#and that she struggles with it and we see stede understanding this too! he supports her decisions and her new life and is happy for her!!!

[arsenicflame]

i Do Not Trust people who make Mary the bad guy in their stories when the show went out of its way to specifically show us how she was suffering just as much as stede was in their marriage and that shes, yknow, a good person

[thetragicallynerdy]

wip wednesday - the die hard fic, continued

(AKA I'm writing Die Hard featuring Jim from OFMD as John McClane, Ed as Al Powell, but neither of them are cops. Also featuring the Badmintons as asshole cops.)

--

Staring up at the smoking building from the hood of his truck, Ed lifts the radio to his mouth and answers. “Yeah, Cowboy, I’m here. You alright?”

There’s a burst of laughter, followed by a hollow cough. “I’m fucking great, man.”

“You sure? That was a big fucking explosion, mate.” Big enough to take out an entire floor. He sure fucking hopes they weren’t near it.

More laughter. “Estoy bien, lo prometo. You remember those plastic explosives I told you about?”

Oh, fuck, they didn’t.

“Seemed like an appropriate time to use them,” Cowboy says, laughter breaking into a hoarse series of coughs. It’s a familiar sound, one he’s heard many times throughout his firefighting career – the sound of someone struggling to breathe because of smoke. Worry spikes. “Is the building on fire?”

A little bit. Not enough to put anyone on the thirtieth floor in danger, though.

“Nah. She’s gonna need a new paint job, though.”

“Eh, needed a facelift anyway.” Their voice goes serious. “Hey, muchacho, did I hit any cops with it?”

Ed shakes his head, makes his voice firm as he tucks his free hand around the hot chocolate thermos Stede sent with him. “Nope. You hit a few floors up. Looks like you took out the floor that the rockets were coming from.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”          

There’s a noise to the side. Ed looks up and sees Nigel and Chauncey Badminton storming towards him, both looking pissed as hell. “Incoming,” he mutters, setting the hot chocolate aside and sliding off the hood of his car.

“Is that them?” Nigel demands, gesturing at Ed’s radio. “Let me speak to them.”

“Hell no –“

But Nigel just swipes the receiver out of his hand, giving Ed the finger as he snarls into it. “You listen here - I don’t know who you think you are, but you just did millions of dollars in property damage. We don’t want, or need, your help. Do you understand me? Stop trying to help. Because of you, all of my officers down here are covered in glass –“

“Glass?” Cowboy cuts in. “Who gives a fuck about glass? Who the fuck is this? Put Ed back on, I’m not fucking talking to you.”

Ed doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nigel turn quite so red before. He’s normally bored, almost lazy in his command – but now he just looks pissed.

“This is Deputy Chief of Police Nigel Badminton,” Nigel says stiffly. “I’m the one in charge of this situation. Ed will no longer be your –“

“Oh, you’re in charge?” Cowboy laughs. “Did you tell that to the assholes in here? Because from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like you’re in charge of shit.”

Now Chauncey’s turning red, too. Ah, twins. He swipes the receiver from Nigel, sputters into it. “Listen here, you little shit –“

“Jesucristo, what the fuck is it with cops? Each and every one of you is a fucking shithead. Stop blabbering and put Ed back on!”

“When you get out of there, I’m arresting you,” Chauncey hisses. “You’re mine, you hear?”

Cowboy gives the tiredest laugh he’s ever heard in his fucking life. “Man, you think I’m making it out of here alive? Fuck off.”

Before Chauncey or Nigel can make it worse, Ed grabs the receiver, drags it out of his hand. He glares at them both, angrier than he’s been in decades.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says, voice low. “Go run your little show.”

Nigel points a finger at him. “You find us if they tell you anything, or I’m arresting you too, Teach.”

“I already said I would. Go.”

They leave. It’s a fucking relief.

Ed hoists himself back onto the hood of his car, forces himself to breathe through the anger. “Cowboy? You alright?”

“Sí, sí, I’m fine,” they mutter back. “Real fucking glad I’ve got tons of support down there.”

“Hey. You have me,” he says firmly. “Me, and all the firefighters down here, we love you. We’re on your side. A bunch of the cops who aren’t assholes are rooting for you, too.”

He can’t imagine what it’s like. They’re alone, in a burning building, with half a dozen men or more trying to end their life. They’d called the cops looking for help, but now…

Ed feels like shit for calling in the forces. It was necessary, he knows it was, but if it ends with Cowboy being arrested for just trying to stay alive –

“Alright,” Cowboy says quietly. “Gracias.”

“Hang in there, mate,” Ed says softly, wishing he could fucking go in and help them. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll be here to help you when it’s all over.”

There’s a long exhale, then another rasping cough. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Please do. And Cowboy – get yourself out of the fucking smoke, okay? It’ll fuck up your lungs real quick.”

“Sí, don’t worry.” There’s something warmer in their voice, and it’s a fucking relief to hear it. “I’m already on my way.”