#bc this is what i imagine her prison. not a place limited and dark but a very very very lonely place

[beedreamscape]

Scenes of Iomene and Oscar in the time after.

I have no excuses for why I wrote this except [screams]. PURE SELF-INDULGENT HEADCANON. It takes place over a long, undefined length of time.

Iomene wraps her arms around Oscar's shoulders by the back and at her firm embrace, he leans into her.

His shoulders are broad so she's not able to envelop him completely. They stand at roughly the same height -either by design or some trick of the eye, he's got the impression she ought to be taller- and she's strong enough that he leans without worry of pushing her back.

She rests her chin on his shoulder and looks at the subject of his attention, the storm going outside the tall windows. Behind the curtain of rain, the thinner trees bend under the force of the wind, branches lashing against themselves and on the studier trunks, leaves sway like clothes on a line.

Their eyes cross on the faint reflection on the glass. In contrast to all that is fair in him, his eyes are like two dark marbles, a brown so deep and dark it's almost black; hers resemble her skin, an inhuman ambar like brandy on fire. Whenever she holds his stare to hers, he has the unsettling thought that she can or might be reading his thoughts.

Taking a break? He asks.

Thought I come see you.

He breathes out a laugh. You didn't have to.

The first time it happened he asked if it was her doing, the rain. It wasn't without reason, she had told him this place wasn't entirely real, the mansion -or palace if you lived in the places Oscar had- was almost a personal limbo, between veils, not outside of the Fairelands but not in it either.

Close enough it influences what happens here, she had told him.

If it rains there, it rains here?

She had shaken her head. No, fluctuations in Bleed cause this. I lived in flood and pain when war was at its highest, then in waist-deep snow as it died down.

He had also told her it reminded him of the accident and she held him steadily for what must've been hours if those had any meaning there.

Her breath has a complex rich scent, never bad but never something recognizable; a new, intriguing smell.

I don't have to do anything.

I know. He rubs the back of her hand in a resemblance of reassurance. I'm alright, I promise.

I miss having someone to care for.

He takes her upper arm, his large hand almost wrapping around it, and brings her to his side so he can look at her --- she's beautiful in a way he's not used to, though he's not quite sure what was he ever used to anymore. Her skin is bronze like copper and her hair darker than any black his eyes could register, she only looked human when she stood very close.

You already care for the whole of the Fairelands. Besides, I'm literally the last person that needs caring for.

It's different. And yes, you do. Dying is not the worst thing that can happen to a person and we both know it.

He smiles, not with teeth but broadly. Darling, I'm painfully familiar with oblivion. Though I've only skirted the edges of madness.

I've dabbled in madness a fair share over millennia.

He points lazily towards the window.

Could we walk out on it? Not in permission but in safety. Every now and then I heard of toxic rain back in Newfair, especially right after the war.

It's bleed-induced, but I don't believe it's toxic. I think we could.

And without another word, she takes his hand and leads him out.

He had asked her how far the land around them stretched on the first night he had woken up in the house --- she had kept him sleeping for about a week or maybe a month, a while to dream of death, a while to adapt her world for his presence, to be shared after hundreds of years of solitude.

For as far my legs will carry me, she told him.

Are there other buildings? Other houses?

I never felt the need for them.

You build them?

With enough will and vision, I could.

So you built this? She nods. A bit big for just one person.

One needs a variety of spaces even when living alone. I thought of rebuilding the whole of Oldfaire in the beginning, I went halfway through with it, but seeing my city with none of its people really hurt me. I did replicate the shore of Seasway, not the whole ocean, but enough that it might trick the eye into thinking it's endless.

Wow... I might need a map one day.

Yes, yes, I never thought to do so, it can be a fun project if you'd willing to tackle it. But that's for later. I reshaped some quarters and cleared space so you may shape them to your liking.

I wouldn't know where to start.

I would suggest you start with your bedroom and then the library, browse through my catalogue and pick out the ones you need to assemble your own.

Why can't I use yours?

She smiles that mischievous smile of someone who knows more, who'll always know more. You'll understand when you walk in there.

He went days without moving much further than the clearing surrounding the house, went on not exploring the library and its secrets, went on trying to ignore the grief over Cosmo, and on one of those days, returned with bloodied and torn fists.

I thought I'd hurt less in here, he told her. She gestures to the water-filled bowl in front of him and he dips his hands in, and sighs at the soothing cool of it.

That'd be easier if it was like that. I'm constantly in pain, I just learned to live with it.

I assume because of the Bleed.

Yes. They both go silent and watch the blood colouring the water red. She waits for him with a towel after five minutes. I'll put ointments and bandage it, but it'll heal regardless. It'll heal as if you had never broken your skin.

Can I even die here?

You'll have to try really hard for it and even then you'd return. The magick here... This place is electrified with both life and Bleed, its own reality and limbo combined.

Oscar went around three days without seeing Iomene before daring to enter her private quarters and look for her.

She lied pale yellow on the floor of her study, cold at the extremities, not breathing. For a second he wondered if she had succeded, but just for a second --- if she had died three days ago, her body would've begun to rot and he knew they don't have that luxury.

The bleed permeated the very air he breathed but at that moment, it flooded out of her like a broken fire hydrant, it made his skin break in goosebumps upon touch and something within him to stir.

He took her in his arms and layed her inside the gold bathtub of her bathroom, clothes and all, and ran a hot bath.

Then he sat on the floor and waited for her to return.

After a quiet period of days of studying, on her part, and reading, on his --- inside the library, he understood, rows of books that the biggest library in Newfaire would never be able to comport, knowledge so old it no longer had surviving records in the world of the living, no place traversable in search of a casual read at least not in short notice ---, she invites him for a walk.

The weather was nice, not too hot like in days of excessive magick nor cold like in days of Bleed, and Iomene wore clothes shorter than any he'd ever seen her in, considering he'd only ever seen her in long pants and gowns.

She walked with a purpose for about five minutes before reaching another clearing, not a random grass field, but a perfect cone with grass cut to perfection and familiar lines.

She walked forward towards the perfectly cut circle at the head of the field while he stood stunned.

I know this means very little without peers to play with but I thought we could think of something for two or at the very least it could bring forth fond memories.

He held back tears. Yeah, we can think of something. But we'll need-

The bats and balls are right over there, she says pointing to one of the trees where beneath is an open crate with the equipment. Needless to say, I'll need some training, I'm afraid just watching didn't make me a partner up to par.

He laughed out loud, the first time she heard it. Well, if it'll be just the two of us... He studied the contents of the crate and he picked up a ball. First of all, I think I'll need you to perfect your throws.

And shooted the baseball her way.

The rain feels both exactly like it always did, but also more real, much colder even through his dress shirt, especially through it, the intensity of the rain soaking the fabric until the clothes cling to his skin.

Yet he stands under it, proper vision of his surroundings impeded by the water except that of her, standing near, long dark hair dripping and a face that could only belong to an empress.

I haven't stood in the rain in decades, I think, she shouts. There's something jovial to her in this very moment, to her smile and the way she faces the rain as it pours over her face.

With her, there is always a dichotomy --- real or fantastic, a mother or a partner, a goddess or a woman.

He ignores every restraint and every assumption, and gives in to the feelings he's still allowed in this moment: the cold making his skin prickle, the fear brought by the intense sound of the storm hitting the trees and the house's roof, but especially the searing hot draw towards the woman who doesn't flinch as she looks at the abomination of his existence --- his only equal.

Oscar closes the distance, holds her face with the scraps of gentleness he still recalls and kisses her with the ferocity of a creature fearless of death. Iomene responds with the hunger of a prisoner fed comfort and warmth, holding onto him with nails dug deep as a captive holds onto freedom.

He pulls away with blood seeping through the cracks of his lips, blinking through wet lashes.

You taste like mints, he shouts through the rain.

She's serious when she responds, I considered your preferences.

This takes him by surprise. You knew I'd kiss you?

She smiles with her eyes.

No. But I've been hoping one day you would.

[embarrassingresultofmyfreetime]

2020 Masterlist

Here’s a list of all the fics I’ve posted this year! (Listed by category, then chronologically:)

Link to my ao3 where you can read all of these: embarrassingresultofmyfreetime

~

Currents wips:

And They Were Quarantine Mates

An old disease has resurfaced on Earth- one which most humans recover from but is permanently lethal to Time Lords.

Because of this, the Doctor stays on Earth to make sure her humans make it through okay.

And because of the Doctor, the Master- against his better judgement- also chooses to stay.

Reluctant to leave the safety of the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor and the Master find plenty of ways to pass the time but it can be difficult to enjoy each other's company with so many things left unsaid.

Good thing they have plenty of time in isolation to work it out.

Word Count: Currently 88,172

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Spyfall: Battle For Humanity

This is a little number I like to call: Roleswap AU with Dhawan!Doctor and Whittaker!Master

It's sort of a rewrite of Spyfall p2 but it's better.

Word Count: Currently 5,688 (will be about 12k when finished)

~~~

-

Main fics (completed):

Please Tell Me Why Do We Worry

Summary: After learning about the final loss of Gallifrey, the Doctor takes some time to grieve and finds herself with surprisingly mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

To her surprise, a knock at her Tardis door soon reveals the Master not only alive, but in uncontrollable mental agony as he reveals that the Doctor's suffering has been amplifying his own emotions via their telepathic bond.

Note: (After so many kind and positive comments on this fic, I finally gained the confidence to start posting more! A huge thank you to so many people it means so, so much to me!)

Word Count: 5,068

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Second Chances

When Graham finds a teleportation cube offering an all-expenses-paid vacation, he, Ryan, and Yaz take up the offer and give the seemingly-distant Doctor some time to herself.

After the events of Skyfall 1&2, the trust between the trio and a certain timelord is shaken. However, when their vacation quickly becomes a nightmare, it's up to the Doctor to bring about peace on an upsettingly familiar planet.

Note: (A rewrite/fix it of S11 episode Orphan 55)

Word Count: 7,130

-

All’s Fair In Love And War

Having escaped alive and alone, the Master dwells on his failure and uncertainty at what to do next.

Purely by accident, he runs into a version of the Doctor he's never met before and she gives him a much needed perspective on their relationship.

Word Count: 4,653

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Truth and Reconciliation

“I... I destroyed a lot of things, but not this... trove of secrets. This is what started it all.”

Missing Scene where the Master goes to Gallifrey and discovers the truth of the timeless child for the first time + alternate ending to The Timeless Children episode

Word Count: 7,563

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The Doctor Finally Gets Some Rest

(Ch2 update Missy pov)

The Doctor promised to guard Missy for 1000 years, but Missy doesn't mind returning the favor.

Word Count: 5,671

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I Wouldn’t Wish It On My Best Enemy

"Just deserts appeared to finally be served for the Doctor. All her running had come to an end, all the lives she's taken or caused had finally been assigned a numerical value, and all the morals she had once believed in seemed to crumble to dust right before her eyes.

A life sentence.

She had JUST BEEN TOLD she would never die, and the first thing the universe does is give her a life sentence.

What kind of cruel joke is that?"

Basically: The Doctor reflects on herself while in prison, the Master rescues the Doctor and actually helps her, and idk read the tags

Word Count: 4,629

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Brand New Reality

In an alternate timeline: The Master is killed in the Time War but the Doctor finds a way to salvage his oldest friend's mind by binding it to his Tardis and building him an android vessel as a way to interact with the physical world.

The Doctor also manages to save the Time Lords from their war- but he is still a renegade in their eyes. As punishment, the High Council uses the Doctor- and by extension the Master- as their personal diplomats/field agents.

The Master isn't too happy about being trapped on the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor is fed up with being the equivalent of a dog on a leash to the Time Lords, so in a moment of anger and also pure luck- they break out from their world and end up on a parallel one with a very different version of their universe and very different versions of themselves.

(Shalka!Universe Doctor and Master meet their modern counterparts- the Thirteenth Doctor and Dhawan!Master)

Word Count: 10,148

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The Imposter(s) Among Us

The Doctor has been searching the universe for the Master, but it's only when she takes a break to help a damaged space vessel that she runs directly into him!

The Doctor has a hundred and one things to ask him, but there's no time for any of that now. The ship is barely functional and if the mysterious murderer doesn't get to the Doctor first, then the trigger-happy crewmates might throw her out the airlock before the killer gets a chance.

Word Count: 12,655

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My Dear, Doctor…

The Doctor investigates an anomaly to find that her previous self has stood up their oldest friend for the umpteenth time.

Confused as to why the Doctor can't recall ever receiving Missy's invitation in the first place, the Doctor goes searching for answers and ends up finding far more letters than just one…

Word Count: 6,657

~~~

-

Series:

And They Were Happy Au Parts 1-4:

Part 1: Dinner and a Show

All his lives, the Master had always believed that he and the Doctor could hold on for about the same amount of time. He always imagined that when they reached their last lives, they would both give all this up and spend their retirement years bickering and raising bees or whatever. The Master didn't particularly like bees, but he had always imagined that the Doctor did and as long as they were together, that was enough to satisfy him.

What he had discovered in the Matrix had proved his ideal endgame impossible.

The revelation that the Doctor was The Timeless Child meant that the Doctor would always live on. They would always evolve and survive no matter what happened. The Doctor would always race to people in need; and now, they would never have any reason to stop.

(AU where the reason the Master wanted the Doctor to kill them both in The Timeless Child is bc he's on his last life)

Word Count: 5,120

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Part 2: Dinner and a Show One-Offs

"The Doctor did her best to space out her visits with O. For every couple adventures she had with her 'fam', she would stop by his home once or so. Sometimes she let months slip by, because she knew that the longer she waited, the less of O's limited time she used up.

She felt guilty to calculate it, but if O was already in his mid-thirties and he lived a full human life...

Suffice it to say, she wanted it to last for as long as possible. She had never had a situation as stable nor as safe as she now had with O. After everything they had both been through to get to this point, she refused to jeopardize a single moment.

For all the pain the Master had caused her, O was well worth the wait."

(By popular demand, a continuation of 'Dinner and a Show')

Word Count: 10,926

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Part 3: Unjustifiable

O- having no recollection of his actions as 'The Master'- returns to being Earth's Horizon Watcher.

O is proud of his work and he cherishes the Doctor's frequent visits, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that she's been keeping more secrets about his past than he had theorized.

To make matters worse, the arrival of an advanced species of aliens on his doorstep brings with it a whole new plethora of problems. Something terrifying resurfaces when O hears they're searching for a Tardis and things go terribly wrong.

Word Count: 23,870

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Part 4: Found Family

The Master finally gets around to seeing the universe in a more peaceful way and runs into a young woman looking for her father.

Word Count: 3,663 (Will possibly be updated at a later date, but complete for now)

~~~

-

Oneshots Inspired by others (specific inspiration in the beginning notes of each):

All Alone In The Dark

While heading back to Earth, the Doctor hears someone calling for her help.

She tracks it back to the Master- injured yet alive- and finds him trapped in his own head, reliving his last confrontation with The Time Lord Council before the destruction of Gallifrey.

Word Count: 1,926

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You Again

The 10th Doctor and Missy each escape their last canon appearances believing that the other is dead for good.

So imagine their surprise when they run into each other at a party in the 1920's.

Word Count: 6,943

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Sick Day

The Master has everything set up for his latest evil scheme but when he tracks down the Doctor, he realizes his best enemy is in no condition to fight. So the Master does what any good nemesis does and takes care of him.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Word Count: 2,807

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Prompt: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge!" "Can I pick?"

The Master’s Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn’t so much as spare it a glance.

The Master’s steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.

He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their latest nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.

The Doctor still had O’s number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn’t lessen his own.

Word Count: 2,410

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The Beginning and The End

Prompt: First Doctor, Dhawan!Master, Gallifrey, and the dialogue: "I know my words mean close to nothing for you. But I do, in fact, love you very much."

Basically Theta (Academy Era Doctor) accidentally runs into the Master on a burning Gallifrey

Word Count: 4,499

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Kisses Like That

The Doctor's never understood why humans enjoy kissing so much- but a certain, somewhat familiar woman piques his interest.

(Missy goes back in time to give 10 a lil kiss)

Word Count: 1,885

Spyvember 2020

Collection of short fics I did inspired by Spyvember prompts (from Tumblr)

Word Count: 15,506 (6 separate chapters)

~~~

Thank you to everyone who has inspired me, commented on my work, read any of my writing, and overall has just supported me in any way this year!! Thank you for keeping me motivated and helping me improve as a writer!

My best wishes to you in the new year! <3

[chronal-anomaly]

This was originally supposed to be short drabble for @slingerscng but now it’s over 2k words and four pages long so. Thank you, Ember for dealing with my weird questions bc you’re one of my favorite McCrees and I stole a lil bit of him for this I’m sorry ;;

This is set in Blackwatch days, too. 

Also this is sorta inspired by that one fanart of Jesse tied to a wooden pole and beat up but I can’t find it. If someone could link it I’d be ecstatic! 

Trigger warning for torture, blood, medical torture.. I think that’s it but let me know if I need to tag anything else. 

“Pathetic.”

Wide fingers gripped at his jawline, digging into the bruises already left there. Hard eyes full of hatred stared down at Jesse, who met the gaze unwaveringly. No matter the pain that lit every nerve, no matter the amount of torture they put him through, McCree had never lost the mildly amused, cocky twitch to his lips.

               The brute that had been assigned for his abuse that day left his limited sightline, placing the cowboy on edge. Behind him, something clattered. As coolly as possible, Jesse turned his head against the rope that had been slipped around his neck like a noose, meant to hold his head as straight as possible. It gave little to his movements, instead pressing against his throat until he found himself short of breath. Jesse would have to simply wait to see what they had in store for him when they decided they were good and ready. He settled in to count the seconds.

               Finally, after the seconds of his life ticked away, the brute returned. He was met with a relaxed stare, the infuriating half-grin still dominating McCree’s face. Though Jesse’s body burned from the sheer abuse it had sustained—bruises, burns and long lacerations dominating the already-scared surface—he refused to quit his childish act, and was far from giving them the information that they demanded of him. Something would have to give eventually though, lest he be driven insane.

               “Gabriel Reyes. What’s his next move?” Clutched tight in one hand, a set of jumper cables that snaked around the pole Jesse remained lashed tightly to, connected to a power source somewhere in the darkness. The gunslinger resisted a shudder, only barely covering the soul-shaking fear with the mocking grin. “One last chance,” the brute repeated, sparking the plugs against each other. This time, he winced. Blackwatch had trained him hard and well, taught him to take pain and abuse well beyond what many could dish out. This was beyond anything that he had ever imagined.

               His response was a tight wad of blood and spit, landing directly in the brute’s face. With a growl, he surged forward, pressing the cables directly against exposed skin of Jesse’s core.

               There was an ungodly screech as he thrashed, fighting against the rough rope that held him tight to the wood post. Fresh blood burned bright against the darkened skin as the delicate skin around his wrists was broken. It was only when blood dripped from McCree’s nose that the brute released the electric current, pulling back and grinning at the mess that was Jesse McCree.

               Jesse sagged against the rope, facing the ground. For a moment, the cocky façade fell to reveal the extent of the torture that had been inflicted on him. His captor grinned victoriously, moving in to grip at his jaw again, pulling that terrified face up, just to spit back into it. The gunslinger didn’t flinch; perhaps he was even used to it. “Blackwatch plans, McCree. Just tell us, and we’ll let you go.”

               He took a staggering breath in, attempting to refocus wandering eyes. Jesse wasn’t sure if he was fit to spell his name, let alone explain the highly-confidential and complex plans of the organization. The grin was carefully reconstructed, prepared, before he put it back on. And just like that, Jesse McCree had replaced the mask that 14 volts of electricity had shattered.

               “M’boss is sure gonna be mad atcha’. This was the prettiest face he had in Blackwatch.”

               The man hissed in disgust and snapped a punch in toward Jesse’s core. There was an audible snap and a faint, pained exhale of air that announced the broken rib. Frustrated, his tormenter flipped off the dim, single bulb in the cell and slammed the door behind him. Alone, Jesse took advantage of the brief peace to slide his eyes closed and silently pray for God, or Gabe, or both, to deliver him home.

               They moved him at some point while he was unconscious. Instead of the dusty basement that had been Jesse’s cell for the week that had passed, white walls and the cool smell of antiseptic surround him. Kinda like Angela, he noted absently. Without the torture, of course.

               Somewhere above his head, two people conversed. One, the large brute from earlier, and the other was a quieter, more feminine voice. None less vicious, though. This wasn’t salvation, just a fresh form of hell. Desolate and suffering, Jesse let out his first protest in the form of a long groan as the tender skin of his skull fell back on the cold metal table. The newest prison.

               The woman shoo’d the brute away, who simply growled at Jesse as he passed. She clipped over, staring down with gray eyes that betrayed nothing. A lock of graying brown hair slipped from the tight, military style bun. There were smiling lines, and thin lips that pursed into a scowling smile. She was not a nice woman, he could tell that right off the bat. More pain would come to him, perhaps worse than the man and his jumper cables.

               There was a smile that Jesse swore made his teeth rot. Yellowed, organized teeth shone as she tightened a buckle on his wrist and ankle restraints. “Jesse McCree. Son of Carmen Sandovol and Malcolm McCree.  Delinquent. Runt of a gang. Picked up by—“A wetted finger flipped the page of her clipboard, retrieved from a nearby counter—“Marcus Rucks.” She stuck out a hand, finger still glistening, before wincing dramatically at his binds and dropping the narrow digits to her side. “I’m Dr. Orbe.”

               McCree couldn’t deny the small wave of terror that shivered through him as she rattled off facts that not even Gabe was allowed. No longer was he simply McCree, the deadly gunslinger. He was Jesse, a simple man that enjoyed a simple life and in the long run, didn’t want much trouble in life. The mask slipped some, revealing the doubt in both himself and those that relied on him to keep the secrets that rattled under those dark locks.

               “Don’t suppose yer gonna’ let me outta here.” Jesse mumbled, squeezing both eyes shut. “Be real good for m’health to not be tortured.”

               “No, the opposite, unfortunately.” Her voice didn’t reflect the sentiment as a vial was retrieved, red liquid sloshing in the glass tub. An IV that had been missed early was retrieved, Dr. Orbe aligning the needle with the clear tubing. “This is Acetonitrile. It’s not meant to hurt you in small doses, but this is three times the recommended dose. It’s going to hurt, Jesse. I suggest you tell me what we need to know now, before I use it. The thrashing is going to make it damn near impossible to return your ribs to their proper condition.”

               Tanned skin paled at the sight of the needle, so close to the IV. No longer was McCree dominating his mind, the idea of a man that couldn’t care about life nor death or what came first. It was Jesse, a ten-year-old with a dead daddy and an imprisoned mother. He was Jesse, who turned to killing as a necessary part of life, who cried silently over every expelled bullet and downed man. But Jesse was still devoted to Blackwatch and those that pulled him out of a life of a downward spiral.

               “I don’t gotta tell ya where he is.” Jesse carefully took in a breath, all too aware of the faint burn of broken ribs. “ ‘cuz he’s gonna be here. T’ get me out. Then you gotta deal with him and believe me, he ain’t gonna be happy if you’re gonn’ be injecting some kinda’ Aceton in me.”

               The doctor shook her head, but wouldn’t deny the vicious look that resided in the creases of her face. “You’re making a mistake, Jesse.” She offered him one last nightmare-inducing smile before setting his very blood on fire.

               His first instinct was to freeze. The drug crawled through his veins slowly, turning the blue into a dark, rich purple that stood out in sharp relief against the tanned muscles. Nothing appeared to happen for a moment, both Jesse and the doctor waiting apprehensively. Finally, it struck. A faint moan forced itself from his hoarse throat, McCree tightening against the tight bounds that held him. Both eyes squeezed shut, worn teeth gnashed as he struggled. Mumbled groans quickly turned to faint whines and whimpers, and finally into full blown screams. His very blood was set alight, the drug burning through his flesh and bones. Jesse was melting, he was convinced. There would be no escape from this, not when the fire burned him from the inside out.

               “I’ll be back soon enough to give your next dose.” The doctor clipped out, a satisfied shrug to her shoulders.

               Jesse screamed until his voice broke.

The next time someone came in, McCree had slowly reformed his resolve. The poison had worked itself from his system, filtered through his liver until only traces remained. There would be no way that they would get Blackwatch’s movements, no way that he would give up Gabe. No matter the amount of shit and manipulation that Gabe and the others had put him through, Jesse was simply too stubborn to release that crucial information.

A thick noise resounded against the floor, the sound of several heavy boots clattering against the clean tile. Much different than the click-clack of the woman’s heels. Brown eyes flickered open warily, pulling gently against the noose that remained around his neck to keep his head straight. He searched the ceiling above him for the source of the sudden change. Last time there had been change, McCree had ended up with the evil doctor. Whatever fresh hell that they had prepared for him, Jesse was uncertain of how much more his body could take.

“Jesse?” Came the incredulous growl that made McCree flinch. The boots darted closer, McCree tensing in preparation for the incoming blows. Instead, a familiar face floated above him. Fear was an emotion that Jesse had never seen on Gabe’s face, and decided right there that he would avoid causing the man any more disconcert right there. “You good, cowboy?”

Gabe moved, ripping the knife from his belt. Involuntarily, Jesse flinched as he went somewhere above his head to saw at the rope that constantly choked him. Below him, Genji released the shackles, freeing legs that had long since gone numb. Soon enough, his wrists were released and Gabe helped Jesse to raise to a sitting position. Blood, pus, and embarrassingly enough, tears, leaked from his form. Someone pressed a cloth against his face, wiping away the stray fluids; Gabe let out a quiet noise as the broken man leaned into the hold.

               “I’m good, boss.” His voice rasped quietly, torn apart by earlier screams. “Ya’sure took a long time gettin’ here.”

               “You lived. Can you walk?” Gabe straightened up, leaving the rag in Jesse’s hand. He slipped between the two personas with scary ease. “C’mon, kid, we’re going to get you outta here.”

               His head swam as he nodded. Gabe gripped at one shoulder while Genji wrapped his arm around the other. Carefully, they pulled the man from the table, only narrowly catching him from falling to the unforgiving ground below. Boots dragged against the ground, unable to support his body weight. Thankfully enough, Gabe and Genji managed to carry Jesse out to the waiting transport truck outside. There would be punishments later, Gabe making him run until he puked or something similar, for slipping up and getting himself captured. For now, though, it was time for healing. It was time for Jesse to rest, to watch old westerns until he hated the sound of John Wayne’s voice and play board games with the new girl, Oxton, until she twitched weird and ruined the board. It was time for him to go home and heal and get right back out into the field to do it all over again.

Jesse fell asleep on the ride home and didn’t wake up again until Mercy was standing above him, asking him this and that about his injuries. Once her fussing had been satisfied, Jesse fell back asleep.