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aquanova99 · 1 year

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Haunted (Cato x Reader)

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Part 8

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A/N: Hi everyone! This is mostly filler but truly I’m writing what I’ve been needing to read and to me it’s all important so it’s hard to cut parts out. Sorry! And thank you if you continue reading! ♥️

A/N: Meant to post last night but I ended up adding more, it’s another long one so no pressure on reading it all

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Y/n’s POV

The smell of antiseptic hits your nose first. Your eyes struggle to open against the bright white lights you can only assume is a hospital of some kind. Your head feels heavy as you rotate it to try and figure out where you were. You felt rested, which is saying something since you hadn’t had a decent sleep in weeks. You try to sit up but are restrained down to your bed you are about to panic when the avox who you vaguely remember from your time in the training center appears with a tray of food. Where’s Effie, Haymitch and…. Peeta. Your throat struggles to swallow, you pray to whatever is out there that it was a bad dream because the alternative…

“Di-uhm did he make it?” You ask as the girl presses a button to sit you up. She begins adjusting your pillow, “please. I need to know.”

As she brings the tray in front of you she shakes her head and offers a gentle pat to your leg. You look down at the tray, a small bowl of clear broth, an even smaller serving of applesauce, and some water. You don’t care. You’ve lost any appetite you could have. So that’s it then. You killed Peeta. You should have fought him for who got to go home. No. Your stupid idea with the berries killed him. You killed him. The boy who injured his leg saving you from the tracker jackers was gone. The boy with a seemingly endless supply of optimism was gone. You lost him. No. You remind yourself that the capitol took him from you, and slowly your grief turns into anger. Your hands grip the tray and you realize that all of your scares have disappeared, your nails are perfectly shaped and for some reason that irritates you further. You scream as you throw the tray of food against the wall. You try to figure out how to escape your restraint when a cold liquid begins to run through your i.v. effectively knocking you unconscious once more.

The next time you wake you hear someone yelling. It sounds vaguely familiar but you have a hard time placing it as its so far away. Your eyes are still groggy when a flash of blonde hair raises your alertness.

“We don’t have much time. Beetee is messing with the cameras but that will only buy us maybe a few minutes.’ She presses a pill into your hand and speaks with such an urgency you have no choice but to trust her, “Keep this under your tongue. President Snow will be here soon and he’s going to ask you questions about the games. He is going to give you something that should be the equivalent of truth serum. This negates it, do you understand?” You nod and she begins to leave immediately, you wonder how much she’s risking her life, and why she cares at all about your own.

“Why—”

“We’ll explain soon. Be honest, just answer carefully.”

And just like that she was gone. You understood. Whatever the pill was would stop you from saying anything too incriminating. Like what? Hunting? They would have killed you a long time ago if it was that. No, it was the damn berries. You realize the gamemakers wouldn’t necessarily like being made fools of, with them having to make three announcements almost back to back. You weren’t trying to do that, you were trying to get the two of you home and you failed. So why did they care?

You realize the woman who came in was a victor, a relatively recent victor. No wonder she looked so familiar. Cashmere, you think. She wouldn’t have risked giving you a warning for no reason. She mentioned someone else, Beetee? Was he a victor too? You realize your hand is clenched shut, you try to move innocently as you can, pretend you’re thinking about the game and slip the pill on your tongue. Another avox comes in with food for you. The same tiny portions. But this time you greedily begin to take in what you can. You’re savoring the applesauce when two peacekeepers come in, covering who you have grown up to know as President Snow. His presence puts you back into the games, as if he is one of those mutts designed to kill you.

“Hello, miss y/n. I’m here to congratulate you on the games. It was a very interesting victory.” The pause before the word ‘interesting’ tells you its anything but.

“President Snow. It’s an honor. I thought I would only see you at the ceremony.”

He smiles as he nods to the peacekeepers who effectively restrain you. You can’t help panic. Another peacekeeper replaces the water bag with another liquid. You assume this is what you were warned about. It feels warmer when the solution enters your bloodstream and while the pill may have an adverse effect on it, you still struggle with deciphering on what is or isn’t safe to discuss.

“Now then, let’s get started. Shall we?”

“Doesn’t seem I have much of a choice.”

“I suppose not.” He grins, you half expect him to have fangs when he smiles at you. But the only thing you notice is the stench of some string rose scented cologne of some kind. It overwhelms your already weak senses and has you somewhat dizzy. “But we do have to go through the usual tests.”

Be honest, but careful. You tell yourself. He asks your name, your age, what you wore for the tribute parade. Then he asks the harder questions: what did I do in District 12, why did I volunteer, what did I do during my gamemakers session?

Still, those are manageable because everything you say is true. I sold what I could find around my house to get by, I volunteered because I thought it was my last chance to help my family, I was annoyed at the gamemakers indifference. I leave out the hunting, the deal you made with the mayor. You have a sick feeling in your gut he knows. But he doesn’t question it.

“And in the games, do you have any idea the trouble you caused?”

“You mean with the berries?”

“Hm,” he chuckles, “That I can handle at the end of the day… only one of you came back. Shame about the boy, I quite liked him.”

You interpret that as, he should have been the one to make it back. You can’t help but agree. But what else did you do? “I didn’t realize I did anything else.”

“Interesting. Your act with the District 11 girl caused quite a stir, you know?” Rue? This was about Rue? You slowly piece together that it isn’t just about Rue, but Marvel, Thresh, maybe even Cora.

“I-I didn’t—”

“That’s all I needed. Thank you Ms. L/N. I look forward to seeing you at the crowning ceremony.” You heard more fidgeting behind you and you know your original set up you had was back in place. Snow’s visit unnerves you. You begin panicking again and once more blackout, a prisoner in a state of limbo. Wake. Eat. Sleep. Wake. Eat. Sleep. You aren’t sure when you notice that you can finally move without being pulled into dreamland. Your legs are strangely steady for being in bed for so long. You would probably be ecstatic to move if you hadn’t seen the outfit you’ll need to wear to meet your team. You have to breathe slowly as your force the garments on. An outfit identical to what you wore when you started the games. Of course…you’re still being watched.

The glass doors that once contained you hiss open, “Hello?” You call out tentatively

“Y/n!” A voice echoes back. A high shrill voice that could only belong Effie Trinket. Effie! You rush down the long corridor to find your team waiting. You all but tackle Haymitch, who returns a tight hug of his own.

“Nice job, sweetheart.” There’s hint of something in his voice, guilt? Fear? Did he know about President Snow, or had he too raised his hopes in both of us coming home? You want to apologize to him, but that could wait when the others weren’t around. The sight of Portia holds another reminder of who you failed in his last moments, and excitement immediately vanishing and quickly replaced with shame and guilt. Still, you continue your hellos, your entire being relieved to see everyone. To have human contact. You’re sent off with Cinna and Portia before the ceremony tonight. You’ll be officially crowned a victor. The ceremony is supposed to be a celebratory event, the last years previous winner is brought out and passes the crown down insinuating a new era so to speak. You find yourself being amazed with how the capitol refuses to allow anyone to forget, they will have a short segment bring up their worst moments or highlights in the eyes of a capitol citizen. For the Districts like 12, this is a part of the games forced upon you. You can’t imagine many people enjoying that moment except maybe some careers. You wonder if Cato will feel a relief that his games will no longer be brought up after tonight. Cato! Would he be happy to see you? Sad that his tributes were gone? You remember the night before you left, how he hoped you would make it back. Maybe now you could ask why, along with thank him for inadvertently saving your life. You would have never had a chance with how your skill level when you started the games.

The elevator ride up to the twelfth floor changes your train of thought. You assumed you’d be in a fancy capitol hospital. To find you were underground the training center you frequented is shock. The actual ride provides you with small flashbacks of the tributes that would never make it back. Every floor you passed bringing a new set of faces to memory. You breath start to race and you realize how thankful you are to Cinna and Portia for being there both of them with a hand on one of your shoulders. The small gesture seems to say ‘I understand. We’re here’

Of course, they could never understand. Not really. But you’re comforted nonetheless. Rue and Thresh image painfully etches itself into your mind before you finally arrive. The prep team is thrilled you’d made it back and their chatter allows you the time to figure out how to swallow any grief you may have. You were going back in front of Caesar Flickerman in a few hours, you could not cry. President Snow made it clear your concern for the other tributes was not acceptable, and you’d be damned if you lost anyone else. So you focus on the one thing you can do at this very moment. Eat.

Unfortunately, you can only eat so much since apparently you’re on a strict diet. You begin to realize how you’ll miss your prep team as strange as they may be. Octavia even sneaks you an extra roll, and they seem so genuinely happy you made it back you wonder if they worried about you while they were watching and if they would have missed you if you had become a part of that arena. They’re chatter begins overlapping and you’re happy for the opportunity to stay silent. Besides, if you listen for too long you know you’ll end up having contempt for them as part of the capitol and you would rather enjoy their company. You notice how much weaker you seem than when you entered the arena, your body had become too thin. The mirror reflected an image of someone who maybe resembled you, but it didn’t feel like…well you. It was another person. Another life. It was if every experience you’d had had been scratched out, erased from existence. All you knew and all you could think about was the games, the danger you were in, the way that everything you would say tonight could be to your or your family’s detriment.

Cinna reenters with a yellow dress, “No more fire?”

He chuckles, “You tell me.” I make a face at the extra padding around my breasts, “I know. But the gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise.”

You remember the yelling in your state of limbo and realize Haymitch’s presence. It gives you a small sense of comfort that you weren’t alone down there.

“What do you think?” Venia asks as she points you back towards the mirror

The dress is glowing, like you were bathed in light. You grab the skirt of dress and see the shimmering and refracting of the light embedded in its threads. “It’s beautiful.”

The dress emanates youth. While I may have just killed my way out of the hunger games, the dress makes it seem I was going out for some sort of social event. Like a tea party in a storybook. Plain in comparison to what you’ve donned prior. Something tells you Cinna knows the importance of tonight. Maybe not understanding the full scope of it, but knows I can’t be making any mistakes.

“We thought you might like this a better. More comfortable.” He says, and I know its not about me or even the capitol, its Snow.

I’m escorted back to the elevator and taken to the lower floor where the training center had been. In a minute we will to yet another part of the building I had not paid attention to, and Effie, my prep team, Haymitch, and then I will have to rise from a platform under the stage to join Caesar Flickerman for the post show interview. A lovely 3 hours of rewatching the worst moments of my life. Your prep team leaves you alone to go change. You are left alone in the dark waiting area until everyone is ready to be instructed on the procedure for the winning team. You are starting to panic about the Snow having the walls collapse around you and framing it as an unfortunate accident when Haymitch touches my shoulder.

“Easy, just me.” He says after I let out a small scream, “Lets have a look at you.” When you spin around he says, “Good enough.”

“But?”

“But nothing. How about a hug for luck?”

You don’t question it, you move quicker than normal to let your hair cover your face, “What did I do, and how do I fix it?”

“Capitol’s furious about you almost showing them up in the arena, the one thing they cant stand is being laughed at and they’re the joke of Panem. You either say it was all part of the plan and you knew Peeta would take the bait or you ended up falling for him. Alliances were all part of the game, you knew it would get you to the end. Got it?”

You laugh at a joke he never told and nod. You can lie but not that well, and besides the entirety of 12 and yourself would hate you for even insinuating that Peeta meant nothing to you. No one would believe it anyway. He was kind and his death left a hole in your heart that would never truly recover. You weren’t in love with him but you loved him.

You straighten his bowtie, “Thank you.”

“I better take my place. This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it.” He places a kiss on your forehead and disappears towards his own platform.

You wish you could just curl into your bed back home. You tell yourself its only a couple more nights, but you deep down you know that’s not true. You think of Haymitch all alone in the victors village and realize he has no family, no girlfriend or wife, no one. Had he made a mistake like this in his games? The thought makes you want to puke so you focus on the cheering of the crowd above you, Cinna has just gone up because the screaming intensifies, when Haymitch makes his appearance the crowd begins stomping and cheering so loudly you’re sure the building will fall on top of you. You think there’s a chance he’s being interviewed because the cheering doesn’t die down for five minutes. The plate begins to lift and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. This is a new arena and you’re going to have to fight just as hard to make it out alive.

The lights blind you as your podium finally raises to the stage. You fake your brightest smile and walk wave with both hands as you approach Caesar. The crowd is going crazy so you tell yourself to keep going.

There’s one more introduction to be made, you realize. “Now we can’t have a crowning without our reigning victor, Everyone give it up for Cato Hadley!”

You remember his warning that first night on the roof. How most people were scared to be alone with him in case he blacked out. You really hadn’t paid much attention to his warnings, to be fair you fully expected to not be on this stage anyway and he was good company. Neither of you had to say much. You wish you could say something about that because the person on this stage is someone entirely different. Just like you, he had a role to play to play right now. The two of you shook hands as if you’d never met. And right now, it couldn’t be more true. You were complete strangers in front of the capitol and since leaving the arena you hardly felt like a person much less like yourself. Caesar interviews him for a bit before sitting us both down in separate chairs sat next to each other as they shared highlights from his game. You struggle to watch the short clips from the previous year, he definitely did not sugar coat it when he said he had worked quickly and brutally. You see his fingers tapping the arm rest and know this is not something you want to be doing next year. While the lights are off you don’t want to do anything too risky to get you into trouble, you let your pinky finger lightly brush his hand. You both avoid looking at each other, if he understood that you knew what he was going through then that was enough if he didn’t then it could chalked up to an accident.

Cato’s highlights are short and go by pretty quickly, too quickly you think, because that means it’s your turn. The lights come back on as Caesar cracks jokes for a while, you laugh and play along as he focuses on your team for a second. The show is only just beginning. Three hours to go. Back home, the previous year’s victor segment was more a grace period to get into the square for the mandatory showing. When the lights dim all eyes should be on the screen. The first half hour, focuses on the pre-arena events. You see the reaping, the chariot rides, the training scores (which you only now realize did not help you or your situation with President Snow), and of course the interviews. You see glimpses of the tributes healthy, alive, smiling albeit fake. The music is too upbeat. There are probably some families still mourning and here was this music, so upbeat, as if they’ll all come back out for a reunion any second. You focus on your face which the camera will zoom in on periodically for any reaction. You plan on giving none, but you also know you aren’t prepared to see all of the death again. You’ve seen enough of it.

Now its time for the arena. And the second the first tribute falls your tears threaten to do the same. Your eyes remain glued on the screen. Your face pops up in the corner when you almost run into another contestant and you try to settle your emotions. When your image fades from the screen you feel Cato squeeze your hand and let go. You bite the inside of your cheek and steel yourself. Wait, you tell yourself, not yet. When the first clip of Peeta is shown trying to befriend the careers you know the camera will be on you immediately. You let your mouth drop as if you weren’t expecting his face to bring so much emotion. Really, this part is easy because you are upset that he isn’t here and its clear he’s the sole reason that you are. Peeta outsold the unrequited love story. Him leading the careers in another direction, staying awake the night with the tracker jackers, fighting Arioch to the point of injury so I could get some distance, he even says my name a few times during the night. You go numb quickly after that. You feel another squeeze on your hand, nothing has happened so you take it as a warning. You’ve largely been blocking out whatever you see but you know what’s coming next. Rue.

They show the entirety of her death, and consequently Marvel’s death which also brings on a heavy dose of guilt. Except for the flowers. You had almost made it, quite literally seconds away from getting to her first. They show your singing. They show the painful guttural scream mixture that escaped after she stopped breathing. They show your outrage with Thresh and it cuts to the false announcement of two victors. It dawns on you that what they do not show are the parts where you arrange both Rue and Marvel with flowers. Wouldn’t want to encourage other districts to be nice to one another I guess.

The show then turns around in my favor when I rush to find Peeta in the middle of the night. Finally, I can peel my eyes away from the screen. I wipe invisible tears from falling and squeeze my eyes shut when his voice echoes through the room. When the damn berries come you force yourself to watch, while it is hard, you know your family’s lives depend on you right now and you play up any difficulties you have by peeking behind your eyes. Its hard to see the vast contrast in Peetas appearance, yours too but Arioch really did a number on him. The boy who shone on the night of our interviews seemed starved and sickly. You lean forward instinctually when you see the peacekeepers dragging your body from Peeta. Its like watching another person entirely and you try to hold on to the last images of Peeta you’ll ever see. That’s how you deserve to remember him. His eyes with the spark of hope becoming cold as he realized his mistake. The camera ends with you banging on the glass doors screaming his name.

The anthem begins playing and years of conditioning force you to rise. President Snow begins his way towards you, you’re pretty sure he makes some small speech but you hear nothing. He says something to Cato which elicits a cheer from the audience, and a raised fist from Cato and you realized he’s playing along with audience. Then the actually crowning happens and he grabs Cato’s crown and sets it on a pillow carried by a little girl where a crown of your own sits and is then picked up and placed on your head. Then there’s so much bowing you’re shocked you don’t fall over. Cato leaves first, then Effie, the prep team ,Cinna, Haymitch and finally you. Caesar is thanking everyone and inviting everyone to watch the final interviews, not like they have much choice that’s mandatory watching too.

You are escorted into a car with your team for the victors banquet. You realize how heavily you’re being and watched and just raise your eyebrows at Haymitch who nods and raises a glass to you as the prep team is mindlessly chattering. You realize the car is stocked with drinks snacks but while you’ve been running on fumes all day you have trouble finding anything to eat. You force down a few bites in the Snows mansion for appearances. The good news was that so many officials and sponsors wanted to meet you that you didn’t have much time to eat anyway, the bad news was that there were so many officials and sponsors wanted to meet you. You began getting claustrophobic. You mainly smile and nod as they mostly talk about themselves anyway. Along with the loud music, you keep getting glimpses of President Snow and its slowly becoming harder to breathe.

You try to find Haymitch, but the crowd of sponsors don’t allow you to get close. How does anyone do this? You feel forced to dance with a few officials and sponsors but you are able to escape to a mostly secluded hallway and you try to stop yourself from panting. Its too much. The crowd continues to grow around Haymitch and the other victors, which is unfortunately the only place you feel safe. Even your prep team is completely surrounded by people in all sorts of bright colors that hurt your eyes. The main reception area was full of people and you’d never felt more isolated. Your try to steady your breathing but it is proving to be doing next to nothing. Get it together. Push through and find Haymitch or another victor, anyone who is speaking in gibberish to you.

You freeze when a large cold hand touches you. “Ms. L/n are you alright?

You try to place the man. He was roundish, in his late thirties, early forties maybe, only half a foot taller than you, and he reeked of alcohol. He kept insisting he had made a huge contribution to the burn medicine. You said thank you, right? “I’m fine, thank you. Just…collecting myself.”

“It can be a bit overwhelming, right?”

“Maybe a bit, we don’t have events like this in 12.” You use the line that placated your prep team once, and it seems to work.

The man begins laughing, “I guess not. I can show you somewhere you can hide away from for a while.”

Suddenly, this man is as dangerous as the careers or mutts in the games. You do not trust him. You didn’t trust him before, but something about him made you feel sick. “I should really be heading back. My mentor will be looking for me. Excuse me.”

You do a quick curtsy but he grabs your arm as you try to walk past him, “You know you really should be showing more gratitude. I’m only trying to help.”

“Oh…I am but I need to go. I don’t want to miss anyone important.”

His grip tightens, “I saved your life in the arena, I’m just asking for a ‘thank you.’"

Your throat feels as dry as sandpaper, “Th-thank you.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard. Was it? Of course, since it was such a grand gesture, don’t you think you should do something a bit more grand to show your gratitude?”

You try to release your arm but his grip tightens enough that you let out a whimper of pain, Your body is failing you. You can’t pull away any longer. You can’t scream. “I…uhm. I should really be—”

“Come on. I’ll show just how to make it up me.”

“Please.” Your voice barely comes out above a whisper.

“There you are.” You feel the tension in his grip release enough to where you can yank your arm away and like a child, hide. Hide behind the person who may have just saved your life, again. Cato.

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Cato’s POV

He’s lucky you don’t kill him right then and there. You have a feeling he also knows this because his demeanor which was, until a second ago, imposing. Towering over someone still reeling from the aftermath of the games and forced to mingle as if this was the only way to enjoy yourself. You push her behind you before continuing to speak through gritted, teeth.

“You’ll have to excuse my interruption. I believe Y/n owes me a dance. If that’s still okay with you?” You turn and ask her, worried you may be putting taking her from one uncomfortable situation and placing her in another. She blinks a few times before nodding.

“Of course.” She puts both hands on your outstretched arm. You bow your head slightly and lead her away from…whoever that guy is. You lean over as much as you can without drawing attention to the two of you, “He’ll be watching. I wont make this too long. We can go to Haymitch after.”

As you begin going in circles, she begins talking in a low voice, “Thank you. I’m sorry about your arm.”

You begin to notice a slight stinging where her nails had dug into your arm. You look down and see the red handprint on her own arm and know immediately its going to bruise, “Don’t worry about it.”

She gives you a sad smile and continues dancing. You try not to think about your growing irritation leading up to the last few minutes, you had been hoping to catch her for a few minutes but the entire population of Panem had crowded the mansion just to look at the girl on fire. Even now, there was no room to talk, not with all the eyes and ears on you. No you’d try to talk later. For what? You still weren’t sure. To thank her probably. You couldn’t deny you weren’t sure you’d make it to the recap of her games. You had been stressing about hurting someone, hurting y/n, having her watch your own brutality in your games, how she’d react, how you’d react…the list goes on. You both seemed to have an understanding when it came to the personas displayed in the capitol. But she had seemed to sense when you began shutting down during your games short recap, and you in your own way understood when she was about to do the same.

“Cato?”

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, how are you doing?”

“Am I going to have to say yes?” You realized what she was asking but you did not want to be the one to answer. You also knew you were the only one who was going to be honest with her. Your hesitation seemed to be answer enough, “Right.”

“There’s ways around it, you’re supposed to have an adjustment period so we have some time to figure it out.”

“Later then?”

“Hopefully once this all done.”

You slow down, getting ready to find some other victor and not raise any possible rumor the people in the capitol would be dying to whisper to each other, when she surprises you “Thank you by the way.”

“Don’t—”

“Yeah I know, don’t worry about it. I meant for giving up your crown... Obviously.” She smiles and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you lock eyes for a second as the music stops and you have to begin finding someone who has more time to answer the harder questions. Haymitch has been doing his own share of trying to catch the girl on fire, his body seems to relax when he sees the two of you approaching.

“They really try their best to give your moment in the spotlight don’t they, sweetheart?”

Neither of you miss his message. This is all intentional. You should expect that at this point. You look at all the victors, all separated enough to avoid conversations with one another. Most awaiting the time when they would be allowed to return home to whatever family was left. Y/n maintained her smile, “I haven’t even noticed I’ve met so many lovely people. I feel like I could fall asleep any second.”

“You do have the recap tomorrow, why don’t we start heading out. I’ll get Effie, don’t want to behind schedule tomorrow.”

“Of course not.”

“You’ll make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble?” Haymitch and y/n laugh, you smile and nod. His instructions were clear. As if you would leave her alone after what you saw.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You could feel eyes immediately staring at y/n, vultures all of them. All ready to pick her apart. You lean down and whisper into her hair, “What do you need?”

“A drink.” She says sarcastically before smiling up at you, “You up for one more dance until Haymitch finds Effie?”

You hesitate, “People will talk.”

“Don’t they always?” True. You dramatically bow and gesture towards the dance floor, hoping the action is enough to draw any heat from the Capitol on you. Her genuine laughter fills rings through your ear, a sound you know somehow is going to etch itself into your mind. A mixture of relief and disappointment courses through your body as Enobaria and Cashmere approach the two of you.

“Y/n! Its so nice to finally meet you!” Cashmere runs up and hugs her

“Oh my goodness its so nice to meet you!” Y/n doesn’t miss a beat, and goes up to both women.

“I hope you’ve been behaving, Cato.” Enobaria jokes

“He’s been a complete gentleman.” Y/n interjects

“Oh good.” Cashmere starts, “Has everyone made you feel special? This is your party after all.”

“I barely got a chance to talk to her. Everyone’s been asking her for a dance, I figured I might as well try and sneak one more in before anyone else does.” This gets Cashmere’s attention. Her eyes flash with a fury you know you’ll never be able to understand. She quickly pastes a smile on her face again.

“I’m sure you cant wait to go home, you must be so tired from all of the festivities. But don’t worry you’ll be in 12 before you know it. This will all seem like a dream in a few days.” More like a nightmare you thought to yourself, Cashmere hugs Y/n once more and you notice y/n squeeze Cashmeres arms and whisper something. Cashmere offers the warmest smile you think you’d ever seen her give to anyone and says goodbye to the both of you.

“Cato. Why don’t we take Y/n out, I think her prep team is gathering by the door. And I still have to keep on eye you.” Her words have stung if you weren’t desperate for anyone else to help you out and make sure you weren’t getting Y/n into more trouble. You keep thinking about Haymitch and Joanna and what happens when you make a stand against the capitol, you think about Finnick and Cashmere and what happens when you comply. You’re not quite sure what’s worse. The victors all begin crowding to head back to their apartments before being allowed to go home until they get invited back to the capitol. Y/n begins to relax as she talks to more victors. She barely has time to say hello to the people there before Haymitch appears with the rest of her team. The corridor begins getting smaller and your body begins to register how tiring these events are. You begin retreating farther and farther away, into a quieter and more secluded area of the waiting area until the cars come to take everyone back to main building. Which, thankfully, doesn’t take too long. You almost barrel back into the crowd when y/n begins looking around for something, her eyes land on you for a second and she mouths a quick thank you before being pushed out the door by her team.

You wonder what she was looking for.

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Y/n’s POV

“Haymitch please. I want answers.”

“I know but not here. When we’re on the train we’ll talk more. Just get some sleep okay, sweetheart?” He pats your cheek before retreating into his room. Sleep? How the hell were you supposed to sleep? You were supposed to be able to relax. Now you have to worry about upsetting Snow because of your ‘rebellious’ act with the berries. Cinna warns you about body modifications Haymitch fought to keep away from you. Then you find out victors might be available to sponsors in the capitol? That’s what Cashmere probably tried to warn you about and Cato all but confirmed that. You order a glass of water as you strip off the dress forced on you when you reach over to get the water you simply just throw it against the wall. You scream as another glass leaves your hand and shatters against the wall. An avox’s presence brings you back to reality, apologies stumbling from your lips, knowing full well had she not interrupted you wouldn’t have been able to place your feet on the ground without getting shards of glass in your feet. The girl tries to reassure you as she holds your hands and the pushes them away from the glass, probably afraid you were going to hurt her or yourself in the process. You let her clean and begin pacing across the living room, your breathing begins to quicken but there is no iv on your arm to knock you out anymore. Now you can only deal with the constant but inconsistent waves of what you can only describe as panic and fear. You rush towards the elevators, pushing the buttons to take you mere feet above so you can breathe whatever you can breathe of fresh air. You begin pressing against the glass as you see the metal doors that hide the glass elevator from the rest of the world. When you hear nothing you almost immediately turn around, every nerve telling you to run from whatever trap awaits you. But there is no trap, no games up here. You remind yourself that the celebrations have everyone either at Presidents mansion or asleep at home. The thought angers you.

Here you are putting on show for everyone across Panem and some people just sleep peacefully never worrying about games that would forever change the way they see people. Ally. Enemy. The ability to discern between the two grew was becoming increasingly difficult. In the Capitol, you would never feel safe. To you it was an extension of the arena, and threats have to be eliminated if you want to survive.

No. Those were the games. You tried to remind yourself that in the end, no matter how much it caused your body to hurt, how hard it made to breathe Peeta was better off. He wouldn’t have to worry about appeasing President Snow. Worry about having anyone losing their life because of something he may or may not say. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to close your eyes without seeing the faces of your fellow tributes looking back. Empty. Cold. Lifeless. Some shift into those mutts. Some you see as their pictures in the sky.

You sit on the bench overlooking the small garden and allow yourself to feel everything you had to swallow at the crowning ceremony. Watching every child fall. Canons. Twenty three canons. The tributes that got near the end getting longer segments. Thresh and Arioch’s fighting. Both severely injured desperate to outlast the other. Cora desperately scarfing down the nightlock, desperate to get anything into her body. Arioch being ripped apart by the mutts. Peeta and… your breath hitches and that’s all it tame for your body to no longer be able to hold in the indescribable grief you feel. Your body lurches forward your hands covering your eyes trying to shut out whatever was left in the world, grief poured out of you in floods of uncontrollable tears.

Your breathing is ragged. Your throat struggling to swallow. Your body tenses as you feel a hand on your shoulder. The touch is comforting. You don’t have to look to know who sat beside you. The same comfort you received before being forced to see your allies murdered. You keep your face covered, Cato’s hand reaching around to your should and pulling you into him. He says nothing, which you are thankful for because the last thing you need is fake affirmations. You slowly start to peel your hands away from you face. Your breathing never fully steadies, hitching every few seconds.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle

“You’re honestly doing a lot better than you think you are.”

“When does it end?”

“I’ll let you know if I figure it out.” You want to ask him why anyone deals with this when you realize, you know the answer. You think about Haymitch, and wonder what other things help the victors cope. You’re about to ask Cato what helps him when you become very aware of his arm still around you. You’re afraid to bring it up, and even more afraid for the moment to be over, for the loneliness to take over. It pulled you under for longer periods of time, threatening to completely drown you at any moment.

“Thank you…” you could at least manage that. You almost breath out a sigh of relief when he makes no move to adjust.

“Get through the interview, and you’ll be home before you know it.”

“How long do I have?”

Silence filled the air for a minute, even the wind seemed to speak in hushed whispers. As if they were being watched as well. He gives you a smile full of pity, his hand gently touches your wrist. He gently tilts it, examining the growing purple handprint that would remind you of what happens to victors who say no. His thumb gently glides over it, “We—Haymitch will come up with something. Get through the interview.”

The final set of instructions is the last thing he says before taking you back to your floor. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Cato’s POV

Taking the train to District 12 was not something you ever thought you wanted to do. Up until the most recent hunger games you’d largely ignored its sad existence. You know that coming from two, you should feel annoyed at the thought of having to go to the poorest district, but if you were being honest it excited you. It had been almost three weeks and new mentors would be living with Y/n up until a month or two before the games. She’d chosen Cashmere and Enobaria. You wondered if she considered your name at all.

Enobaria seemed happy to be chosen to help y/n adjust. Cashmere was eager to have time off from her forced fan meetings. You had never wanted a babysitter more. Enobaria pulled some strings to ‘drag’ you along, and really, she wasn’t entirely wrong. You were still a danger to everyone around you. A flight risk. Something to be avoided. This meant she also had to drag Brutus down here, just in case. Well, at least you get to see another district.

Would Y/n avoid him? He wouldn’t blame her. You think about the roof often. Probably thanks to your lack of really having any human contact for over a year. Stupid. Arrogant. She had barely escaped this…dirtbag and then you basically force her into you. She probably thinks you’re no better. You were trying to be comforting but she barely knew you. You find yourself thinking about that night a lot. You wish you could have said more. You remember the bruise on her arm and how it almost triggered something ugly and deep inside you. The empty hollowness you felt when you all but ran out of there. And now, again, you are forcing her to share a space with you. You have to tell yourself you want to help or else risk getting sick from equating yourself to that sponsor. You have to remember how she leaned into you, she wouldn’t have done that if you’d really bothered her, right?

As the train pulls to a stop you almost have to ask where they’ve taken you. Was it this bad when you had your victory tour? Why were these people allowed to live like this? What did she have to do to get by? Cashmere gasps at the window. You follow her eyes to see some children sitting on the ground playing some game, all bone thin. The prizes she won from the games must have brought such relief to these people. You could tell some people were likely only getting a decent because of the boxing day. You momentarily forget you are a career. Almost a guaranteed winner. The four of you receive glares from people who watch the car you all squeeze into. Had you killed their children? Someones siblings? You knew the answer. Of course you had, but you struggled to place the two faces to the district. Your games were done in a matter of days. While the faces from the fallen tribute haunt you at night, they were mostly faces. No location save for your allies and the one girl….

“We’re here.” Enobaria eyes narrow assessing everyone around, there are people waiting on the steps of the house.

“Oh thank god, you’re here.�� A woman stepped forward. The similarities are uncanny. You could tell immediately these people were her family. And by the looks on their face something was very, very wrong.

“Is everything alright?” Cashmere asks

“Yes…No. Its—you just have to see her. We can’t get through to her.” Her mom answers and begins opening the door. You try to steady your breathing, fighting the urge to barrel in there. Y/ns mother leads you to the living room, Enobarias short intake of breath is all you can handle and push through to the front. “Y/n, you have some friends here.”

“Is it time already?” Y/n’s voice answers but the person in front of you could be a complete stranger. She looks smaller than she did when the hovercraft first took took her away from the arena. You see bruises peppered up and down her arms, and her eyes gave away that she hadn’t slept since that night on the roof, at least not for more than a couple hours a night. Her was still braided but you wonder if her mom had anything to do with that. She continues staring at the t v, watching something only her nightmares allowed her to see.

“Would it be okay if we talk to her… alone?” You hear Cashmere ask

“Be my guest.” Her mother leaves the house, but her brothers go to the kitchen. Enobaria goes to join them. Brutus heads out, probably to find Haymitch.

“I’ll see what’s been happening.”

Cashmere nods in y/ns direction and you follow. She sits down next to her and you remember you wanted to try and not make her uncomfortable, you decide to stand by the window.

“Is she gone?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?”

“Not really but I’m tired of trying to explain it to them. She comes by just to try and yell me to do something. I usually just sneak out the window.” You can see where she gets bruises immediately. Whatever she starts thinking about has caused her to grip her arms tightly, too tightly. Your body moves on autopilot, you kneel down in front of her and gently pry her hands away from her body. She only then seems to register what she’s doing. She balls her hands into fists and forces them in her lap. You stay close in case she starts again.

“Sorry.” She mutters

“We can keep watch while you sleep.” You offer

She’s blinks a few times, trying to decide if you’re serious, Cashmere rests her on own hand on her shoulder, “We’ve all needed help Y/n, my brother kept watch when I got back. We can take turns, just until you get some decent rest.”

Her head drops as her eyes begin to well up with tears. She avoids looking at any of you, her hands “I can’t… the nightmares…they don’t—“

Her hands begin to wrap around her arms, you grab her hands again, “Stop.”

You hear trying to calm her breathing but she nods and looks at Cashmere, whimpering, “I’m so tired.”

“I know. Come on. Can you show me where your room is?” Y/n nods and starts to walk up the stairs. You wait until she’s gone to ask to Enobaria how bad it is, and whether she’s already too far gone. You find yourself panicking but before you get a word out, one of her brothers speaks up, you turn to look at the two. They both seem worn down. The older of the two is the one to speak,

“She won’t let us help.” There’s no emotion behind his voice, as if it’s all been drained out.

“She hasn’t talked to anyone?” Enobaria asks

“She’s only been talking to one person.” He continues

“We should find them, do you know where they are.”

“Yeah. But she’ll probably come over anyway, they both like to go on walks in the afternoon.”

You try not to be relieved that it’s a she, y/n has confided in, Enobaria continues to ask more questions. “Great we will talk to her later then, what’s her name?”

“Our cousin,” he scoffs “Katniss Everdeen.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Taglist: @chloe-skywalker @ietss @tomihoeka @chiimiki @akinatrix @inky-sun @themedsaintworkin @tiktoks-aphrodite @fredweasleysgirl16 @callsign-haze @thestrals-and-firewiskey

#hunger games fic #hunger games #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #cato x reader #cato hunger games #hunger games cato #hunger games cato imagine #cato imagine

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assiconicillnesschronic · 4 months

Text

I had such good results with the few initial otc pain relief patches I bought that I went ahead and ordered a collection of them to try out. $17.47

Pharmacy run for levothyroxine and Wellbutrin $11.11

Restocked my car first aid kit with Liquid I.V.powder. I don't love Liquid I.V. and don't use it at home. I think it's too expensive for an everyday hydration boost. I do keep it in the car and it's saved me and others from the Atlanta heat several times. $10.79

I ended up not ordering more cgms yet. I have an entire drawer of assorted meters, testing strips, lancets, wipes etc I am going to try to use up most of that first. Should save me a little money and hopefully clean that drawer up cause it's.... It's alot.

Total medical spend for 2024: $3,651.37

#fibromyalgia #chronic fatigue #healthcarecosts #chronic pain #metabolicsyndrome #metabolic disorders

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th3sp4rr0w · 1 year

Text

Day Nine

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Nine Scar Reveal/Interrogation/Presumed Dead

Alt. Prompt For Day Nine Forced Feeding

Prompts Used for Day Nine All

Tw's; Medical Talk, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Slight Pregnancy Termination Mention (It Did Not Happen)

Chapter Nine under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the island was like a breath of fresh air. It was like having hope for the first time since he had done what he did.

Talia landed the plane flawlessly. Jason’s heart rate leveled out on the plane ride there. There were no bleeds, spikes, drops, nothing.

He’d hovered over his boy the entire time. He deserved to have someone looking out for him even if it was too late .

The bat unhooked the monitors and oxygen. The I.V.’s and nasogastric tube stayed in place as he wheeled him out of the plane. Talia lead the way as they walked through this island’s base doors, leading him to where the Lazarus pit had formed.

Talia could tell he wasn’t himself. She didn’t see how he could be; though he hadn’t officially lost him, she couldn’t imagine having to deal with Damian in that condition for this long.

It was like it was her own kid lying on the cot. How else could she have felt? He was still so young, had been through so much at his tender age. She pretended she didn’t see the irony as she thought of her own son, the weapons he always kept on him, acting like a shield. As a teenager, even well into her adulthood, she’d never thought of how small children really were. How fragile. How vulnerable. It wasn’t even having her son that had woken her up.

It took her beloved’s child getting so, so very broken and bruised for her to realize. She imagined any of the moments that her child’s life had been in danger. She wondered what she would’ve done if she didn’t have the pits to rely on. It made her chest tighten.

She knew if she tried to hide him away, she’d never rest. The moment he was conceived he was doomed to have an abnormal life. It was utterly pathetic. She was constantly scolding Bruce for being too weak; she wondered if her own lack of strength had caused her child pain. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew the answer.

Their reliance on the pits had been a mistake. Without it, they were nothing.

The walk had been both longer and shorter than they anticipated. Bruce’s impatience had shown through, the grunts and hums present in his normal vocabulary upped to a ridiculous level. In a way, she understood.

We all had things that kept us sane when things fell apart.

The green sludge bubbled. Bruce stood there, staring at it for a moment before pulling a syringe from one of his infinite pockets. She watched in muted... astonishment? Horror? As he removed the cap.

She watched him kneel down in front of the pit, sticking the needle in the sea of green. She folded her arms behind her to keep herself from reacting as he pulled on the plunger. Green liquid flowed into the barrel of the syringe in perfect synch with the rubber stopper. She watched him tap the syringe to get the air bubbles at the top, placing two fingers on the finger flange and his thumb on the rest to push out the air. He only stopped when there was a small spurt of green.

He walked over to the cot.

At first, she thought he was going to inject it all at once into his vein. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from speaking. This was what he wanted; it didn’t matter that it was incredibly idiotic -

He grabbed the primary I.V. bag , pulling it towards him while it was still on the hook. He took a hold of the secondary tubing. He inserted the needle into the small opening. He pressed gently on the plunger.

Her insides felt cold. How was this better than dunking the poor boy into the pits?

The green bloomed outwards as it was added to the bag. She watched as it curled and spread, infecting the clear bag with a radioactive glow. She’d always known the pits would emit its own light, beautiful and deadly, but this truly put it into perspective. The bag now positively glowed like it was full of kryptonite. She could see when it started going into the tube attached to the boy’s arm. Bruce agitated the bag to mix it up and within minutes, Jason’s small face was lit up with the green glow. Seeing it like this made it feel every bit as dangerous as it was. She had always known the pits weren’t to be messed with, but it truly sunk in at that moment.

They both watched him. At some points, the horror of what he’d just done washed over her and she couldn’t stand seeing the boy with the glowing vein where it had started to pour into his body. She found her eyes trailing over the zebra plush Bruce had carefully tucked beneath his arm.

Over the next few minutes, they could see some improvements. Wounds began to close and scab. She could swear if she looked too long at his exposed legs she could see nerve and muscle stitch itself together. She never had questioned how it did that, but watching it like this? The slow process demanded patience as they stood, waiting for answers. Talia was certain this might’ve been the most reckless thing the bat had ever done.

Somewhere in her, she knew she should probably be concerned about the near-manic, desperate look on Bruce’s usually stoic and expressionless face. If this didn’t work, she feared it might break him. He was already on the cliffs edge, wandering toes curling off and begging to freefall as it was.

It took an hour for the I.V. to nearly empty into Jason’s veins. Neither said anything during the process. Bruce worked silently, prepping another bag in advance. This time, he gently shook it until it was one homogenous glow. He attached it to a new I.V. line, unscrewing his old one from the extension set. Once the new one was in place, he allowed it to creep into Jason’s body.

She couldn’t believe it was working. She had been here for a long time, and she had never seen anything like this in her life. Never had someone thought of injecting the pits into their veins, not even her father. She supposed that a parent would do or try anything for their kid. It was what made her certain that her boy would be safe when he went to live with Bruce.

They were almost finished with the new bag when it happened.

His body had mostly, miraculously, healed. She suspected he’d been dosing the boy with sleeping medications to keep him asleep for the entire infusion. She had been staring at him, the constant rise and fall of his chest, counting his breaths. His breathing had been gradually slowing down before it stopped all at once.

She hadn’t had to alert Bruce. He swore loudly and rushed into action, checking his pulse and starting CPR. Talia counted the minutes in her head, knowing he would never do it. Never know when to call it.

Each pump of the boy’s chest left her more on edge. Any damage done would be another injury to add to the list. Another thing that they’d have to heal. She watched Bruce desperately attempt to revive his son. It... it was a fruitless effort.

They both knew it when the bat leaned away. There was no choice now.

“Beloved, give him here,” she said softly. “We’ll see if the pit-”

“Shut up,” he said softly. He never took his eyes off him.

“Beloved-”

“You wanted this to happen.”

She reeled back as if she was struck. “Excuse me?”

“You wanted to have credit for saving him,” he breathed. “You know the pits do nothing for those already dead-”

“He still has time,” she insisted. “Just let me-”

“No!” he shouted, finally turning to look towards her. “YOU wanted credit for saving him! YOU admitted you had something to tell me one day! YOU were the one to suggest this and now-”

“I did no such thing,” her voice was dangerous. “I thought you could handle this. I was willing to let you do it your way, and this is how-”

“Please, you just wanted to gloat about-”

“Shut it,” she hissed. If he wanted a fight?

“If I had my way, I’d have taken Jason here without you.”

She’d give him one.

“I would have dropped him off like nothing had ever happened. I changed my mind because I thought you’d want to be here for your child; instead, you took over things you had no business to be taking over,” her voice was stiff as she continued, “Clearly, I should have stepped in a long time ago. You did this to him, Bruce. You did.”

Bruce’s eyes were hard. She was certain if it wasn’t for their history that she’d be lying on the floor. “You don’t have kids. Do you have any idea what it’s like to worry about them? To see them hurt like this?!” his voice was raised. His words felt like a slap in the face.

“Shut up, Bruce. You don’t deserve them-”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Do not put words in my mouth,” she barked, “This is your mistake. Now let me fix-”

“No! No, this wasn’t a mistake, Talia. You did this to him! He’s only fifteen , for gods’ sake!”

“I am well aware of how old he is-”

“You don’t know anything about him!”

“And you do?”

The fight carried on, raised voices covering the soft noises that had started coming from the boy.

He wheezed and coughed. He tried to sit up and that’s when Talia noticed him.

The “J” on his cheek glowed green. The scars on his hands and legs looked smooth but were a noticeably different color. He was still wheezing. She had to do something.

It had to be her because Bruce had just collapsed to his knees. It had to be her and it had to be quick because his too-blue eyes were beginning to roll into the back of his head, think, Talia, think-

In a stroke of genius, she remembered one of the decorative vases they had laying near the entrance of the room. She ran for it, coming back and scooping up the green waters. She carried the cup of bubbling liquid to Jason’s cot and coaxed him to drink, forcing it into his mouth and making him swallow.

A chunk of his bangs turned white. She barely noticed as she continued to make him drink.

His breathing evened out. The green glows in his body faded, though the scars looked positively irritated. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but unless Bruce wanted to hook him up to another I.V. bag she didn’t think they’d be fading anytime soon.

The zebra had fallen wayside in the heat of the moment. To do anything but stare at each other in shock, she picked it up from the floor and dusted it off. She carefully placed it in his lap and backed away slowly.

He reached for it, looking at it for a moment. A keening sound came from his throat. “Papa?”

The bat had been silent and wide-eyed on the floor until that moment. He stood up and fussed over his son, cupping his cheeks gently, whispering to him and reassuring him when he began crying that he’d lied and hid things and-

Talia felt like she shouldn’t be there, especially after the way they had screamed at each other. She did her job; he was healed. He would survive. She doubted he’d like that scar, but there were cosmetic fixes they could probably look into if he wanted. It definitely wasn’t as good of a job as it would be if she’d been allowed to just dunk the boy, but-

“Talia?” she heard his small voice ask. “Papa? What happened?”

Bruce took a deep breath. “You... you got hurt, Jason. Really hurt,” he said.

She refrained from scoffing. There was no sense in lying to the child; he was fine now, wasn’t he? It’s not as if he was still at risk of passing-

“Don’t lie,” he said, voice small. He played with the mane of the zebra.

Watching them interact made her heart ache. She was sick of revelations and hurt; she wanted to get this over with so she could deal with these pesky thoughts and emotions on her own time. Or, better yet, overbook herself so she didn’t have to deal with them at all. An Al Ghul should not be allowing themselves to have such weaknesses, after all.

She spoke before Bruce got another chance. “I heard of what happened. The rumors were that Robin was barely alive after an encounter with your so-called ‘Crime Prince’. I decided I needed to check on you myself.”

She wanted to tell him everything. The injury logs she had helped herself to, the report Bruce had typed up, his seizure, that terrifying moment when they thought him to be deceased. She had always been taught to give every detail; every shred of information as to learn from their mistakes. Second chances were hardly given out; in her world, you were lucky to get a chance to begin with. Understanding your failings was imperative to ensuring they never happened again.

She looked at him and saw the terrified look in his eye. Bruce had crawled onto the cot to cradle him in his arms, kissing his temple. He had smoothed his features to not look as stoic. He was leaving it up to her. Her eyes trailed back to the zebra Jason was clutching in his lap.

“I found you near comatose. After offering my help to Bruce, he agreed we’d take you to the pits. Your father did not want to dunk you in fully, as he feared that would be too traumatic. Instead, we administered small doses at a time through an intravenous fluids line. When you awoke, you had not fully healed yet. It was a risk, but I feared causing you more harm if nothing was done. I poured some of the waters down your throat.”

Jason nodded. “I almost died,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Talia saw no need to correct him, “But you did not. Welcome back, habibi.”

It was likely the most tender thing she had ever done. She felt the act had been appreciated when Bruce looked at her and mouthed ‘thank you’.

She nodded and turned to leave.

“Talia?” his small voice asked.

“Yes?”

“Why did you help me?”

Anger bubbled up in her. She attempted to deny it. She turned and walked to the cot, putting a gentle hand on the cheek that had been swollen before. “You deserved it,” she said. “You deserved to be helped because you did not deserve what happened to you.”

He began crying again. She wiped his tears in a way she had never done for her own son.

“Why’d she do that to me,” he sobbed. “She- she could’ve left me al-o-one,” he hiccupped.

She barely spared a glance towards Bruce as she climbed onto the cot with them, pressing him into her. Bruce was at his back. He tried to cling to both at the same time. She never thought she’d see the day one of Bruce’s kids looked to her for comfort.

She couldn’t help but to compare it to her own.

“Habibi,” she murmured, “Do not think of it. You did not deserve that, and she was wrong for it.”

“Did she live?”

She hushed him. “No more of that. Do not burden yourself thinking of the well-being of others over your own, especially when those you are caring for do not value you in the same way. She did not value you, Jason. You will not spare another thought to her.”

He nodded.

This was the comfort she had never given to, or gotten from, another being. The crying child ruined her shirt, yet she could not seem to find it in her to care for it. All she wanted was to soothe him.

Although it was unbecoming of an Al Ghul to do so, she thought of what could’ve been if she hadn’t kept the secrets she had. She had never questioned her choice to side with her father. She had never needed to. She had had her life planned from the moment she was conceived, and she had been content to fill the role. The boundaries she pushed were never truly tested to their limits, and she knew it. She had never stopped to wonder what could’ve been.

If she had been soothed like this when she was much younger. What could’ve happened if training hadn’t been survival. She wondered if she’d be a better warrior for it. She wondered if she could’ve been a better mother.

Her child was five. She remembered what it had been like to be pregnant, her father attempting to insist she terminate in the early stages since she’d be out of commission so long. She had just barely managed to convince him it was a good opportunity.

She remembered every detail of the birth, how he felt in her arms and his soft, milky breath puffing out over her cheeks. He’d been put into training nearly immediately. She’d never questioned it. Even knowing her father would kill him if given the chance. Knowing he’d likely already be dead if it weren’t for the pits.

It would take time. It would take effort. It would take work. But sitting here, softly rubbing down the back of someone else’s crying child, she swore she would do better for herself and her boy. She wasn’t sure if she would ever earn it, but he at the very least deserved it. It would take cunning, wit, and the courage she had never had the guts to conjure up.

She thought of his little face, still full of baby fat. The scars that already marred his once perfect skin.

It would be difficult but he was worth it. It would take time, but he was worth every second. She would spend the rest of her life in regret for not coming to her senses sooner, but right here, in this very moment, she was swearing to do better for him. Only for him.

If Bruce fit into that picture, great. If he did not, that was fine too.

She steeled herself, taking her vow.

After all, above all, and Ah Ghul always gets what they want. Talia wanted this would every fiber of her being.

So have it she shall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding a kid on the rooftop was the last thing Nightwing had been expecting.

Agent A had contacted him through the coms to let him know Batman had a breakdown and took Robin on an impromptu tour to go see the world’s most radioactive pool with an Al Ghul, so that was so nice. He swore he was going to beat that man black and blue someday-

He was pretty sure Bruce wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually go through with it. He could be incredibly selfish, and impulsive, and sometimes he thought he knew everything and ignored facts. After everything they’d been through, everything they’d done to make sure Jason pulled through this, he better not throw it away trying to find a miracle cure. The thought made his blood pressure rise.

He’d been pissed, looking for a couple more criminals to bust before he called it a night. He was in Gotham this week to be closer to Robin, but also to make sure the Bat didn’t go too far. He’d been pushing it a couple of times this week and he wasn’t sure what all that was about.

Babs had been helping them, of course, but she had college work to do and she was only one person. It took at least three at a time to handle Bruce on a good day.

When he saw two people on the rooftop, he’d been suspicious. He hadn’t crept close enough to hear what was being said, but he knew they were there.

Looking at them hurt, like they were beings mortals were never supposed to see. They were otherworldly and felt so out of reach. That rarely spelled out good news for the world, so he stuck around.

When one of them left, he could immediately feel most of the awe he’d been full of leaving his body. He looked at the remaining being. White hair with a black suit; he’d assumed it was a new villain. He’d spotted a couple people walking around in white suits, and as far as he knew that was nobody's trademark around here; he assumed a new rogue was moving in.

It hadn’t gone as planned. It was a kid, he thought. He was scared and had powers, maybe a new meta? He’d thrown something that scorched the building and Nightwing had let his anger for the bat take a hold of him, breeding impulsive decisions. He’d branded his escrima sticks, turned on, electricity crackling between them beautifully.

He’d caused this kid to have a panic attack. He had one himself when he started picking out features of his baby brother in the boy.

They had the same nose. They had the same eye shape and chin. The only difference between them was the hair, his eyes, and the fangs. Though, it explained it perfectly if Jason had... passed away.

Yeah. Batgirl was more than earning her cookies tonight, talking him down gently and allowing him to carry the child after he had just gotten his gross feelings all over this case.

… Maybe they shouldn’t have taken the mysterious child to the cave. In his defense, he was pretty sure he was going to get another brother with the way Alfred was looking at him as he walked around in silent awe was anything to go by. Plus, Batman wasn’t here to say no. See, this is why you shouldn’t take flights to only god knows where in the middle of the night without informing people. They get back at you by doing things they know you wouldn’t want them doing, often in your own house.

He vaguely wondered if Alfred would help him convince Bruce the boy had been here the whole time. It would be hilarious.

Alfred walked over, holding a tray of sandwiches. He was already in his own domino after he and Batgirl warned him they were coming home with an extra.

See how nice it is when you have a warning? You can prepare-

“Good evening, young sir,” he started out, ever formal. “I am called Agent A. I must admit I was shocked when Nightwing informed me you were going to be joining us tonight, but I have managed to prepare sandwiches. There are other things cooking as we speak and leftovers in the fridge I can heat up if you are interested. Would you by chance be willing to partake in them with us? Or tell us your name?”

The boy blinked. He looked like he was having trouble remembering how to speak. “I... I’m Phantom,” he said slowly.

It was more than they’d been able to get out of him.

Alfred smiled. “Phantom it is. Now, are there any allergies or preferences before we get started?”

“I’m vegetarian,” his voice was still low, like he was afraid of speaking too loudly. “S-, uh, Black Dahlia would probably kill me again if I go back on my word.”

… Well that was odd. They filed the information away for later; they didn’t want to push their luck as of right now.

“Very well,” Alfred replied without missing a beat. He started pointing to different sandwiches, “This one is cucumber. It’s one of my personal favorites to make, and is quite delicious. If that isn’t your preference, these are egg salad, assuming you are not vegan-” he paused to look at the child.

“Egg and stuff is fine. Just no meat,” he said lowly.

Alfred smiled. “Good. Now, these-”

He kept explaining different sandwiches before leaving the platter on the table he’d made Bruce shove down there years ago. He excused himself before he went upstairs.

Knowing Alfred, he was baking cookies right now. Bless that man.

“Phantom,” Batgirl said, “do you, uh, know who we are?”

He gulped a bit. “I always assumed the Gotham vigilantes were, uh, fake,” he coughed. “I should probably stop assuming things. I’m always wrong,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

He froze. “I met bigfoot,” he blurted out. “He was a ghost. Kind of, uh, puts things into perspective.”

That... hadn’t been what they were expecting.

“Okay,” he said cheerily instead. He could bullshit his way through anything for at least five minutes. “Was he nice at least?”

He snorted. “He tried to kill me and my friends.”

“Well that’s not good,” he replied. The kid gave no indication he was fucking with them. Given what he saw earlier, he had doubts he was.

“No.”

“I’m Nightwing, by the way,” he stuck out his hand.

He grinned. “Phantom, though I’m sure you already heard,” he took it.

“I’m Batgirl,” she decided to jump in before this conversation could get any weirder. “It’s nice to meet you, Phantom.”

He turned his boyish grin to her. Nothing like Jason’s. It was as soothing as it was uncanny.

“Nice to meet you too, Batgirl,” he said.

“So, Phantom,” she asked, “Where are you from?”

He fidgeted in his seat. “Um...”

“You don’t have to answer,” Nightwing jumped in. He could see she was trying her best to be subtle, but they really did need answers. “We just want to understand what happened back there a little better. You seemed pretty out of it.”

“... Yeah.”

He didn’t speak further on it.

They dropped it easily, trying to extract information a different way.

They asked if he went to school. Who his friends were. He kept giving answers like “Pharaoh” and “Black Dahlia”. Most of them made little sense.

They let him ask questions, too. They tried not to show concern as he asked how Agent A got the food to taste so good and casually dropped that his parents reanimated everything in their fridge often enough that he thought about keeping dry food and snacks in the house to eat??

They were either being fucked with, and this kid was incredible at sticking to the bit, or this was an actual ongoing occurrence.

They weren’t sure which option they preferred.

By the time Alfred had gotten down with the cookies, he’d had a medical kit with him.

“Now, Phantom,” he greeted, “I noticed you had a nasty bruise on your head. I would like to take a look at it and any other injuries you may have, if that’s alright.”

He looked back at Nightwing and Batgirl.

“Agent A has been doing most of my medical maintenance since I was nine,” he reassured. “I promise you’ll be okay.” He dropped his voice, cupping his hand over his mouth conspiratorially before whispering, “He even lets you have an extra cookie if you stay still.”

Phantom laughed a bit before agreeing to let the older man take a look.

“How’d you get such a nasty thing?” Alfred asked.

He fidgeted. “I... someone hit me in the head with a bat,” he said.

“Oh?” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Why would someone do that?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I still don’t know why,” he said in a whisper.

Nightwing glanced at Alfred’s face as he glanced at his. They nodded and looked at Babs. She also nodded subtly, pretending it was because she was enjoying a cookie.

“Mmm,” she hummed while making the motion and swallowed before saying, “These are really good, Agent A. Would you like one, Phantom?”

“What kind?”

“White chocolate chunk raspberry with macadamia nut,” she responded.

He whistled and winced when Alfred pressed gently against the bruise. “Sure!”

“After his exam, I presume?” He looked up at Babs, eyebrow raised.

She blushed. “Of course, Agent A.”

He nodded. “Very well,” he said. “It looks to be healing nicely. There’s been no nausea? No headaches, tiredness...?”

“No, sir,” he replied.

“Oh, nonsense, call me Agent A,” he said, looking the boy over. “You can get that cookie now, as long as you answer one thing.”

He looked up at Alfred. This expression reminded Nightwing of Jason; his chest ached.

“What is it?” he asked tentatively.

“What is that on your hand?”

He made a small ‘oh’ before holding his hand out for Alfred to see. “It’s a Lichtenburg scar,” he said softly.

Alfred took his hand gently. “My word, how does someone get one of these in such a peculiar place? Where does it end?” he asked.

Phantom took a deep breath. “I, um... live wire,” he said dismissively as if he didn’t just make alarm bells ring. He began peeling himself partially out of his suit to uncover a mass of scarring going up his left arm and across his shoulder.

Some of it creeped towards his neck, but most of it traveled along the curves of his chest and back. Dick was almost certain those were the same patterns of nerves and blood vessels in that area, all ending right where his heart should be.

The adults were silent for a few seconds. “Oh my,” Alfred said before catching himself. “That’s quite a serious wound. It looks like it’s healed alright, you’ve had no pain? No nerve damage?”

“It’s better some days than others,” the boy admitted, already pulling the suit back on. “It really only bugs me when I overuse my hand. Play too many video games, write too long, stuff like that,” he answered.

“Very well,” Alfred replied. “I believe you’ve earned your cookie. Which one would you like to start with?” he asked.

“Um,” he said softly and looked at Babs. “What was the one you had earlier?”

“This one,” she said, tapping the plate.

He grabbed the napkin Alfred offered him and took one, taking a careful bite before humming in surprise. “This is really good!” he said after he swallowed.

“I do try,” the butler replied humbly, because he was just like that.

All of the information they were getting was starting to paint a very concerning picture. They hadn’t been able to extract a hometown or a legal name from the child, but it was clear he was very nervous and jumpy. He looked one wrong word away from bolting, even with them pulling all the stops to try and prevent it.

The longer he studied him, the more sure he was that he had been some sort of vigilante in his area. The suit, the persona, the way he carried himself and talked before he caught what he was doing and adjusted his behavior? Something was wrong.

The boy also made his heart ache. He didn’t have the same mannerisms as Jason, and the scarring on his left hand was enough to prove he wasn’t, but he looked enough like him for it to be jarring. From the glances Alfred and Babs through his way when Phantom wasn’t looking, he could tell they thought the same. It was nice knowing he wasn’t completely out of line on the rooftop, but he’d really thought for a moment...

It was stupid. Bruce... Bruce promised he’d make it. He was really clinging to that, ignoring the little voice that whispered that it was Bruce’s fault he was in that position to begin with.

He remembered when he found Jason’s phone sitting on his desk. The boy had never seen the need for a passcode and had never set one. He picked it up. He’d turned it on.

He didn’t go through any of his private messages with his friends. Didn’t even really look at those; he couldn’t recall a single name he’d seen except for hers. He’d read through every email on the account, seeing the way she’d manipulated and used him. He hadn’t given the phone to the bat; hadn’t mentioned the emails. If Jason wanted to tell him if- when he woke up, that was his business.

He didn’t care what kind of condition his brother was in. If Batman got hold of his phone now, he’d leave nothing unchecked. Any sort of private conversation his brother was having would be between him, the person he was having it, and the bat. He would turn into a tyrant and start bugging devices again; he didn’t want that for Jason, and he was pretty damn sure Bruce would bug his phone again. He sure as hell didn’t want another awkward talk from Bruce about internet safety. He’s 18, he can make his own decisions, and also, that was completely on Bruce for bugging his fucking phone .

He was willing to admit that it was a little selfish, but what was done was already done. Showing Bruce the emails wouldn’t do any good now. He would have a conversation with Jason himself about it.

His thoughts snapped back to reality as he heard Phantom’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “What was that? I got a bit distracted.”

“I asked if you were okay,” he said softly.

It hurt. He treated Jason so badly when he first arrived. They had really only just been getting along; and now, he was...

He smiled. “I’m okay.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. He ignored him.

Batgirl glared at him. He ignored her.

“So!” he clapped his hands, “Phantom, what’s your favorite tv show?”

He jumped, but recovered quickly. “I, um...”

He held back a sigh. He got an idea.

“Hey...” he whispered. “Did you know that Batman-” he leaned forwards, glancing around for dramatic effect- “Is deathly afraid of bats?”

He could hear Alfred groan softly. Babs giggled into her hand. Phantom himself snorted and choked out, “Really?!”

Dick himself let out a chuckle. That had blown his mind when he was little; he assumed Bruce loved bats. He had insisted they get bat-themed everything any time they could get away with it for that very reason (now he just did it because it was funny).

“Yup,” he said. “I was just as shocked as you were. I was pretty young when he took me in, and he never told me he was deathly afraid of the things. One night, when I was a little younger than you are now, I found a few of these little bats that were hurt,” he started. Babs was already stifling laughter and, although he’d deny it if called out, he could see Alfred’s shoulders shaking with mirth. He had already began cracking up himself.

“I uh,” his shoulders shook, “I was really concerned about them, right? They fit in the palm of my hand and...” he trailed off. “They were badly hurt. I think a cat got a hold of them or something,” he continued.

Phantom hadn’t noticed his switch in mood. Babs and Alfred definitely had.

“I did what any teenage-something would do; I put them in a box and brought them to Batman. Surely he liked bats, right?”

They were back to restrained laughter, but it wasn’t the happy thing it had been. Phantom had caught on to what was about to happen, his own shoulders shaking with laughter.

Dick slammed a hand on the table. “I feel like he didn’t appreciate it enough!”

“Certainly not, sir,” Alfred sniffed, “Can’t imagine why a man who dresses up as a bat wouldn’t want to have bats in his home. In his room. On his bed,” he smirked a bit. “I haven’t the faintest idea as to why he would run out of the room screaming.”

There wasn’t a hope in the world to get Dick and Babs under control in the next few minutes.

Phantom was no better, mouth muffled and shoulders shaking. “On his bed?!” he wheezed.

“I-” he was interrupted by his own breathless laughter, “I thought they’d get co- cold.”

Babs grabbed the table. “He-he had to call my dad,” she forced out, “To come get them!”

And maybe things weren’t perfect. They certainly weren't okay. The underlying tension was like waiting for a balloon to finally pop.

But Nightwing was a big brother. This may not be his baby brother, and he wasn’t very good at this yet, but he couldn’t just let him... stay like this. He looked so sad.

This kid wasn’t his baby brother, but he was someone’s baby brother. He’d do his best.

He just hoped his best would be good enough.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc robin #robin #batman #ai-less whumptober day nine #kite flies over the nightingale nest

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monaisme · 18 days

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Sicktember: Day 5

#5- Rogue Organ

“—and then suddenly, there’s Brad Davis, with spaghetti dripping down the front of his shirt, and MJ swearing it was an accident. I’m telling you, Pepper, I’m ninety-six percent positive that I saw her stick her foot out after he yelled at Ms. Thelma because, like, who does that?!” Peter was gesturing wildly as he relayed his day to one of his favourite people, “She’s practically an icon—and she’s like- seventy years old! Big whoop! So she didn’t give him the biggest piece of garlic bread! That’s so not cool—”

Pepper loved that bit of time she had with Peter before Tony got home. And she loved Peter’s daily retelling of the shenanigans he and his friends got into at school, but made a point to try and cut him off when he seemed to get especially worked up, “You’re right, honey, and kudos to MJ if she did manage to mete out some justice.” She turned around and started her way to the refrigerator to get a glass of milk for him. “I hope someone on staff has a chance to more officially correct-his—” Pepper stopped short of her goal, black dots encroaching on her vision, heart suddenly racing, and her knees feeling weaker by the moment. “um...”

Peter was by her side in a blink. “Pepper?” He’d already wrapped an arm securely around her waist as her knees gave out all together. “Whoa, now—I gotcha!” With superhero reflexes, Peter caught her, adjusting his grip and lifting her up into a bridal carry. “FRIDAY!” Peter called out as he rushed the now unconscious Pepper to the couch, “Call Dr. Cho and Tony, now! Tell Cho to get medical up here, stat, and let Tony know what’s going on.” He laid her out as gently as he could, then started softly patted her cheeks, “Hey, Pepper. C’mon, wake up, wake up, wake up,” Peter pleaded.

Pepper’s eyes suddenly flew open as she gasped for air, “I’m okay—I’m okay!” She insisted even as she tried to sit up.

But Peter put an immediate stop to that. “No, Pepper!” He pressed her back down onto the couch. “Stay still, ‘kay? Just ’til someone who knows what they’re doing checks you out? Please?”

Her confusion was apparent and her eyes darted back and forth while she tried to figure out what happened. “Wha—? Peter?” Pepper finally focussed on him, “Are you okay? Did something happen?” She reached up and pressed a tender hand to his cheek.

The relief was overwhelming, and Peter had to wipe away the tears that appeared out of nowhere before he pulled her hand from his face and clutched it to his own chest. “I’m fine, Pep. I’m good. Just relax, okay?”

She nodded, then drew in a deep, calming breath as she closed her eyes. “I’m just tired, I think,” she said, mostly to herself, she thought.

But Peter replied. “Try to stay awake for a minute, please? Help is gonna be here in—” Peter stopped abruptly and looked up to the ceiling.

“Medical staff are in the elevator now. They will arrive momentarily.” FRIDAY filled in the blanks.

“See! Less than a minute!” Peter exclaimed.

Pepper smiled and nodded in agreement, “Okay, sweetie, I will... love you...” and then drifted off into sleep.

/-/-/

“Tony.”

“Hang on. Let me get these pillows fixed for you,” Tony shuffled over to the head of the med bay bed and tried to plump the pillows already set comfortably under Pepper’s head.

“Tony. I’m fine.”

Tony smiled awkwardly, “Of course you are...” he trailed off while he blatantly ignored the dark liquid in the small I.V. bag hanging on the stand at Pepper’s bedside and around the room commonly reserved for Peter on most days, and Tony less often now that he’d retired, “In fact, it’s completely normal for you to pass out for absolutely no reason at all. But no worries, you’re fine!”

Pepper sighed. “Tony, you’re being dramatic. I’m a little anaemic, that’s all.”

“No.” Tony pointed an accusing finger at his beloved. “You are a lot anaemic and currently hooked up to an iron infusion in order start trying to get your iron up to a point where we can trust that you won’t do another nosedive like earlier!”

Pepper rolled her eyes at Tony’s dramatics. “It wasn’t that bad and you know it.”

“Only because Peter was there to keep you from braining yourself on the kitchen floor!”

Pepper chose not to respond to the accusation, simply asked the question on her mind, “Where is Peter, by the way? I’m surprised he’s not here.”

Tony huffed as he sat himself back down in the recliner by Pepper’s bed. “He figured he’d be more of a help upstairs with Morgan and Happy—and he didn’t think you’d want him close by with all of the “doctor talk.”” Tony air quoted. “Yes, I’ve updated him and he knows that you passed out because of your iron levels, but the specifics, once you get them, are going to be yours to share.”

“I guess he has thoughts on having to deal with everyone and their dog knowing his diagnosis.” Pepper smiled softly. “Poor kid. We’ll have to be better about that...”

But Tony crossed his arms in frustration, “Yeah, yeah, oh, the burden he must bear. How’s about we worry about the kid later, okay?” Tony uncrossed his arms and fussed her blanket. “Where the hell is Dr. Cho?” He looked past Pepper and out into the hallway. “She said she wanted to talk to us about something when you were a little more coherent.”

It was Pepper’s turn to cross her arms in frustration. “I was coherent,” she insisted.

Tony scoffed. “I’m sorry. I’ll rephrase that... she wanted to talk to us about something when you were able to keep your eyes open for more than thirty seconds at a time.”

Pepper scowled, hating that he was probably right, and especially hating the fact that she was already starting to feel the pull of sleep again, not that she’d ever tell him now.

Pepper blinked, and the shadows in the room had shifted.

“Knock, knock.” Dr. Cho appeared at the door to Pepper’s room, rapping her knuckles against the door frame as she announced herself. “Are you feeling up for a chat now?”

Pepper rubbed the heels of her hands against her tired eyes, “Of course.” She shifted to sit up.

“Hang on, let me help, Pep,” Tony spoke softly as he pressed a button and brought up the head of her bed. “Better?”

She smiled and nodded, “Much. Thank you, love.”

Dr. Cho waited patiently as they pulled themselves together, then stepped completely into the room, and closed the door behind her. She quickly wheeled over a stool from the corner and set herself down opposite Tony at Pepper’s bedside. “Well,” Dr. Cho pulled a small tablet from her lab coat pocket and placed it beside her on the bedside table. “I’m guessing it’s safe to say this is not the evening any of us thought we’d be having, right?”

Pepper snorted at the understatement, “Right.”

“And how are you feeling? The infusion is agreeing with you?”

“It’s fine—I might be feeling a little queasy but that could just be that I haven’t been feeling that hungry today.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that,” The doctor acknowledged. “Now, before I proceed any further, I do need to confirm that you’re okay with my having this conversation in front of Tony.” Dr. Cho looked serious. “It’s simply formality, but I have to ask.”

Pepper reached out blindly for Tony’s hand, sensing something big coming, and grasped it for dear life. “Please.” Pepper whispered. “I’d like Tony here.”

“I’m glad,” Dr. Cho smiled sadly, “because this is something I’m sure both of you will want to discuss together.”

Tony blanched. “Dear god, no. She has cancer?” His hand tightened around hers.

But Dr. Cho was quick to respond, “No! Absolutely not!” She grabbed the tablet from beside her and pulled up Pepper’s medical chart. “Let me assure you that I have seen nothing in your blood work that would have me thinking that, I promise. Now, if it would put your mind at ease, we can absolutely run some extra tests, but your white blood cell count is good. In fact, most of your numbers are good. I mean—” Dr. Cho swiped to a different screen. “Your B12 could be higher, but aside from that, your iron levels are the only real issue here, and Pepper,” she focussed her attention solely on the woman in the bed. “We’ve had enough appointments together over the years that I suspect we both know the issue.”

“Oh.” A look of realization passed across Pepper’s face.

Tony, however, sat clueless. “What- oh? Pepper?” Tony asked, “What’s going on?”

Pepper opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find any words. She looked to Dr. Cho instead.

Smiling sadly, Dr. Cho spoke directly to Tony, “Obviously, I am aware that you and Pepper have been trying to have another biological child before Pepper enters menopause without any sort of medical intervention. With Morgan being a spontaneous pregnancy at age forty-five, we had all hoped you could pull off another miracle.”

Tony nodded, confused. They all knew that.

“Over the course of the last year, Pepper has had some concerns that her cycles were changing, with her menstrual flow becoming heavy enough that she was experiencing some fatigue.”

Tony knew that Pepper had been tired. They had a kid after all... but knowing that it had been something more? “Pep? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pepper voice shook as she whispered, “I didn’t want you to be disappointed...” her voice trailed off. “And if I didn’t talk about it...”

Tony smiled sadly at his pale wife. “Mi amore? What’s this? Taking a page out of my playbook?” He teased lightly as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We both knew it was a long shot—and even if we’d only ever had Morgan, she’d have been more than enough! But now that we have Peter... and Ned and MJ are practically ours too for all the time they spend with us. Please, love. I never wanted you to sacrifice your health for a maybe or a someday. Our family is already so incredible.”

Her chin wobbled as single tear fell down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Tony pressed another kiss, firmer this time, to the crown of her head. “Ugh. No more of this ‘I’m sorry’ crap.” He brought his focus over to Dr. Cho. “So now it’s time to fix this. What would you recommend as the next course of action?”

“Honestly?” Dr. Cho looked to Tony before setting her sights back on her patient. “With your hormone levels still settled at pre-menopausal levels, we have no idea how much longer this will continue to be an issue; and with your cycles being heavy enough that you’re now passing out... For the sake of your health, Pepper, I’d advise at least a partial hysterectomy, but at your age, I would wholly prefer that we remove everything simply so we don’t need to risk the ‘Big C’ conversation at any point in the future. The difficulty with that, however, is that we’ll be throwing you directly into menopause, which comes with its own set of challenges.”

It was all too much for Pepper to take it.

“I’m sure that you both have questions.”Dr. Cho offered.

Neither Pepper nor Tony could think of anything to ask.

But Dr. Cho seemed understanding. “I’m going to give you two some privacy to discuss things, but before I leave, please know that this is not something we need to deal with in this exact moment. We’ll need to get your iron back up before we can plan for anything, Pepper, be it through another infusion if I’m not happy with your numbers next week, or supplements, or even a blood transfusion. Just—” Dr. Cho looked at the two of them, “take the time to talk to each other, okay?”

Pepper wiped away another tear as she nodded while Tony stood at her side, already prepared to care for the love of his life—whether Pepper liked it or not.

“I’ll instruct the nurse on duty that you are free to be released to the penthouse once you’ve finished the infusion and saline. I’m ordering modified bed rest until you’re feeling steadier on your feet.” Dr. Cho pointed directly at Pepper, “I know what you Starks are like, but I am trusting you to be honest about your physical limitations in the coming days. If you feel weak, you sit. If you need help, you ask. Slow and steady is your mantra until you’re good, but if we hit your appointment for follow up blood work and you’re still feeling shaky, like I said, we’ll need to have another chat, deal?”

“Deal,” Pepper managed a weak smile.

Tony squeezed her shoulder in support. “Thanks, Doc.”

“You are welcome,” she turned to leave, but had almost forgotten to add, “Oh, and one more thing, please be sure to tell Peter I said he did a great job when you get upstairs. You scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of that boy today, if you’ll pardon my candor, and he’s worried about you, but he also came through like a real hero. And, not that it happens often, but Tony was right. You both are a part of what I think is a pretty incredible family unit.”

Pepper and Tony both beamed at the compliment. “We really are lucky, aren’t we?” Pepper replied. “Thank you.”

With those words, Dr. Cho smiled and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Without a word, Tony climbed up onto the bed and pulled Pepper into his arms, the silence bringing peace to both of them. Pepper was unintentionally falling into another dose when Tony finally spoke, “You know what this means, don’t you, my love?”

Pepper hummed in question.

“I need to buy Peter a car.”

Pepper laughed and swatted his arm playfully. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay... seriously.” He hugged her a little closer, “This means that I get to take care of you for once. I’ll run baths for you, and I’ll make your meals...”

She smiled at the thought, “Mmm. You’ll make your mother’s lasagne?”

“I’ll make you whatever your heart desires... as long as I can hide liver and brussel sprouts in it.”

Pepper giggled and nuzzled into his chest. “Sounds like a plan.”

Tony pressed his face into her hair. “Perfect, because I’m planning on forever.”

#sicktember 2024 #Day Five: Rogue Organ #Day 5 #MCU #Peter & Pepper #Tony & Pepper #Irondad and Spiderson #found family #tw: medical emergency #OBlossom #ao3 fanfic

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lazybabybabs · 4 months

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Snackies! Today Is gween stuffed olives cheddar whales and hummus!! And Im twying to dwink more water wiff liquid i.v in strawberry flavor.

#agere blog #agere community #sfw agere #age regression #age regressor #snacktime #healthy snack

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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Ooh, yikes, I've had an experience wherein the medtech kept on prodding with the needle (I'm on the bigger side so my veins are not visible on the surface), and when i tell u it hurt like a bitch 😭 they were trying their best but gawd damn, they already went for both of my arms and the back of my hand (didn't know you they could draw blood from there), only to finally settle back on my right arm. By the time it was done, i was a sweating mess and nearly passed out bc of the stress from the failed attempts 😭😭😭 worst part is they refrained from giving me water bc for this particular procedure, i was required to fast (from both food nd liquid), and apparently it would mess up the results 😭😭😭😭

ugh the fasting tests are always the worst. like i'm hungry and dehydrated as fuck and you're just... gonna steal my blood? you damn vampire?

now they have neat little tools in some hospitals that help find veins, and i've even seen i.v's be placed with help from an ultrasound before but goddamn is it more difficult than it should be, especially when you've got rolling veins!

#core responds

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ceph-the-ghost-writer · 1 year

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Fun Facts Tag

Sidling in on the open tag left by @blind-the-winds. I've only heard of Margaritaville through Wheel of Fortune, and it truly seems like an ideal setting for a corporate horror story.

Gently tagging @halfbit @girlfriend-champion @k--havok @thatndginger @pga-books @careful-fear @digital-chance @likegemstone @rosellemoon @sam-glade @words-after-midnight

(Some warnings for brief mentions of Life Stuff, namely death in the family and personal anxieties.)

A scent you love:

Garlic. Maybe it makes me a bad vampire ally, but I love the stuff.

What's something you're looking forward to this week?

The local in-person writing group I'm somehow the organizer of now. We meet on Saturdays at a big coffeeshop with a secret staircase hidden behind a sarcophagus. I've met a lot of cool people who, contrary to long-held beliefs, don't seem to find me too annoying.

What's a book you're currently reading?

Not counting various projects by other writblrs? The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women's Roles in Society by Eleanor Janega. She co-hosts a very entertaining medieval history podcast, amongst other things.

What's a game you're currently playing?

Lots and lots of Hades still. Mainly just trying to get the last few achievements. Think I might replay Hollow Knight soon.

What's the most recent movie you watched?

Waxwork (1988). Was very pleased to find this for free on a streaming service. It's bad horror of the fun variety with a premise I like, and it's extremely horny in a way that feels genuine and refreshing. Like, it has Dracula and the Marquis de Sade, plus zombies, werewolves, and the mummy. How could it not be fun?

Are you watching anything on TV or listening to any shows?

Currently The Bear, My Name is Earl, and What We Do in the Shadows. My partner and I like to jump around.

Favourite season?

Fall/autumn. Usually the worst of the heat is over, I can break out my leather jacket and costume hoodies again, plus soup and baking.

What's something you've learned recently?

That I'm not as doomed to be alone and handle everything myself in a crisis as I'd feared. My dad died suddenly at the end of June, and I found myself having to drive across like five states to handle arrangements for that, plus rush to move into a new place to take care of my mom who has dementia. A lot of people, from family to strangers, helped make those things happen. Not so much for the love of me maybe, but just out of human decency, which is enough. I'm still working on being better at fostering connections with people and communities, but it's nice to know these things aren't beyond my reach.

Have you had any water lately?

...Homemade iced tea. Look, at least I'm weaning myself off the diet sodas. And I do drink water with Liquid I.V. in it pretty regularly. That has to count.

#writblr community #tag games

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yungcrybby-anonymousbosch666 · 9 months

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2 liquid i.v. packets and 3 vitamin c gummies later, i feel like a new woman.

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toobusybeingdead · 9 months

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TF2 Engineer x Reder Part 3

Chapters: Part one Part two Part Three

Weeks went by and y/n was still in a coma. Ludwig came to the conclusion that several plant toxins entered her bloodstream through several open wounds. There was still no sign of the Herbalist causing the team to think they were dead. Dell held no memory of what happened before he was brought to the medbay. The Texan spent all of his free time sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, stroking her face, hoping she would wake up. The rest of the team would check in on them every once in a while but couldn’t do much beyond that. The only other person who would go in was Jeremy. He would sit on the other side of the bed and hold his sister's hand, squeezing it every once in a while, hoping he would get a squeeze back. He makes daily calls to his mom and brothers, but it constantly tears him apart when his mother begins to cry. They didn’t know she was there, they thought she was across the country focusing on her studies.

Ludwig walked in and began checking her vitals. “No change.” He sighed and looked at his friend. “I want to know how she got like this, and how did the Herbalist die?” Dell shrugged his shoulders. “Do you think he killed the BLU team? What if they had something to do with y/n’s condition?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at his girlfriend. “Do you think he would have something that would help her in his room?”

Ludwig looked over at Laurent and Keith. “I need you two to search the Herbalist’s room for anything that could help us.”

The Frenchman and Spaniard looked at each other in fear. “What if he finds out we went into his room? He’ll kill us!” Keith exclaimed.

“Oui, I don’t think this is a good idea, he might have his room trapped just in case any of us were to go in when he’s not there.” Laurent added.

Ludwig pushed the men out of the medaby and closed the doors. “Don’t come back until you find some medicines, he has to have some antidotes made up in case something like this were to happen.”

The two men looked at eachother and sighed before making their way down the hall to the Herbalist’s room. They opened the door and peeked inside. The room was cleaner than what they thought it would be. Empty bottles were in a crate next to a brewing stand, made up remedies and poisons were neatly organised on shelves, and plants were neatly lined up on tables with lights hanging over them.

“I think he might really be dead, look at these plants.” Keith said as he picked up a dead succulent. “None of them have been watered in weeks.”

Laurent scratched his chin and looked around. “It’s suspicious that y/n appeared at the fort the same time our Herbalist disappeared.” He saw the sleeping area and walked over to it, searching for some clues to what might have happened. “I do find it strange that she had that mask tied to her belt.” He moved some blankets and several objects fell from the bed. He kneeled down and picked them up.

“What did you find?”

Laurent hummed to himself. “I don’t think our Herbalist is as gone as we thought.”

Keith sighed. “You are starting to sound like my grandma.” He walked over to his French friend to see what he was talking about.

Laurent stood up holding a couple photos; a picture matching the one Dell kept in his hat and another of y/n taking a photo of herself standing in the mirror in uniform without the mask. “I think y/n is our Herbalist.”

Keith and Laurent walked back into the medbay with a large bottle of luminescent blue liquid. The Frenchman looked at the woman with a sad expression. “This seems to be her cure-all. She's used it on all of us.” He said.

Ludwig gave Laurent a confused look. “What do you mean “she”? The Herbalist is the one who uses it.” He asked as he took the bottle and began rubbing the liquid on the wounds before putting some in an I.V.

Keith placed the photos on a metal table in the middle of the room for everyone to see. “These were in her room.”

Jeremy looked at the photo and gave them to Dell. “She didn't take the internship with that lab, she came here.”

Dell looked over at his girlfriend. “Why would she do that?”

Laurent pulled an envelope from his jacket. “I also found this in her room, they are all replies from someone going by an alias, “L”. They seem to be exchanging information about BLU but nothing is being confirmed.”

“L? There are plenty of people that could be!” Jeremy sighed. “Our brother, our other brother's girlfriend, someone she was in school with.”

“I-it isn't an-y of your business ju-just yet.” A hoarse voice said. The team turned around and saw y/n trying to push herself up on her elbows. “You'll know more when we figure…” She gasped in pain. “figure out more.”

Ludwig rushed over to her bed and pushed her back down. “You need to rest!”

Dell kneeled down next to her and held her face in his hands. “How are you feeling? What happened?”

She took a breath and tried to steady her heartbeat. “You have the letters, you can probably piece together why they had to go. I was just stupid enough to not make sure that spy was tied properly.” She grunted in pain again. “This antidote is working but it hurts like hell.” She smiled and placed her hand over Dell’s. “I'm going to be okay.”

Jeremy brought his sister into his arms. “Ma was going to kill me if we lost you! We need to call her now! She is going to rip you a new one!” He dug in his pocket for his phone. “Jordan is going to be pissed that this even happened.”

The phone rang a few times before someone picked up. “Hackett residents.” A female voice said.

“Ma?” The scout questioned.

“Oh, hi Jeremy. She's busy right now but Jordan is right here.”

There was the sound of the phone switching hands before a man's voice came on. “There better be some good news.”

Jeremy felt a chill go down his spine. “I swear it's good news! Y/n’s awake!”

There was silence on the other end for a minute before a different female voice appeared. “She's okay? How hurt is she? Is she going to live? She can come back home! Her room is just how she left it! I wouldn't mind if she stayed here forever!”

“Ma… Ma! Calm down!”

“I'm okay mom, I'm staying here.” Y/n said.

The Boston woman quit her rant. “Are you sure? None of us knew you were even working for Mann.”

Y/n looked at her brother and boyfriend. “I'll be fine, I have Dell and Jeremy. Besides, we only have one more year at the fort. What could go wrong?”

“So many things.” The other female voice said quietly in the background.

#tf2 x reader #tf2 engineer #tf2 x you #engineer x you #engineer x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 #team fortress 2 #x reader

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amethystsoda · 2 years

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One of the best quick rehydration hacks I’ve ever learned was mixing coconut water with those liquid i.v. passion fruit flavored electrolyte packs. It’s super tasty (kinda like tropical juice) and no extra dyes.

#i’ve heard it works well for hangovers too #but it’s good if you need speedy rehydration #hydration #life hacks #dehydration #coconut water #electrolytes #for later

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hydnes · 1 year

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this liquid i.v tastes like shit but i need it right now i'm not even gonna lie to any of you

#txt

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this-is-me19 · 1 year

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News to me: Ehlers Danlos Syndrome is all about a lack of absorbing nutrients, vitamins, mineral, and WATER

I actually new the first part of that because taking supplements in gummy or capsule form makes the vitamins more readily available for your body to absorb—still take two (2) weeks to start noticing anything—and income across a study where they treated EDS as vitamins deficiencies which solved a lot of secondary symptoms the people had, but I did NOT know water was in that list too.

My best friend who also had hypermobility and in the process, if I recall right, to get diagnosed with EDS, has the same issue. Their solution is to drink Liquid I.V. (strawberry flavor).

Before I continue, I am not a sponsor or affiliate in any way with the company. I am a consumer who was recommended the product by a friend who also suffers with chronic dehydration.

TMI below the cut.

The changes I have noticed with Liquid I.V. are as follows:

I pee more often from a full bladder, more than four (4) times a day, which is needed for someone like me who has had multiple UTIs and cystitis twice this year, all potentially caused by dehydration. I have a Urologist appt to discuss at the end of the month.

I have bowel movements (BM) daily— being one, technically, 10 different medications for various reasons can lead to serious constipation which can be bad and cause serious health issues, like stretched intestines and compacting, which could have happened more easily to me due to the fact that I rare had a BM. I don’t know about you but when I’m backed up. It can lead to headaches, body aches, and even serious lower back pain. Your intestines can move and change shape or even stretch which can press on muscles which can press on joints and nerves. The human body is a wonderful, strange thing.

I have more energy — dehydration can lead headaches, fatigue, tiredness, and similar.

I don’t wake up with dry mouth anymore— I use a CPAP and it’s one of the biggest complaints for users even with a humidifier. Since I started this, I have yet to have dry mouth upon waking.

That’s all I got so far. Feel free to ask me questions! ❤️❤️❤️

#personal #ehlers danlos problems #dehydration #liquid iv #hydration powder

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robinsarm · 2 years

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After the Bridge has Burned (part 17)

Warnings: None

Words: ~2.7k

POV: Dual (Ace | Felix)

Four stitches.

That’s how many Ace had been told he needed to sew his head shut again. Claudette told him—the only one still awake at this hour.

Truthfully, he didn’t remember much of the night past hanging up the phone with Kate. He’d woken up to his head throbbing and someone trying to talk to him. Everywhere he’d looked was a blur of colors, every voice was a jumble of distant, mumbled conversations he couldn’t string together. After a while of suffering, the pain came to a point; he remembered throwing up and then passing out again. The details in between were fuzzy and Ace didn’t exactly want to ask when he woke up the second time.

When Ace woke up again to Meg sitting by him on the couch of Claudette’s house—Thyme snoozed soundly on her lap with Basil at the foot of the couch in front of Ace. He’d been laid down in the corner, torso propped up with legs stretched out along the cushions.

Waking up wasn’t necessarily the best outcome Ace wanted to believe. Watching everyone mingle around the living area, Ace had immediately picked up on the sullen nature in the atmosphere. Jeff was wearing something completely different, Meg appeared rattled, Claudette ran around in a fog, too focused on working on something in the other room to notice anyone else, Élodie and Haddie sat silently at the bar, and Felix…Ace didn’t see Felix. In the entire time Ace had studied the room without anyone realizing he was awake, Ace never saw Felix once. He couldn’t say he was shocked.

Why would he be here after our ‘talk’ earlier? Ace thought to himself.

Head still pounding, Ace closed his eyes again, intending to stay up and eavesdrop, but passed out like a light within minutes.

Now, it was 2 in the morning. Ace had a water bottle full of Liquid I.V. boosters and was staring blankly at the TV, watching a late night sitcom he didn’t know with Claudette. His head hurt a little less. Claudette gave him a few ibuprofen early to help with the pain and the water was working its magic, but a dull thumping still pounded against his skull. Ace wanted to go back to sleep but, try as he might, there seemed to be no chance of that.

“It’s typical of someone suffering from a head injury to stay awake or have trouble falling asleep,” Claudette had explained. “Don’t try to force it.”

Ace stared at the TV screen, not paying attention to what was being played. Instead, he was trying to focus on the past few hours. His and Felix’s fight still rang fresh in his mind, but Ace didn’t want to remember that. He wanted to know what happened after he passed out. He hadn’t asked anything other than why his head felt numb, to which Claudette explained the stitches in his head.

“I…”

Claudette turned to look at Ace, her head propped up on her fist that leaned against the top of the couch.

“I must have bled a lot, huh?” Ace asked, just barely realizing that his injury probably caused a lot more hassle than he realized.

“We cleaned it,” Claudette dismissed with a yawn. “Élodie and Jeff took on that task. We had to buy new white towels to replace the ones we used on you. But other than that, and the door, your room looked ready for the next guest.”

Ace gingerly rotated his head to look at Claudette. He couldn’t raise his eyebrow but managed a questioning look nonetheless.

“What happened to the door?”

“Felix kicked it in,” Claudette answered, nonchalantly.

Ace took a moment to take in that statement before asking, astonished, “What?”

“Yeah. He said he saw blood on your bathroom counter and got scared. Kicked it in the first try. Meg and Jeff attested to that.” Claudette yawned again. “After everything, Felix gave Meg his wallet and told her to have the motel charge him for the damages.”

“Why didn’t he go and do it himself?” Ace questioned, gaze narrowed.

“He was covered in blood,” Claudette said, paused to look up at the ceiling, then added, “and vomit.”

Ace’s eyes grew wide as all he could do was stare out into the living room in front of him.

“Did...I—?,” Ace asked quietly, detesting the thought.

Claudette’s lips pulled into a very tight smile as she slowly nodded. “You did. All over his legs.”

Ace let his head fall back in embarrassment. Another groan left his throat, not from pain but from shame. He pinched the top of his nose. In all the years of his life that Ace could remember, puking on someone was something he could safely say he’d never done. Of course, the one time he slips and does it’s all over the man he—

Could he say ‘loves’ anymore? Would ‘loved’ (past tense) be more fitting? Both felt right, and both felt wrong at the same time. Sure, his talk with Kate earlier helped focus his feelings of the German a little. But Ace didn’t know how to be honest with himself—didn’t know how to admit that he still cared for Felix. Living a life filled with nothing but lies and sleight of hand, Ace never was honest with himself if he thought about it.

All the inner voices convinced Ace using lies to force him down the road he was on; a road that got him nowhere.

One more hand.

One more drink.

One more hit.

Then there were the hidden lies, ones that seem truthful on the surface, in the moment:

You’re better off alone.

He doesn’t love you, and you don’t love him.

The hurtful lies.

“Ace.”

Claudette’s voice pulled him out of his own head, directing his attention back to her in the present.

“Yeah?”

“You’re crying honey.”

Ace raised a hand to his cheek, surprised to find it wet.

“What’s wrong?” Claudette asked, not pressing but still voicing concern.

Ace shook his head and wiped the tear away. “I just…”

Claudette waited patiently. Nothing in her demeanor tried to push for answers or appeared impatient. She simply sat there as Ace felt his heartstrings come undone.

“Is he here?” Ace barely managed to say without a shaky voice.

Claudette nodded. “He’s asleep upstairs.”

“I haven’t seen him since…”

Since I ditched him on the driveway, Ace wanted to say but kept it down, suffocated in his throat.

“He was with you the entire time. Made sure you were okay. Carried you from the motel to the car, then to here when we got home. He only left your side because Élodie and I physically dragged him away. He took a shower and passed out after that.”

Ace nodded in understanding. Felix deserved to sleep; he’d done so much today, most of it with Ace in mind. But, that selfish instinct Ace knew all too well longed to have Felix beside him right now. Sleep or not. Cordial or not. Ace didn’t care. He just wanted Felix near him—not a floor’s worth of distance apart.

“Do you want me to go get him?” Claudette asked, like she’d been reading his mind for the past minute.

Ace opened his mouth but quickly shut it then shook his head. “I don’t want to bother him anymore.”

“You haven’t bothered him, Ace.”

“Of course I have. I’ve caused him so much hassle. And for what? I know he hates me.”

“Ace,” Claudette sighed, sitting forward and bringing her legs up to cross in front of her. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I don’t want to know, it’s not my business. However, you weren’t here at dinner. You didn’t see the wreck that he was, drinking by himself outside. I don’t believe for a second he hates you.

“Now, I don’t know what he did, and honestly, if it’s anything too bad I know you have Kate to straighten him out if you want.”

Ace nodded at that comment. Kate had offered, far too many times to be a joke at this point, to fly to Germany and knock Felix’s head clean off his shoulders.

“But, after tonight, seeing what he’d do or go through to make sure you were okay, I really don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you.” Claudette shrugged. “Maybe it’s his way of trying to make things right, or maybe it’s because he really cares for you and doesn’t want to see you hurt anymore.”

Ace slowly unscrewed the cap of his bottle and took a sip, trying to distract himself from letting the tears well up and run down his face again.

“Ace, he is here for you. He flew out here for you, we both know that.”

Blinking back tears, Ace nodded again. A moment later, he felt Claudette’s gentle fingers wrap around his free hand. His eyes inspected her touch then trailed up to her eyes again. He hadn’t realized it before, but Claudette looked exhausted; the yawning should have tipped him off.

“I’ll go get you another bottle of that, then I’ll go get him. Is that okay?”

Ace squeezed her hand and nodded. “Thanks Claud.”

“Of course honey,” Claudette whispered with a smile, squeezed his hand one more time before getting up from the couch. She tossed the TV remote on the cushion next to Ace and left for the kitchen.

How had he gotten so lucky to have a friend like Claudette, Ace wondered.

Alone on the couch, his brain spiraled into a bombardment of worry. Thoughts of inadequacies and shortcomings came to mind, telling Ace to give up before he even had the chance to try.

What could you possibly say to make things right? You already told him you couldn’t forgive him.

Ace was kicking himself. Why had he said that?

Fear. Fear and pride.

Pride at the fact that the one thing Ace wanted an apology for was the one thing he didn’t get. But, it was the fear that really drove Ace away. The fear of forgiving. To take Felix back was to put the question in the air, would Felix leave me again? Ace didn’t want the answer to that question—the answer scared him. So, instead, Ace sheltered himself, telling Felix, “No, I can’t forgive you.” Because losing Felix now would be a lot easier down the line then having, loving, and then losing him all over again.

Claudette returned briefly to set another water bottle down on the coffee table before walking for the stairs leading to the second floor. The further away she walked, the more Ace’s heart raced. He didn’t have anything prepared to say to Felix. Nothing at all.

After a few seconds of panicking, Ace heard the soft jingles of something coming from the hallway behind him. Basil came into view over the long sectional of the couch a moment later, her collar jangling as she trotted over to Ace’s side.

Ace smiled and rested his hand on her head for slow pets as she sat down next to him. “You really are the best dog, you know that?”

Basil seemed to agree, licking his hand before resting her chin on the couch next to his legs, seemingly willing to be there for as long as Ace felt uneasy. If this conversation went how Ace believed it would then he was going to have Basil by his side until the sun came up.

* * *

Blinding yellow light flooded the conscious part of Felix’s awareness, waking him up immediately. Quick to react, Felix pulled the corner of his pillow over his eyes, relieving them with the comfort of darkness again.

"Was zur Hölle,” Felix groaned, cursing the person who’d torture him in such a way.

“I don’t speak German, Felix.”

Claudette? Felix questioned, suddenly confused. Remembering where he was and hearing the click of a lightswitch being flipped, Felix dared open his eyes again to the room and found everything completely black.

“Sorry,” Felix said with gravel in his voice and pinched his dry eyes shut. “What time is it?”

“2-ish,” Claudette answered.

“Why am I awake at such an hour, Claudette?” Felix asked, not hiding the annoyance he felt.

“Because Ace is awake downstairs and wants to talk to you.”

In an instant, whatever negative feeling he harbored against Claudette waking him up flushed out of his system, replaced with the familiar coils of anxiety. Even though he was staring into a black abyss, Felix’s eyes widened. He threw his sheets back, finding a surge of energy to launch him out of bed.

“Is he okay? What’s happened?” Felix asked, suddenly realizing he’d gone to bed with no shirt on. The chill of the room bit at his exposed skin, making Felix desperately search the dark.

As if sharing in his predicament, another light (less blinding this time) radiated from the doorway. Claudette had turned on her phone’s flashlight and held it down, facing the floor. It was enough for Felix to find his suitcase at the foot of the bed and begin to rifle through it.

“Nothing happened. He’s okay,” Claudette whispered. “He’s tired, kind of out of it, but awake.”

“He should be sleeping,” Felix commented as he rolled a white t-shirt over his head and chest.

“He’s been sleeping. Now he wants to talk,” Claudette insisted, her tone carrying no emotion. She sounded tired, Felix noted. It was 2 in the morning, of course she was tired.

Felix could only imagine what Ace wanted to talk about. His accident (likely). His addiction (less likely). Maybe he wanted to start up on their talk from earlier again. Maybe he had more to say regarding that. Felix hoped that wasn’t the answer. He’d had enough heartache today, he didn’t feel like he could take much more.

“Thank you Claudette.”

Felix moved to step out of the room, but was promptly stopped by Claudette’s hand on his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but know this, Felix.”

Felix stared down at the woman, now more scared than he was before. Was Claudette going to chew him out too?

“Ace did not want me to come up here and wake you up.”

Oh, Felix thought. So this is Claudette’s idea.

“Mainly because Ace believes he’d be bothering you.”

Felix’s eyebrows pinched together, his previous understanding thrown for a loop.

“It’s not possible for Ace to bother me,” Felix admitted, meaning every word.

“I figured, but he doesn’t believe that.” Claudette paused and dropped her hand back down to her side. “But still, he wanted to know where you were. And I could see it in his face, he was happy to know you were okay and that you were sleeping.”

Claudette’s eyes flicked up and locked with Felix’s, her exhaustion replaced with a forceful determination. “With that being said, go down there and fix whatever’s broken between you two. Or let him fix it. It’s very obvious that the both of you are too infatuated with the other to keep living apart like this.”

Felix was glad to see more than just Élodie on his side when it came to his and Ace’s relationship. After their fight, Felix felt like he had no one—that everyone was just trying to keep their distance and not get caught in the crossfire. What a breath of fresh air it was to have someone like Claudette back in his life.

Instead of simply nodding or doing as Claudette said, Felix took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into a proper hug. Claudette, shocked at first, relaxed and hugged Felix back, rubbing his back for as long as he stayed there.

“That’s what I plan to do. Thank you, Claudette.”

“You’re welcome sweetie.”

“Please, go to bed,” Felix said with one final squeeze. “You out of all of us have earned the rest.”

Claudette let go and yawned into her fist. “That was my plan, actually. Wake me up if you or Ace need anything.”

“Will do.”

Felix smiled down at Claudette then stepped around her, walking down the hallway towards the stairs—determined to make things right between him and Ace the second time around.

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#dead by daylight fanfiction #riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #elodie rakoto #haddie kaur #meg thomas #jeff johansen #claudette morel #dbd #dbd fanfic

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