#I mean Stain got up after his lung was punctured by his own rib

[problemswithbooks]

how do think a 1v1 between stain and endeavor would go? this is keeping the no killing rule for endeavor and stain is going all out.

It would really depend. If Stain caught him off guard, say, ambushed him in an ally somehow, then I think Stain could win. In any other situation I don't think he'd stand much of chance and would either be caught or have to retreat (if that's something he'd even do).

Stain doesn't have a very versatile Quirk. I hesitate to call it weak, because if he manages to use it, it's almost always going to be a guaranteed win for him as long as he doesn't stop to monologue or get tag teamed. But the reliance on blood for it to work limits it's use greatly. If it, instead worked similar to Aizawa's, he'd have more options and be a far more threating opponent.

The need for blood means he has to get close to his target. Even if he utilized something similar to Toga, he'd still only get a couple feet of range. And under either circumstance he'd require a fit body and some close combat training to be at all effective.

Knowing what his Quirk does also gives him a huge disadvantage, because his counter becomes obvious--just don't let him get close. He never managed to get Shoto's blood because Izuku was able to warn him about how Stain's Quirk worked, so Shoto made sure to never let him get to close. In the end Stain found an opening, but that was probably due to Shoto's lack of experience, close quarters of the ally, and Stain deciding to ditch using his Quirk and instead going in for a kill/maiming instead.

Endeavor is a powerhouse of a fighter, with a very versatile Quirk that can work close up or at a distance. Good for both defense and offence. With years of experience, and possibly having fought more villains then even All Might, it's safe to say he's a tough man to bring down. Even nearly perfect Shigaraki had trouble with him at times. He also has an extensive team of sidekicks that can come to his aid if needed.

If Stain didn't get a surprise attack on him and manage to get his blood before Enji knew he was in a fight, Stain might not be able to get a second chance. This is particularly true if Enji knows how Blood-Curdle works because he'd have his guard completely up and wouldn't risk letting Stain get close, even if he thought he had an opening.

From there, things could only go Stain's way if he decided to drop the idea of using his Quirk and instead go directly for a kill. Now, that might seem a given, but one thing Stain loves to do is talk. He likes to give his manifesto of sorts to his victims--he wants them to know why he attacked them. Given Enji is such a high ranking Hero I'd think he want to do the same thing--maybe even more so then with his past victims because Enji has such a powerful position in the system he views as corrupted. But, maybe he'd see Enji as to much of a risk, or to corrupt to bother grandstanding to, and ditch using his Quirk once he was at a disadvantage.

But even if he went straight to killing it would be an uphill battle. Stain has no fire resistance, and Enji, if we take Shoto's firepower as an indication, can get so hot it melts metal at times. Which is bad for Stain not just due to his own lack of burn proof body but also for his weapons which Enji could melt before they struck him. Sure, Enji can't keep that up for long, but in the very least he could hold off Stain's blades until a sidekick turned up to assist him.

Stain's best options would be to keep his distance and throw his blades--preferably aiming for Enji's eyes if possible, or the back of a knee, or ankle. It would both incapacitate Endeavor to a degree, but also, due to the pain, Enji might lose concentration on his flames long enough for Stain to get a fatal blow in before he recovers.

As for the other way around and what Enjji should do to beat Stain, I'd say tire him out. Using his flames to push Stain out of dagger throwing range, and then to keep him constantly moving to avoid an attack, could easily end the fight with Stain's exhaustion. Again Stain has no fire or heat resistance, and constantly moving in close proximity to hot flames could easily give him heat stroke way before Enji's more resistant body would feel any effects. And even if Stain decided to withdraw Enji is able to get airborne and move at great speed in order to quickly track him back down.

As it is, I think under most circumstances this would be a relatively easy win for Enji. The only time Stain would have an advantage would be if he ambushed Enji away from his sidekicks and either managed to quickly cut him and use his Quirk, or go straight for the kill. In any other situation Stain's probably getting caught and sent to Tartarus with some pretty nasty burns. Which is sad because I love him, but my love can't make up for the fact that this would be a terrible match up for him.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 14

Prompt: “I didn’t mean it”

Part 2 of Hell in Hoth

Read Part 1 here

Read on AO3

The Ground is My Halt

The Force feels wrong. Obi-Wan wrong. Without explaining himself, Anakin breaks out into a run and Rex reacts instantly. The mouth of the tunnel is just ahead, and as they run the figure of Obi-Wan comes into view. His saber is drawn, arms pulled back in the classic opening position of Ataru, which is the first clue that something is wrong.

The second is their old training bond tightening with such force it nearly makes Anakin trip over himself. Master? He says through the bond, and Anakin's chest tightens.

"Obi-Wan?" he yells, trying to get his attention, but his former master's eyes just widen, and his arms go limp. His lightsaber clatters to the ground, and Obi-Wan follows soon after, his lips moving but nothing that Anakin can make out. "Obi-Wan!"

He grabs Obi-Wan by the shoulders and turns him over so he's lying on his back. "I'm fine," Obi-Wan gasps, his pupils blown and glassy. "I'm okay."

Anakin looks up as Cody comes running. "What happened?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing!" Anakin gripes. Obi-Wan's chest is rising and falling shallowly, wheezing with every breath. "It sounds like his lung collapsed." Anakin slips his hand from behind Obi-Wan's back to get a better grip but the dark red that now stains his glove catches him off-guard.

"Turn him," Rex says, also seeing the blood. They carefully flip a half-unconscious Obi-Wan onto his side, and Anakin draws in a breath at the sight of a quickly spreading stain of blood soaking through his parka. He curses under his breath, grabbing his saber and cutting through the material of the coat. What it reveals makes a new rush of anger slip through.

Pieces of fabric-- pieces of his tunic, it appears, though they are bright red instead of beige now-- hang sloppily off a wound in the center of the right side of his back.

"Why didn't you know about this?" Anakin asks Cody, not bothering to filter his annoyance. It's not the commander he's mad at-- it's his dumbass master who definitely tried to hide this without telling his companion.

"I don't... I don't know, sir," Cody says, muted. Anakin immediately regrets his tone, but he has no time to deal with that. From the blue tinge of his lips, Obi-Wan may not have time.

"We need to get him back to the ship!" He grabs Rex's busted commlink and pulls his own off his wrist. It was also broken in their fall, but Anakin assumes there are enough parts between the four of them to do a quick fix. It takes him only a few minutes to rewire the comlink, using the intact speaker of his and the localizer of Rex's. He hands it back to Rex. "Call for evac."

__________

It doesn't take long for the med unit to reach them in the ice lab. Cody stands out of the way, watching a Kix and Helix carefully load General Kenobi onto a stretcher and strap an oxygen mask across his pale face. Skywalker is pacing, and Rex is running alongside Kix, probably explaining the situation.

That should be me giving the brief, Cody muses, following behind them. I was with him.

Skywalker's harsh tone hit Cody harder than he expected it to. Usually, he is immune to the curt words of the temperamental Jedi, but the intensity he looked at him is what seems to be weighing on him. The slanted stare that is usually directed at their enemies suddenly aimed at him.

He's scared, Cody reminds himself. It's quite obvious that the Jedi aren't always good at practicing what they preach, and the Hero-Without-Fear or whatever the holonet likes to call Skywalker have obviously never met the kid. When it comes to Kenobi or Tano, there is only fear. Understandably so. Even Cody was thrust into a panic when he saw his general crumble. He didn't know if there were enemies hiding somewhere and managed to snipe him, or if the lab had been rigged. But now, the wound was already scantily dressed, and now Cody just keeps racking his brain as to what could have happened.

Why didn't you know about this?

They were falling. The ship became unbalanced and they fell from what felt like one end to the other. Cody knows Kenobi managed to use the Force to cushion his fall, but maybe... maybe he didn't use it for himself?

It sounds preposterous, but a part of him isn't surprised. General Kenobi is well known for having more regard for others than himself. Even when it comes to the clones. No matter how dispensable they are by principle, he never cared. It's why he's so respected, so fiercely beheld by his men.

Cody wonders how they would react if he didn't come back. They're in the evac ship, crowded around the stretcher while Kix and Helix try their best to stuff sterile bandages into the wound. Skywalker stands in the corner, arms crossed and face hardened, but his eyes are unfocused. He is somewhere else entirely right now. Rex puts a hand on Cody's shoulder but says nothing. Cody prefers it that way. If General Kenobi doesn't come back, it would be his fault. He knows that.

Everything happens in a blur. They get back on the ship and General Kenobi is whisked away before the gunship even has a chance to fully land. The urgency of their actions doesn't escape Cody. He watches them solemnly as they disappear in the direction of the medbay.

Focus, he shakes away the thoughts of Kenobi on the operating table. The mission. The lab. A science lab in the middle of Hoth is not something they see every day, and he suspects it can't be for a good reason. The blood was proof enough of that.

Distracting himself will do him some good, The least he can do is his duty. He heads to the bridge to deliver the scan of the lab to report to the Jedi council.

"Commander," a voice rings out hesitantly. Cody stops and turns to see General Skywalker standing a few meters away. He salutes.

"General, what can I do for you?"

Skywalker walks up to him, his eyes seeming to attempt to gauge his emotions, but buckets don't show emotions and Cody is thankful for that.

"What did you find in that tunnel? What was all that?" His tone is more sedate now. More normal but still obviously filled with worry.

"A lab, I believe sir. I'm about to take our findings up for briefing if you would like to join me."

Skywalker nods, and they start walking to the bridge. Cody can feel the strange tension around them-- he doesn't have to be Force-sensitive to pick up on that fact. Maybe Skywalker is still cross with him. Blames him for what happened. Cody looks down at his comm, expecting a blinking light containing an update on Kenobi's condition. His commlink remains stagnant.

"I uh," the general says, quietly at first. "I'm sorry, Cody. I was worried about Obi-Wan and... I didn't mean it."

An apology is not what he expected. Cody looks at him, not exactly sure what to say here. "No apologies, sir, I should have been more vigilant."

Skywalker scoffs. "Now you sound like him. Really, though. It wasn't your fault. He's pulled that stunt on me more than once. I don't know where he got so good at hiding stuff like this."

"I hear it's the secret to becoming a master," Cody says without really thinking about who he is talking to. It's a joke he has with the med crew because of the Jedi's propensity for recklessness-- and now he's just said it to Skywalker. I've been spending too much time around General Kenobi... Cody stiffens, looking at the Jedi Knight expecting a new reason for anger, but instead, he's smiling.

"Didn't realize you had jokes, Commander," he laughs.

"Senses of humor are part of our programming, sir."

It's a pleasant diversion as they reach the bridge. The Jedi council is already on the holo, and Cody's moment of relief is renewed by the many pairs of eyes that now watch him and Skywalker carefully. Cody sets the holoscan into the projector and begins his impromptu presentation of their findings.

__________

When Obi-Wan awakes, there is a tube in his chest and a mask over his face. His body is sore and still feels like it's defrosting. He reaches up to take off the mask, but his goal is stopped by the hand of his former padawan obstructing his pathing.

"Not yet," he says, and Obi-Wan begrudgingly lets his hand fall back to his side. "You are on O2 therapy for another ten minutes."

"What happened?" he asks, his words muffled significantly by the oxygen mask but Anakin seems to pick it up well enough.

"Oh I don't know, why don't you tell me? And while we're at it, we can discuss your field-medic abilities because honestly, Obi-Wan, they're horrendous." Anakin sighs, his emotion deflating. "You had a puncture wound that shattered one of your ribs. It was fine until you irritated it and a piece of your rib punctured your lung and caused some internal bleeding."

"Oh," is all he can say in response. That all sounds about right.

"That's not all," Anakin says. "The lab. We tested the blood on the floor and..." he lets out a deep breath. "It had a midi-chlorian count, Master."

Now Obi-Wan is determined. He reaches up, ignoring Anakin's pleas to leave the mask alone. He needs him to hear this clearly. "We must find Jenna Zan Arbor."

Anakin winces at the name. Rightfully so, she captured and poisoned him with a horrible drug that basically entrapped him within his own mind.

"How do you know?"

He slips the mask down to his chin. There's no point now. "I don't know if it's her or a copycat, but she's done this before," he swallows hard. "On Qui-Gon. Bloodlet him so he would have to use the Force to preserve himself."

Anakin takes a deep, labored breath at that information, sitting back in the chair beside Obi-Wan's bed. His gaze is far away, no doubt in the remembrance of his experience under her spell. Zan Arbor tends to have that effect on them-- suddenly they are padawans once again, trying hard to defeat an enemy that is not so easily beat with the blade of a lightsaber. The worst part of the delusional scientist is that she is cunning. She escaped the prison Obi-Wan helped put her in and has proceeded to evade them ever since.

Obi-Wan puts the mask over his mouth and nose once again, taking a moment to replenish himself.

"So we find her?"

"Yes, I believe that is our next step."

Though neither of them says it, they both know the thoughts of the other: this is not going to be an easy reunion.

[hollyhomburg]

so y/n can’t conceive anymore in empireverse? how sadddd 😭😭😭

i never said she couldn’t conceive- only that she hasn’t had her heat yet. her heat is connected to her omega- as is her inability to speak- the mental blockage caused by her trauma and the fact that she hasn’t fully healed yet. once she reconnects with her omega- she’ll be able to conceive again.   

let me remind you that omegas can’t shift in this au- or at least- they shouldn't be able to. (Also tw: for more implied assault, sexual language, violence, and gore, also murder? but like- y’all will be glad abt it)

I think it’s like a good day for you when it happens- you’ve recently taken to exploring out into the outer compound- tired of being in the same gardens as always. and it’s not like it should be dangerous, because you’re just walking with Jimin through the taller older trees when you happen upon them- they’re the sons of some royal family, not too high up in the social ladder of the city but not far off either. they’re the kind of boisterous Alphas that take first and ask questions later, their status only making them more inclined to do so- because which omegas could say no to them. 

the second they see you and jimin they start whistling and saying explicit things that would make most omegas blush. jimin pulls you closer- and tries to ignore them. but when they pass they step in front of you to stop both of you on the woody path- wondering where you’d be going- surely two omegas in the royal compound didn’t have anything better to do than entertain a few high alphas. “you should be honored- pretty things like yourselves” jimin slaps his hand away, “let us pass- or- or I’m warning you” 

 jimin tries to bow out- tries to bring attention to his priestesses gear but that only makes things worse- then they’re gearing- talking about how jimin should let them show him how a knot feels like- they swear the experience is heavenly- they swear he’d turn into a stupid cum slut the second he had a taste of alpha cum. one of them tries to grab you- and you look up at jimin so scared- and jimin sees red- steps up toe to toe with the alpha and snarls, shoving you behind him- using his body as a sheild between you and the alphas. 

because jimin- jimin knows he can survive whatever they could do to him- but you- he knows you’ll never come back if they carry through on their vulgar threats.

he’s deathly calm when he whispers, “I need you to run okay? go back and get the others and make sure you’re safe before they come and find me alright?” Jimin hears you turn, hears the crinkle of leaves as you dash through the woods. one of the alphas snarls “always did like a chase” and tries to run after you but jimin elbows him in the stomach sending him sprawling. The others regroup as he wields his hidden dagger, a tiny thing- ceremonial and dotted with sapphires- but it will have to do- holding it out in front of him to defend himself as the alphas circle him. “you bitch- you’ll pay for that-”  

jimin swipes with the dagger- misses, and takes one hit to the stomach before he finds himself sprawled in the autumn leaves, heaving for breath, the wind knocked out of him. He’s scrambling back, the alphas stalking towards him and yanking him closer by his ankle when he hears the sound- a growl that seems to shake the forest floor. 

Jimin looks up and his blood runs cold,

The wolf in front of him must be an alpha- there is no other reason for their size. only the strongest betas and alphas can shift- the larger the wolf the more deadly. jimin has only seen namjoon shift once- and even this wolf with it’s white fur wirey and matted with blood- seems larger than the leader of the empire.

 The wolf dwarves even some of the trees, rising taller than Jimin's head when he stands. whats more is that it looks mauled- great rents torn in its side. scars lacing over its muzzle. it’s underbelly look like it was shredded at one point- now scared over. it’s missing part of its tail, a black and bloody cavern where one of its eyes should be. Some of its wounds even seem fresh- spilling black blood onto the forest floor.  

the wolf shouldn’t even be able to stand with how injured it is- and yet- it growls, and Jimin sees his assailant's faces go pale. One of them tries to take a step backward, and the massive wolf zeroes in on its first prey- pouncing- leaping clean over Jimin who tucks his head and hides in the leaves, keeping one eye open on the carnage.

The wolf bites the head of one of the alphas clean off- felling the other with a quick lunge breaking his spine with a crack and the third- barely gets his knife out- managing to slash once at the wolves face before he’s being shaken like a rag doll in its maw- sending blood splattering everywhere- even over jimin, The warm liquid hitting his face. Only then- only after that does the wolf turn its eyes on jimin, eyes full of furry, chest heaving, panting into the open air. 

Jimin starts to hear feet running through the woods and thanks to his lucky stars- you’d made it to safety because the others are coming- Jungkook and his elite assassins can’t help but make noise walking through the leafy forest floor. 

The wolf might be bearing down- about to kill him but he knows at least- you’re safe, and an eerie calm hovers over him as the wolf walks close- and jimin closes his eyes- feeling peace settles over him- because at least he’d saved you- even if he’d never been able to tell you how he feels- he’d saved you from this. He waits for the flash of pain, taking in a final breath, the wind whips his robes- carrying Jungkook, Yoongi’s, and Namjoon’s sent on the wind, as the men shout when they see the wolf, swords drawn

but also your scent- it’s so strong- it’s almost like you’d never left. 

jimin opens his eyes, and the massive wolf is face to face with him. it licks at his face gently, letting out a low whine, cleaning him of the blood. wet nose nudging his cheek,  “Jimin” it’s Jungkook’s voice, “I need you to back up very very slowly okay?” Jimin can see in his periphery- one of his assassins cocking an arrow in his crossbow. “don’t shoot- Jungkook it’s- it’s” you look up- making eye contact with your pack, it’s Yoongi’s voice that punctures the silence, half worry and half disbelief 

“Y/n!?” 

and in the next breath, you're shifting with a pained whimper, bones, and tendons cracking, more blood spilling onto the forest floor with the force of the shift. jimin is surprised there isn’t more on your clothes when you finally fall forward into Jimin’s arms, he rises despite the pain in his side to catch you. his hands are urgent- little sobs hurling out of his lungs as his hands search in your blood-stained clothes- only to find not a single wound on your body- all except for a small scratch on your cheek. 

his body sagging over yours when he realized- you’re not mortally wounded- not like your wolf- that could only have been your omega and now- now that he’s seen your omega face to face- he can’t imagine how you survived your trauma if that's what your soul looks like. 

he teeters- unsteady, and namjoon rushes forward to catch you both. 

 it’s only namjoons hand on the back of his neck shouting jimins name has him looking away from you, the alphas crowding around both of you clinging to each other- “Jimin- are you hurt? did they hurt you anywhere?” and then jimin is shaking his head, tears spilling over his cheeks, his limbs shaking,

 “yes- they just- they were going to-” “I know baby I know” jimin barely lets himself shiver at the pet name before he’s pulling back, jimin can’t let go of you- won’t let go of you but that dosent mean Yoongi dosent lean in close cupping your cheeks and checking you for injuries. Jungkook shouting at the warriors as the rest of the pack runs through the woods accompanied by more soldiers, he looks panicked as he cups your cheeks, you rub at your eye (you’d gotten blood in it) “are you hurt my love? are you okay?” “I’m fine my head just hurts” you answer. 

and everyone- even Jungkook’s soldiers- turns and looks at you. 

“What- what did you just say?” Yoongi says, words stressed, his shoulders slumping, you seem to realize it- your hand reaching up to touch your mouth opening it, tasting the words- eyes wide, “I said-” you giggle at the sound of your own voice- kinda a little rough after so many months- but all the others laugh too, all of them pressing close. Yoongi pressing his nose to your cheek and crying, “Jung-kookie- yoongi- Namjoon” you say, and he honestly starts sobbing, all of them do because- you’re here- you seem more lucid than you’ve been in months. you make eye contact with jimin, a small smile playing on your lips, “Jimin i-” 

Jimin almost wants to sigh- your voice- he’d often wondered what it would sound like- if he’d ever hear it- and now he can, and it sounds better than music, better then bird song in the morning, better than hymns spoken on the holiest day of the year. 

You make eye contact with jimin, a small smile playing on your lips, “Jimin i-” 

they think you’re going to be completely okay- until you suddenly grip your stomach- leaning over and vomiting into the leaves. Your eyes rolling back the next second as you pass out- Yoongi supporting your body, the next few minutes are tense and scary- Jimin too- is a little too in shock to make the walk back to the compound but Namjoon carries him- Jimin's head lolling to look at where you lay in Yoongi’s arms, 

 the shouts of the others as they join- Namjoon yelling for them to bring the doctor. Seokjin’s panicked words “what happened to my pups” Jimin passes out from stress sometime after namjoon leans down close. “we’ve got you- you’re both going to be okay” 

when Jimin blinks open his eyes, he finds you curled up tight close to him and a sharp stabbing pain in his side, The doctor informs him that he’d broken a rib, and is on stiff bedrest for the next few weeks. you’re fine as well- as far as they can tell- you’ve only stirred since you’ve passed out- but the doctor gathers that the shift must have taken a lot of energy out of you. the shift- it barely hits jimin- a shifting omega- he asks the others- and yes- you’ve never shifted before today. 

The rest of the pack files in. all of them bowing before jimin, he’s barely sitting up before Seokjin is dashing forward and folding himself in between the two of you- “thank you Minnie- thank you so much- you saved her- you saved her twice and we’re never going to be able to repay you” the older omega is sobbing and all jimin can do is comb his fingers through his hair as he presses close. the elder scent marking him. 

namjoon- the leader of the empire- presses his forehead to the floor in front of jimin, “we will forever be in your debt, there is no limit to what we will do for you park jimin” jimin is tired, feels his heartthrob with the knowledge of the day, before jimin can respond, you turn, blinking your eyes up at him, and Jimin’s attention is diverted, glad he has another focus other than the alphas devoted looks that make a blush rise to his face. 

“Y/n- are you- can you” you blink your eyes and open your mouth you get out a single syllable before your throat is closing around the words and Taehyung is jumping forward, “don’t strain yourself- they’ll come back when they come back” but it is better- “I want- can we all sleep in here tonight?” jimin asks, looking shyly at namjoon- it’s bold for him to ask, even though he has actually slept in the same room as most of them before- he’d been well on his way to integrating the alphas back into bedtimes with you before today- the only one he hasn’t slept next to is Jungkook and Hoseok. and the others easily agree when you turn, nodding your head up and down rapidly. 

“well I guess we don’t have a choice” yoongi giggles, hand coming out to run down your hair and through it- you leaning into his hand, you try to talk again only getting out “yoon-” before you break off again- making a frustrated noise before taehyung is leaning forward to press a finger to your lip.  “don’t strain yourself baby, you haven't talked in almost a full year-” taehyungs smile is boxy and happy as he stands up “I’ll get you some tea for your throat- and call for dinner” 

dinner is a sleepy affair, somehow, jimin ends up with his back up against jungkook’s shoulder, the young alpha supporting jimin and his broken rib with a thick but gentle arm around his waist. You sit across namjoon’s lap and letting the alpha feed you pieces of sweet meat and hot vegetables. you leaning over sweetly to feed Taehyung and Seokjin and each of them- Hoseok shouting loud when you accidentally drop a piece onto his expensive silk robe, and that night- jimin gets to curl up in the middle of a pack pile, his nose pressed to the nape of your neck, Yoongi’s nose pressed into Jimin's hairline the same as yours, his body in line with jimin hot and steady behind him, your nose pressed into Jungkook’s chest, the hand of the young alpha resting over your body to hold Jimin’s softly. 

Jimin wakes late into the night, pain licking up his side, he hears the soft voices, the sound of kissing and dosent shift to listen but hears regardless- it’s Seokjin and namjoon, kissing in the candlelight. jimin hears the shifting of cloth, a low chiding noise, “when you offered that to jimin this afternoon- did you hope he would ask to stay?” 

“I did” namjoon sounds like a scolded pup- and Seokjin’s answering giggle makes the fear ease out of Jimin’s chest- he looked like he was about to combust puppy- wolves court for a reason silly alpha” Jimin’s eyes close so quickly as he feels Seokjin’s stiff fingers comb through the curls on the back of his head. “let him rest- before you give him any more anxiety okay? now he’s healed her- I have a feeling we’re going to need to heal him.” 

“You really think he’s going to be apart of our pack one-day Jin?” 

“I’d bet my life on it Joonie” 

Jimin's heart feels like it’s going to jump all the way to the moon. 

(only after this happens- can she have her heat again and therefore get pregnant)

[ssuibiann]

This is another ancient ficlet from my drafts, but after posting this I’ve cleared everything out, so yay? it’s for a 30 day writing thing i never finished. i just wanted it here because hurt!stiles getting looked after is always A+ and i find the concept of derek stress eating kinda funny?

i haven’t been active in this fandom in years, jsyk.

"Oh, hey," Stiles says and falls backwards into Derek's arms. "I'm bleeding. Again. Awesome."

Derek presses his wide palm over the wound in Stiles' side and drags him away from where Scott is wolfed out, snarling viciously at the not-so-harmless shopkeeper.

"I got knifed. This sucks," Stiles says. "I did not look forward to bleeding again. And for what? One stupid spell stone. Crap, that hurts."

"It can't be that bad since you're still talking," Derek says. "You'll be fine, Stiles, I'll--"

"Stiles!" Malia gasps, skidding to a stop next to them. She takes one look at the blood stain spreading on Stiles' shirt and snarls. Then she's off again, throwing herself into the fight.

"Scott!" Stiles calls out, his voice breaking. It hurts when he breathes and he hopes it doesn't mean the knife punctured a lung. At least he's not drowning in his own blood, that's gotta be a good sign. "Don't let her kill him!"

"Come on, I'll take you to the hospital," Derek says.

"We can't leave them," Stiles protests weakly, but Derek acts like he didn't even hear him. Instead, he picks Stiles up and jogs towards where they left their cars. Stiles doesn't have it in him to protest further. He lays his head against Derek's shoulder and tries to concentrate on how uncomfortable Derek's jacket feels against his cheek.

By the time Derek carries him through the hospital doors, Stiles feels woozy and his skin is cold and clammy to the touch. They are both covered in blood and Derek's lying something about a mugging, but Stiles can't concentrate when there are so many people fussing over him. And then he's being carried away from Derek.

"Derek," Stiles says, even though he doesn't know what he means it to be for.

Derek looks up from where a nurse has his hand on Derek's arm, stopping him from following Stiles. Their eyes catch and hold and Stiles keeps looking until a door swings shut between them.

***

"The blade glanced away from your ribs," Melissa is saying. "You are so stupidly lucky, Stiles, I hope you know that."

"Yep, lucky, that's me," Stiles says.

"He's something," Stiles' dad interjects from the other side of his bed, but he's stroking a hand through Stiles' hair, gentle and careful. "Eleven stitches, Stiles. What was it this time? Were-alligator?"

"Just a knife, dad," Stiles says. He feels tired and cold in his hospital gown.

"Just a knife," his dad mumbles from under his breath, but his fingers won't stop carding through Stiles' hair so he doesn't comment on it.

"Where's Derek?" he asks instead, and surprises himself with it.

"Stress-eating in the hallway," Melissa smirks. "He was on his fifth Mars bar when I left him there."

Stiles snorts, but the movement hurts his side, even through the pain meds. He decides it's easier to just roll his eyes instead. "Let him in before he ruins his girlish figure."

When Derek steps into the room, he looks shifty and has a smudge of chocolate in the corner of his mouth. Stiles tries really hard not to laugh.

"How are the others?" he asks when Derek is standing next to his father and they've exchanged nods like they're buddies or something.

"Fine," Derek says. "Malia's... upset. Scott's keeping an eye on her until she's calmed down. They'll come to see you later."

"Dude, I'm not that fragile. I don't need to stay at the hospital, I'm all stitched up, you can tell them to just come see me at my house."

His dad fidgets a little at that, but Stiles is not going to stay at the hospital, he's fine. "I'm not staying here, that's stupid," he repeats, giving his dad his determined face with some extra squinty stubborn eyes with it.

His dad gives Derek a look, like they are commiserating about him. Together. Stiles has entered a bizarro world where his dad doesn't want to arrest Derek. It's disconcerting and alarming. His dad might possibly like Derek. It's bound to get severely bad for Stiles' mental health.

[kousin-itt]

I Got Your Back - Part 4

WARNING: Blood in this chapter.

Also, I don’t pretend to know everything about first aid or the odds of surviving certain injuries. I just do my research and do the best I can. :)

Enjoy!

Part 4

“Cavendish? Cav, talk to me. You okay?” Dakota ran across the room, flipped on the lights, and returned to Cavendish to better assess his injuries.

Cavendish breathed funny. He was still in shock. He shakily lifted his hands from his ribs and found them and his blue-and-green jacket red with blood. He groaned and gasped.

For a moment, time moved slowly while Dakota’s mind raced. He’s going to die. He’s going to die again and I have to watch. I have to watch. I can’t just leave him now. I promise I’ll go back and fix this, but I just can’t let him die alone. In an instant, Dakota shook himself from his panic and got to work. No. Maybe I can save him. Maybe I can keep him alive, and I won’t have to go back in time to save him.

Dakota ran his hand over Cavendish’s back, and he felt another bullet hole leaking blood. An exit wound. He could work with that. Once more, Morgan’s voice seemed to manifest beside him and guide Dakota through his first-aid training. Dakota sat cross-legged on the ground and pulled Cavendish up onto his lap. Cavendish hissed through gritted teeth at being manhandled. Dakota pressed the wound on Cavendish’s back against his knee to stop the bleeding. He clamped his palm over the bleeding hole in Cavendish’s ribs. Dakota tried to map out the bullet’s path in his head. Ideally, it didn’t hit anything important. But Cavendish’s abnormal breathing and the bit of blood he coughed up said he probably punctured a lung.

“D-Dakota…..” Cavendish wheezed.

“Take it easy, partner. I got you.” Dakota kept a firm hold on the wounds to stanch the bleeding.

Cavendish coughed again. “I’m sorry……I thought…..I thought I could….”

“Man, you just smashed into that guy! It was awesome.” Dakota tried to stay upbeat. He used his free hand to pull out his temporal communicator and hit the distress button. Now, B.O.T.T. knew they were in trouble and needed backup. All Dakota had to do was keep Cavendish alive until they reached the medical bay at work.

Cavendish whimpered, his head lolling back.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Dakota set the communicator down and cradled Cavendish’s head in his hand. “It’s okay. Help is coming.”

“Dakota…..” Cavendish coughed and gagged a little. Blood leaked from his mouth and stained his teeth crimson.

“Quit breathing like that.” Dakota tried to sound playful and teasing, but his tone came out sharp. He listened for any sounds of footsteps. It doesn’t take this long for B.O.T.T. to respond. What’s going on?

“D-Dakota……I’m frightened…..” Cavendish whimpered. Dakota finally looked back to Cavendish. The Brit had tears in his fear-filled eyes. “I don’t want to die….not yet….”

Dakota momentarily froze. This wasn’t like the last time. Last time, Cavendish died quickly. The poison he accidentally ingested worked so fast that he expired in Dakota’s arms just as he registered what happened. Now, Cavendish was dying a slow, probably painful death.

Unless Dakota could save him.

Even more determined to save his partner, Dakota pushed a little harder on Cavendish’s ribs to slow the blood that tried to flow from under his palm. He winced when Cavendish growled in pain again. “Hey, look at me. Cavendish, listen to me. You are not going to die. I promise you, you will be fine.” Dakota checked the communicator. Still repeatedly sending out the distress signal. “Hey, listen. That bullet went right through you and came out the other side. That’s good. It means there’s no chunk of metal inside you that needs to be dug out. Our only concern is whether or not you’ll bleed to death.”

“I…I can’t…..breathe….”

“That’s probably from the shock. Or you punctured a lung. But as long as one lung is still intact, you’ll be fine. Take slow, steady breaths. Like I said, you’ll only die from blood loss at this point. I am not going to let that happen. You hear me? I got you, partner. I won’t leave you, and I’m not going to let you die here.”

Under different circumstances, Cavendish would be grateful and awed by Dakota’s devotion. At the moment, however, he could only register the burning pain that radiated from his injuries. Dakota could still see the leftover panic, and Morgan’s voice whispered something else in his ear.

“Cavendish, tell me about where you’re from.” Dakota requested.

“What?” Cavendish croaked.

“When we went out to lunch after Block introduced us, you said you were from a little old village in South England.” Dakota reminded him. “A field of hearts?”

“Hartfield.” Cavendish corrected. He struggled to control his breathing. Though his coughing eased, each one brought up more blood. “It’s a small village…..a wonderful blend of modern and ancient…..we live near the forest….it’s a huge national park…..Lizzie and I would go hiking every day…..it’s so quiet and peaceful and beautiful…..”

“Lizzie, huh?” Dakota cracked a smile. “Who’s Lizzie?”

“Elizabeth.” Cavendish began to smile. “My sister…..she prefers ‘Lizzie,’ says it’s…..more informal….”

“Is she hot?” Dakota twitched his eyebrows teasingly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Cavendish almost sounded like his normal self.

“What? Is she too young?” Dakota shrugged.

“She’s twenty-two……an’ too good f’you…..” Cavendish’s speech slurred a little. “Outta your league.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Dakota chuckled. “You and her pretty close?”

“She always believed in me……she gave me that watch……” Cavendish’s eyes were glassy again. That watch was in his satchel in the van. He wished he could hold it now. “I was supposed to…..go home for her birthday next month…..we were going to hike the old trails…..like we used to…..”

“Then I suggest you focus on surviving this.” Dakota encouraged. “Otherwise, who else am I going to annoy by dating their sister?”

Cavendish growled a little in annoyance, and he coughed a few times. His breathing sounded better. The burning pain became more manageable. “It’s so quiet up there…..”

“You’ll have to show me sometime.” Dakota suggested. “Can’t go on my own. I’ll get lost in those woods.”

Cavendish laughed lightly, which caused more pain, though he did not mind. He felt so at peace. Was he accepting his death? Or did he really believe Dakota when he said everything would be all right?

“Will you tell her…..I’m sorry?” Cavendish breathed. “If I don’t…..”

“You’ll be fine. What did I say? I promise you’ll be fine. I’m going to make sure of it.” Dakota perked up. The front door swung open and banged against the wall. Was it the police of this era or B.O.T.T.?

“Vinnie!”

Dakota could’ve jumped for joy. “Morgan! Up here!”

Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Morgan entered the room with her gun drawn. She was back in her normal jeans, boots, shirt, and blazer. Her eyes swept over the room, saw no danger, and she went to Dakota’s side.

“I picked up your distress signal. What happened?” Morgan demanded while checking over Vinnie.

Dakota didn’t dare move his hands. “I’m fine. Cav got shot. I tried to stop the bleeding.....”

Morgan pressed a button on her watch, and a light passed over Cavendish’s body as it scanned him. “Exit wound?”

“Yeah. But he coughed up a bit of blood.”

“We can work with that. Scanner shows damage to one of his lungs, but not severe. Mild internal bleeding, but it looks like you’ve kept him from bleeding out completely. Did you call for help?”

“You were the first to come.”

Morgan cursed and pulled out her own communicator. “Block! Did you see the distress signal and just chose to ignore it?!”

“Which distress signal?” Block’s voice snapped. “I got a hundred of them in the last twenty minutes! We had an accident in the weapons lab, and the tech guys screwed something up and now all the newest communicators are exploding. What’s the situation?”

“We got an agent down. Bleeding heavily. Gunshot to the chest.” Morgan reported.

“I’ll send you the coordinates for a time and place to meet the medics.” Block said. “Get the agent to their time vehicle for transportation.”

“Roger that.” Morgan hung up the communicator and dug around in her backpack. She first pulled out a morphine shot and stuck it into Cavendish’s arm to administer the numbing liquid. Then, she pulled out gauze and a roll of medical tape. She unbuttoned Cavendish’s jacket, and Dakota moved his hand from Cavendish’s ribs. In a flash, Morgan pressed some gauze over the still-bleeding wound and wrapped tape around Cavendish’s torso a few times to keep it in place. Dakota helped Cavendish sit up and slip out of his jacket so Morgan could do something similar to the bullet hole in his back. Cavendish’s jacket and navy-blue T-shirt were soaked with his blood, but Dakota tried to not think about it too much. His own cargo pants and hands were stained. Morgan tossed her supplies in her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “Keys?”

Dakota reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the time vehicle and the Triton’s Amulet. Anger coursed through Dakota’s veins when he saw the precious, bloodstained amulet. If they hadn’t gone on this mission, Cavendish wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Dakota had a thought to chuck the amulet out the window; but, instead, he pushed it and the van keys into Morgan’s hands.

“I’ll pull the time vehicle around to the entrance on the corner.” Morgan draped Cavendish’s coat around his shoulders and fastened the top two buttons so it hung on like a cape. “Meet me there and don’t jostle him.” She sprinted away, grabbing Dakota’s backpack of supplies from the door on her way out.

“See that, Cavendish?” Dakota hooked his arms under Cavendish’s legs and back and hoisted him up. “Told you you’ll be okay.”

Cavendish rested his head on Dakota’s shoulder, trying to control his breathing. He gripped the front of Dakota’s jacket almost unconsciously, as though to anchor himself to the closest living person. Dakota walked as smoothly as possible: down the stairs, out the door, and to the corner where Morgan waited. Dakota marveled at how easy he could carry his partner. Cavendish was much taller than Dakota, yet he was nearly skin and bones, making him easy to cradle in Dakota’s arms as they arrived at the van.

“You got a motorcycle for a time vehicle?” Dakota gawked, momentarily distracted from the situation at hand.

“Heck yeah, I did.” Morgan said proudly. “With the latest Hitch-A-Ride-Inator technology, so it’ll stay attached to your vehicle while we’re in the time stream. By the way, I saw the napping mattress in the back. A man after my own heart, I see?”

“I know you used a sleeping bag, but I wanted something comfier.” Dakota shrugged.

Morgan laughed lightly as she opened the back doors. “This actually works well for us. You lay Balthazar there and stay with him. I’ll drive.”

With Morgan’s help, Dakota could climb into the back of the van. He rested Cavendish on the mattress, checking the bandages to see if they moved much. When he realized Dakota did not hold him anymore, Cavendish suddenly felt vulnerable. He could not see much in the dim interior of the van. He felt around for his partner, and Dakota took his hand. The light of a temporal portal illuminated the inside of the van, and Cavendish saw Dakota’s reassuring smile.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Dakota promised.

The burning became a dull ache of an exhausted body. Cavendish only had the strength to keep his eyes open and on Dakota. He hoped Dakota could see how thankful he was to not be alone. Regardless if he lived or died today, he was happy someone was here with him.

Morgan steered the time vehicle into the right spot once they reached the future. Thanks to the coordinates Block gave her, they were well past the exploding phone and weapons incidents, and a medical crew waited for them. Morgan led them to the back doors, and Dakota helped load Cavendish onto a gurney.

“I gave him a morphine shot. He has moderate blood loss and a damaged lung.” Morgan told the medics. “Vinnie, you stay with me. I can patch you up while he’s in surgery.”

Dakota nodded and moved to join her. He felt a sharp tug, and he realized Cavendish now had a vice-like grip on his fingers. “Cavendish, let go. These guys are going to take care of you.”

Thanks to the morphine high, Cavendish couldn’t really comprehend anything except the most basic of thoughts. He’s leaving. Don’t leave. Don’t leave, Dakota, please. He was not even aware of his fingers curling tighter around Dakota’s hand.

“Get a morphine-friendly sedative. His heartrate is spiking.” One of the medics ordered.

“Cav, it’s okay.” Dakota soothed as another needle went into Cavendish’s arm. “I got your back, buddy.”

Buddy…..partner…… Cavendish’s world began to blur and then fade to black. Dakota……don’t go…..

[childrenoflight-darkness-nothing]

I tried to update the post and tumblr crashed every time. *caelum and Clarissa voice* this is homophobic.

Get your shit together please tumblr!!!!! Anyways, it’s not as long of an update as the last two 4.5kish word updates but like it’s 2.5k and that’s pretty good in its own right??? Fluff?? They can!! A bit!! As a treat!!

[[MORE]]

-

“It’s really not that bad,” she said, trying to make light of the situation when Adair sat down to examine her leg. Trying to crack a joke. Do anything to get that worried frown off of his face. She couldn’t see it through the mask, but Aislin knew it was there. His brow knitted together in concentration as he worked.

He was gentle as he cleaned the wound, muttering apologies whenever she winced. But aside from that he was silent. He hadn’t said anything to her since he’d found her in the hallway; not really.

And that was worse than anything else he could’ve done. Even yelling would’ve been better. At least that would be something. Aislin knew it had been reckless to run back inside that building. Reckless and fairly stupid. But she couldn’t leave anyone behind. She wouldn’t. And she hadn’t even given it a second thought and she’d ran back in after Ferret. If Adair was upset with her… he had every right to be. She’d defied orders, endangering herself and the mission in the process.

She just wished he would say something. Anything.

Aislin was silent as he tended to her wounds, first the gash on her leg and then he bandaged up her arm. She stayed silent as he filled a bowl with water and started to clean the blood off of her. A pointless task. Between Clarissa, Ferret, and her own wounds it would take a change of clothes and a warm shower before she’d be able to even remember the concept of clean again. But she let him do it; scrubbing at her hands first. His fingers traced lightly over the place a ring should’ve been before he moved on to her right hand.

She didn’t stop him until he’d returned the cloth to the water bowl, rinsing it. Her fingers traced over his cheek before she’d pulled his mask away, wanting to see his face.

“Abair rud éigin,” Aislin practically begged, tears beginning to form in her eyes. If he was mad she could handle it, she more than deserved it, but what she couldn’t take was another minute of his deafening silence. “Say something, please.”

Adair glanced at her with a shaky breath, his arms tangling around her waist in the next second as he pulled her close. “You can’t just—you have to be more careful, my love.”

“I was careful,” she promised. “I made it back, didn’t I?”

“Yes but,” Adair pulled away from her, his voice breaking as he took her face in his hands. His touch gentle. Eyes pleading. “You can’t just run back into buildings that are falling apart like that. You can’t. Ferret knew the risk when he volunteered, so did everyone in that team. They all—we all know what we’re getting into. You can’t just—“

Aislin rested her palm against the back of his hand, her head leaning into his touch. Her tone was soft, even, as she asked if he would’ve done any differently. If he would’ve left Ferret for dead. She already knew his answer of course. But she wanted to hear him say it. Wanted him to hear himself say it.

“No, of course not. But that’s different.”

“How?”

——

She’d changed into a pair of scrubs, insistent on helping out at the hospital after getting herself cleaned up. Not that anyone had let her do much with her limping around the ward. Aislin wasn’t badly injured, but the stitches in her thigh pulled painfully whenever she took a step.

Aislin made her rounds checking on everyone until Clarissa came out of surgery and was transferred into a room. Deirdre was the first into the room, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t directly involved with the Revolution, but she knew enough and frequented the hospital whenever Clarissa found herself hurt on a mission. Which was too often for the redhead’s liking. Aislin followed close behind into the room, finding Deirdre already studying the monitors.

“What does that one mean?” Deirdre pointed to one of the flashing lights. “And that one?”

Aislin gave them a quick glance. “Everything’s normal,” she assured before placing a hand on Deirdre’s back who turned to face her. “She was perfectly alert when I found her, making jokes even. Once the anesthetic wears off she’ll wake up. It’ll be a long recovery for sure, but Claire will pull through. She’ll be fine, Rey.”

Deirdre’s frown deepened at the nickname but she said nothing before falling into a chair at Clarissa’s beside.

When Deirdre continued to say nothing, Aislin pulled out Claire’s chart, studying over the Doctor’s notes before pointing out various injuries. She knew it would help Deirdre to know exactly what was wrong. “Fractured radius and ulna, right side. As well as a dislocated shoulder.” Her hand hovered over Clarissa’s casted forearm before gesturing to her right shoulder. “Three… no four broken ribs. She’ll need to be careful while those heal, or she could puncture a lung. Gunshot wound to the abdomen, it was a clean shot. Straight through and it didn’t puncture anything important. Worst case is an infection. Minor concussion. And a shattered femur, probably from when the building collapsed. That one is honestly going to be the worst of it. And she will be out of commission for a while, while it heals.”

Deirdre nodded along, compiling the list of injuries through her mind. It was truly nothing too serious. Especially after she’d heard of one of the other members of Claire’s team who had barely made it out with his life. Things could be worse. Everything could be so much worse. But still her girlfriend laid there pale and bruised and dead to the world.

“Thank you, Aislin,” she finally said.

Aislin nodded silently, giving Deirdre’s shoulder a slight squeeze before she limped out of the room. She found Castor brooding against the wall outside, arms crossed over his chest and head leaned down so that his icy stare was focused on the floor.

“You can go inside you know, Deirdre won’t mind.”

“I know.”

She squinted at him, tilting her head to the side as she noticed a tear in his shirt sleeve. The dark fabric stained with something even darker. Blood she figured. “Did you get that looked at?”

“Did I get what looked at?”

Of course he hadn’t… She sighed, shaking her head before pulling up his shirt sleeve to reveal a bullet wound. “It’s still in there… God...” Aislin let out a breath. “Never mind, you can’t go in there because you’re coming with me. And we’re getting that taken care of. Doctors orders.”

“Orders? Like you so graciously followed orders? And last I checked, you’re not a doctor,” he reminded her. “I’ll take care of it myself, later.” Castor shrugged his shoulders, wincing ever so slightly at the movement.

“I almost was.” She crossed her arms over her chest, returning his stern gaze. And pointedly ignoring his jab about her not following orders. She’d done the right thing, and she refused to apologize for it. The only thing she would apologize for was worrying Adair, and Carrick. She could still feel the way the lad had pulled her into a tight hug. Throwing his arms around her with a broken sob immediately after seeing her. The boy had quickly schooled his features plastering on a mask that would rival even Castor, but in that split second more guilt had hit her then when she’d been faced with Adair’s worried silence.

“Either way,” she continued. “I am more qualified than you are, so either follow me or I will drag you to an exam room myself. And that is a threat.”

“You, and what army exactly?” Castor gave her a ghost of a grin, a small shred of emotion reserved purely for his sisters and Tyde.

“I don’t need one.”

——

Aislin had gotten him to an exam room with little more argument. He sat on the table obediently while she washed her hands and pulled on a pair of gloves.

Castor pulled off his shirt, tugging the dried cloth fibers away from the wound as Aislin sat down beside him. He didn’t wince or even groan as she dug the bullet out with a pair of tweezers, keeping himself perfectly still from years of conditioning.

“You know,” she finally said, once she’d gotten the bullet out. The metal clinked into a bowl as she set it aside. “It’s a wonder I never noticed you and ‘Rissa were involved in all of this before. You’ve got enough scars to rival me, and you two seemed to always be covered in one bruise or cut or another.”

“We never wanted you involved. You finding out about us was a short step to you enlisting yourself…” he started with a small frown. “Once you get an idea in your head no one can sway you from it. Determined. And loyal to a fault,” he said the last word with a printed glance in her direction and she merely grinned at him. “And we were right, here you are. Back from your first mission, with a bullet wound of your own to show for it. Though that is Clarissa’s fault… giving us away by setting you up with MacClyde of all people.”

Aislin’s hand stilled over his wound. “You disapprove?”

“It’s not that…” Castor sighed glancing down at his hand. “He is good for you. And you’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. But, Aislin, you’ve been through enough already. Too much for one lifetime, much less ten. And this life, it isn’t easy–“

“He…” she started. “Adair was going to leave. Or try to, at least. For me.”

“You stopped him, of course.”

“I didn’t want him to regret anything. And we both know, involved as he is, the Revolution never really would have left him.” Aislin shook her head, returning to Castor’s wound. She cleaned it, trying to make sure she had gotten every fragment of the bullet out before she began stitching it up. “I chose this, Cas. I knew what I was getting into.”

The muscles in his arm tensed when she made the first stitch, a betrayal of calm exterior. He really hated needles. Castor said nothing more as Aislin stitches him up, his mind traveling to his sister in the other room. He’d gotten a rundown of her injuries from Johnson as soon as she’d been pulled out of surgery before he’d left to assist Avanda with Ferret.

Guilt still gnawed at him for nearly leaving the smuggler behind. And if it hadn't been Clarissa or Aislin on that mission with him, he would have run back into that building himself. He hated having even needed to assign her to the mission. But she had been the only medic available with any chance of holding her own if a fight broke out. The best equipped to keep the sabotage team stable as they made it back to base.

His jaw ticked as Aislin finished up with the stitches in silence. She cleaned him up, bandaging the wound before leaving him alone with a soft word. And a gentle order to go see Clarissa.

He’d made it into Clarissa’s room with just enough time to see Deirdre slipping a ring on his sisters finger. They said nothing to each other, Castor only giving her a slight nod. Deirdre had been welcomed into the family long ago. It was about time things were made official.

——

“Oh, no you don’t, MacClyde,” Adair tested the name in her ear, having just left Ferret’s room and catching her from behind by her waist as she left Claire’s room for the third time that night before she could restart her rounds. She beamed rolling her eyes a little. “You’ve done enough playing hero for one night, everyone is stable. The nurses can handle it. Let yourself rest, love. I’d rather you not pull out those stitches.”

“And what of you?” Aislin questioned turning around to face him. She took his face in her hands, trailing her fingers softly over his cheeks. Between the mission, and his work in the hospital after, Adair looked truly exhausted. Though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same. “You’ve done just as much I have.”

He rested his head against her forehead, speaking slowly. “If I do recall mo sholas, I’m not the one who had a building collapse on top of them.”

“Nearly collapse,” she corrected with a gentle smile. “There is a difference, however slight. And everything worked out fine.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I’m fine, love—“

“MacClyde,” Ciáran called from a few feet away, drawing both of their attention as they turned to face him. He tossed something to Adair, gold glinted in the light as it flew. Ciáran quickly left without another word, leaving Aislin with a raised brow as Adair opened his palm. His mother’s—now Aislin’s ring rested in his open hand.

“I’d wondered where that went,” he mused aloud, turning it softly over in his hand.

Aislin smiled softly as Adair grabbed her left hand. “I didn’t want to risk losing it, so I left it in my locker,” she confessed. It’d been one of the last things she’d done before leaving with Castor and everyone else on the extraction mission, placing the ring securely on a shelf in her shared locker with Clarissa. “Ciáran probably found it when Clarissa had him go grab some of her things.”

“Back where it belongs,” he whispered as he slipped the ring on her finger. Adair kissed her slowly, one hand tangled in her hair, the other on her waist pulling her closer. “Let’s go home,” he said when he pulled away. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet, but it can wait until tomorrow.”

Aislin nodded before resting her forehead against his shoulder. Too tired to even really process what he meant, the day finally starting to catch up with her. Someone to meet? She didn’t even question it. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she’d run a mission, and a successful one at that. Or that she hadn’t frozen in fear when things had turned dangerous. And if she was being honest, it had been a little thrilling being out in the field actually doing something. Maybe she could actually make a difference in this Revolution yet.

Adair held her for a moment longer before gently guiding her out of the base. He only let Aislin limp a few steps beside him before scooping her up into his arms. She didn’t even protest as he carried her to the truck. Adair left her in the passenger seat with a quick kiss to the temple and promises to be back in just a moment. He went back into the base, saying his goodbyes and wrapping up a last few things.

Aislin was asleep by the time he made it back out.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Answering a Call for Help

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Pairing: Levi Schmitt/Nico Kim

Characters: Levi Schmitt, Nico Kim, Original Female Character

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Whumptober, Injured character, BAMF Levi, Proud Nico, Fluff

Whumptober 2019 Prompt: Embrace

Summary: As Levi is returning home, he comes across an injured woman, and it is up to him to make sure he gets her taken care of.

I know the summary is vague, but I promise the story is decent.

So this is slightly cheating because the injured character is an original character, but I wanted to write at least one fluffy character so screw you guys if you have something to say against it.

Link to A03: archiveofourown.org/works/20939711

                                             ---------------------------------

Levi was strolling down the street to his house, high on the celebration of a surgery well done and a round of celebratory sex with Nico. He had decided to take the long route home, walking through the park. It was almost ten, almost closing time, so the park was deserted expect for a couple walking in the far distance that Levi only spotted when they passed below the park’s streetlamp.

Levi started whistling a song, still rethinking about the praise Dr. Grey had given him for a job well done. After almost two years of making stupid mistake after stupid mistake, Levi was finally starting to get it right, and proving to everyone that he was just as capable as the other interns. Not that anyone thought he was a bad doctor necessarily, he just wasn’t trusted with anything too … sensitive or fragile. But the liver transplant had been completed without a hitch, his patient was well on the way to recovery, and his relationship was stronger than ever. Nico was still looking for fellowship programs outside Seattle, but both had had long conversations about what they wanted out of the relationship and agreed that Nico should focus on his career. And they’d try their best at a long-distance relationship, and if they were still strong by the time Levi’s own fellowship started, Levi would shift to be near Nico.

A cold breeze swept through the park, making Levi blow into his hands to warm them slightly before tucking them deep into his coat. He hunched in to preserve the heat and picked up the pace. Winter was coming, and it was coming fast, and despite having lived here for most of his life, he was still not the biggest fan of the cold.

A rustle nearby made him pause, turning to glace at the bushes to his right, but when he looked around, there didn’t seem to be anything there, so he kept walking, his pace slightly slower than before. Another rustle made him stop and call out “Hello? Anyone there?”

It was quiet for long enough that Levi turned to keep going home when he heard the faintest groan and a plea for help. Taking his phone out of his pocket to turn on the flashlight, Levi ran in the direction of the voice. “Hello? Ma’am? Sir? Are you hurt?”

“Over here…” came the response, a little louder than before.

Levi turned around the bend of the tree and gasped. A woman, maybe 40-45 years of age, was leaning against a tree, left hand bent at an unnatural angle meaning it was most likely broken, and she was bleeding from a gash in her head. Levi hurried to her side, crouching beside her and trying to get her to focus on him.

“Ma’am, ma’am, hi, can you tell me your name?” Levi asked as he assessed her for any other superficial wounds. Her shallow breathing could indicate a punctured lung or bruised ribs, She was barefoot, her feet were scratched slightly swollen, but nothing major.

“A-Alicia Hudson…” The woman said, gasped when Levi gently touched her left shoulder. “Everything hurts…”

Levi made a judgement call, it would be safer to call an ambulance to get them to the hospital, but at this time of the night, and the woman in the state she was, Levi didn’t know if they could afford to wait for the paramedics.

“I know Alicia, can I call you Alicia?” Levi asked, earning a small nod, “Ok, my name is Levi. I am a doctor ok, and I’m going to make sure that you are alright, do you understand?”

“Ye-Yes.”

“Good. Can you tell me how you got these injuries?” Alicia started to cry, heaving sobs that looked painful.

“My-my husband, he is usually a nice man, but sometimes he gets angry. I’ve never seen him as angry as he was today though.”

Levi felt him blood run cold. “Has he hit you before?”

Alicia bit her lip and shook her head, tear-stains running down her cheek.

“Ok, I am going to call a friend, and when he gets here, we will get you to the hospital, he lives really close by and it will be faster than a hospital. Does that sound good to you? Do you think you can walk just a little bit further?”

Alicia nodded her head again, trying to breathe through the pain as her left hand got jolted again.

Levi nodded, smiling kindly at her before speed-dialing Nico.

“Hey babe, make it home yet?”

“Nico listen to me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m actually only about 10 minutes from your apartment, I thought I’d walk through the park, and long story short, there is a woman here who is injured and needs to be taken to the hospital. It’ll be faster for us to get her there than waiting for an ambulance. I will drop you a pin of my location, I need to get here fast, I don’t know if he is still looking for her or not.”

“He? Who’s he? Levi are you in danger?”

“Just get here fast please?”

“I’m already in the garage.”

“See you soon then.” Levi said before cutting the call and sending a pin to Nico.

“Ok Alicia, let’s see if we can do anything about that hand ok?” Looking around for something he could use as a temporary splint, Levi spotted a flat branch that looked long enough to do the job. He got the branch and gently went about wrapping her hand with his sweater, putting his coat around her because her body temperature was also colder than he liked. He was just finishing up when he heard Nico calling out for him.

“We are here Nico!” Levi called back. Within seconds, Nico materialized near them, taking his own quick assessment of the situation before looking over Levi.

“You ok?”

“I’m good. Help me get her to the car. Alicia, this is my friend Nico, he is also a doctor ok? We are going to try and stand now, do you think you can do it by yourself?”

“I don’t-I don’t know!” Alicia said, starting to cry again. Nico quickly crouched on the opposite side of her.

“Hey, it’s fine, you are doing great ok, we will both be right by your side.”Saying so, he glanced at Levi, indicating he wrap his arm around her waist while Nico took the brunt of the weight, wrapping her uninjured arm over his shoulders, and grasping gently at her side. “On three. One, two, three!” Both doctors got up at the same time, trying to minimize the jolt for Alicia, but she still cried out and would have crashed to the ground if both of them had not had tight holds on her.

“It hurts! Alicia said, and now that she was standing, both could see that one foot was on it’s tiptoe, as though she couldn’t put weight on it. Could that leg also be fractured?

Nico made his own assessment and decided it would be best to just bridal carry Alicia to the car, minimizing her putting weight or exacerbating any other injuries she might have. He conveyed the same to Alicia and Levi before bracing himself and lifting her. She cried out again, but was able to relax slightly when she realized Nico had a good hold on her.

Levi smiled at his boyfriend, so proud, and kinda impressed by the admittedly  impressive show of strength. Together the two of them made their way through the park and to Nico’s car. Levi got his keys from Nico’s pocket and unlocked the back door for Nico to sit down with Alicia before getting in the driver’s seat.

He drove straight to Grey-Sloan, trying to keep within the speed limit but also hearing Alicia’s continued whimpers of pain whenever they went over a speed bump. Nico called ahead to the hospital to tell them to be ready for them.

“I’m so sorry Alicia, I promise I just want to get you to the hospital quickly.” Levi apologized. When he spotted the hospital, he drove the car straight to the trauma center entrance.

Dr. Hunt and Link were waiting for them, and helped transfer Alicia to a gurney to take inside and get her treated. Before they could move though, Alicia called out “Wait!”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but we really should tend to your injuries,” Link said softly, trying to explain.

“No, just hold on one second. Levi?”

Levi rushed to her side, smiling again as he held the hand she reached out to him.

“I’m here Alicia.”

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t found me when you did. Probably would have died in that park.”

“Hey don’t think like that. The important thing is that I did find you, and you are going to be just fine.” Levi reassured the older woman.

“God bless you.” she said before nodding to the other doctors to take her inside.

Levi felt his eyes tear up slightly as Nico came to stand behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.

“I’m so proud of you, you know.” He whispered in Levi’s ear. Levi scoffed, reaching up to wipe away his eyes before turning in Nico’s tight embrace.

“I just did what anyone would have done.”

“Maybe yes maybe no. Important thing is you were there and you probably did save her life. With winter setting in and her having no coat on, even if she had survived her injuries, the cold would have gotten her.”

“You think so?” Levi said, voice tinged with hope. He didn’t like to admit it out loud, but two years of near constant mocking had left Levi more insecure about his medical abilities than he let on.

“I know so.” Nico said before bending to give him a forehead kiss, following it with a proper kiss, smiling in turn when he felt Levi’s own lips curve up. “I love you.”

Levi laughed at that, moving to wrap his own arms around Nico’s shoulders as he tucked himself against Nico’s chin. “I love you too.”

The two of them stood there in each other’s arms for a few more moments before Nico convinced Levi to come home with home. After all, Levi deserved a reward for having saved Alicia today, and Nico was there to serve him as he wished.

[taylart-x]

Whumptober- Day 18

Day 18: Muffled Scream

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go!

Characters: Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Alan Tracy

Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds or any of the characters form the show (or from TAG). I just want to make cool stories :)

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For the first time in what felt like forever, Virgil and John were on a mission together. This only happened because John was down from 5 for a bit, much to his chagrin. Alan was up there at the moment, learning how to interact and work with EOS and to train to be able to eventually help John on 5. The training had been Brains’ idea after seeing John come down from 5 for a break and having some of the darkest bags Brains had ever seen under his eyes. 

Which landed the two brothers in this situation.

It was tornado season, and a massive F-4 tornado had ripped through the town of Stinnett, Texas, completely destroying most of the housing and infrastructure in the area, and endangering many people. International Rescue was deployed, and John chose to take Gordon’s place with Virgil, claiming he wanted to do some ground work.

So off the two went to the US. Upon arrival, the brothers were able to assess the surroundings and the new additions from the tornado. Once on the ground they coordinated with the rescue crews already there and sorted out what they were doing. Both of them were sent on search and recovery, either of bodies or of living people. 

Virgil wore the Jaws of Life and John navigated through the desecrated town. Their plan was simple; John would pick up lifesigns in the demolished buildings as anyone alive had priority over body recovery. Virgil would then move any rubble or debris trapping the rescuee and John would swoop in from behind him and help the rescuees, or sometimes have to drag them out. If any needed medical attention, John would secure them to a backboard and get them to Virgil. 

They hadn’t encountered anyone that needed more than that.

And that was about to change.

“Over here, Virgil!” John called out, waving his older brother over. The whirring of his exosuit alerted John to his arrival after helping a mother with a three year old that was crying and she herself was sporting a sprained ankle form where it had been trapped in a support structure. The woman and her child had been quickly seen to by Virgil who had then sent her to one of the paramedic tents in the area. 

“There’s three lifesigns below the rubble, but one of them is steadily dropping,” Alan reported in their ears. “You guys need to get down there.”

“F.A.B.” They both responded. 

They immediately got moving, Virgil removing piece by piece, calculating what next to remove to ensure that the rubble doesn’t collapse onto the trapped people. 

Eventually, he removed the top piece of rubble that was trapping the people below them, spilling light down into the space they had. 

Two people sat hunched over, one with sandy blond hair that resembled that of a surfer, and the other had straight black hair that fell down to the middle of her back. Between them was a boy on his back. He looked to be about fourteen or so. His head lay in the girl’s lap, the top of it adorned with mousy brown hair that lay in curls across his face and splayed across the girl’s legs. His legs lay across the other man’s lap, one very obviously broken. 

The boy was unconscious where he lay, and didn’t stir as the light from outside filled the dark hole. Virgil motioned for John to switch with him so that he could focus on moving the rock away from the hole the kids were in. The eldest of them- the conscious boy- could’ve been no older than eighteen. The girl looked about sixteen or seventeen, Virgil wasn’t sure.

John crouched down beside the hole and looked down into it. “Please stay calm. This is International Rescue. We’re here to help,” he called. “Can you tell me what happened and your guys’ medical status’?”

The blond boy responded. “When the tornado struck, we were in the library, and it almost got lifted, and did a bit I think, but we weren’t going in circles or anything. Then we got slammed into the ground, and everything just started crumbling on us. Jack got hit in the head by one of the concrete chunks going through the air, and Crystal was hit in the side by something similar. And I think Jack’s leg was stuck under one of the shelves, and as he fell with the gravity, it broke his leg. I didn’t get hit with anything.”

“That’s super helpful! Thanks! We’ll get you out first. What’s your name?”

“Mason!”

“Okay, Mason. My brother is just setting up a harness now. Once he has it secure we’ll lower it to you, then you need to clip yourself into the harness. Got that?”

“What do I do about Jack’s leg that’s on me?”

“Is there a pillow near you from one of the couches?” John replied, checking on Virgil’s progress with the line. 

“Yeah. You want me to switch?”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect. We’re just sending the line in now, so get ready to go.”

Virgil came over- his exosuit having been stripped- with the line in hand. “Ready?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to go in to get both the girl and the other kid out. One got hit in the side with rubble, so possible rib fractures and risk of internal bleeding or lung collapse. The other kid is out cold.”

“Okay. Let’s get this one out and go from there.”

It was relatively simple getting Mason out of the hole. He easily clipped the harness on and the mechanical winch brought him out fairly quickly. Then, Virgil attached himself to the harness and lowered himself into the small hole. 

He secured Jack with a neck brace and spine support, then moved him off of Crystal. After a quick inspection of her ribs and side, he secured her into a special harness for injuries such as her obviously broken ribs (he could almost see the fractures). The next one was more difficult. 

Virgil checked the boy’s vitals again and then checked the brace he had set for his back and neck before he moved to the broken leg.

Blood was pouring down the side of the leg from where the bone had protruded through the skin. Great, a compound fracture. Just what Virgil needed.

What he needed to do was secure it. He could get it set once they were out of the hole. 

With some quick thinking Virgil used the splint he had for a  regular broken leg and split it in half, then strapped one half to Jack’s thigh, and the other to his calf. He did the same with the other brace he had, but to the other side of the kid’s leg. He then tied it all and secured it with bandages and tape before getting him hooked into a harness that would support him as he was lifted out of the hole. 

Once the three kids were out, it was time for Virgil’s retrieval.

Which is where it all went wrong.

Right as the line was sent down to the medic, the roof gave a threatening jolt. Before he could react, Virgil found himself buried under rubble, without space to breathe and a burning pain going through one of his thighs and one through his lower abdomen.

Shit shit shit.

He tried to reach up for his radio, call someone, anyone, but he couldn’t. He was pinned. Completely cut off from his brothers all because he couldn’t move his arm. “HELP!” He tried screaming, making his voice hoarse very quickly as all he breathed back in was dust. “HELP!”

But no one heard.

-+-+-+-

It was hours before anyone got down to him. The collapse had happened due to the movement of everyone as they were rescued, and had addedstress to the already delicate debris, causing the collapse. Most of the area above Virgil had landed on top of him, meaning it took a few hours for it to safely be cleared, especially without the help from him using the Jaws of Life.

Once the rubble was cleared, John was able to squeeze himself in next to Virgil, and gave his older brother a quick once over. His helmet had a massive crack running through the plexi glass, and he could see blood behind it, mostly from Virgil’s nose from where it must have impacted with the glass. As John got a better look at the trapped and unconscious man, he found the rebar that had punctured Virgil’s abdomen, and the resulting blood staining his uniform. He moved lower down Virgil’s body, finding the second piece of rebar going through the engineer’s right thigh, but it had missed the femoral artery. 

If it had hit it, Virgil would be long dead.

A groan cause John’s head to snap back up. Brown eyes fluttered behind cracked glass, the cocoa unfocused and hazy. “J’hn?”

“I’m right here, Virge. Just stay still, you’ve got some puncture wounds.”

“Th’re a bit more than ‘puncture wounds’, John,” he replied, eyes squeezing shut before they rolled over to focus on John. “But you need to get out of here. All of this rubble is unstable.”

John vehemently shook his head before looking over the rubble pinning his big brother. “No way. I’ll get you out of here, no problem.”

“John, be careful, Virgil’s right,” Alan chirped in his ear. The young boy had been distraught over losing communication with Virgil when the rubble collapsed. He had quickly regained control of himself to help coordinate Virgil’s rescue, but the panic had overwhelmed him for a moment, and the helplessness. He could do nothing from Thunderbird 5, and he really felt for John with all the dangerous situations they got themselves into. “That pile is quite unstable and requires caution when moving anything.”

“F.A.B.”

Slowly, John began to move pieces of rubble, with some of the firefighters from the immediate vicinity coming in to help him with his endeavours. The raw heat in the air caused the firefighters to swap out regularly to stave off heat stroke and exhaustion, with a new person about every fifteen minutes. But John was able to continue working through the extreme heat, his suit keeping him cool and stabilising his temperature when it peaked too much.

Eventually, the rubble was cleared enough to move Virgil. BUt one thing was stopping them from doing so.

Well, technically two things.

The rebar were parts of the floor, or foundations, as they were very deeply rooted in the ground, and because Virgil got slammed on top of them, they weren’t able to cut them away from the floor to get removed in the hospital.

They had to be removed now. 

“Hey Virge, hit a slight complication with the whole saving you,” john informed him as he crouched beside his now helmetless head. “Those pieces of metal going through your body? We have to remove them now.”

Virgil’s eyes locked onto his. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Okay, then you need to hear this Johnny.” Once he was sure he had John’s attention, he reached up and took ahold of John’s collar. “I am going to scream and thrash as you do this. You need a team of at least three people. One person at least to hold my arms away. But whatever I do, you cannot stop, you cannot let me go and just put me back down. You have to do this slowly, so when I scream and cry, do not speed up, and do not stop. You need to go slow and steady, okay?”

A steel had formed in Virgil’s eyes, a determination and a resignation to what was about to happen. “John? You ready for this? It isn’t going to be pretty.”

The redhead nodded in affirmation, but Virgil shook his own. “No, I need a verbal response.”

“Yes, I understand. I’ll make sure this happens properly.”

Virgil sighed, and winced from the pain, before settling his head back on the ground, arms dropping back to his sides. “Good. Okay, that’s good.” His eyes almost rolled back, but John shook him awake.

“No sleeping, not yet. Not until we have you secure. We still don’t know if you have a concussion.”

John organised the few remaining firefighters, and a paramedic stood off to the side with a backboard ready, along with bandages and saline for a quick wound sterilisation to try ward off the worst of the oncoming infections. Once everyone was ready, he looked down at Virgil. A cold sweat had broken out about ten minutes ago, and his skin had become clammy. He was definitely succumbing to shock, and fast. John offered the cloth he managed to wrangle from a paramedic, and Virgil nodded to him, taking the rolled up material into his mouth and between his teeth.

“Okay, on three,”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

Everyone lifted, and John immediately clamped his hands down on Virgil’s arms so that they were pinned to his sides. A raw scream was ripped from the injured man, but it was muffled by the cloth. But it carried on for what seemed like much longer than the lift was. Pure pain and torment echoed in that scream, and John’s heart stuttered at the sound. 

Virgil writhed in his grasp, his arms fighting for freedom so that he could try and stop his own pain, to try and get away from the people seemingly causing the intense agony. But John held firm, pinning Virgil into a plank position. Even though Virgil was much stronger than John, and all of the brothers, the astronaut easily held him as Virgil’s muscles were weakened by the blood loss he had already suffered, and the possible dehydration he was facing after being stuck, sweating, in a hold for hours. 

The three men helping John lift Virgil helped to move the screaming man onto the backboard, and some helped strap him in while others cut bits of his uniform away, allowing the paramedic to quickly clean and dress the worst of the wounds for transport. John brushed his fingers through Virgil’s limp hair, but the man had finally passed out once he was completely lifted off of the metal bars. 

A small mercy for the injured engineer.

“We are go for transport,” the medic said, giving John a nod to grab a handle. Each of the people surrounding Virgil took ahold of a handle and helped lift and then walk him up out of the rubble through the path they had made over the hours. 

“Is he gonna be alright, John?” Alan asked in his ear, his voice bouncing around his helmet.

“Yeah, he’s strong. He’ll get through it.”

But looking over his brother, John wasn’t entirely convinced himself.

[thenougatking-jack-blog]

No matter what has happened, no matter what you have done, and no matter what you will do.. I will always love you. I swear it

@huntersociopathavenger‘s writing challenge!

     The cave system was dark, and damp, and smelled like dirt and stone, and something else he couldn't quite place and could only describe as wetness. Castiel clung to walls as he tried to make his way out, he'd chased the so called monster pretty far, only to find out this monster was a rogue angel, fallen in the worst way.      It was a long and difficult battle. This time it was just Cas and Dean. The struggle was unreal, every time Dean or Cas thought they had the upper hand they'd suddenly get overtaken.      Castiel gave chase as the rogue took off down a long tunnel. He'd win that fight, not that one could tell, he was beaten and bruised to within an inch of his life. His wings were exposed, one dragging loosely on the ground behind him, the cold stone stripping away at his feathers. His hands were covered in blood. Mostly his own, the walls were not kind to him, except as his only way to stay upright. .       He nearly made it, he could see the beam of sunlight just ahead, feel some of the breeze that pushed it's way into the cavern. He heard the shouting, someone was calling his name, Dean? The shuffle of hurried footsteps grew closer and he was caught by strong arms as he finally collapsed, his whole body was trembling, but it found some relief when he was pulled in close to a warm body.      "No.. nonono, not again, Cas!" Dean was holding him by the shoulders, trying to pull him to himself, trying to find the offending wound that had laid Cas out. His hand was grabbed to still the search and Cas shook his head.      "Dean," he'd pause to take a labored breath, "it's no use.. I'm.. I'm sorry. It’s too late."      "Like hell it's too late. Don't you do that, don't you give up." His voice trembled with tears unshed as his shaking hand cupped Cas' cheek.      "I.. I need to say something before-"      "No, nope, you stop that shit right now. You don't give a goodbye speech when it's not goodbye. Come on, let's get you out of here."      Cas whimpered as Dean tried to lift him, "Dean, I think I have a broken wing. That isn't the worst of it.."      "I wondered bout that. Usually your wings can't be seen.. but.." He'd take a breath and shake his head, "Let's check it out, ok?" Dean said and let Cas rest down again once they were outside and in the light. He'd pull off his jacket and roll it up for a makeshift pillow for the angel, then he got on with the search. "Ya know, I use to do this whenever Sam got hurt." He'd explain as he, as gently as he could, ran his hands along the arm of his wing. Dean would be in awe if this came about another way, if he didn't think Cas was dying.      "That other angel.. he ..did something to me. I don't know.." Cas once again stopped his hand. "Dean.. Dean, you have to let go." He sounded weak, ready to give up. Maybe it'd be better for everyone anyway, he'd made so many mistakes, he was sure there would be more to come if he recovered from this.      "No, no I don't, Cas. No. You're going to be ok. But you gotta hang on. I swear to god, if you die, I will hunt you down. "      "Dean.. Why would you do that?" He'd turn his face away and held his chest as he coughed and gagged. When he returned he looked pale, his lips glistened and stained by his own blood. Dean looked pale himself, out of fear for his friend.      "Ok, that's it. I'm taking you to get looked at. We're not that far from souix falls. Jody will have an idea of what to do."      "I think it's a punctured lung." Cas stated his breathing laboring with every word. "You didn't answer me.. Why?"      Dean could tell Cas was gonna be out at anytime.. maybe even dead. This was no time for denials and repressions. "Because, I don't wanna be here without you."      Cas' already tight brow furrowed deeply, "What?.. Of course you do." "No, I seriously don't. I meant it, all those times I told you I needed you, I meant it every time." He'd close his eyes a moment before continuing, eyes opening to watch Cas', "Every I need you was suppose to be I love you. Every one."      Cas' eyes widened, his eyes searching Dean's in confusion, "What.. no. I don't.. You shouldn't.." he'd curl up as another coughing fit hit him. Dean stroked his back gently between the dark glistening wings.      "You know what.. I don't give a damn about shouldn't."      "I do." Cas gasped out. "Things.. I've done.. all the lies.."      All he had to do is keep Cas talking. He had hit the dial on his phone, Sam heard the beginning of the conversation up to Cas' first coughing fit. Help would be there soon enough. "You think I give a damn about any of that? It doesn't matter."      "It does."      "Cas, I swear, will you shut the hell up about how it matters?" Dean sat up straighter, as if gathering up all of his resolve. "Castiel, listen to me. No matter what has happened, no matter what you have done, and no matter what you will do.. I will always love you. I swear it. Hell, I'll swear it on my own life." Dean was ready to panic for multiple reasons.. he really just did that. He confessed, and it was terrifying and wonderful and terrifying.      Cas couldn't believe it, Dean really said all of that. It was the most soul baring confession.. at a time like this.. He wanted to answer him, he opened his mouth to speak, but all that came was a shroud of darkness over his vision as he lost consciousness, the last thing he heard was Dean shouting his name.

     When Cas awoke he'd take a groggy look around, his surroundings were unfamiliar. He wasn't in the hospital but he was hooked up to medical equipment, laying in a hospital bed. His gaze fell on Dean, the hunter looked so worn down, even as he slept on the loveseat that had been pulled close to the bed. He was just within reach, so Cas stretched his hand out to brush fingertips over a scruffy cheek. "Dean.."      Dean jolted awake, green eyes wide open as he took in the fact that Cas woke up. He thought this would be forever. It felt like it. "Cas, holy shit, you're awake." He'd scoot up close to the edge of his seat to take his hands, "How do you feel?"      "Like I was hit by a train." Cas admitted bluntly and stared down at his hands linked with Dean's, "Did.. that really happen?"      "A lot of thats happened, man, you gotta narrow it down."      "I think you know which, it was rather significant."      Dean nodded stiffly, "Yeah, that happened, Cas." He seemed to be bracing himself for rejection, for being pushed away. He'd start to pull his hands away, trying to gain some distance, just in case. Cas only clasped his hands harder.      "I thought it was a dream, or a hallucination." His face tightened as he tried to sit up, letting go of one hand so he could more easily pull himself up. Dean stood and let go of the other hand in favor of adjusting the pillows so Cas could sit up more comfortably.     "So, it's been 10 days." Dean started, shifting the uncomfortable conversation. "We're still at Jody's, uh.. Claire let us use her room. I mean.. she still sleeps in here. I think seeing you hurt like this shook her up. Alex got the equipment you're all hooked up to and the bed. I dunno how she managed it."      Cas wanted to continue the first conversation, but this was all information he needed to know too. "Perhaps they should be informed about my waking up.. We are not done with the conversation about what was said in the cave though, Dean."      Dean nodded, "Yeah, uh.. I'll go get them." He started to move away, but his hand was grasped onto.        "Dean, I know you're worried about it.. don't be." Cas would say before letting go of his hand.

     By the time the others came in, Cas was fully sitting up and checking out his bandages. His wing had been wrapped and then pinned to his back by still more bandages. His hands were wrapped in soft gauze, shielding the raw skin from anything that'd irritate it. Cas looked up when he heard the door open and Claire came in, followed by the rest of the troop, aside from Jody, since she'd been working.      "Bout time you woke up. Lazy." Claire said with a smirk and sat on the edge of the bed.      Cas gave her a soft look, "I'm sorry I worried you. It was never my intention."      "Like you can control what some asshat does to you." Claire gave an apologetic look at the one she'd received for her bad language.      "So.. what's the damage?" Cas asked and looked up as Alex stepped up to the edge of the bed.      "Well, your wing is definitely fractured. It's not a bad break, just a hairline fracture, but there's some muscle and tendon tearing. You're gonna have to keep it wrapped up for at least another couple of months." Alex would walk over to start unwrapping his hands to check on those wounds and put fresh bandages on him. "No punctured lung, but you have a few bruised ribs, 2 are broken. They really did a number on you."      "How can we even see your wings to start with? I thought we couldn't." Sam asked from over Alex's shoulder, watching her work.      "The angel I had followed into that cavern performed a spell. It was something I had never seen or heard about. He thought it might give him an advantage somehow. As ingenious as the spell was, he wasn't very smart." Cas said and leaned back on his pillows. "Thank you for this. I am positive I would be dead without your help.."      "Please, you don't have to thank family for taking care of you. It's what they're there for." Claire stated and stood from the bed, "I'll get you some water, you're probably pretty dry after sleeping for so long." She made her way out of the room quickly, most likely embarrassed. That was as close to I love you as Cas probably ever gotten from Claire.      "She's right ya know." Dean said and took Claire's spot on the bed, "You don't have to say thank you. Even if it's nice to hear anyway."      "I'm giving you something for pain." Alex said after looking at one of the monitors, "Your blood pressure is a little too high. It will make you groggy, and I know you probably don't want any more sleep, but don't fight it ok?" she'd adjust some things on his IV tube and once done she'd give a smile, "okay, you should feel that pretty quickly. Sam, wanna come with me to check on Claire?"      As quickly as the room had been crowded,  it became empty again, aside from Cas and Dean. Dean hadn't left his spot perched on the edge of the bed, Cas however had started settling in again as his pain alleviated.      "Dean.. tell me what you said again?" Cas asked quietly and watched as the hunter stiffened.      "Uh, you sure about that? I mean, you should be resting right now." Dean was stalling, or at least trying to..      "I am resting, I've apparently been resting for about 10 days. Please?.."      Dean sighed, how was he suppose to say no to those pleading blue eyes? "I um... I said.." he'd rub the back of his neck, "Why's this only easy when one of us is on the verge of death?"      "Because, if you or I am dead, I can't reject you." Cas wasn't going to sugar coat it anymore, after this scare he learned how quickly life could fall away, no matter who you are, how easily the most important things go unsaid.      "Well damn Cas, don't beat around the bush."      "Quit stalling." Cas said in a calm, almost challenging way. Dean always rose to his challenges.      "Fuck, okay." Dean dropped his hand to the bed and took a breath to steel himself. "I said I love you, Cas.. but it's totally fine if you don't feel that way. nothing has to change over it." Except he wouldn't be fine, and everything's changed.      Cas slid his hand over to rest it on top of Dean's, earning a shocked look. "If you only knew for how long I have loved you. I never thought I was worthy.. And then you said that too me, that you love me no matter what." He'd close his eyes, letting out a breath, both weary and relieved.      Dean was glad Cas had closed his eyes, it meant he wouldn't see how teary he got. He was sure Cas would know anyhow. Rather than say a word, dean pulled away to stand. That got Cas opening his worried eyes, but Dean was pulling back the covers and climbing into the bed. He'd gently scoot in close as he pulled the blankets back over them both.      Cas was reassured by this turn out and would let his head come to rest on Dean's shoulder as he was held. He drifted off without fear, and as sleep enveloped him he was sure he heard Dean say, "I love you, Cas."

[backpfeifenguy]

All in your head

WARNING: This story contains mental health issues, violence, self-destructive behaviour and references to suicide.

You’re a fucking joke. Not the most pleasant thought to be woken up by, it must be said. The whole team’s ashamed of you, they only keep you on out of pity. Nevertheless, it was the first thought in Beast Boy’s head as he woke that morning, morning in this case meaning ‘there’s still ten minutes til noon’. I mean, it’s not like you bring much to the table.

Beast Boy blinked the sleep from his eyes, looked up at the clock, and rolled himself out of bed. Robin’s basically a ninja, so they don’t need your smaller forms for stealth. After a quick trip to the bathroom and a check to make sure he’d remembered to put a shirt on, he was just about ready to face what remained of the day. Cyborg and Starfire have you outclassed for raw power.

As he lurched out the door and towards the kitchen, he heard the drone of conversation. They’re talking about you behind your back! He paused at the door, taking a moment to slip into a lazy grin, and strolled into the room.

“Wassup dudes?” He asked cheerfully, strolling into the kitchen and grabbing a box of cereal. Really? ‘Wassup dudes’? Loser.

“Not much, Grass Stain.” Cyborg replied. “Rob was gonna chew you out for sleeping in so long until Star talked him out of it.” See? Robin’s sick of your shit, he’ll be kicking you off the team any day now.

“I guess that’s one I owe her.” Beast Boy chuckled, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Try fifty. “Anything else?”

“Well, Raven’s started reading a new book.” Cyborg offered jokingly.

“Do tell!” Beast boy exclaimed, treating the information as though it were some juicy piece of gossip.

“Well…” Cyborg looked around shiftily for a moment before leaning in towards Beast Boy. “I’m pretty sure it’s a modern fantasy novel!” He hissed conspiratorially.

“How bold!” The changeling snickered, doing his best to look scandalised. “And the name?”

“Good Omens.” Cyborg replied simply.

“Good Omens…” Beast Boy murmured disbelievingly. “By Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett?” Not a chance! There’s no way that Raven’s reading something you’ve actually read. She’s smart, you’re dumb; had you forgotten?

“I think so,” Cyborg confirmed. “Why?” A coincidence, nothing more.

“I’ve actually read that one.” Beast Boy muttered, grinning hugely. “Raven’s reading a book that I read first!” Doesn’t matter. Still an idiot. “For once, I can start a conversation about something she’s interested in, and I’ll know more about it than her!” He rubbed his hands together deviously. “This is gonna be great!”

“Yeah, well a word of advice, B.” Cyborg wrinkled his nose. “Brush your teeth first, you got some nasty morning breath!” You disgusting animal.

As he brushed his teeth, Beast Boy found himself studying his own reflection. It was unlikely that any of his friends would find this behaviour surprising, considering the fact that he had something of a reputation for vanity. What they would have found surprising was the way his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. Jesus, what a mess! The fangs, the skin… the ears! You really got hit with the ugly stick, huh? He put his toothbrush away, idly noting that it had been torn up by his fangs, and left the bathroom. What, running from the mirror? Can’t say I blame you.

“Hey there Rae.” He said cheerfully, approaching the couch.

“Hey Beast Boy.” Raven replied without looking up from her book.

“Good book?” He asked, grinning like an idiot.

“Exceptionally so.” Raven replied, her eyes never leaving the page.

“So who do you like better,” Beast Boy began. “Azriphale or Croweley?” He positively revelled in the look on Raven’s face as she turned to face him.

“...Croweley.” Raven answered after a moment.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Beast Boy nodded. “A demon who goes against his supposed place in the cosmic order and saves the world? Makes sense you’d like him.”

“So you’ve read it.” Raven stated bluntly.

“Three times.” He replied. “Six if you count audiobooks.”

“So who do you like better?” Raven asked.

“Well, I--” The alarm sounded. “Will have to pick this conversation up later.” He finished, running to the elevator and cursing his bad luck. It’s what you deserve.

It was Control Freak. Of all the villains it could have been, it was Control Freak. Attacking a comic book store, because of course he was. “Sell my preordered comics while I’m in prison, will you?” He ranted, firing his remote at basically every figurine, poster and cardboard cutout in the store. “I’ll show you, I’ll show you all!”

“Your payment was declined!” The helpless cashier wailed. “Your accounts were frozen when they locked you up!”

“Great,” Raven deadpanned. “An angry, entitled nerd. Just what I wanted to deal with today.”

“I wonder what he preordered.” Beast Boy mused. Probably all the same stuff you read, since you’re both totally pathetic.

“Well, if it isn’t the Teen Titans.” Control Freak sneered, “Come to stop me have you?”

“Give it up, Control Freak!” Robin exclaimed. “If you surrender now, nobody gets hurt.”

“Why would I surrender?” Control Freak giggled. “After all, I’m in my element here!” And with that, A wave of comic, movie, anime and game characters surged forward to attack. Robin found himself caught up in a brawl with Spike Speigel while Starfire engaged in an aerial battle with Iron Man. Cyborg and Raven were back to back fighting Link (as in, every single version of Link), and Beast Boy found himself face-to-face with a man wearing a dark coat and a tricorn hat, wielding a bizarre oversized saw.

“Are you kidding?” Beast Boy chuckled, ducking and weaving around his assailant’s attacks. “You sent Johnny Bloodborne after me?” With that, he struck the nameless character from the box art of Bloodborne in the stomach before leaping back. “Dude, I platinumed this game ages ago!” Are you seriously bragging about that? Lame. He transformed into a wolf, ducking under a heavy attack and exploiting the opening it created to devastating effect. A few repetitions of this pattern of dodge and strike left his opponent on the verge of defeat; he just needed to get one more shot in and-- Take the hit.

Raven was in a bad mood; she’d had a pleasant conversation interrupted, discovered that Control Freak was to blame, and was currently being attacked by a swarm of blonde elves, all of whom insisted on grunting ans screaming loudly and incoherently as they fought. “How many of these are there?” She asked Cyborg as she sliced one in half with a blade of telekinetic force.

“Legend of Zelda is a long-lived and influential franchise!” Cyborg replied, blasting an especially small and cartoony-looking one.

“Meaning?” Raven demanded.

“Meaning there’s a lot of ‘em!” Cyborg exclaimed.

“Great.” Raven scowled, throwing up a barrier just in time to deflect a sword aimed at her stomach. “Well, it shouldn’t be much longer until one of the others can back us up, so let’s just--” She fell silent, her empathic sense warning her that something was very wrong. “Beast Boy’s aura feels weird, what’s happening?”

“Oh crap!” Control Freak squealed, his voice nearly an octave higher than usual, as he pointed in apparent horror at Beast Boy. Beast Boy lying in a pool of his own blood. With a giant saw stuck in his shoulder.

“What did you do to him?!” Raven demanded, a wave of shadows tearing through their foes and throwing Control Freak against the wall.

“He was supposed to dodge it!” Control Freak shrieked, his aura radiating blind panic and… sadness? “He dodges it, then he beats it! Then you guys beat me, I go to jail, and nobody gets hurt!” His eyes began to tear up. “He wasn’t supposed to get hurt!” The fat, scruffy nerd blubbered inelegantly. “It’s no fun like this!”

“Fun?” Raven demanded. “You think this is a game?! Beast Boy is dead!” She screeched.

“Not yet he ain’t!” Cyborg called out. “So how ‘bout you get your butt over here and heal him?”

“What’s the damage?” She asked, at Beast Boy’s side in an instant.

“Punctured lung, blood loss, broken collarbone and ribs, torn muscles.” Cyborg answered with clinical precision. “Think you can handle it?”

“Easily.” Raven replied, more confidently than she actually felt. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” She intoned, setting about mending the damage done to Beast Boy’s ruined frame.

“Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?” Control Freak asked, his voice little more than a squeak.    

“You want to help?” Robin scoffed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“Can you make some kind of healer?” Cyborg asked pragmatically, more interested in saving his best friend’s life than in recrimination.

“Just give me a minute, okay?” And with that, Control Freak dashed off into some other corner of the store.

A moment later, a middle-aged man dressed like Doctor Frankenstein rushed over, carrying a device that looked for all the world like a cannon.

“Is zis mein patient?” He demanded, his voice carrying a thick German accent.

“Great,” Raven sighed. “A mad scientist. And with that accent, and how unsubtle game designers are, he’s probably a Nazi.”

“I am no such thing!” He replied sternly.

“There’s actually evidence to suggest that the Medic is Jewish.” Control Freak interjected.

“Okay, fine, but how is he useful here?” Raven demanded.

“Step aside und I will demonstrate, frauline.” The Medic replied curtly leveling his weapon (?) at Beast Boy and firing a strange red beam. Raven lunged forward at the sight of this, only to be held back by Cyborg.

“It’s not a weapon.” Cyborg reassured her. “Technically it’s the opposite.” And indeed, Beast Boy’s wounds began to heal, although far too slowly for Raven’s liking.

“My remote can’t replicate his abilities perfectly.” Control Freak offered in response to Raven’s glare. “It produces a weaker version of any power that isn’t purely physical.”

“It’ll do.” Raven replied blankly, returning to the business of mending Beast Boy’s injuries and, if she was being honest to herself, trying not to freak out. It was bad; the combination of a punctured lung and massive blood loss were a recipe for hypoxia, and honestly his lung wasn’t so much punctured as it was carved. The shattered collarbone and shredded muscles only served to complicate things, and it occurred to Raven, not for the first time, that out of all of them, Beast Boy seemed to be the one who ended up getting hurt the most, which struck her as vaguely unfair.

I mean, it’s not like his life before the Titans was sunshine and rainbows; can’t the universe cut him a break? Can’t it cut any of us a break? Nevertheless, Raven set about dealing with the hand that had been dealt, repairing Beast Boy’s lung and replenishing his blood. She felt her strength begin to fade just in time for the Medic to blink out of existence, to her considerable annoyance.

“They don’t last forever.” Control Freak offered by way of explanation. “And using an ability like that really eats into their lifespan.”

“Good to know.” Robin remarked dryly.

“Oh crap, I shouldn’t have told you about that.” Control Freak muttered.

“Ughhh…” Beast Boy moaned, his eyelids fluttering open.

“He’s conscious!” Raven called out.

“What happened?” Beast Boy asked groggily, hie head swimming.

“You nearly got yourself killed by some Hot Topic lookin’ piece of crap is what happened.” Cyborg answered bluntly.

“Oh,” Beast Boy sighed, his memories returning quickly. “Right.” What the hell is wrong with you? Look how exhausted Raven is from keeping your dumb ass alive.

“Hey, uh… guys?” Control Freak mumbled awkwardly. “This whole thing kind of freaked me out so, uh, could you just kinda, y’know, arrest me?”

“Wait, you want us to arrest you?” Beast Boy asked incredulously.

“Dude, you nearly died!” Control Freak exclaimed. “That was seriously messed up!” Great, now even Control Freak is taking pity on you.

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Beat Boy demanded.

“Hey man, I do robberies and consequence-free mayhem!” Control Freak replied, somewhat indignantly in Beast Boy’s opinion. “I don’t kill people!”

“Discussions of Control Freak’s relative morality can wait,” Robin said firmly, cuffing the obese villain. “Right now we need to get him into custody and start on the paperwork. And after that,” He shot Beast Boy a Look. “We need to talk.” Welp, you’re boned.

[vmheadquarters]

What Goes Around...(part 24)

This is PART 24 of a story that is being told in segments by twenty-six different authors, campfire-style. Each author will take over the story with no prior planning and then pass it on after putting their own spin on it! Expect the unexpected! :)  You can check our vmhq campfire tale tag for all of the previous installments or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Part 24 is written by @mysilverylining 

[Part 23]

Screeeeeeeech.

The high-pitched cry comes from somewhere in the near distance, and despite Weevil's thick leather jacket, a full-body shiver runs through him. He can't identify what species of animal made the sound, but he's confident it's nothing he wants to run into in the dark. 

What's taking so long, anyway? At least thirty minutes have passed since Mr. Mars disappeared into the mansion, promising he'd text once it was safe to follow.

His cell rests in his pocket, right next to his hand. He would've felt it if it buzzed. Nevertheless, he checks it again. Just to be sure.

Nothing. There's plenty of battery life left, and his signal strength...Oh. Well that explains it. 

The animal shrieks again, closer now, and hair lifts on the back of his neck. Crossing himself, he scans his immediate surroundings, detecting no movement in the fading light.

 He doesn't know what – if anything – is going on inside that house, but he'd rather take his chances with bad guys than end up as an hors d'euvre for some rabid animal. And anyway, who's to say Mr. Mars hasn't tried texting him for backup? The more he considers it, the more he's convinced he's needed inside that house. But, just to be safe, maybe he shouldn't burst through the front door.

 Weevil puts his bike in neutral and silently rolls it around the side of the house. He parks next to an ornate garden patio, climbs off, and creeps to the French doors.

 On the other side of the glass, an immense wooden table dominates the center of a fancy dining room. A large rounded doorway, looks into what appears to be a formal library. Shadows bounce against the wall indicating multiple parties within. The question is, who?

 A series of slamming car doors jolts him from his thoughts. Ignitions start, and he spins around just as two vehicles speed away down the long curving driveway. He's not familiar with the truck, but he'd recognize the driver's big old head anywhere. Echolls. The passenger could be Veronica, but he's not positive. Keith Mars follows in his own car, an unidentified man riding shotgun, and someone else in the back seat.

 Well shit. Now what? Should he hop back on the bike and catch up?

 Movement inside the house catches his eye. Raised voices. Somebody leans against the doorframe, fiddling with their watchband.

 He'll decide whether to join Veronica's caravan later. After he's shaken an explanation out of Mr. Rolex.

 It takes thirty seconds to pick the lock. Oh yeah! Still haven't lost my touch. He slips inside, closing the doors silently behind him. Creeping up behind the unidentified man, Weevil grabs him by the wrist, pushing forward while twisting it up behind his back. "You have thirty seconds to explain what's going on with the Mars family."

 Up close, the guy is tall, tanned, with shaggy blond hair and... Oh hell. He releases his grip, and Casablancas whirls around, belligerent. "What the hell, Weevil? Did somebody order a pool cleaning? Because it's not a good time right now. Come back next week."

 "Ha ha." Weevil speaks, monotone. "You've been milking that lame joke for how long?"

 While Dick scowls and rubs at his wrist, Weevil examines the other two occupants (maybe three, if that blanket-covered lump on the couch is what he thinks it is).

 To his right, a slender man with a familiar face sits, stiff and sullen, in a leather club chair.

Tilting his head, Weevil points a thumb at the guy. "Is that my high school History teacher?"

 "Maybe?" Dick shrugs. "I know he taught something at Neptune High, but then he got shitcanned for boning a student."

 "Boning a student?" At first glance, the sequined blonde on the other chair resembles Veronica, but even seated, she has half a foot of height on V. She speaks, harsh and judgmental. "That student was Susan Knight, and you weren't good enough to lick her boots."

 "Fine!" Casablancas holds up both hands, defensively. "So, he made loooove to her, or whatever."

 She lifts her lip in a sneer. "You're as repulsive as that pedophile."

 Weevil squints, mentally peeling back the thick false lashes, heavy makeup - and blonde wig (if he's guessing correctly).

 "Ruby Jackson." Lips stretching into a wide grin, he crosses the room and bumps her fist. "How the hell are you doing?"

 "Could be better, Weevil." She sweeps a hand out, indicating Casablancas and Rooks. "And it's Ruby Jetson now. Just fits my brand better."

 He can't argue that.

 Casablancas stares back and forth between them. "How do you know Logan's stalker?"

 "Who, Ruby?  We go way back." At least three names ago.

 “Weevil came to my rescue in high school when a couple asshole 09ers were bullying me. Playing keep away with my glasses and backpack."

 Dick chuckles. "Ha! I used to do stuff like that in high school."

 They both stare at him until the nostalgic grin slips off his face. "Oh." He drops his eyes, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry. I guess."

 Dismissing him, Weevil gestures to Ruby's 'look'. "So, what's with the VMars impersonation?"

 "Maybe I just wanted to find out if blondes do have more fun?"

 "Obviously she's trying to lure Logan into her bed." Casablancas volunteers. "She's as much as admitted it."

 Weevil runs a hand over his face, and blows out a breath. "If you’d like to write some goodbye letters, I'll be sure to get them to your loved ones, after Veronica murders you."

 Ruby's nose crinkles, offended. "For your information, I can hold my own against Veronica Mars. In fact, I've been one step ahead of her all along."

 Doubtful. As much as he likes Ruby, she lacks V's killer instinct. "Speaking of Veronica...Does somebody want to explain what's going on? Why did Mr. Mars request backup and then leave without talking to me? Why did they just tear out of here like a bat out of hell? And who the hell is that dead body on the couch?"

 "Wow." A muffled voice speaks from under the blanket. "That's just harsh, man."

 Weevil crosses the room, and throws back the cover. "Fennel?"

Wallace's eyelids flutter, pained by the overhead lighting, and his rib cage heaves with labored breaths. His complexion is...well...alarming. It's as if he's been dip-dyed in a giant vat of neon pink highlighter ink, tinting his flesh, and staining his teeth and eyeballs. In fact, some kind of gooey pink residue clings to him even now, like the skin on the top of his abuela's Jell-O.

 Alarm bells go off in Weevil's brain. "What the fuck happened to you?"

 Fennel moans, speaks in a pained voice. "Should I start at the beginning, or just skip to the part where Einstein here ran me down with his truck?" He gestures to Casablancas.

 "Yeah, I'm totally sorry for that, dude. My bad."

 Weevil turns his glare on Dick. "Why the hell isn't he in the hospital? He could have cracked ribs. Punctured lungs."

 Casablancas shrugs. "Got me, man. Veronica took off out of here to track down an antidote for him. She didn't mention anything about hospitals. Just told us to watch him and keep him alive."

 Ruby adds. "We couldn't have done anything anyway. We're stuck without a vehicle, there's no cell reception, and the phone lines were cut."

 Damn! All he has is his bike, and Wallace is in no shape to hold on. "What did you mean by antidote?"

 Casablancas looks at him like he's an idiot. "Umm...antidotos? You know, they cure poison and viruses and stuff."

 Weevil sighs, and counts backwards from five. "I meant, what's wrong with Fennel? Other than the results of your vehicular homicide attempt."

 "Ohhhh" Dick nods, getting it now. "The antidote is for that sludge stuff that was being piped into his coffin."

 "Oh, give me a fucking break." Weevil spins around. "Coffins? Sludge? What the hell is this? A Toxic Avenger reboot?"

 Rooks crosses his legs, pulling his lower pant leg tight enough to reveal a bulge. He’s sullen and silent, in the same room, but not with the others. And from the look of those bruises, has already run afoul of Echolls. All of it together indicates that he’s probably shady.  If not? Well, he can always apologize later.  

 Weevil turns back to the others, casual and at ease.  He counts to three, turns, and dives on the man. Before Mr. Rooks even knows what hit him, Weevil’s confiscated the pistol.

 "Great job checking him for an ankle holster, guys." Holding it by its barrel, he passes it over to Ruby, who tucks it down the front of her jeans like a TV gangster.

 Casablancas rolls his eyes. "Um...we've been a little occupied running for our lives. God, you're judgmental."

 "Running from who?"

 "Him." Dick points at Wallace.

 "You ran for your life from Wallace Fennel?" Weevil snorts. "What did you think he would do? Make a three-pointer on your face?"

 "How many times do I have to tell you?" Wallace groans. "I wasn't chasing you. I was trying to escape."

"Maybe you were when I hit you, but what about all the other times? You've been chasing us all day, with your super speed, and stuff."

 "WHAT other times?" Fennel seems clearly baffled.

 "Hold on." Weevil puts up a hand. "I want to hear the whole story, but first can somebody have the decency to clean this guy off? If that residue is toxic enough to require an antidote, he shouldn't be left wearing it." He points to Rooks. "You. Make yourself useful and help out your fellow educator."

 The man speaks for the first time. "And get that stuff all over me?"

 "Call it karma for Susan Knight." Ruby sneers. "And Carrie Bishop, too. She would still be alive if you hadn't traumatized Susan."

 "I didn't traumatize Susan. She loved me, and I...cared for her."

 Weevil holds up a hand, halting Ruby's imminent tirade. "I'm sure you have a lot to say, and he's clearly scum of the earth. But arguing right now won't help Fennel."

 Dick speaks up. "If we let him leave this room, how do we know he won't dump Wally somewhere and take off?"

 "Wallace." The blanket mumbles.

 "I don't know." Weevil touches his chin, pretending to ponder. "What stopped him from taking off before I showed up? You weren't even watching him, he had a weapon, and if I wanted to get away badly enough, Dick Casablancas wouldn't be much of a deterrent."

 Ruby seems to think this over for a second, but isn't convinced. She pulls the gun, and aims. "Let's go pervert."

 "Go ahead. Shoot me." Rooks lifts his pointy, belligerent chin. "The only way to get him to the bathroom would be to carry him, and if I get that substance all over me, I'll die anyway."

 With a feral snarl, Ruby leaves the room, returning thirty-seconds later with a wheelchair. "Lift him onto this."

 "Where'd you get that?" Weevil asks.

 "It was in the sister's room." She points in a vaguely Northeast direction.

 "No way! That Lydia chick making Ronnie jump through hoops is a gimp?"

 Ruby whirls on Dick. "Don't even speak to me if you're going to use ablest slurs." 

 From the way Dick's forehead scrunches, Weevil guesses he'll be checking the dictionary later.

 She continues. "It was the other sister's room. The little one. The one Sean Friedrich is holding as leverage over Jeff and Lydia."

 Wait. What? Weevil feels a migraine coming. "That sniveling twerp, Sean Freidrich is involved in this, too?"

 "To the teeth."

 "Her name is Katie." Rooks is staring at the wheelchair, skin tight around his eyes, and wearing an expression of pure nausea. "She's twelve years old."

 Oh fuck. Not a kid. That sticky-fingered freak better hope Weevil doesn't find him first. You never mess with kids.

 "Well?" Ruby waves the gun, to get Rook's attention.

 He sighs, and stands, pulls his sleeves over his hands and gingerly transfers a moaning Wallace into the chair. They leave the room, Ruby muttering, "I dare you to try something, Pedo. Go ahead. I'll shoot your nuts off."

 Weevil stares out the window, while Casablancas rolls a thick doobie on a priceless antique game table.

 It's full dark now, the only light coming from the solar powered garden stakes lining the front bed. He tries his phone again, but still can't get a signal.

 Hopefully Veronica and Echolls are having some luck, but antidote or not, Wallace needs to be in a hospital. He's barely holding on.

 Then again, if he's been exposed to a toxin, maybe they should get him to the CDC. It's in Atlanta, if he remembers his Walking Dead canon, but maybe there's a local chapter. He'd look it up on his phone, but...

 At the sound of squabbling and squeaking wheels, he shakes his head, refocusing on the here and now.

 Wallace appears marginally better when they return. He's clean, at the very least, with white bandages taped and wrapped haphazardly. They've managed to round up some fresh clothing for him, and a cap to shade his eyes. The jeans are about a mile too long, but it's not like he's going to be tap dancing.

 Weevil pinches the bridge of his nose. "Feeling any better?"

 "I still feel like I've been hit by a truck." Wallace slants angry eyes at Casablancas. "But I suppose not sticking to myself and everything around me is an improvement."

 Grabbing a side chair, Weevil drags it over to Wallace and sits at eye level. "Tell me what happened to you."

 "Most of it I don't remember." Wallace gives a helpless shrug. "They got me when I came here looking for…a friend. Lydia seemed nice enough. She invited me in, offered me refreshments, and pretended not to know anything.  I think she must have drugged my tea or something.  Next thing I know, I’m in a damn coffin, covered in some kind of gel or plasma, with a breathing tube shoved down my throat.”  He shudders, and Weevil can't really blame him.

 So, the nice white lady invites a black guy inside. Coffins, and toxic sludge, and drugged tea. Forget the Toxic Avenger, this is starting to look more like the Get Out Sequel, “Get the FUCK Out.”

 “Hey,” Weevil begins, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been meaning to ask you.  Remember that redhead that was with me the first time we met? At that diner?”  

 Wallace’s scowls. “Have you been sniffing glue? The first time we met, you and your gang ambushed me in the parking lot, stripped me naked, and duct taped me to a flagpole.”  

 “Sorry.” Weevil exhales. “Had to be sure.”  

 Wallace stares at him, brow crinkled in confusion, and then rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I saw that movie too, and I would remind you that it’s fiction, and therefore, impossible, but I’ve seen – and done – some things today. And I’m not sure I can tell the difference anymore either, so…?”

 Weevil guides him back to the explanation. "So, Veronica was okay with you coming here without backup?"

 "I don't need to clear every decision with Veronica, you know."

 "Considering what happened to you, maybe you should." Dick licks his rolling paper and glances up. "I'm just sayin'"

 Interesting. So, Fennel purposely kept Veronica out of the loop. Why would he do that? Unless... Weevil leans forward. "Who's the friend?"

 Wallace’s face forms that obstinate expression he remembers from high school. "I can't tell you."

 "Like hell, you can't."

 "No man. I promised. I swore I wouldn't say a word." Wallace rolls his shoulders and then winces. "Man. My ribs are killing me. Maybe I should take some Ibuprofen."

 "Nice try, Fennel." Weevil shakes his head. "Who did you come here to help? And why didn't you want Veronica to know about it?"

 Surprisingly, it's Ruby who answers. "His name is Piznambia."

 Dick perks up. "Piznarksi? From Hearst?"

 "That's what I said."

 "Damn." Dick chuckles. "Last time I saw that dude, he was getting his face smashed-in at our high school reunion. I have pictures."

 "I know." Ruby pins Casablancas with a stare. "Why do you think he volunteered?"

 Dick's brow furrows, confused. "To get beaten up?"

 Ruby sighs. "No. He signed up to be a test subject for an experimental drug. A drug developed for the express purpose of creating super soldiers. Super-fast and super-strong, super-soldiers."

 Something in Weevil's peripheral vision catches his attention, and he turns back to the window. "Um...guys?"

 "Piznarski?" Dick snorts in derision. "I'll believe it when I see it. Super-tool is the best he can hope for."

 "He spent a lot more time under that goo than this guy did." She waves a hand at Wallace. "And you saw how fast he could run."

 "Guys!" Weevil raises his voice, and they all turn to him. "Don't look now, but Piz is coming this way, and I think you made him angry."

 Despite the darkness, the skin not covered by the figure’s shredded tee-shirt and tighty-whities glows with a pink, phosphorescent light.

 "Holy shit!" Dick whispers.

The whites of Piz' eyes are the same neon hue as his skin, and his lips are pulled back in a rictus grin. "RONNNKA! RONNNKA! 'SMEE PIZ!"

 "What language is that?" Ruby asks.

 Weevil can't take his eyes off the monster. "He's calling for Veronica."

 A variety of bright, colorful flowers spill artistically from a two-foot terra-cotta planter. Piz bends down, picks it up, and holds it out in offering like a hostess bouquet. "COME OUT RONNNKA! WANNA TALK TO YOU." The planter cracks in his grip and breaks into a dozen pieces, contents tumbling to the ground. He looks down, confused, and then back to the window.

 "Fuck. My. Life." Weevil crosses himself. "We need to get the hell out of here. He's going to bust in, and I don't want to be here when he realizes Veronica's not around."

 "How?" Dick asks. "We have no cars and no phones."

 "I know what to do. Follow me." Ruby crosses to the far side of the room, out of sight from the picture window.

 Dick watches her, forehead wrinkled in thought. "Wait a second. You haven't limped in an hour. What happened to 'I can't walk. My ankle’s broken.'?"

 Ruby glances back over her shoulder, rolls her eyes. "Logan's not here to carry me. Guess I'm on my own." She tugs on an antique brass wall sconce, and a wide section of bookcase swings open, revealing a darkened tunnel of some kind.

 Dick gasps. "No. Freaking. Way. Where does it lead?"

 The flashlight on Ruby's cell illuminates only a few feet. "Catacombs. They run under the entire property." She turns to Weevil. "Think you could roll your bike through here?"

 Weevil rubs the back of his head. "I think so. Can we get it back up?"

 "Yeah. There are ramps at each end."

 "How do you know all this?" Dick asks. "Jeff and Lydia give you a map?"

 "They don't even know the tunnels exist." Ruby turns a sad glance to Wallace - no, the wheelchair he's sitting in. "Katie discovered them. Gave me the underground tour before Sean took her away."

 From outside. "RONNNKA! TALK TO MEEE. MISS YOU!"

 Dick hooks a thumb at the window. "What about Pepto Pizmal out there? If he figures out the house is empty, he might search the property for us."

 "For the first time in your life, you may be right," Weevil says. "We need somebody to stay behind and play decoy long enough for us to get a head start." 

 All eyes turn to Rooks. He lifts both hands, shaking his head adamantly. "Nope. I won't do it. You leave me behind with that...thing...I'm out of here. I'd rather take my chances running."

 Weevil turns to Ruby. "Know where we can find some rope?"

 "You can't leave me here defenseless!" Rooks shrieks. "That's murder!"

 He's not wrong.  "Fine." Weevil sighs, out of patience. "That leaves Ruby or Dick. Wallace needs to be hospitalized, and I need to take him."

 "Not me." Ruby crosses her arms over her chest. "You'll need me to guide you, if you don't want to get lost."

 Four sets of eyes turn to Dick.

 "No. No way." When nobody budges, he whines, "Come on, guys! How the hell am I supposed to convince him I'm Veronica."

 A wide smile stretches across Ruby's face. She plucks off her golden blonde wig, placing it on Dick's head, and adjusting it until it covers all of his own hair. "Wow. You're kinda pretty."

 Despite his predicament, Casablancas smiles, enjoying the flattery.

 "For a douche," Ruby continues.

 His smile drops.

 Weevil rolls his bike in from the patio, choosing not to fret about parquet flooring. Leaving it next to the tunnel, he makes a quick loop of the manor, locking exterior doors and reinforcing them by stuffing chairs under the knobs.

 The monster formerly known as Piz is still howling when he rejoins the others. Ruby returns seconds later with a handful of flashlights, and a machete. She's changed her clothing and now wears tight khaki pants, tall brown boots and an olive-green tank top under a Veronica-style leather jacket. The gun is still tucked into her pants, and her long dark hair falls in a braid down her back.

 Weevil keeps his laugh on the inside. If role-playing helps her find her confidence, who is he to judge? At least she didn't go with hot pants and thigh holsters.

 Straddling his bike, he puts it in neutral and turns on the headlight. "Ready to get this show on the road?"

 "As ready as I'll ever be." Without a backwards glance, Ruby clicks on her flashlight and steps through the opening. Rooks follows, pushing Wallace in the wheelchair.

 Dick stands next to the tilted wall sconce, bewigged and trying valiantly to conceal his fear.

 Shit. Hell has officially frozen over if he's feeling sympathy for this asshole.

 Weevil gives him a manly nod. "I've never liked you, Casablancas."

 Dick bites his fist, the image of contained devastation. "Somehow, my heart will go on."

 "But..." Weevil continues. "I don't want you to die. At the very least, it would hurt people I care about."

 "Is that violins I hear?" Dick cups his ear. "It's like we're almost...friends."

 "Don't get ahead of yourself." Weevil chuckles. "Anyway, stay visible from the window. Once Piz wanders off, wait a few minutes and follow us." He aims his flashlight inside the tunnel. “There’s sand on the tunnel floor, so you should be able to follow the track of my bike.  If Piz gets inside the house..." He pauses. "Hey Ruby, come here."

 She returns from the tunnel. "What's up?"

 "We need to give Dick that gun."

 "Are you crazy? We can't give him our only weapon."

 "What do you call that machete?" Weevil raises an eyebrow. She still looks resistant, so he puts a hand on her arm, appealing to her emotions. "He's taking a huge risk to keep us safe. We can't leave him defenseless."

 "UGH! Why do you have to make sense?" Roughly yanking the gun from her waistband, she hands it butt first to Dick. She returns to the tunnel, muttering, "The idiot will probably shoot his own foot off, but what do I care?"

 Wallace gathers enough energy to make threats. “He’s still my friend, man. Don’t you dare kill him, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”  

 Dick’s eyes lift to the ceiling. “Yeah. Sure. We’ll just toast marshmallows together, and sing “Come Buy Ya.”

 Weevil snickers. Idiot. "Best of luck, my man." He hands his flashlight to Dick, pushes off and rolls his bike down the ramp. The secret door closes behind him, leaving only his headlight, and three small flashlights to guide the way.

So, this is it. Alone with the freak.

 The bookshelf swings closed with a loud creeeaaak, sounding much like the final nail in Dick's coffin. Not a nail being hammered, obvi, but maybe one being stressed. Like if the coffin was wood, and he was inside doing a lot of wiggling or something.

 Wonder if Wally did a lot of wiggling in his coffin before he got freed?

 A wet motorcycle track runs from the patio entrance straight to the secret door, like a neon sign saying 'they went this-a-way'. He grabs a towel from the nearest bathroom, and using his foot, wipes it out. Kind of. He's not trying to win any housekeeping awards, or anything.

"RONNKA! RONNKA!"

Dick shudders. If he's going to be forced to stick around listening to the world's pinkest Stanley Kowalski, he's going to need a bit of...herbal relief. Luckily, he’s already anticipated this.

Bringing flame to the end of his joint, he inhales deeply, holding the smoke until his ears start to ring. Little by little his rigid muscles relax.

Piz still stands outside the window, staring in at him. Dick's skin crawls, but he forces a smile and gives him a little finger-wave.

Damn, why can't Logan be here? He wouldn't stand around waiting to be hulk-smashed. He'd head out there and take a shovel to the fucker's head. Of course, he'd probably end up hospitalized, but at least everyone else would get away.

Wait...am I the Logan tonight? Smiling, despite his predicament, he takes a seat in the club chair next to the window - still warm from Ruby's fine ass.

It's almost miraculous, the way she'd transformed from a simpering, clingy, hot-mess when Logan was here, to a competent, bitchy, take-no-prisoners, hot-mess, the moment he was gone. Something about her utter disdain for him, well...it's disturbing how much that turns him on.

He’d bang her. Probably. It’s not like Mac will ever give him the time of day, so why not?

He fluffs the long blonde wig over his shoulders. If only he had some props or something. A fan, maybe.

 Bugs Bunny would flutter a fan when he was hiding in plain sight as a woman. Sometimes he’d do the Knitting-Granny thing, or the bonneted Southern Belle, or chick with the fruit-basket hat.

 And you can never forget blonde, Viking-Braids Bugs. That was kinda hot. Huh. My man, Bugs, REALLY enjoyed going drag.

 "RONNKA." The Piz thing howls. "LOVE YOU!"

 Despite the danger, Dick can't help but snicker. Raising his voice to a feminine pitch, he shouts back. "I LOVE LOGAN! NOT YOU!"

 "RONNNKA! I FIGHTS GOOD NOW, TOO!"

 Dick calls back. "BUT YOU STILL CAN'T FUCK WORTH A DAMN!"

 Piz lets out a roaring shriek and runs straight at the window.

 Oh shit! Why did I do that again?

 Dick backs away - all the way, until he bumps into the bookcase. The glass picture window shatters into a million pieces, and he pulls the gun from his pants, holding it straight out in front of him.

 Piz-zilla stands among the debris, barefoot and unaffected. His eyes lock on Dick, and his head tilts, confuse. "Ronnka?"

 He stalks closer, ignoring the gun and leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.

 Something hot and wet runs down Dick's leg, and in desperation, he rips the wig off his head, holds it out in front of him, and waves it like a white flag.

 He squeezes his eyes closed and waits.  Piz doesn’t attack, nor does he retreat.  He waits there, breathing like a bad porn star and smelling like wet dog.

 When he can’t take the suspense another second, Dick cracks an eyelid.  

 Piz is staring at the wig, horrified. "Wha you do to Ronka?"

 "No! I didn't fucking scalp her. It's a wig. See?" He turns it inside-out, displaying the woven cap section. "Not Veronica. Ronnie left an hour ago."

 "Ronka here. Saw her."

 "No man. That was me! Look!" Dick demonstrates, putting the wig on and pulling it off, repeating the gesture several times. "I'm Veronica. Not Veronica. Veronica. Not Veronica. See what I mean?"

 "Not Veronica." The Pizmonster repeats.

 "Not Veronica," Dick confirms. "She left an hour ago. With Logan."

 "LOOOGAN!" Piz roars!

 Dick cringes. Way to poke the beast, genius.

 Piz spins away, howling, "LOOOGAN! LET RONKA GO!  SHE LOVE MEEEE NOW."

 "Yeah. Logan stole yo girl!" Dick gently shoves Piz into motion. "Go get 'em, big guy."

 He waits until Piz is out of sight. Not daring to open the secret passage – the creaking hinges might draw him back – Dick hides instead in the coat closet to the left of the front door. He hears crashes and bangs as Piz stalks from room to room, screaming for Ronnie and Logan.

 Minutes pass, and the noise stops. Dick bites his lip at the sound of crunching glass outside his hiding space. He lifts the gun, swearing that this time, he'll shoot the fucker.

 Piz reaches for the exterior door instead, ripping it from its hinges with a loud, creaking crash. He heads out into the night, resuming his call for Veronica.

 It takes Dick several minutes to escape the closet with the debris in the way. He's forced, to sit, press his back to the wall, and shove with his feet until the door opens far enough for him to squeeze out.

 With one last look through the broken window – nothing pink, nor glowing in sight – Dick exits into the catacombs.

 Darkness closes around him, thick and silent, and this has to be what solitary confinement feels like.

 He flicks on his flashlight, but the beam is weak. If he doesn't catch up before the batteries die, he's going to be trapped down here in the dark.

 One wrong turn, and he could be lost down here forever. Would the others even search for him? Weevil has every reason to hate him, Fennel thinks he's trash, and Ruby would just use his passing as an excuse to console Logan.

 He trains the small circle of light on the motorcycle track, and moves with purpose. To combat his fear and loneliness, he lights his second joint, and tries connecting all the pieces he's learned or overheard since making the mistake of driving to this property.

 Jeff and Lydia VanVino - or whatever - traded their failing Cabernet production for vats full of pink level-up potion. There has to be a shitload of cash in that, provided nobody catches wind of the results.

 Lydia allied herself with that cockroach, Sean Friedrich, who's some kind of Fitzpatrick henchman now. Jeff, apparently, grew a conscience, and decided to work with Veronica. And her San Diego cop buddies. Separately. Whether that was before or after Friedrich kidnapped his little sister remains to be seen.

 Piz signed up for the Captain America makeover treatment, but ended up trading most of his IQ points for the ability to smash property and a permanent case of rosacea.

 Ruby’s in it because she wants to bang Logan. Piz wants to bang Veronica. Dick wants to bang someone. Anyone. It's been a while.

 "And Mr. Rooks shot at Ruby because...why? She's annoying? She can identify him? He's a bitter prick?"

 There's too many bad guys. Too many coincidences. Hell, even Beaver would consider this plan convoluted, and he engineered the whole...well...you know.

"We have to be missing something. They don’t call them the Fighting Fitzpatricks for nothing. There’s already a dozen of them, backbiting and jockeying for position. So…an army of braindead, pink, super-soldiers would just make things worse, right?”

 A tunnel branches off to the right, but Dick ignores it, as Weevil's tire track continues straight ahead.

That is, until he hears the moaning. Not moaning-moaning, really. Nobody's bumping uglies or anything, and he's not being haunted by the Ghost of Pizmas Past. It's more like…somebody with a mouth full of...something, is really trying to get his attention.

 He should probably check it out. On the other hand, his flashlight is growing dimmer by the minute, and with Logan and Mac across town with Ronnie, there's a zero percent chance the it's anyone he gives a shit about.

 A minute later, his curiosity gets the better of him. What if Ruby or Rooks, (or both), turned against Wallace and Weevil, stole the motorcycle, and left them behind? He doesn't much like those guys, but they're Ronnie's people, and he's Logan's, so they're almost like his in-laws.

 And anyway, this is going to make a helluva bar story someday – if they survive the night – and he'd be embarrassed to admit he got out alive without ever discovering the identity of the moaner.

 Dammit. He retraces his steps, and turns at the 'Y', dragging his foot to make a new path.

 The new branch curves sharply to the right, circling back toward the main tunnel, and dead-ending in a sort of cul-de-sac. Stacked crates line the wall, with shipping labels so old, the writing has all but worn off. Leaning against one of them, bound and gagged, sits...Ugh.

 "This is what curiosity gets you." Dick rips duct tape from Sean Friedrich's, noting the pinkish bald spot in the dude's 'stache with some satisfaction. "Funny meeting you, here."

 Sean spits a wad of white cloth from his mouth, pushing it with his tongue when it sticks to his lip. "Dick Casablancas. Last person I would've expected. I was afraid you didn't hear me."

 "I wish I hadn't." Hooking hands under Sean's arms, Dick helps him up to his feet.

 "Thanks. Hurry up, and untie me."

 "Yeah. Not happening." The nearest crate has been pried open at some point, and Dick pushes aside its lid, shining his flashlight on the contents. He lifts one of the remaining nine bottles of wine, blowing off the dust. He can't read the label - not enough light, so he tucks it under the arm holding his flashlight. "Let's go, before we run out of light."

 "Help me out, man! My wrists are numb."

 "Sucks to be you." Dick shoves him toward the tunnel. "Get it through your head, we're not on the same team."

 "We could be," Sean glances over his shoulder, preparing to start negotiations. "I can make it worth your while."

 Dick chuckles. "That shit doesn't work on me. I'm already rich."

 Sean persists. "What if I could offer you something better than money?"

 "Like what?"

 "I can make you a god." Sean says, without an ounce of irony.

 Dick plays along. "A god? What do you mean?"

 "I can make you invincible. Strong like Hercules. Fast like Hermes. Powerful like Zeus." Apparently, Friedrich has gone off the deep end, and thinks he's some kind of Bond villain now.

 "Smart like a box of bricks?" Back at the main tunnel, Dick nudges Sean to the right. "Pink like Victoria's Real Secret?"

 Sean sighs. "That was a... mistake. Lydia made a miscalculation in the formula. All the others were successes. Let me make you a success."

 "You're talking to the wrong guy. I surf, I get baked, and play video games. What do I need with strength or speed?"

 "Fine!" Sean snaps. "You don't care about money or power. What do you give a shit about? I'll get it for you."

 "Well, there's family. Logan Echolls, for instance. Remember him?" Dick shoves at Sean's back, causing him to stumble for a few steps. "You should. You turned his girlfriend into an addict, fucked her behind his back, and then soiled her memory before she was cold in her grave."

 "Hey! If it wasn't me, it would have been some other guy with good drugs. She came on to me, and anyway, I told Logan I was sorry."

 "So, to make it up to him, you turned Piznarski into a heat-seeking missile intent on bumping him off and stealing his current girlfriend?"

 "We humored the guy. So, what?" Sean's voice drips with condescension. "Do you think we're stupid enough to want Veronica Mars up in our business? She has a habit of ruining everything."

 "So, you were just—” Dick's flashlight goes out, plunging them into blackness. "SHIT!"

 Sean takes the opportunity to run, his footsteps shuffling in double-time.

 "Stop, you idiot. I have a gun."

 “Good luck aiming, sucker!” Sean calls back.  

 The flashlight hits the ground with an echoing clatter, as Dick pulls his cell from his pocket, and thumbs on the flashlight icon.

 Ahead, Sean stumbles and trips, unable to catch himself with his hands tied behind his back. "Arghhh"

 "Serves you right, sucker." Once again, Dick helps him up off the ground.

 A film of dirt covers Sean's face, shirt and jeans. He spits out blood and one of his front teeth. "I had to try, before I just let you deliver me straight to Logan."

 Logan? Considering the disgust and anger on Weevil's face after learning about the missing little girl, Logan shouldn't be Sean's main concern.

 "What's your deal with Logan, anyway?" Dick experimentally tucks his cell in the chest pocket of his shirt, relieved when it's tall enough for the light to show over the top. "It's starting to look like you have a grudge or something."

"Why would I have a grudge against Logan?" Sean asks, but he sounds belligerent and totally fake.

 "Whatever, man." Hands freed up, Dick relights his joint, inhaling deeply.

 "What's that smell?" Sean stops and turns around. "Are you smoking a fatty?"

 "What if I am?"

 "Let me hit that."

 Dick blows smoke into the douche's face. "Nope."

 Sean sighs like the bitch that he is, and resumes walking. "When did you become such an asshole."

 "When wasn't I an asshole? Do you even know me?" Just to fuck with him, Dick aims each of his exhales at the back of Sean's head.

 Rounding a bend in the tunnel, pinpricks of light come into view. Finally!

 Cupping one hand around his mouth, Dick shouts. "HELLLOOOOOOO."

 Silence follows. He's about to try again, when Weevil's voice calls out. "CASABLANCAS?"

 "YEAH, IT'S ME."

 Weevil doesn't answer, but the lights stop receding, growing bigger and brighter as they approach.

 "Piznarski give up and go away?" Weevil asks, when they're within spitting distance.

 "Yeah. After he busted the window and rampaged through the house, he took off to look for Veronica outside."

 A flashlight beam swings in their direction, forcing Dick to squint and shield his eyes.

 "Ugh. Why the hell would you bring him with you?" Ruby asks.

At the sound of her voice, Sean lets out a furious snarl and hurtles forward into the blackness in-between. "You double-crossing bitch!"

 "Did you really think I was going to let you hurt Logan?" She laughs, cruel and cutting. "You're lucky I stopped at tying you up."

 "Lucky you conked me over the head and left me there for oomph--" Sean's voice cuts off.

 Dick closes the remaining distance to the small - but glorious - circle of light. As he joins the group, Ruby greets him by plucking the joint from his hand, and lifting it to her lips. To her left, Wallace slumps in his wheelchair, eyelids at half-mast, as if fighting against unconsciousness.

 Weevil has Sean pinned to the wall, a forearm pressed to his windpipe. He leans in close enough to tongue Sean's ear drum – what's up with this dude and his homoerotic posturing? – speaks in a menacing whisper. "Whatever my friend Ruby did to you is going to feel like a picnic by the time I'm done with you."

 "What the hell?" Sean squirms and struggles. Tries to head butt, but misses by several inches. "What did I do to you?"

 "Me? Nothing. But you took a disabled little girl away from her family, and I have a BIG problem with that."

Mr. Rooks closes-in from Sean's other side, almost comical in his attempt to look intimidating. As if Weevil needs backup from him.

 Ruby seems to be thinking the same thing. She rolls her eyes and hands the joint back to Dick, now sticky, and tasting of Dr. Pepper flavored lip gloss.

 "I'll give her back." Sean speaks slowly, as if trying to regulate his seething contempt. "She's useless to me now, anyway, thanks to that idiot, Jeff."

 Weevil casts an appraising glance at Wallace, and sighs. "We'd better get a move on. This guy needs a doctor." Pulling out a pocket knife, he cuts Sean's remaining bindings and releases him.

 Sean rolls his shoulders, and rotates his wrists back and forth. He only manages to take two steps away from the wall before Rook swings, planting a fist in his face. He stumbles backwards, hitting the wall and clunking his head.

 Weevil side-eyes their old teacher. "You done, tough guy?"

 "Yeah." Rooks whimpers and clutches his fist, as if surprised by the pain. "That was for Katie."

 "Obviously." Weevil swings his leg over his motorcycle and pushes up the kickstand. "Let's move." He kicks off the ground, rolling the bike forward.

 Dick and Ruby fall in behind, with Sean circling around to walk on Dick's left side. He wiggles his jaw, and spits a second front tooth into his open palm.

 Dick snorts. "I hope Team Bad Guy has a good dental plan."

 Sean isn't amused. He eyes each of them like they're vipers capable of striking at any moment.

 Rooks - pushing Wallace's wheelchair - brings up the rear.

 They walk in silence at first, the only sound being the squeaking of wheels and sizzle of paper, as Dick and Ruby pass the joint back and forth.

 Cross-tunnels appear more regularly. Most, they pass by. Twice, Ruby instructs them to turn.

 "Just out of curiosity..." Sean begins. "Has anybody considered the possibility of Ruby getting us thoroughly lost, and then slipping away when we're not paying attention?"

 "That's a great idea," she answers. "Now let me just split Weevil and Wallace from the pack for a totally unrelated conversation..."

 Dick bumps her shoulder. "Not a lot of loyalty on Team Bad Guy, huh?"

 "I'm not on their team."

 Wallace speaks up. "Well then, whose team are you on?"

 "Good question," Weevil says. "How did you end up with these guys?"

 "Team Logan, obviously.  Should I start from the beginning?"

 Obviously.

 "Yeah. Sure."

 "I was at the 09er Club, just minding my own business one day—"

 Sean scoffs. "You were our waitress, and you illegally recorded our conversation."

 She shrugs, shoulder brushing against Dick's arm. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. That Piznambia guy was having lunch with Sean, Lydia, and Jeff, sniveling about Veronica Mars, and how she always rejected him for Alpha Males. Logan Echolls, specifically. Actually...hold on." She retrieves her cell and flicks her fingers over the screen. "Luckily, I saved a local copy of the recording." 

 From the speakers, comes Sean's prissy, over-annunciated voice. "Logan Echolls is an unevolved Neanderthal. Listen Stosh, you've seen the outcomes of our test subjects. They make Captain America look weak and puny. Once you've completed your treatments, you'll redefine alpha male."

 A woman speaks in a high-pitched voice. Lydia, presumably. "You can throw Logan around like a ragdoll, if you so choose."

 Piznarski giggles. "I choose. I very much choose. My occipital bone—"

Lydia interrupts with a bored sigh. "Yeah. We've heard the story already. Go ahead, kill him. Do whatever you want to him, as long as it can't blow back on us."

The recording ends, and Ruby resumes her story. "I cornered Lydia in the bathroom and played the tape for her."

"You blackmailed her?" Weevil asks.

"No. I told her I wanted in. I'd even help Piznolio get Veronica, but in return, I wanted Logan for myself, and if any harm came to him at all - even a scratch - the recording would go public."

"Do you realize how creepy that is?" Wallace asks. "Logan hasn't given up on Veronica since high school.  You honestly thought you could lure him away with a cheap wig and an elaborate scheme? Better people have tried."

 "Obviously, not." Ruby sighs, exasperated. "But I'm a great actress. It's not hard to convince people I'm looney and harmless."

 "For the record, you totally convinced me." Dick says. "So, you joined Team Bad Guy as a double-agent, or something?"

 Sean speaks, his voice venomous. "That's exactly what she did. I warned them not to trust the bitch, that she was sabotaging everything, but Lydia and Jeff thought I was paranoid. 'Ruby's harmless,' they said. 'We can use her as bait,' they said. I should've trusted my instincts."

"I don't trust her, either," Wallace says. "She says all this now, but why didn't she call the police? Why didn't she bring in Veronica?"

"I intended to at first, but then...I couldn't."

"He has a point," Dick says. "And what about today? You've had ample opportunity to tell the truth. You could've given us a heads-up on what we were walking into instead of simpering and whining and clinging to Logan. Hell, even that Jeff dude leveled with us."

"I couldn't okay? And Jeff doesn’t know it yet, but he probably won’t survive the day.”

"Talk to us, Ruby." Weevil halts his bike, and turns his head, speaks softly. "Why are you holding back?"

"The eyelashes, Weevil? That's not fair." She sighs. "I'm not holding back, now. I held back earlier today – and for the past few weeks – because Veronica Mars is working with the mastermind. Or at least I presume he's the mastermind, he could be reporting to others."

Wallace makes a derisive snort. "Veronica would never work with Fitzpatrick. He's everything she stands against in the world." 

"Liam Fitzpatrick is not the mastermind. He provides volunteers for a share of the cut."

"And where does he get these volunteers?" Weevil asks.

"You can find them in any bar. Pathetic losers, crying in their beers over being friendzoned, or having sand kicked in their faces, or whatever. He gets them drunk, whispers promises about how everything will be different after their treatments, and reels them in. An army of 'Nice Guys'" 

"Oh hell." Wallace makes a choked sound. "This is my fault! Piz was staying at my place during his visit from New York. Something came up at work on the second night, and I had to cancel plans to meet him for drinks. Fitzpatrick must've gotten to him then." 

"No, it's not your fault." Ruby turns around, and lays a hand on his shoulder, ducking to look into his creepy pink eyes. "For every one volunteer, there were ten who walked away. Ten who opted out of quick-fix revenge or power or dominance or whatever. Piz stuck around because he was bitter and jealous, and delusional. And that says a lot coming from the me."

Dick is still working through the logic in his head. "So Fitzpatrick is out as the mastermind. It can't be Sean, because Ronnie wouldn't work with him. She is working with Jeff, but he seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so...not the boss. It's not me or Logan, obviously. That leaves...oh God. Not Mac!" 

Now, we’ll NEVER get to second base.

"The hacker? Why would you even go there?" Ruby groans, slowing her voice to a condescending drawl. "Since I have to spell things out...the mastermind is Wei Breitski. How was that not your logical conclusion?"

"Detective Wei Breitski?" Wallace demands. "The same guy who left the winery with Veronica, Logan and Keith to go find my antidote?" 

"That's the one. He thought he was being sneaky, meeting Sean and Lydia in secret, but Ruby Jetson sees everything. These catacombs don't only run under the house."

Sean groans.  “I told her I heard footsteps in the walls.  ‘It’s an old house, Sean’. ‘It’s Great Uncle Percy’s ghost, Sean’.  When will anyone ever listen to me?”

"What's the connection between a cop and hot pink, chemically-engineered, super soldiers?" Weevil asks. 

"Technically, only Piznabbit turned pink. And Wallace, I suppose. Lydia had this great plan to speed up production, or something. It didn't work, obviously. As for the connection? I'm not positive, but they whispered about some kind of West coast private army or mercenaries." 

"Okay, that's super fucked-up, and I'm admittedly, damn lucky to have escaped that fate," Wallace interrupts, "But I'm still stuck on part where Veronica thinks she can trust Wei, and you let her walk into danger."

"How was I supposed to warn her? He was always there, pretending to be innocent in that stupid bowler hat. I had to play dumb as long as he was around."  

Rooks speaks up. "You should have played dumber. Wei's the one who forced me to find you and shoot you."

Ruby spins around to attack, but Rooks shifts the wheelchair, using it a shield. "Hey! You already payed me back.  You knocked me unconscious, remember?"

"Maybe I'm in the mood for a replay." She stalks to the right.

He compensates with the wheelchair. "He didn't give me a choice, okay?"

"Stop it!" Wallace hits the manual brake lever, locking the wheelchair in place, and scowls at Ruby until she hangs her head in shame and slinks away. He waits until they're moving again to address Mr. Rooks. "That's what I don't understand. Despite your gross and highly illegal predilection for underaged girls, you were a damn good teacher, and really seemed to care about your students. How could you have fallen so low that you would attempt murder and consort with those evil bastards?" 

"Isn't it obvious?" Weevil asks.

"Not really," Dick answers. "I'd like to know the answer to that as well." 

When Rooks doesn't volunteer an explanation, Weevil sighs. "Katie VanVliet, the missing little girl, is his daughter." 

Wallace shakes his head. "Shouldn't his daughter be almost grown by now? The math doesn't work out."

"My daughter Olivia, will turn eighteen in a few months." 

"Oh. My. God." Ruby gasps. Tone reverent, she continues, "No wonder I felt an instant connection to Katie. It's like...I was meant to befriend her."

Dick scratches his head. "What am I missing." 

Wallace fills him in. "I’m gathering that the Van Vliet family must have adopted Susan Knight's daughter with Rooks, and our friend Sean here, along with Detective Wei, kidnapped her to keep Rooks and Jeff in line."

"Took you long enough." Weevil says, pushing his motorcycle into motion again. 

Dick turns to Sean. "That's harsh. Even for you."

Sean exhibits zero guilt or shame, merely gives him a 'what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it-sucka' smirk. 

Something switches inside Dick, and, what the hell? Other than Wallace, he's the only one who hasn't taken a turn at this douchebag. Rearing back, he demonstrates how a real head butt gets done.

The sickening crunch of Sean's nose is worth the blinding flash of pain behind Dick's eyes. Totally worth it.

With that out of his system, Dick helps Sean up off the ground. "Any more teeth?"

"Fuck you." Sean's upper lip moves as his tongue takes inventory. "You missed, asshole."

"Bummer."

"Couple more minutes," Ruby says. "We're almost to the barn."

"Finally." Weevil exhales. "We should try to figure out what comes next."

"So, talk," Dick says.

Weevil glares over his shoulder. "The problem is, we have two people needing saving, and I'm only one person. As nauseating as I find the idea of anybody else touching my baby, I have to put Wallace's survival ahead of that, so..." He swallows and points to Dick and Ruby. "Do either of you have any experience riding a motorcycle?"

Dick shakes his head. "Not really, man. Only four-wheelers."

"I've only ridden as a passenger," Ruby says.

"Dammit." Weevil hangs his head in frustration. He breathes audibly for a second, and then straightens. "Listen. I've known both of you forever, and you've both spent your lives convincing people to underestimate you. Whether out of strategy..." he addresses Ruby, then swings his eyes to Dick. "...or laziness. I don't care. This is the moment for you to step up."

"Hold that thought." Dick lifts a finger, and pulls out his phone. "Imma find you some motivational speech background music."

Weevil slaps him on the back of his head. "Stop fucking around. Somebody needs to force Sean's cooperation long enough to rescue that kid. Since I can't be in two places at once, it's up to you two."

"And me." Rooks says. "I'd do anything to help Katie."

"Imagine if you'd tried something earlier, instead of...I don't know...attempted murder?"

"This is it," Ruby says, as they come to an upward-leading ramp. She toggles a switch and a door swings open, revealing giant metal vats.

They all file through the opening, into the strangest barn Dick has ever seen. Not that he's spent a lot of time in barns or anything, but...is that a coffin?  Wallace’s coffin?

Weevil parks the bike, and crouches down in front of Wallace. "Okay, Fennel. This is it. We're gonna get you on that bike, and I'm gonna need you to hold on like your life depends upon it, okay?"

"No." Wallace swallows and shakes his head. Tears fill his strange pink eyes. "I don't think I can hold on. I'm scared."

Weevil lifts his eyes to the sky as if praying. "I don't know what else to do. I could leave by myself, drive far enough to get a cell signal and then call an ambulance, but how much time would it take to get here? And can you afford to wait?"

"I have an idea!" Ruby disappears around one of the giant vats, returning with a silver, donut shaped item. 

Five minutes later, Dick returns the pocket knife to Weevil. "Why does this feel so familiar?"

"This is WRONG!" Wallace moans, cheek pressed to Weevil's back. "All KINDS of wrong!"

"You think I like it?" Weevil snaps. "I'm all for poetic justice and everything, but not at the expense of my favorite leather jacket."

"Can you two stop with the bickering?" Ruby stands with both hands on her hips. "Just be grateful that you're safe and it would take a hurricane to knock Wallace off that bike."

It's not an exaggeration. There has to be fifty layers of duct tape, binding Wallace to Weevil.

They'd stood on either side of the bike passing the roll back and forth. Dick to Ruby in front. Ruby to Dick in back. Front. Back. Front. Back. It might take hours to get the smell of tape off his hands.  

They move as a group to the small door in the southeast corner. Ruby opens it, and turns back. "There's a service road right behind those trees. Follow it for--"

"RONNNKKKKA? THERE YOU ARE!"

She slams the door and bolts it. "Now what?"

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck." Weevil mutters. He lets out a sobbing laugh, and lifts an eyebrow. "Well...it worked once before?"

"Huh-uh!  No! Nope!" Dick shakes his head. "Negative.  I've already pissed my pants once today. It's somebody else's turn."

"Don't look at me." Sean crosses his arms. "I'm the only one who can take you to Katie."

Mr. Rooks – who was tasked with holding Ruby's leather jacket while they were duct-taping – straightens up and slips his arms through the slightly too-short sleeves, flexing where it's too tight along the upper back. He marches over to Dick, snatches the blonde wig, and drops it haphazardly onto his own head, not bothering to adjust the fit.

Well that’s embarrassing. Would it have killed somebody to remind me I was still wearing that? 

“It’s been fun getting…reacquainted.”  Rooks unbolts the barn door and, with a sad wave to the group, runs out into the night, shouting out in girl-voice, "Here I am, Baby! Come and get me!"

"Well damn." Weevil shakes his head. "Didn't think he had it in him." He waits until they're out of sight, kick starts his bike, and pulls away, looking back over his shoulder once.

"And then there were three," Dick says. Because it sounds kind of ominous.  To Ruby, he asks, “Wanna make out?”  

“Ewww.” She scrunches her nose with disgust, but there’s a gleam in her eye that makes him think it’s all for show.  

He grins.  I’ve got your number. "In that case, let's go rescue that kid."

"Let's not." Sean fakes a yawn and stretches. "You're all assholes, and I think I've changed my mind."

Oh, hell no! 

Dick draws from his waistband, and pulls back the safety. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of my gun." He pauses for dramatic effect, and slips on his sunglasses, while the opening theme for CSI-Miami plays in his head.

Want to find out what happens next? Check back next Saturday for the next installment written by…  @nicemom93.  Tag, you’re it! Make sure to submit your segment to vmheadquarters@yahoo.com by Wednesday, October 11th.