#I often think about how it seems that when using the puppet sidestep falls back more on their old farm training

[laatmaar]

The more things change the more they stay the same.

Or Matt on a mission before her first escape from the farm and Matt-as-Beau on a mission of his own.

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Matthew’s Monster Mystery | Words: 2401 | Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gen | (past John x Abigail) | Tags: monster AU, modern AU, WIP

Chapter: [1] [2]

It's always strange for John to explain his condition to people. He's technically dead, but also somehow not. The weirdest part is that more often than not, he still feels very much alive. Right now, he can feel his heart beat a mile a minute, although it shouldn't move at all.

John's following along behind the others. They reach the fountain where they saw Hosea disappear and look around. It's eerily quiet, and after rounding the fountain, Sadie shrugs.

"Not here. Think you can smell something, Arthur?"

Arthur grunts. He hates to act like a dog, but in this instance, it's a legit question. He stands still to take a few quick breaths and immediately scrunches up his nose and covers his mouth with his hand.

"People, food, dog shit," he groans. "I can tell Hosea was here, but I doubt I can track him."

John takes a whiff of his own. His senses don't rival Arthur's, but they focus solely on humans.

"You're right. Hosea was here recently," he says. 

Something else tickles John's nose. He looks at Arthur and slightly nods his head to the side, giving him a direction to focus on. Arthur furrows his brows as if to ask what John wants, but then he seems to get the same sent John did.

Without warning, Arthur closes the distance to a nearby tree in a few long strides, making someone jump up from behind there. Before the stranger can run, John cuts him off, and seconds later, Abigail and Sadie close in as well. Unless the guy in front of them can disappear into thin air, he has nowhere to go.

"Hey, fellers," the stranger says. "Lovely night for a stroll."

John grabs the guy by his jacket and lifts him up. "What are you hiding for, little guy?"

The stranger stares down at John before wiggling his feet, trying to comprehend that he just got picked up like a doll.

"Calm down, zombie man. I'm just here to meet a friend."

Arthur takes a step closer, his eyes glowing in a deep red. "Where's Hosea?"

The stranger's mouth falls open, but then he smiles. "You're monsters. Great. You're here to meet Hosea, too?"

"Let him down, John," Abigail says.

The stranger smiles at her when John puts him down. "Thank you, finally someone-"

He doesn't finish the sentence. Flames dance on Abigail's fingers, and the stranger strains his neck to get away from the heat when she points her sharp nails at his throat. 

"Talk," Abigail demands, "now."

"Woah, are you all crazy? Hosea told me to meet him here. I ran a little late, and he's not here. That's all I know. Totally don't appreciate all that lifting and growling."

The stranger babbles at a speed that makes it hard to understand, and Abigail looks around as if not sure what to make of the guy.

"What are you?" Sadie asks.

"Me?" the stranger asks. When Sadie nods, he puffs himself up like a bird. "Sean MacGuire. Proud and infamous member of the mysterious fair folk."

They all exchange looks until Sadie shrugs. "I liked the other fairy better."

John and Abigail laugh, but Arthur rounds Sean as if he might find Hosea hidden in his clothes. "What did Hosea want with you?"

"Helped me out of a pinch a while back, and we've been trading favors ever since."

Arthur looks over to John, who gives him a slight nod. That sure does sound like Hosea, and Sean seems to tell the truth. 

"What now?" John asks.

"I say we go to Hosea's place," Arthur suggests. "I bet fairy boy isn't the only one Hosea traded favors with. Maybe somebody else wasn't happy about their deal."

Since Hosea's place isn't far, they make their way over there on foot. Sean protests at first, claiming to have better things to do, but Abigail's flames convince him once more.

Once there, Sadie picks the lock, and they venture into the apartment. From the way the others look around, John can tell how uncomfortable they feel. They've been to Hosea's many times, but it's weird to rifle through his things without him there.

"Anybody got something?" Arthur shouts from the other room.

"Nothing," Abigail and Sadie shout back, and John follows suit.

"Nothing here!"

John walks along one of Hosea's many bookshelves and rounds his huge wooden desk. The long drawer at the front is locked, and John thinks about picking it when his skin prickles as if someone emptied a bottle of champagne over his head.

That's never a good sign, so John walks into the next room. "Guys, I feel like-"

John's words are cut short when a huge figure comes out of the shadows and reaches for him. He tries to sidestep his attacker, but a strong hand closes around his arm and pulls him close.

"Help!" John yelps before the attacker can put a hand over his mouth. 

Sadie and Abigail come running, and Abigail conjures a ball of flame on her hand. "Let him go, vampire!"

John notices that he can't really feel the attacker's touch, and now it makes sense. When someone living touches him, it's usually so much warmer. The vampire doesn't care for Abigail's command, though.

"I think I will keep him for now," he says, his voice calm and unimpressed.

"You better have a good explanation for being here," Sadie growls. "Or we have to hurt you."

The vampire huffs. "I was about to say the same. Who are-?"

From one second to the other, the pressure of the vampire's hands is gone. Out of the corner of his eye, John can see how Arthur pushes the vampire into a bookshelf on the other side of the room. 

The element of surprise doesn't hold on for long. The vampire fights back. His long dark hair is flowing down his back, and he's even broader and taller than Arthur. They keep struggling, and just like John, Sadie, and Abigail can't find an opening to help Arthur.

At last, the fight slows down. The vampire and Arthur stand opposite each other, both of them holding the other's arms. Abigail throws a handful of small leaves at the vampire. He blinks, momentarily confused, and John uses the opportunity to grab him from behind.

"Bind him, Sadie," Arthur groans, struggling to hold the vampire despite John's help.

She steps closer, but then another figure enters the room. This man is smaller and way less impressive in stature compared to the vampire, but he holds his head high, oozing confidence.

"Let my friend go."

Abigail doesn't hesitate. She throws the flame that was intended for the vampire at the newcomer. He only smiles, and John watches in wonder how the flame disappears in front of his face. He has his lips pursed as if he just blew it out.

"I'm not going to ask twice," he says. "Let him go."

"Not going to happen," Arthur grunts, making the stranger roll his eyes.

"Fine, but I gave you fair warning." 

The stranger takes a deep breath, and then he sings. John wonders what the hell this dude is smoking, but he can't move his lips when he wants to say that much. Even worse, his arms lose all strength. He has the sudden urge to do exactly what the stranger is asking of him.

Arthur must feel the same. He lets go of the vampire, staring at the singing stranger instead. Abigail does the same. Her hands rest at her sides, and she makes no effort to use any magic at all. John knows that all of this is wrong. Although his mind screams at him to move, his desire to please the stranger is so much stronger. All John can do is stand there and watch.

The only one moving is Sadie. She walks over to the stranger, clocking him right in the face. As he stumbles backward, the vampire tries to attack Sadie, but Sean appears before him in a whirl of green leaves. He points a wooden spear at the vampire's chest, smiling.

"That's fairy wood, my friend. Go ahead and try it."

The stranger pulls out a knife, but before he can make use of it, ropes shoot out of Sadie's back, binding his hands.

"Nice try, siren," she says, smiling at the stranger. "But your voice doesn't do it for me."

"What are you?" the stranger says. It can't be often that someone resists his voice. Even now that he stopped singing, John still feels obligated to help him.

"Puppet," Sadie says with a shrug. "Now you. Who are you, and what do you want with Hosea?"

"You first," the vampire says, making Sadie roll her eyes.

"Fine," she huffs before pointing at the others. "Arthur, Abigail, John, Sean, and I'm Sadie. We're friends of Hosea."

"I'm Javier," the stranger says. "This is Charles."

The vampire reaches for the spear in Sean's hand, moving the tip away from his heart. "You are all friends of Hosea? How?"

"He saw one of my shows and helped me cut my ropes and escape my master," Sadie says, looking back at the others.

Abigail sighs. "I got thrown out of my coven, and Hosea helped me with my magic. Otherwise, I might have blown myself up."

"We're sharing origin stories?" Sean asks, pulling up his spear to lean against it. "Hosea covered for me, or I might have gone to jail. Good lad."

Sadie turns to Javier, raising her brow. He nods. "Hosea helped me control my voice, so I can sing without using my powers."

Javier looks over to Charles, but Charles turns to Arthur instead. Arthur lets out a low growl, but when Sadie gives him a stern look, he caves. "I almost bit Hosea when I first turned. He helped me stay sane during the full moon."

"Same for me," Charles says. "Shortly after I was turned, Hosea helped me deal with the thirst."

Silence falls over the group, all of them looking at each other until Sean lifts up his hands and claps them together with an overly loud sound. "Great. Seems like we're all friends of Hosea. Can we find him now?"

"That's what we've been trying to do, genius," John huffs. "The question is how."

Javier and Charles share a quick look before Charles reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a small black book. "This is Hosea's calendar. There's a note about meeting someone named Trewlany tomorrow morning. We have his address."

"Here's also a note about a book signing tomorrow afternoon. We think Hosea knows the author. She might know something," Javier says.

"Those are great leads," Sadie says. "Anything else."

Arthur steps forward, holding up a red card. "That's a ticket for a show in a nearby club. Seems like Hosea wanted to go there tomorrow evening."

"Let's split up then and check them all out," Abigail proposes.

"I don't feel comfortable just letting them go," Arthur growls, his eyes fixed on Charles.

Javier stretches out his arms. "We're not keen on working with you either. We're just here to help Hosea."

"Why would you even know that he needs help?"

"We were supposed to meet in the park," Charles explains. "I knew he was there, but before we could reach him, his heart sped up, and then he disappeared. Someone must have taken him."

"That's exactly what happened," Sadie says. "And that's why we'll work together. Everybody in agreement?"

After a short pause, everybody agrees, and Sadie takes the ticket from Arthur, handing it to Abigail.

"Abigail and Sean go check out these singers. Maybe Hosea doesn't only like their music but actually knows them. Arthur, you go with Charles to this Trewlany guy. The two of you should be able to get some information out of him, no matter who he is. I'll go to the author with Javier. That way, we can all keep an eye on each other. Agreed?"

Everybody seems fine with the plan, and John feels heat rising in his body. Rage is one of the few things he gets to feel at full force. "What about me?"

"You go home," Arthur says instead of Sadie.

"Are you mad?" John shouts. "I want to find Hosea just as much as you do."

"You're no help if you fall apart," Arthur grunts.

John wants to give Arthur a piece of his mind, but Abigail blocks his path, her hand coming to rest on John's shoulder. All the heat in John's body pools right under her fingers.

"You know he's right," she says. "You haven't taken a bath in forever. I made you a fresh mixture yesterday and I think you should use it right away."

John wishes he could argue with her, but the truth is that they all have their limits. Abigail uses potions to strengthen her magic, Arthur needs to eat an insane amount of food and sleep for two days after a full transition, and Sadie patched herself up numerous times to not simply fall apart. 

John's lucky that he has friends who help him look somewhat presentable. If he doesn't take care of his body, he soon won't be able to go anywhere, and one of the few things that work is a hot bath with a little bit of magic.

"Fine," he grunts. "But you have to keep me updated."

"I say we meet back at our apartment when we have news," Sadie suggests. "I wouldn't want to talk about this over the phone as long as we don't know who has Hosea."

They split up to go their separate ways, John following Sean and Abigail out of the apartment. 

"Be careful," John says, a sudden feeling of dread taking hold of him.

Abigail smiles and kisses him on the cheek. "Just take care of yourself; we'll be back in no time."

"I'll take good care of the lady," Sean says with a grin. "Don't you worry."

"See? I'm in good hands," Abigail says, but as soon as Sean turns around, she rolls her eyes with a smile, mouthing something like "What an idiot."

John does his best to hold in a laugh and watches them until they turn the next corner. His skin tickles where Abigail kissed him, and John sighs. Sometimes he wishes he could be more than just "not dead."

[chaniters]

Halloween Part II

The Rangers take on Red Behemoth, who has joined Psychoathor as he leads the Phoenix riots against GeniTech’s Headquarters amidst an ecological disaster.  Sidestep comes up with a plan that can hopefully salvage the situation. 

(So on a quick note, I’ve learned that complex stories with multiple characters and a long series of actions and consequences are HARD to write.)

Hope you enjoy this!

Spoilers, as usual. 

__________________________________

“Let’s do the wiring trick!” you ask hurriedly, gun in hand back to the pile of clutter Charge and you are using for cover. You’re very thankful to whoever used this rooftop as their personal storage, else Red Behemoth would have splattered you both by now. 

“You think you can penetrate that armor?” he looks nervous and sweaty, but he’s still got that spark in his eyes that tells you he’s aching for action and crazy stunts right this instant. 

“With the plasma cutter, I got at your HQ? In a heartbeat!” you say holding it on your right hand. 

A single nod. Good. Steel would already be giving you hell about stealing. 

“Alright, you go left, I’ll go right,” he says starting a sprint that leaves a static streak behind him.  Never ceases to amaze you how fast he can move. You start your own sprint… 

“Hey, over here you Soviet asshole! I bet your museum armor can’t hit me!” you taunt him while taking a few energy gunshots at the Behemoth. You’re making it worse by sending a strong scent of frustration into Red’s mind as your shots hit his visual hud.

“Die, you capitalist pigs! RAAAHHH!!!” he roars turning the chassis of his armor towards you, machinegun’s spinning and vomiting bullets at a frightening speed. Thankfully there are a few water tanks on this rooftop to avoid the onslaught…not that they last long before you have to take cover elsewhere. You’re keeping his aim a few degrees off with an illusive after-image. It should be enough to keep you safe against most enemies but considering Red Behemoth’s already awful aim you could still get hit at any time.  

You let go of his mind just as Charge gets close enough to yank one of the Behemoth’s machineguns out of its base with both arms. It doesn’t go like planned, because the thing’s still heavily wired to the villain’s and won’t fully detach, nor will it stop firing… Luckily for you, Charge’s very good at improvising. He manages to turn the gun around just enough to face its owner, blowing up its own base along with most of the Behemoth’s mechanical arm. 

“Newsflash, the cold war’s over bitch! Lay off the guns!” Charge adds his own attempt to infuriate the enemy. 

“Never! I will burn your entire bourgeoise experiment of a country myself if I have to!” he yells turning while aiming a heat-seeker missile at Ortega with his surviving arm. 

Now it’s all up to you… You time your leap and… 

Success!

Wrapping your legs around the armor’s back, Behemoth notices too late that you’re there, swatting fruitlessly in your direction with his missile-loaded arm.

“Get off me, you little Sidekick shit!”

“It’s SIDESTEP!” you say dodging while confusing him about the length of his claw, making him think it’s impossible to reach you. If only… A slab of concrete collides with his face just in time to distract him. You hold on tighter, realizing Elyise is there providing support… good. 

“You’re all products of this weakened and fallen democracy! You will all be crushed under the Soviet Heel!” his Synthesizer yells while shooting some manner of a laser from his chest at Elyise, who quickly levitates away from its firing arc. 

“How many weapons do you have in there, freak??!” you ask in shock. 

“More than enough to destroy all of you American puppets!!”

“You’re not even a true Russian agent!” you say taking out the cutter and sticking it as close as you dare to the armor without burning your hand. 

“My birthplace doesn’t matter as long as I am serving the great ideals of LENIN and the motherlan…- AAAGHH!”

The burning must have got to him, and that does get his attention big time. He jerks violently, while trying to catch you with the claw, like a maddened bull. You twist and turn like a snake, doing your best to avoid getting crushed.

Luckily, the cutter is top-notch, and soon enough you have a decently sized fracture on the shell. You pull the wiring from your pack as fast as you can, and stick it in, throwing the other end at the ground, were Charge takes it.

“GET OFF!” Behemoth yells with a spin that actually leaves you without enough hold to stay on top. It’s a bad landing, and it takes the air of your lungs as you fall over the hard rooftop. You stand as fast as you can, but he’s faster this time. All you can see is the Red Behemoth impossibly tall in front of you, pointing the missile straight at your face.

“Say your prayers to your almighty dollar now” his voice thunders down onto you. 

“Oh, will you shut up already? Do you even know how annoying you sound?” Charge says activating a full discharge … 

What follows is that delightful moment when Red looks down, only now noticing the cables going all the way from Charge’s hands to the back of his armor…

*BKZKKAAAAAP*

He lights up like a glorious christmas tree, everything malfunctioning at once, intense black smoke coming from within soon after. He only manages a weak-high-pitched scream before falling down on his head. 

His arm falls limps to the floor, vaguely pointing at you. It’s over. He’s done. You won.

But the small missile’s not done, seems it didn’t get the memo. You notice that just as it activates, the burnt arm’s mechanism not releasing it. It’s ignited tail sizzles and yanks at it’s hold trying to break free for a whole two horrible, endless seconds as you direct a panicked jump to the side…  

Colorful.

That’s all you can think about the resulting explosion before the shockwave separates your feet from the ground.

Impact comes from behind as well, as your back hits hard against Charge’s solid chest. He wraps his arms around you, protective, holding you in place. His gesture is firm but ultimately hopeless, as the shockwave will soon sweep him away as just as it did you. Still, he doesn’t let go.  

Despite his aid, it’s now the both of you falling down from the building, fast as a bullet and hard as a brick. Your life flashes before your eyes in as the ground closes in, much shorter than you had hoped it would be.  Still, once the final score is tallied, you have to agree that hitting the pavement head-first while in Charge’s strong arms is a pretty decent way to go. You can probably accept this fate… He is the man that you…

…no. NO!!! What the hell are you thinking? Are you daydreaming in the middle of a fucking war?!?! What is wrong with you?!

Your training kicks in, dissolving the romantic delusion and bringing you back to the bloody reality of Phoenix’s riot. Pulling the pathetic sentimentalism aside, your mind reaches swift for Sentinel, who miraculously is both nearby and happens to be the ranger that can pick on your calls for help faster than any trained operative you’ve ever worked with. 

Because he’s a professional and not someone fantasizing about some himbo coming to his aid. Ugh, you disgust yourself. When did you let it get this bad? Your handlers warned you so many times against developing such strong personal attachments like this and it’s never been clearer that they had a point…   

Sentinel’s wind gust is quick, efficient, and incredibly cold, stopping you both from becoming a permanent landmark in the nick of time.    

When you finally do hit the ground, the impact is soft and gentle, and you both roll slowly to the side, Charge still won’t let go. You look back to see he’s got his eyes closed, shivering. Shit, he was probably expecting to die right now, just like you did… 

“Hm… guys? I’m really digging this bromance of yours, but Psychopathor’s Doomriders are still out there trying to kill everyone?” Sentinel says, hovering downwards. “Good save calling on me Sidestep, that telepathy’s sure handy” He grins, only his lips visible under his mask. 

Charge exhales, and it takes a few seconds for him to actually realize no one is going to break every bone, and that it would be wise for him to let go of you now, a point that you help drive with a heavy frown.  

“Thanks, Sentinel,” you say dusting yourself off, your gaze still on Charge. 

What the heck are you doing Awan? Why do you want him to hold you when you should yell for him to stay the fuck away? The worst part is you’re pretty sure you’re sending the worse mixed signals and now that you’ve effectively blackmailed Elyise into leaving him, there’s not going to be anything stopping this mess from getting impossibly much worse. 

You need to pick a lane and stay in it, and it can’t be the same as his. Right?  

“Great job, both of you,” Charge says, a bit sheepish, pretending he wasn’t burying his face on your shoulder just a minute ago.

If you could only scream now…

____________________________

“Well it’s official, it can get worse,” Anathema says holding a tablet that’s playing the news. “Another shootout, three dead, and now they’re taking over police stations. The Revengers got beaten badly. Psychopathor’s people are passing guns onto the rioters right now.”

Everyone looks at the scenes with concern. While Red Behemoth’s been defeated, The Calamity, Ripper, Queen of Diamonds and the Beast from Below have all joined Psychopathor’s “Doomriders”, his improvised villain team and more are said to be about to join as well. More and more people are rallying to them each hour. 

“At this rate, there’s going to be a civil war when they reach the base of the Arcology” Ashfall states

“That why we get the mission done, and don’t let them get any closer,” Steel says adjusting his new hand’s mods. 

“Oh yeah? Fighting Psychopathor’s one thing, but how are we supposed to stop hundreds, maybe thousands of armed civilians? I didn’t sign up for this!” Ashfall replies, and soon an argument erupts. Ashfall’s outbursts at Steel often make your own arguments seem mild. 

You take the tablet from Anathema as he joins in, their voices fading into the background as your shields raise. You focus on following the events on the screen. Only a few hours since the helicopter ride from Los Diablos, but the images are outright haunting now. Discarded Halloween costumes everywhere, stepped on by people fighting over air filters, shops closing or getting burned down and massive traffic jams after some rioters turned to burn cars as well. 

People have completely lost it, taking orders from the worst villains imaginable. Some of them, especially the ones without covered faces are going into awful coughing fits on screen. Just watching it makes you adjust your own air filter tighter, a constant reminder that you’re surrounded by the cloud.  

Things escalated very quickly after the first death from toxic poisoning was confirmed by the media, and it’s turned into a real shitshow since then. 

If you could just leave the villains and GeniTech sort out their differences in private it would be great, but that’s not an option. Not when the air is poison and everyone knows there are not enough gas masks coming. GeniTech did not help things out at all when they announced their “unlimited” power supply could keep the Arcology supplied with fresh air and clean water for centuries to come, of course, only for those with the means to buy their way in.

It doesn’t matter if Catastrofiend caused the toxic spills, the media caught on the factories being subsidiaries and now everyone’s blaming GeniTech… which also happens to owns the only safe refuge. 

A few civilians already tried to break in, and it turned bloody for them when GeniTech’s soldiers opened fire with short-range repeating anti-riot laser weapons. Most of it was blocked from the news, but several videos are being passed on by cellphone messages by those who recorded it, and it only made everything worse. They dispersed for now, but once Psychopathor rallies enough support and amassed enough weapons to fight off the GeniTech mercenaries, the parks around the trio of conjoined massive futuristic skyscrapers that form the Arcology are going to become a superpowered battle royale and who knows how many are going to die.

 You’ve given up on trying to find his motivation by now. Truth is, he’s probably just as angry at GeniTech and the government as everyone joining him and wants it all to burn. 

Steel’s right that if you let Psychopathor advance, the crowd will immediately follow and it will turn into a real bloodbath. But if you stop them… then the fucking cloud will still get them. 

Why is humanity so reckless and stupid, you can only wonder.

You focus back on them, Ashfall and Steel pointing fingers at each other while Anathema tries to mediate. Sunstream and Elyise are whispering at the back and Charge just looks miserable. 

“Marshall” you interrupt them at the right moment to break the argument, adding a mental finger-snap to get everyone’s attention to it. “I’m sorry but both Steel and Ashfall are both right. This is useless, we can’t stop Psychopathor if the citizens are on his side, and even if we could it will end badly because the cloud isn’t going away.”

“I know that, but do you have any better ideas?” Charge says exhausted. 

“Yes. We need to get GeniTech to let the people inside until the cloud dissipates. It’s the only way.”

“Already asked for that. They said no, no one gets in without paying them. Company policy, they said.”

“Well then we need to ask again”

“Look Sidestep, I’ve called several times already, ok?. We can’t turn those corporate vampires compassionate overnight.”

“Who said anything about calling? Their entire board is gathered in there for their Halloween party, right? I say we visit them.”

“What makes you think that will make any difference…?”

“I’m pretty sure I can help you appeal to their values if I’m right beside you. You know, change their minds on the subject?” you say tapping your forehead.

There is a brief moment of silence as everyone considers your words. They all know you’re a telepath, you just haven’t ever had a situation to use your powers like this. 

“I’m in,” Anathema says extending his hand first

“Me too” Ashfall places his hand on top of Anathema’s, a quick second.

“I don’t think there’s much of a choice here, we have to stand by the people” Sentinel says adding his own.

“Agreed. And I don’t want to shoot civilians, like ever” Sunstream states joining the hand stack

“I’m game for it, never liked those greedy bastards” Elyise states as she enters the huddle. 

Steel gives you a long stare 

“It might…actually be worth a shot,” he says drily before placing his new hand on top of Elyise’s.

All your eyes converge on Charge’s… he finally snorts, stacking his right with you all. 

“Alright, team… So this is how we’re going to do this…”

___________________________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[megalony]

So many reasons- Part 4

Another part of my latest Roger Taylor series which I hope you are all enjoying so far. There is a bit more of an explination in this one.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae  @langdonzvoid  @butlegendsneverdie  @jennyggggrrr  @luvborhap  @radiob-l-a-hblah  @rogertaylorsbitontheside

Series taglist: @rogertaylors-lipgloss  @scarecrowmax  @demo-wise  @asquiresofftime

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) knew it.

She knew there had been something wrong with Roger from the moment he had woken up in the morning but he brushed off every comment she made to the point asking him again would gain an angered response.

The way that the drummer kept rubbing at his chest instead of his shoulder showed that something wasn't right with him. He seemed to drift off into a different world more than he stayed in reality today too, asking people to repeat what they had said because he hadn't been listening. Looking like he was drowsy and almost swaying like paper in the breeze from time to time before he recovered and was his normal self again.

But as she sat in front of the controls, looking up through the window where the boys were starting to sing in unison, she saw it. How Roger had to close his eyes when singing a high note for a sustained period of time. How his hand was plastered to his chest almost all the time, specifically on the left-hand side. A ragged breath left (Y/n)'s lips as she suddenly sprung to her feet like she was a puppet coming to life. Her hands planting down on the desk in front of her as the air was stolen from her lungs, her heart suddenly battering against her ribs as if trying to break them.

No one seemed to know what to do.

One moment, Brian, Freddie and Roger were glancing between one another as they stood in front of the mike. Both Brian and Freddie rather amazed at the note Roger managed to reach, knowing they should be used to this by now. Then the next moment, Brian was flinging his arms out to catch the drummer when his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his knees caved in beneath him. Roger looked like a rag doll that had been discarded and allowed to flop down to the floor. His body folding like a thin material in the breeze, his head snapping back as Brian held him around his chest under his arms to stop him from hurting himself with a crash landing to the ground.

Both (Y/n) and John ran into the recording room, scuttling over to the three boys inside as Brian set Roger down on the floor, unable to hold him up any longer than that.

Moving him around, Brian laid his friend on his right side, stretching Roger's left arm out in front of him and moving his legs so he was laid in the recovery position since he seemed spark out. Watching as (Y/n) knelt down in front of him, one hand pressing to his pulse point as the other carded through his hair, trying to bring him back around. Her eyes glued to the drummer's chest, seeing that when he fell, the hand that had been rubbing at his chest had dragged down his shirt. Popping open the buttons along the way, allowing (Y/n) to look at his chest to see if he was breathing too quick or too slow. Her mind made up that he was breathing far too quick to be normal.

"Call an ambulance, just to be on the safe side." John commented when Miami stood in the doorway, wondering if Roger was going to come around and say he was fine or that he needed help. They all silently knew that taking him to the hospital would be the best thing just to make sure that there was nothing actually wrong that he didn't know about. They'd all rather be safe than sorry when it came to their close friend.

(Y/n) quickly shuffled back, leaning on her left side to be out of the way when Roger's stomach sucked inwards at an alarming rate before he suddenly threw up. That being the only movement he made before he went back to laying motionless on the carpeted floor, the rise and fall of his chest being the only indication that he was actually alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With shaking hands, Roger began to do up the buttons on his shirt that was a mix between a dark cream and a light grey shade. His head dipping forward, feeling too heavy for him to even attempt to hold up for much longer. His chest rose and fell at a normal pace once again as he felt oddly calm considering his sudden collapse at the studio and the rather immediate MRI his doctor had rushed him off to.

Roger had barely been awake more than five minutes before the familiar face of Doctor Freeman was peering over at him, his kind features expressing a clear worry. His lips moving too fast for Roger to comprehend, his ears only just making out that he was scheduled for an emergency MRI right that minute. Leaving the drummer to quickly change into the gown they provided before he was taken to lie in the familiar machine he had been in before for roughly an hour. They didn't seem to mind that he kept nodding off every so often, unable to keep his eyes open since it worsened the headache he had and raised the risk of him throwing up which they didn't want.

He dared not think what he was going to have to tell the band and (Y/n) who were all sat in the waiting room. Having speeded down along with the ambulance to see if Roger was alright. None of them would have been sure why he was having an MRI and the doctor had promised the drummer that it as confidential and he hadn't told them why. Simply saying it was a procedure to rule a few things out. So now Roger was left to come up with yet another lie to feed them all.

Leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone, Roger ran a hand through his rather damp and knotted hair as he let a sigh tumble from his lips. He just needed to go home and be with his family now and to go to bed. He needed to go to bed.

"How are you feeling, Mr Taylor?"

Turning his head to the door, Roger managed a rather weak smile as the older man walked into the room. Pulling up the chair so he could sit down opposite Roger who was sitting on the edge of the bed, wishing he was in his own.

"Rough. What's the verdict?" Roger didn't want to beat about the bush here, he wanted to know if his suspicions were right and if they were, what the next course of action would be. He wasn't stupid, he had taken biology as his degree in university so he knew these little telltale signs of something being wrong with his previous history Roger knew what it would be. Yet he still found himself asking for confirmation, just in case this was just some fluke. In case this was some chest infection getting the better of him and he could just go home with antibiotics.

Dr Freeman wore that same smile Roger had seen the first time he had sat in this man's office. It was a look that told Roger the doctor was fond of him, fond of the way that the drummer didn't deny anything he was told because he didn't want to believe it. Fond of the way that Roger agreed with anything without fuss or question. Roger just seemed to take everything in without dwelling on it, he was easy going and he understood. There weren't many patients out there like him.

"There's another mass in your left lung." The doctor's lips pressed into a straight line as Roger could see he was biting down on his inner lower lip. His eyes crinkling at the sides in a sorrowful look at having to deliver the bad news to the drummer who already had an inkling that this would be the case.

Roger had been given the news of cancer a few months back, having a small operation to take out the mass in his lung since it wasn't big and they wanted to stop it from spreading. A week before he decided to ask (Y/n) to marry him he had a routine scan to find that there were more cancerous cells back and he would need further tests to confirm. Roger had already known from the growing chest pains, the sickness and breathlessness and then the coughing that his fight was far from over. Hearing it just set things in stone.

Roger didn't want to take the risk of thinking that he would be fine if indeed his cancer spread too far for anything to be done for him. Asking (Y/n) to marry him was his way of setting that insurance up that if he were to get terminally ill, someone would be there for his daughters. They wouldn't be left alone because (Y/n) had said she would help him look after them and Roger knew that meant if something happened to him she wouldn't just abandon them. He didn't mean to lead (Y/n) on because she was his closest friend other than the boys, he really was beginning to feel for her more than a friend. Roger just needed to take those precautions and set things in place so his and his girl's futures were not going to be hectic or jeopardised.

"Left lung... not spread to the other then yet." That was something good in the very least. The cancer being in both lungs would really knock down Roger's chances here and he didn't want that. He neede every chance he could scrape at the moment.

"Thankfully not, no. We can't do another operation because there are more cells spread about rather than a simple mass like last time. I think radiotherapy is our best bet but it needs to start soon." Roger nodded, although his mind was in a different place. That meant coming down to the hospital every week or even twice or three times a week to get treatment. Roger would have to sneak off from the studio and make his excuses to everyone.

Last time it had been different.

It was little over a week confined to the hospital, he was easily able to sidestep that with everyone. He took the girls to his parents in Cornwall, told the band and (Y/n) and a few other close friends he was staying with his parents for the week with the girls. Before secretly admitting himself into the hospital to have his operation and then recover from it. No one had been any the wiser and that was how he liked it.

Dr Freeman had advised Roger to tell someone, either a friend or family member so he could talk about it, to make it more bearable and easier but Roger declined. He didn't want to tell anyone, he didn't want their pitying looks or them acting like they needed to wrap him up in cotton wool. This was his health that was worsening, not theirs. He didn't feel the need to burden them with this when he was coping on his own. Roger felt no need to go to a counsellor either when he was advised to do so, he was fine carrying on as if he wasn't ill because at the end of the day it was so much easier to live a lie. To think and imagine that he was fine when he wasn't. It gave him an escape and that was what he needed.

Now things were going to get complicated and more lies were going to be needed.

"How soon?" Roger questioned, his hand moving and tangling in his hair as he brushed it from his eyes. At least the band weren't going on tour anytime soon giving him the time to get treatment rather than having to cancel.

"Next week. The usual schedule would be once a day Monday to Friday, lasting no longer than half an hour. We'll book you for a CT scan next Monday hopefully, work out where and how much radiation to give you and you can have your first dose there and then if that's alright with you." So Roger was going to need an hour or more lunch break every weekday to get down here, get treatment and then head back. Maybe even head home if the side effects got to him. Great. And he was going to have to take Monday off work for the scan which he knew would take a while, to then go straight for the first dose of treatment.

But what else could he do?

Roger couldn't say no and postpone for a few weeks if the doctor was saying it needed to start now. That meant it was urgent and Roger wasn't endangering his health for anything, he would start treatment next week and bear with whatever side effects it gave him as long as it could take away his problem and keep his life going for him.

"Sure, we start on Monday." Roger confirmed with a nod of his head, a very small, tired smile tugging at his lips to which the doctor returned.

"The receptionist will book the time for you and schedule your treatment plan for you, then you're good to go." Pushing himself to his feet, he thought for a moment before leaning over and patting Roger's shoulder. It was never easy to be told that cancer had come back, it was even harder to have to be the one to find out and deliver the news. But seeing Roger so oddly calm and collected was a little unnerving when most other patients broke down or simply denied their diagnosis. "Oh, and congratulations. Would you like me to send the lovely lady in?" He commented, his eyes glancing down to the silver band wrapped around Roger's wedding finger causing the blond to smile. His index finger gently swirling the shiny band around for a moment as he nodded.

"Um... you, you won't tell her, right?" Lifting his head Roger bit his lip at the slightly disappointed look on Dr Freeman's face at seeing Roger still hadn't confided in anyone about this. Not even his wife.

"Patient confidentiality, Mr Taylor. But I do advise you to." With a last look, he turned on his heels and headed out of the room to go and call (Y/n) in from the waiting room. Knowing that Roger was making a mistake by bottling this up and simply thinking he could do this on his own. Having someone there during treatment was often helpful to other patients, especially if he got rather bad side effects. It also meant he was going to put a strain on himself if things got tough and when he had to lie. If (Y/n) found out Roger had been lying all this time they both knew she wouldn't take it well at all.

"Rog?" A small smile pulled at his lips despite the news he had just been given when he saw (Y/n) hurrying into the room.

Reaching out Roger wrapped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her so she stood between his legs. His head resting against her lower chest as he sighed, a welcomed feeling of content washing throughout his body. Taking away the thumping headache beginning to pulse behind his eyes and the fatigue running throughout every muscle he held within his body.

"What's happened? They took you for an MRI as soon as we brought you in... i-it's nothing bad, right?" Looking down to the drummer, (Y/n) gently cupped his face in her hands when he pulled back enough to be able to look up at her. His heart shattering at the fear swelling in her pupils as she begged for him not to give her bad news. There was a very small part of him telling himself that he should come clean now save having to come clean eventually if things went south. But the look on her features made him quickly change his mind. How could he even think of telling her and shattering her world like that?

Standing to shaking legs, he held onto her waist for support to make sure his knees didn't give out on him again. A small smile pulling at his pale lips as he leaned his forehead against her own.

"No, nothin' bad sweetheart. They thought there may have been some fluid or a blood clot. I've got mild pneumonia, that's all. Need antibiotics and bed." Roger felt bad for lying but at the end of the day, he couldn't say the MRI was for nothing because it had been clear from the suddenness of the scan that something was thought to be wrong. Pneumonia was a good cover up because it had some of the same symptoms as Roger was suffering. Breathlessness, coughing, feeling generally unwell. He could use that as a ploy to stop the questions from everyone and make everything seem okay.

He had to lie.