern. And what you’ve done for me already. But I’d like to leave it at that and just go home.”

Fuentes looked at him intensely, and yes, this was exactly what reminded him of Takemura about her. There was a fire in her intelligent, foxlike eyes, a sliver of obsession, and determination.

“If that is what you wish I won’t be standing in your way,” she said calmly, but he noted a certain almost challenging undertone, “I’ll prescribe you more painkillers, but everything else should resolve itself on its own. We can remove the cast on your wrist in a week, and at the very least until then, given your condition, I urge you to take it slow and rest.”

She slowly got up from the chair, tapping around on her datapad. It seemed like she was about to turn to leave, but then she hesitated and turned around once more. She wouldn’t just let it go, V hadn’t expected otherwise.

“Promise me to give it another thought,” Fuentes said, “I have been working with patients suffering from MS for years now, and we are working on treatments that are, admittedly, aggressive, but also showing extremely promising results.”

V hummed.

“You’re not by any chance affiliated with BioDyne?” he asked, “I’ve seen their ads. The 700,000-eddies-a-month therapy.”

Fuentes dropped her professional façade for just a second, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment if V had ever seen one. Then she smiled again, regaining her composure.

“I don’t work for BioDyne, no,” she said, “Only for my patients.”

“Either way though,” V said, “I don’t have MS. Actually, I’m pretty damn sure that I’m the only person on the fucking planet who has exactly what I have.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Fuentes said, “The same treatments can sometimes help ease different conditions. Or be repurposed with some adjustments.”

She looked him over intensely once more, then her eyes lit up pale blue as she sent him her contact info, the sight giving V goosebumps for a moment.

“Give it another thought,” she said, “You’re still so young, have your whole life ahead of you. And you seem to have at least one person at your side that cares a lot for your wellbeing. Talk it over with him, and give me a call when you’re ready. Jayda will be back shortly with your discharge papers and personal belongings.”

With that she turned around and left the room. V sighed and slumped back against his pillow, coffee and breakfast leftovers on his tray long cold by now. He was tired of thinking about the rest of his life, being told that he had “so much to live for”. Not that the people saying that were wrong. He had Kerry, Nibbles, a job he was really fucking good at, that allowed him freedoms and possibilities he wouldn’t have dared to dream of ten years ago. He had made a lot of good friends over the course of the last months, since all of this had started. Real friends that actually cared about him, that didn’t just see him as a pawn in their games. Up until then it had only been Jackie who liked him genuinely as a person, not just as an asset, and after he’d lost him, V had been more than ready to just die. At that time everything he’d still cared about had died with Jackie.

But he was no longer ready to die. Regardless, being told over and over again how much he had to lose made the stress to find a way to survive almost unbearable. As if he didn’t know he was too young to die, too genuinely happy for the first time in his life to let it all fade away together with his mind and body. To have Kerry take care of him as soon as he couldn’t do it himself anymore, to watch part of him die along with himself as things proceeded to get worse.

V closed his eyes and started counting the seconds until he’d finally get out of this hospital, breathe some real air again, and clear his head.

Kerry came back before Jayda did, with some clothes for V, “real” coffee, and donuts. Then Jayda appeared with the discharge documents on her datapad that V signed promptly, as well as a plastic bag with his cut-up clothes and other belongings. She unhooked him from all the machines, and as soon as she was out the door he opened the bag, almost frantically looking through it for his bullet amulet. He found it wrapped up in the remains of his shirt, took it out with a sigh of relief and put it back on.

“I think I’d gone nuts if I’d lost that somewhere,” he said shaking his head, still holding the cold metal pendant in his right hand, the bullet that took his old and in in a way gave him his new life sharp and rough against his palm.

“I almost hoped they’d lost it, 'cause you'd never leave the house without your lucky charm,” Kerry teased, sitting at the edge of his bed again. He was still in his same clothes, hair still unkempt. He must’ve really just breezed home and past the nearest Caliente’s to be back as quickly as he was. V gently kicked Kerry’s ass, but he probably hurt himself more with his abrupt movement than the other way around.

“Serves ya right,” Kerry laughed as V groaned in pain and got up, “Need some help gettin’ dressed?”

“If you’re as good as dressing me as you’re with undressing me, I won’t say no,” V joked, flinching and hissing as he tried to get out of bed, body sore all over. Before his feet even touched the ground Kerry was at his side, holding his hand and helping him up. He smiled at V still, but like so often lately, his smile only covered up his pain and sadness about everything, wasn’t as genuine as it used to be. He knew there was no point in dwelling in the past, but in moments like this he wished he could turn back time. He’d lost count of how often he’d wondered if things were different now – and in how far – if he'd given in and taken Hanako’s offer instead of bringing the fight to Arasaka. He hoped that, at the latest three months from now, he wouldn’t wonder the same thing about Dr. Fuentes’ offer eventually.

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