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theshipsfirstmate · 3 years ago

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Black Widow Fic: No Time Left to Start Again

Post-BW, between the end and the post-credits. Yelena Belova faces life after The Snap.

No Time Left to Start Again (AO3 - wc: 4983)

She looks down to see her hands disintegrating -- fingers floating away like the wispy tufts of the dandelions that grew in their front yard in Ohio -- and Yelena thinks, Is this a cool way to die?

The question is still on her mind when she comes to, even though she’ll find out later that five years have passed since she started wondering.

She puts the pieces together as fast as she can, even though each one only makes the picture more grim. She learns she was lucky to be in the Widows’ safe house in Istanbul when it happened, even if the rancid smell of the rotted fridge makes her gag and there’s a hole in the ceiling and straight through the floor from a bathtub left running.

She learns that the best estimates say it was half of the population that floated away with her that day, and has now returned just as abruptly. The world wasn't ready for them to go, and it is even less prepared for them to return. Cities are plunged into chaos in an instant, governments and aid organizations just starting to steady themselves after half a decade of desolation get the rug pulled out from them once again.

She learns that her phone still works, even if internet service is shit, thanks to dwindling maintenance and overloaded servers. She learns that the Avengers are fighting a war for the fate of the universe (again), somewhere in upstate New York. And she learns, quickly, where she needs to go next.

“Малышка.”

Melina greets her at the gate with an unexpected softness -- so different than the last time -- and Yelena wonders if the woman has simply spent the last five years alone with her pigs, if they've felt any different than the twenty before. Then, Alexi steps out the door behind her, and she realizes that they have.

“So, neither of you…” Yelena starts to ask as they let her in, though she doesn't really have to. She can see the years on them both, and for a moment, she's a child with a family once again.

My mother is going grey at her temples. My father's glasses are thicker than they used to be.

They both have deeper crinkles at the corners of their eyes and Yelena finds herself hoping that it’s laughter that’s left them there.

“For five years we've been on our own,” Alexi answers, but he can't help himself a little smirk before he continues, “and moss grows fat on a rolling stone.”

He doesn't smell so bad this time, when he wraps her in a bear hug. Mercifully, he's shaved and taken to civilian clothes -- she decides to keep to herself how much she dislikes his new handlebar mustache.

“You did?” Melina guesses, and Yelena nods her agreement into Alexi’s chest before he relents and lets her go.

When she turns back to face the question, she finds herself on the receiving end of a look that feels equal parts discerning and maternal. That too, she remembers from her childhood.

“Are you alright?”

“I seem to be,” Yelena answers, gesturing down to her hands, tangible once more. There won't be an answer that satisfies the woman scientifically, she’ll have to be proof enough. “I don't remember any of it.”

What she truly doesn't expect from Melina is a hug, and it's even more surprising when it’s fiercer and longer than Alexi’s. A beat too long, Yelena realizes slowly. Alexi turns away when she tries to meet his eye, and her stomach turns over with dread.

Something else has happened. Something she doesn't know yet. Something worse.

“The report came over my comms just an hour or so before you got here,” Melina says softly, an arm reaching up to stroke the back of Yelena’s head, just like she did when she was a toddler. “It's over. The Avengers have won.”

There's the sound of splintering wood and both women step back sharply, turning to see Alexi clutching a handful of splinters that used to be the back of a dining room chair. He drops them to the ground and strides back out the door, pointedly not looking at either of them, and Yelena tastes bile in the back of her mouth.

“What else?” She tries and fails to stop herself from asking the question. It comes out on a choked kind of half-breath.

“Tony Stark is dead.” Melina answers, dropping her eyes, an uncharacteristic waver in her voice. “And it's been... harder to confirm, but we are almost certain that Natasha is too.”

In the Red Room, after the treatments, there would be a buzzing in your ears for days, like static from an old radio. Widows in training were known to be disciplined after missing commands, and would do their best to shake it off as quickly as possible, but Yelena sometimes welcomed the fuzzy silences, the chance to try and focus inward, no matter how painful.

This is nothing like that.

This is a heartbreak in a cry, a desperate, wailing sound that builds and builds, cutting through the quiet isolation of the farm compound like a knife. It's only when it gets muffled by Melina wrapping her up in her arms once more, that Yelena realizes she's the one making it.

“Малышка,” her mother whispers again -- my baby -- and Yelena can’t tell if it’s meant for her or not.

They sit around the table again that night, but dinner consists only of vodka and memories and they all try -- and fail -- not to notice the empty chair closest to the windows, the one with the broken back.

“Oh, I hated that blue hair!” Melina admits with a watery chuckle, paging through the photo album when their second bottle is nearly gone. “But she was so good at getting what she wanted.”

“You know, I begged her to dye mine too,” Yelena shares, recalling a long-forgotten memory that means something completely different now. “She said no, that she wouldn't let me be spoiled.”

Alexi interrupts the reverie before she goes too deep, laughter overtaking him as he pokes at Melina’s arm. “I remember the night she did it. You came to bed and you were so fed up, you cried! She made you cry!”

“And I punched you for laughing at me, do you remember that too?” Melina fires back, swatting his hand away.

When she was old enough to realize what had happened to her as a child, Yelena remembers scouring her memories for real moments, signs of genuine affection between the family she hadn’t known enough to question. It was difficult then, to believe any of it had been real. But sometimes now, it's not so hard.

“The only reason I was glad we left when we did, was because I knew I could never have handled her as a teenager,” Melina muses then, but there's little humor left in her voice. Yelena wonders if her face darkens in the same way as her mother’s when they think of that day on the airstrip.

It's quiet for a long moment, but Alexi never stops looking at Melina. Yelena's head is heavy from liquor and tears and she rests it on folded arms as she watches them. (Sometimes, it's not so hard to believe.)

“You didn't want to go,” her father says, low and mournful. “I should have listened.”

“You followed the orders,” her mother answers. “What was the alternative? They would have killed us and taken the girls back if we had made even one misstep.”

None of them had a way out, Yelena thinks, they never had. A super soldier and a Widow, weapons both, with daughters destined to follow in their footsteps. Maybe that's still true. Maybe there is no peace when all you've ever known is war.

But they'd had each other.

“It was real,” she murmurs, as her eyes drift closed. “Natasha said it was real.”

-----

A public memorial for Tony Stark is held on the National Mall. Steve Rogers is consecrated at the Smithsonian, again. But no one seems to know quite what to do about Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow, the female Avenger, the Russian-born assassin, only claimed by America, it seemed, when they wanted to accuse her of treason.

Still, Yelena flies to Washington DC, half-curious and half-desperate to burn off the fog she’s been wandering around in since Melina’s suspicions had been confirmed.

Captain America, the new one, had announced the events on a world-wide broadcast -- making a point to mention Natasha by name, Yelena had noticed -- and so she heads to the museum first, though she's not entirely sure what she hopes to learn. The Avengers have saved the world several times over, but those conflicts are usually reduced to heroic platitudes when it comes to the public, and she expects this to be no different.

She's mostly right, but the exhibit is worth it for a few glimpses of Natasha fighting alongside the Captain, scattered throughout the pictures and video of the Avengers’ years together. That's how she finds herself in a darkened theater, watching a compilation of newsreel footage, broadcasts and shaky cell phone shots, the valiant timeline of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

She feels him sit down beside her, catches the glint of metal in the sleeve of his leather jacket before she can even clock his face. Her nerves are instinctively on edge, but if he came for combat, they’d already be in it, so she stays still and quiet, waiting to follow his lead.

“ты сестра?” he asks softly. You're the sister?

Yelena turns to face him, the question and answer on her lips. But the Winter Soldier speaks again before she does.

“She showed me the pictures once. From when you were kids.”

Yelena couldn't count them if she tried, the nights she spent in the Red Room, rubbing a finger along the torn seam of her photo strip, willing the thought that Natasha was out there somewhere, holding the other half, to be enough to comfort her enough to sleep.

She turns away before he can see the tears in her eyes, but it’s no use -- they’re there in her throat when she speaks.

“They didn't even know her.” She nods back to the crowded museum and hopes he can grasp her meaning. There’s no way Natasha can be properly memorialized by government officials, who knew her as little more than a recon file, or the adoring public, who only thought of her when the world was ending.

“She liked it that way.” He means it as a comfort, but still, it makes Yelena flinch.

He notices, and she knows he understands when he tries again. “They were never gonna do her justice.”

The world never would, never could, Yelena thinks. A spy. A sister. A survivor. A lost girl, who fought her whole life for the kind of peace she’d never allow herself. These are not the people who get parades in their honor, holidays in their name.

“I will,” she says, and the stubborn tears win their battle, spilling down her cheeks. “I will do her justice.”

The Winter Soldier nods, with as much of a smile as he seems to allow himself. “I hope you will.”

Then he's gone, back the way he came, and Yelena thinks it's time to leave this city, with its buttoned-up bureaucracy and privatized secrets.

She doesn't care much about the Stark memorial, but skirts around the periphery on her way back to the airfield, catching a glimpse of the enormous photos and expensive-looking displays.

Natasha’s in these too, off to the side or just out of focus. It's starting to wear on her, the way these people seem to barely even notice the Black Widow, how quick they are to disregard one of their greatest heroes because she didn't fly or transform or wield some mystical weapon.

Shouldn’t that have made her even more impressive?

She's standing in front of a tribute to the Battle of New York just beside the bridge, weighing that unanswerable question, hands clenched unconsciously to fists, when Valentina finds her.

“I've been looking for you.” It sounds more like a taunt. I found you.

Yelena scoffs. “Probably a bad idea, if you know anything about me.”

“Oh, babe, believe me. I know plenty,” the woman answers, offering up that ridiculous name, a business card and a tone that's too familiar for Yelena's liking.

She's not to be trusted. That would be clear even to the Red Room’s youngest and most naive recruit. But it's this gleeful performance of espionage, or maybe villainy, that keeps Yelena from writing her off entirely. From the outfit to the attitude, she's either insane or untouchable. Or both.

And then: “So I have some… let's call it interesting information about your sister.”

Yelena clenches her fists tighter, digging her fingernails into her palm. “I don't believe you.”

Valentina seems to anticipate this, and is already reaching into her bag at the answer. She pulls out a thin, soft-bound book, printed with colorful block lettering: Parkside Elementary School, ‘95-’96.

Instantly, Yelena feels like someone's tightening a vice around her ribcage. “No.”

The woman shrugs, with that haughty grin she's already starting to loathe. “See for yourself.”

She flips it open, turning only a few pages to find the first grade classes, and there she is. Six years old. An innocent smile on her face and a fake last name beneath her picture. Orange juice spots on the collar of her shirt -- Melina had scolded her when they brought the photos home.

“How did you get this?” Even if it's a fake, it was done by someone who knows far too much.

“Well, you don't trust me, so I won't bother telling you,” Valentina snaps, taking the book back before she can look for Natasha. “Let’s call it proof that I know a lot of people who have been keeping a lot of secrets.”

Yelena tries to look unimpressed, dropping her shaking hands to her sides when she realizes they're giving her away. “You and me both.”

“Ha! No kidding,” Valentina replies. It's not actually a laugh. “That's exactly why we're gonna work so well together.”

Maybe it's the grief clouding her judgement or residual conditioning left over in her frontal lobe. Maybe it's the unspoken threat to the rest of her family. Or maybe she was just born for this -- a soldier like her father, an assassin like her mother. Whatever it is, Yelena can feel herself agreeing to Valentina’s “offer” before she's even made it explicit.

“We'll start you out small,” the woman assures, but she knows better than to be comforted. “How do you feel about some light arson? There’s some documents and hard drives at a warehouse in Bethesda that need disappearing.”

“Fine,” Yelena answers, ears already buzzing, as a small voice in her head sings along. Fire is the devil's only friend.

-----

When the money from her first job comes in, she buys an old Chevy C/K and drives to Akron, with a useless hope to disappear again. She's lucky enough to find a modest apartment with a kind neighbor who's always happy to dogsit, which becomes a blessing -- Valentina’s demands only increase as the corners of her fake smile tighten.

But it's enough. Enough that when Yelena thinks about home, she can once again think of Ohio.

Not long after, Alexi and Melina keep a promise she’d asked them to make, and return for a few days. She picks them up at the airfield, and drives to the spot she and Fanny found on one of their long walks together -- under the trees that are just starting to blossom with pink flowers.

Alexi lifts the heavy gravestone from the back of the truck and places it at the end of a row, under a tree, where the ground can't be dug up anyway.

“Toughest girls in the world,” Yelena hears him murmur as he runs his hand over the inscription.

Melina hasn't spoken much since they landed. Yelena thought at first that she didn't want to come back, but when she closes her eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath as they stand facing the grave marker, she understands that it isn't that at all.

“Big girl,” her mother begins with an uncharacteristic, watery softness, and Yelena is transported back to another lifetime once again. “I’m so sorry...”

There might be more to say, but the long, mournful silence is broken by the sound of another car pulling up. All three of them go on alert, until Yelena spots a familiar flash of metal from the driver's side.

“не волнуйся,” she says, still stepping defensively in front of her mother. “It’s OK.”

The Winter Soldier -- Sergeant Barnes, she reminds herself -- parks and exits quickly, moving to the rear of the car to help an elderly man step out and straighten himself.

He isn't what Yelena expected, but once he's at full posture, it's impossible not to recognize him. He's the man from the news, the internet, all the posters — give or take a few decades.

“Captain America.” Under normal circumstances, she might chuckle at Alexi’s awed whisper.

“Forgive us for interrupting,” the Captain says by way of a greeting. He sounds like him, too, so it must be true. “And, in advance, for not explaining. I just… I thought both of her families should be here.”

“If that's OK,” Barnes adds with a look, first at Captain Rogers, then back at the family.

Yelena nods her acceptance, but feels her heart sink a little when Melina turns back silently to face the gravestone. Only Alexi steps forward, extending his arm, first to the captain, then to his comrade.

“Alexi Shostakov,” he offers. “You probably don’t…”

“The Red Guardian,” Captain Rogers interrupts, and Yelena tries not to let her eyes go wide as they shake hands proudly. “The Soviet super soldier. Of course I know who you are.”

Alexi puffs his chest up for just a moment, and gives himself a pleased nod, before returning to Melina’s side. It's proof of his grief, Yelena thinks, that that's the end of it.

Then it's her turn. “You must be Yelena.”

“Captain.” She nods once and then twice, looking past him. “Sergeant.”

“Buck mentioned you two had run into each other in Washington,” the older man says with a well-worn, knowing smile.

“I would say we're glad to have you,” she offers as a reply, “but now I'm mostly worried that I'm not covering my tracks as well as I should.”

“Don't worry about that,” Captain Rogers replies, with a shake of his head. “I had to call in multiple favors to find you. Big ones, too.”

“Well then,” she sighs, “I guess I should say I'm sorry you went through all that trouble.”

Another small smile, and then the captain steps closer, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially. It strikes her that, while he's likely still one of the most powerful men in the universe, there's nothing about him that feels threatening to her.

“I don't know if you've noticed,” he tells her, “but I'm getting up there in years. Why don't you save us both a lot of time from now on, and only bother saying what you mean.”

He means it as a kindness, Yelena can tell, but there's only one question she wants to ask, and it's screaming in her mind like a klaxon horn.

“Will you...” she begins, stopping to swallow when her throat turns to sandpaper. “Will you tell us what happened?”

“Yelena,” Melina says sharply, and she almost takes it back. But she knows the curiosity will eat her from the inside out if she doesn't take the chance now, when it's literally right in front of her.

“No, I want to know,” she tells her mother before turning back and steeling herself once again. “I want the truth.”

Captain Rogers purses his lips and tilts his head, like he's seeing something different in her now.

“You really are her sister, aren't you?” he muses.

She scoffs, almost reflexively. “There's no family resemblance, if that's what you mean.”

“Isn't there?” She hears Alexi chuckle softly behind her and makes a mental note to elbow him in the ribs later. One super soldier at a time.

“Please,” she asks again, and the twinkle leaves Captain Rogers' eye as he nods solemnly.

“Natasha sacrificed herself to retrieve the last of the Infinity Stones.” Yelena only understands part of that sentence, and she's not sure if it's the important part.

“The stones were the key to bringing everyone back, to defeating Thanos once and for all,” he explains. “We made a plan, as a team. We each had our assignments, but we didn't know the cost.”

The cost, it's evident now, had been Natasha, and it grates again at Yelena that all the other Avengers had returned from this mission for their final battle, while her sister’s sacrifice had merely been part of the unknowable set up.

But Captain Rogers continues, and she finds consolation in the fact that at least he doesn't take Natasha's death lightly, not in the slightest.

“I went back, after,” he reveals, sounding close to tears. “I tried-- I tried like hell to get her back. I never should have let her go.”

“You wouldn't have been able to stop her.” Melina’s voice comes out of nowhere; even she seems surprised to have spoken. But they all nod at the truth.

“Clint said he-- she wouldn't let him go in her place,” Rogers adds. He’s turning something over in his hands, but when Yelena looks closer, it seems to be just a simple pack of bubble gum. “She was just too…”

His eyes, cast towards the sky, return to their group, and he speaks first to Alexi, and then to Melina. Yelena reaches out for her mother's hand, and it's taken with a fierce squeeze.

“I'm not sure I ever really understood her until now,” the Captain says. “I thought her strength, her heart, who she was, was in spite of what she'd been through. But I know now, it was because of it.”

Yelena’s eyes have blurred with tears, but she can see him turn to her next. “We fought that war for her,” he adds. “And I think she fought it for you.”

It's the eulogy Natasha deserves, the one none of them could have hoped to give, and it feels both fitting and unfathomable that it comes from Captain America, of all people.

They sit in it for a moment, each thinking of Natasha in their own way, until the silence is broken by two people speaking in unison -- perhaps the two that understood her best.

“She would have hated this,” Yelena mumbles, only realizing after a moment that Barnes had said the same thing.

A reserved chuckle rumbles through the five of them, and then a deep, forgiving breath. It’s time to go.

But Yelena drops Melina’s hand as the rest of them turn back for the road, suddenly unable to move. She can’t pull her eyes away from the grave, stuck staring at a legacy that makes her feel six years old again, a metaphorical pair of shoes she'll never be able to fill.

When she doesn't hear either car start, she expects maybe Captain Rogers or Alexi, but surprisingly, it's Barnes who returns to her side.

“I haven't… I didn't make a speech or anything,” she admits, gesturing at the stone with her sister’s name and titles, and willing him, once again, to understand the feelings she can’t put into words. “I don't know what to say to her.”

He's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks it's lower than she’s expecting, like he’s drawing the words from somewhere deep. “Nat never shared much with us,” he tells her. “I understood that. It's hard to talk about memories you don't think you deserve to miss.”

Yelena knows she’s felt that too, that kind of arrested nostalgia. And she’s seen it in the Widows she recovered before the snap. It's not a surprise that the Winter Soldier could understand it as well -- what it’s like to be freed from a prison in your own mind, but constantly aware of how easily that door could slam closed on you once again.

“She wouldn't care what you say here,” he continues. “She would care what you do out there.”

Suddenly, Yelena wonders if his heightened senses include a bullshit detector, if he can somehow see the marionette strings Valentina has looped around her conscience.

“I might have lied to you when we met,” she admits, telling him as much of the truth as she can muster. “I'm not sure I know how to do her justice.”

“I think you do,” he answers. “Even if it’s hard. Even if it takes a while.”

She turns to face him, and he’s staring at the gravestone like he can see something more than the paltry words they had paid someone to carve in Natasha’s memory.

“Nat was haunted by the red in her ledger, but she also thought it was what made her a good Avenger. She thought it made her fearless, unbreakable.” Yelena looks down and watches the metal of Barnes’ bionic hand curl into a fist, and then release. “But I'll take a wild guess that she was fearless before that, wasn't she?”

Through the years of mind control and conditioning, Yelena has never forgotten the feeling of Natasha’s arm wrapped around her back on that airstrip in Cuba, screaming and threatening men twice her size to try and keep them both safe.

“You may not know what to do now. You might feel like the things you've done, or the things you want to do, have set your future in stone,” Barnes continues, cutting through the haze of her memories.

“But there's gonna be a moment, maybe in the future, maybe soon, when you're faced with a choice. And in that moment, if you choose to be the person she thought you could be, that'll do her justice.”

Yelena looks up and Barnes’ eyes are there to meet now. Whatever he knows, it’s enough.

“Thank you for coming,” she tells him. “Truly. And thank you for bringing the Captain.”

“Couldn't keep him away,” the man admits, with his little half-smile. “The two of them...I think that was as close as they let themselves get to anybody. I know he’ll always blame himself, but I hope this helped.”

Yelena nods her goodbye, thinking idly, mournfully, about the way Natasha never gave any thought to her future -- wondering if that’s something she and her teammates had shared. But as Barnes returns to his car, the back window rolls down and Captain Rogers flags her down with something dark and folded in his hand.

“I found this with her things on the quinjet,” he says as she approaches the window, and her throat is tightening with new tears before he can finish, before she can even reach out to touch the familiar fabric. “Thought maybe you might want it. It’s pretty nice, it’s got a lot of pockets.”

-----

When she returns Melina and Alexi to the airfield a few days later, it's the most Yelena has felt like a real person in a long time, maybe the whole of her adult life.

“You’ll come to visit, yes?” Alexi asks, but his raised eyebrow tells her it's more of an order than a request.

“I will.”

“Come for Christmas!” he booms as he climbs out of the truck. “I will tell Santa Claus where to find you.”

Melina doesn't follow him out the passenger door right away, turning back to face her and looking for all the world like a typical worrisome mother.

“Yelena…”

“мама, I'll be fine,” she promises, trying not to hear how hollow it sounds.

“I know you will. But please, watch out for yourself.” Yelena’s stomach knots at the memory of Melina telling Natasha the very same. That was the last time they were all together, she recalls. It always will be.

“And if you need us,” Melina adds, “just come home, where it’s safe. OK?”

It's something about the way she says it that steals Yelena's planned reply from her lips. She doesn't want to lie, not now.

So she ducks forward, pressing her head against her mother’s and willing them both a little bit of peace.

“You are the best of us. Strong like your father, smart like your mama,” Melina whispers. “And like Natasha, through everything, you’ve kept your heart.”

Yelena pulls back then, swiping at her eyes, unable to stop herself from asking. “You don’t think that’s a weakness?”

“Maybe, at one time,” Melina admits. “But now, I think it’s lucky. Because now, you have a place to carry her.”

She can do that, at least, Yelena promises herself, reaching down to tug instinctively at the hem of her vest. Natasha died for them, and so she can live for her. She can do her justice.

“Stay safe, Малышка,” Melina says again, kissing her on the cheek before climbing out and following Alexi towards the runway. They two of them turn back to wave before boarding their jet, and Yelena’s heart knocks in her chest to remind her. That’s my family.

She puts the truck in gear and is pulling out to the main road, brushing away a few stray tears, when she notices it. A cassette, half-ejected from her ancient tape deck, with a Post-it stuck to the end.

She peels off the note and grins at the mismatched handwriting -- “Love, Mom. And Dad,” both in Cyrillic -- before pressing the tape in and starting to sing along.

“A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…”

#first mate fic #black widow fic #yelena belova #yelena belova fic #black widow spoilers #black widow #natasha romanoff #romanogers (if you squint)#post-bw

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fanaticfangirl001 · 4 years ago

Text

Lab Rat

Author’s note: Y/DOB- Your Date of Birth

Some say that the downfall of man is hubris. Lab Rat disagrees. She thinks that it’s curiosity. Curiosity led to Father’s experiments, poking and prodding as she grew up, recreating the serum and studying the effects on the subject growing up with the serum. If the program proved successful could create a whole generation of super soldiers, correcting the sterilization of the original. The disgraced doctor was successful but soon ran low on funds. At age five, Lab Rat read her own name, Y/n L/N and Y/DOB on a series of government papers. Desperate for funds, he sold her to the Power Broker.

Now she sits in the lab of Dr. Nagel, the Power Broker’s official researcher. The Doctor claims his serum is the perfect one, more subtle. Lab Rat disagrees, but keeps her thoughts to herself. Speaking out of turn resulted in a loss of food, as did asking questions. A lot of actions lead to food being taken away: escaping restraints, reading, not cooperating. Dr. Nagel preferred to keep the experiment in a constant sway between hunger and exhaustion. Less problems to deal with as she’s quiet when unconscious.

Y/n struggles to lift her head up and sip from the bottle. With hands shaking she laps up the water trying not to spill it on herself. The calendar across the room reads Y/DOB. Her eyes adjust to the light.

“I’m coming home baby, now” Dr. Nagel sings to himself.

Her stomach rumbles loudly.

“Food.” Lab Rat grunts rubbing her eyes.

“Do Do Do.” Dr. Nagel scats not paying attention to Lab Rat.

“Food!” She repeats louder, taking a risk, if he’s to kill her it would be prefered more than this continued treatment.

Dr. Nagel ignores her screams. Lab Rat lays down waiting for the familiar feeling of her eyes being heavy and the room beginning to spin. She sees three men enter the room and looks wide eyed at them. Lab Rat sits up and pushes herself to the corner. The restraints pull against her arms, pinning her in place.

“Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you?What do you want?”

“We know you created the serum.”

“Get out of my lab!”

As two men question the doctor, a third stays behind with Lab Rat.

She’s shaking bracing herself for any harm to come. Sometimes others would visit the lab, and they weren’t the nicest.

“Liebling, are you hurt?” The man in a fur coat kneels down beside her.

“No..food.”

“We should get these restraints off you, first then food.”

Lab Rat looks at her hands then shakily bends the restraints off the wall and breaks the wrist shackles off, then her feet.

“Very strong, Libeling.” The man rummages in his coat and pulls out a candy. “ This is all I have right now.”

Lab Rat looks questioningly at the man before unwrapping the sweet and popping it into her mouth, the powdered sugar covering her lips. Zemo offers Y/n his arm and steadies the shakily legged woman as the two join Sam and Bucky.

“Not to interrupt but I found someone.” Zemo gestures towards Y/n.

His hand leaves her and she nearly falls.

“You know who this is right, This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right? You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.

“Guys we have company.”

Bucky takes his gun and shoots near the Doctor’s head.

“Okay. Okay. I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

“And the woman?” Sam asks.

“Not my serum,but she’s a gift from the Power Broker.”

At the mention of the Power Broker, Lab Rat bristles and stalks towards the Doctor. Zemo gently grabs her shoulder.

“How have we never heard of this?”

“Because… Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.”

“How many vials did you make?

“Twenty. Karli Morgenthau stole those, so… I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.”

“Where is Karli now?” Sam asks.

“Not my pig, not my farm.”

The gun fire outside gets louder. Lab Rat shakily grabs at Zemo’s arm.

“Is there any serum in the lab?” Bucky asks then raising his gun again.

“No.”

“Now what.”

“Guys we’re seriously out of time.” Sharon runs in.

Zemo shoots Dr.Nagel in the head.

“No! What did you do!” Sam yells at Zemo.

An explosion sends Sam, Bucky and Sharon on one side of the container. Zemo and the new woman on the other.

Zemo grabs Y/n and runs out clouded by the smoke.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asks running with Bucky and Sharon.

“No but he has a super soldier as a hostage. We gotta find her, she could help us.” Bucky answers.

“I take it Liebling, that you are enhanced.” Zemo looks behind to her following him.

Lab Rat nods catching her breath from the running.

“Once we are safe you can have any food you want.”Zemo offers.

“Food.”

“Yes, food. Follow me.”

“Okay.”

The two of them begin to clear a way for Sam and Bucky. Zemo detonates an explosive while the other woman knocks the men out, she grabs one’s gun and hits him with the butt of it before shooting others.

“She’s definitely a super-soldier. Go, let’s go.” Bucky adds telling Sharon and Sam to go thanks to their clearing the way.

“What is your name?” Lab Rat asks as the two stop by a shipping container.

“Helmut, Zemo.” He takes off his purple mask. “And your’s.”

“Lab Rat, but it’s Y/n. No one has ever called me Y/n though.”

“ Well Y/n, pick a color: yellow, blue or red.”

After some thought Y/n replies “ Blue.”

“Hop in.” Zemo opens the storage container and inside sits a blue vintage car.

Y/n hops in the car and the two ride it out of the unit and round the corner stopping in front of Sam, Bucky, and Sharon.

“Supercharged.”

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?”

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us and twenty of them.”

“There is another super soldier, this is Y/n.” Zemo gestures towards her.

“Hello, I’d be willing to help on one condition.” Y/n adds.

“What is it?” Bucky asks.

“You two help me find the Power Broker.”

“Sure.” Bucky agrees.

“What are you going to do once we find him.” Sam asks.

“Kill him.”

“I like your style.” Zemo smiles at her.

“Ambitious.” Sharon notes. “ Anyway that was one hell of a reunion.”

“Come back to the states with us.”

“I told you I can’t. Just get me what you promised me.”

On the plane Y/n sits further from the three men. It’s all starting to hit her that she ran off with strangers. The stranger in fur, Helmut Zemo gave her a candy. Technically he isn’t much of a stranger if she knows his name. The stranger with the metal arm stares at her for too long, and the stranger with short dark hair hasn’t said much to her.

“Eat.” Zemo puts a muffin in front of her and a bottle of mineral water.

“How long were you with Nagel?” Sam asks.

“I don’t remember, a while.” Y/n says, tearing into the muffin. She ravenously eats the muffin.

“And you took the serum.” Sam confirms.

“Not much of a choice.” Y/n shrugs and says through mouthfuls of muffin.

#Baron Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo imagines #Helmut zemo x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #ironstrange x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #Stephen Strange x you #tony stark x you

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greenflower21 · 4 years ago

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“I Sleep and Dream of Snow” (orginally on my Ao3 profile) * Contains Spoilers for season 3 of “Attack on Titan”

The winter will be rough this year , thought Levi as he gazed out the foggy window onto the gray surroundings. The first snow was yet to come, but he doubted it would be far off. Wind was already screaming down from the mountains, sweeping across the sheltered valley where the small cabin nestled under the barren trees like skeletons in the mountain’s shadow. This was the same cabin where he had hidden with his new squad, a few months previously, before Queen Historia had claimed her throne, before they had regained honor for the scouts, and before retaking Shiganshina.

So much had happened, it was hard to believe only a few months encompassed the biggest changes to their world within the walls. A new Queen, a new squad, and now a new commander as well…

Levi’s eye twitched slightly as he thought of Erwin’s lifeless body, still in Shiganshina, blue eyes once so full of dreams, an icy fury that looked ever onwards, now just a memory. He shivered there before the window, the threat of winter already creeping into his bones.

“We can’t always carry our fallen comrades home, but we can carry their memories.”

The words he had spoken to a grieving soldier had echoed too many times in his head this past year. He was used to loss, but the words now sounded almost mocking, his memories laughing atop the mountain of bodies, lifeless eyes whose gleams were already fading from his mind. The cold ache had settled even deeper now, refusing to recede, winter’s cruel whisper brushing against the boundaries of his body and mind. He shivered again, whether from the cold or from the lingering echoes in his head, he couldn’t tell. The echo was turning into a headache now, dull pain behind his eyes making his limbs feel leaden and heavy, not helped by the bulky ODM gear that weighed him down under his cloak.

A shout from outside jolted him from his thoughts. He stepped away from the window calling out as he went, “Commander Hange is here! Get ready!”

A few shouts of “Yes sir!” echoed clumsily from upstairs.

Levi walked outside, his shoulders tensing uncomfortably when he was met with a chill wind. “Jean!” he called to the tall boy in the lookout tower, sandy-brown hair tousled by the wind. “Is it Commander Hange?”

“Yes Captain,” replied Jean. “They appear to be alone.”

Good, thought Levi. Good that no more than necessary see this. Too many soldiers and government officials resented Levi’s decision to save Armin instead of Erwin. Why was a timid boy’s life more valuable than their esteemed and experienced commander? And why had that pivotal decision been entrusted to an underground lowlife like Levi?

At first they had thought to keep the specifics of Shiganshina a secret from the populace, but that was impossible. That idiot Floch didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. Levi was glad at least that he had stayed behind to recruit more MP’s into the scout’s ranks instead of coming here with the rest of Shiganshina’s heroes. Isolating as it was out here, he was glad not to hear the endless complaining, making his guilt over Erwin’s death all the more painful.

Not that it isn’t painful already, he admitted as Armin’s small figure came slowly outside, followed by Eren, Mikasa, Connie and Sasha. Armin’s blue eyes were watery in the chill wind, blue and full of hope, just as Erwin’s had been long ago.

“Hey Connie! It’s your watch now!” said Jean, hopping down from the tower, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself.

“Ugh, fine,” said Connie, walking over towards the wooden tower.

“No,” said Eren, “I’ll take watch, you can go with the others Connie.”

“Um...okay…” said Connie, confused.

Levi furrowed his brow as he watched Eren climb up into the watchtower. Why does he want to be on lookout duty so badly? Probably just sulking. Eren had been in a bad mood ever since the memorial ceremony. He was sullen and withdrawn around the others, even with Armin and Mikasa. Levi shuddered. It's probably nothing. Not everything is a threat, he’s a teenager, they’re like that most of the time.

“How far is Hange?” asked Levi as Jean sauntered up beside him.

“A couple miles,” he replied. “They should be here soon.” Jean lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing back at Eren, “what’s up with him?”

Levi frowned, still uneasy but apathetic. The last thing he needed was to fuel Jean and Eren’s rivalry. They were good friends but sometimes even the faintest animosity could become irritating to be around. I’m too tired to deal with their childish antics today.

Sure enough, Hange’s steed galloped down the narrow path and jolted to a halt.

“Levi!” they exclaimed excitedly. “It’s good to see you looking cheerful as always.” Their hair was messy from the wind, and they hastily brushed it away from their face where it had tangled in their glasses and knotted under their eyepatch..

Levi grunted in reply. “I see you came alone.”

Hange nodded. “Now, are we ready to start?”

They glanced over at Armin, whose blue eyes were wide and unblinking. He looked incredibly nervous. Levi couldn’t help but notice how he tried to hide his shaking hands under his cloak.

Eren on the other hand, was expressionless beside him, green eyes downcast. Mikasa eyed him worriedly, but he paid her no notice as he walked over to the watchtower.

“Let’s go then,” said Levi, leading them down toward the cliff face where they had tried this same experiment on Eren earlier that year.

Levi pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, shivering still. Dark clouds were gathering at the top of the mountain. Levi narrowed his eyes concernedly, “Hange, I don’t like the look of those clouds.”

“Hmmm,” they said, narrowing their eyes. “We’ll have to hurry then.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just wait?” Levi replied.

“If it snows we won’t be able to do this again for awhile, and I can’t be away for too long. Besides...” they added, their voice rising to the pitch that Levi recognized as a signal that a theory was forming in their mind.

“What?” he asked, not sure if he was going to regret it.

“I’m interested to see how cold weather will affect the transformation, and if it rains or snows or whatever it does, it might have an impact on the titan steam….” they trailed off, clearly mulling over possibilities in their mind.

Levi sighed and glanced back at the squad. Sasha, Connie and Jean were chatting distractedly in the rear, Mikasa walking solemnly in front of them, glancing occasionally through her shadowy curtain of hair, backward towards where Eren sulked in the watchtower. Armin looked even more terrified than he had before. His eyes darted back and forth cautiously, like blue rippled under a sudden wind.

Levi slowed a bit to allow the boy a chance to catch up with him.

“Sir,” he squeaked, startled to see Levi beside him, looking away quickly. He knew that Armin also carried the guilt of Erwin’s sacrifice. The fault was far from his though, but Levi could understand how apprehensive he probably was. He had a large legacy to carry on his shoulders, and nearly the whole army blaming him for it.

“Don’t worry Armin,” said Levi earnestly. “Hange knows what they’re doing, you’ll be fine.”

“Th-thank you sir,” stuttered Armin, “i-it’s not Hange I’m worried about sir, it’s…”

“You have a lot of expectations to live up to,” finished Levi.

Armin hung his head. “Y-yes sir.”

Levi sighed again. “At the end of the day, it was my decision to make. You’re young, you have a good head on your shoulders, give it a chance to dream. That was what Erwin did best…” Levi stopped, for he could see the cliff face looming up ahead.

“Here we are!” said Hange, running ahead to look down.

Armin gulped. Levi gave him a reassuring nod, and they followed Hange to the cliff edge.

“Positions everyone!” said Hange. They all obeyed, leaping to their vantage points on the clifftop.

“We have to hurry,” pointed out Levi, glancing up at the clouds uneasily.

Hange nodded. “Yes. Ok Armin, we’re ready when you are!”

Armin nodded, pale and shaky. He closed his eyes, and took a run towards the cliff edge. He jumped off the side, ODM gear on.

Levi braced himself. Did it work? He wondered as a few silent moments passed. But he quickly retracted that thought, because a loud bang resounded upwards with a steam blast.

“Hange!” He shouted. “Can you see anything?”

“No!” they replied, eyeing the steam dangerously, the thrill in their eyes unmistakeable.

“I can’t hear him!” shouted Jean.

“It’s only steam, no titan,” added Sasha.

“Armin!” shouted Connie, “Can you hear us?”

Levi could see Mikasa perched on the edge, looking as uneasy as Levi felt. She was doubtless wondering why Eren didn’t want to see his best friend transform into the colossal titan for the first time, but equally worried about Armin below.

A loud boom sounded behind them. Levi smelled rain as a cold blast of wind slammed into him, almost sending him off balance.

“Hange…!” he shouted, a tone of warning creeping into his voice.

“I hear it,” Hange replied. “Armin!” they screamed. “Armin where are you?”

There was no reply, only more thunder as the steam rose from the ground.

Levi felt a few drops of cold rain hit his face. Not quite cold enough for snow yet but it still stung like blades of ice.

“Armin!” cried Mikasa, craning her neck to see through the layers of steam. The rain was getting heavier, sizzling as it struck the ground below.

“There!” shouted Sasha. Levi looked where she pointed, seeing a patch of red where the rain was clearing the steam. He narrowed his eyes and squinted to see better.

“It’s too hot to cut him out,” said Hange, “We need to let the rain cool it down first.”

Damn this would have been a great moment for Eren to stop acting like a moody brat and come help us out.

Levi frowned. “Was this your plan all along?” he didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“...Not exactly, but it is working in our favor now,” they replied, watching the steam clear below, revealing more of a pitifully misshapen red titan, miniscule in size in comparison to the colossal titan that had broken down Wall Maria.

“Armin,” croaked Mikasa nervously, about to leap down. Levi placed an arm in front of her. “No. It’s not safe yet.”

She hung her head, resigning herself to the truth in his words.

“Look! Commander, Captain!” Connie shouted.

“It’s Armin! He’s emerging!” added Sasha.

“Right, I’m going to retrieve him,” said Levi. It was dangerously hot down there, only he had the necessary speed to grab the boy quickly and get him out.

“I’m coming too!” insisted Mikasa.

“Fine,” grumbled Levi. She can manage, and it might be helpful to have an extra set of hands if we have to cut him out.

“Be careful!” said Hange, absentminded, meaning that their thoughts were clicking mechanically in their brain.

Levi and Mikasa leaped down, weaving between bilows of steam carefully. He could see Armin’s yellow hair glinting dully in the red mist of steam and drizzle.

They landed on the body, where the rain had cooled the surface enough so that he could cut Armin out. Armin’s eyes stared blankly upwards, red marks beneath them, tears welling in those pools of blue.

“Help me cut him out, quickly!” said Levi.

Mikasa sawed at the sinews with her blades while Levi lifted Armin out from the steaming carcass. His cloak had completely burned off, leaving only his thin shirt, burned and tattered in several places. The ODM gear was still trapped inside the titan.

“It’ll be damaged beyond repair; leave it behind” said Levi, sensing Mikasa’s thoughts.

“Right,” she nodded and focused on cutting Armin’s legs free.

The rain was coming down hard now, icy cold and stinging as it danced violently in the wind.

Mikasa finished cutting the sinews, and they leaped upward against the cliff-face with their gear, Levi carrying Armin’s limp form under one arm. They made it to the top, where the others were waiting anxiously.

“Wh-what happened?” asked Sasha concernedly looking at Armin.

“We can theorise later, let’s focus on getting out of this rain!” said Levi, removing his own cloak to wrap around Armin.

Damn this rain is cold.

“Hange come on!” They were still staring over the cliff edge thoughtfully.

“What?” They said. “Oh, right, let’s go!”

They all walked quickly back to the house, Armin being carried by Levi as the rain grew icier around them.

Levi was thankful in that moment for the titan heat radiating from Armin’s body. His face and hands were numb from the cold, and his clothes were becoming soaked through.

They made it back to the house.

“Eren!” shouted Hange, “Get inside! You won’t be able to see in this weather anyway.”

Eren leaped down from the watchtower, still brooding. Seriously, what’s up with him?

They all stumbled inside, dripping wet, slamming the door behind them.

Sasha let out a long sigh, “I’m soooooo hungry!”

“Ugh I’m too cold to be hungry,” complained Jean.

Eren ignored them and went straight over to the hearth to start building a fire. He half glanced at Armin, a pained expression in his eyes, avoiding Mikasa’s stare that followed him like a shadow as he placed logs in the fire.

Levi placed Armin down into a seated position in one of the chairs by the fire, removing his cloak and hanging it by the door. Armin’s tattered clothing had luckily remained relatively dry under the protective wool.

As everyone else hung their cloaks, Levi noticed that they, too, had avoided most of the icy rain.

Hange shook their head, scattering a few droplets and walked straight over to Armin.

I need to get out of these wet clothes, thought Levi. He shivered, his shirt stuck tight against his body, hair dripping icy water into his eyes.

“Captain you’re soaked!” exclaimed Sasha as she carried the kettle to the stove.

“Hmph, I hadn’t noticed,” he grumbled dryly.

“Someone needs to get some dry clothes for Armin,” said Hange.

“On it!” said Connie, sprinting away.

Levi stood, almost dazed, looking at how Eren was building up the fire. Something was definitely off with him, and he worried that it was something more than just teenage angst.

“Uh, Captain, are you ok?” asked Jean’s voice behind him.

“Hmmm…?” Levi blinked. “Yeah I’m fine…” his words were slow; numb along with everything else.

“You really should take those wet clothes off captain,” said Mikasa, arriving beside him carrying some blankets from upstairs.

“Hmmm, yeah…” he shook his head hazily and walked slowly towards his room.

His hands were stiff as he undid the buttons and endless belt loops that attached the ODM gear to his body. When that weight left him, he swayed slightly, dizzy with the release. He finally managed to remove the rest of his soaking wet clothes, which had stuck to his skin like ice, wondering if he would ever feel warm again.

He came back to the main room, wearing dry clothes, but still shivering. Sasha, Connie and Jean were laying out teacups and bread and butter on the table. Eren still stared moodily into the fire, ignoring the rest of them, while Mikasa sat next to Armin, wrapping him in a blanket and Hange scribbled in their notebook.

Mikasa stood and walked over to Levi. She handed him a blanket and he took it from her gratefully, hands numb and shaking. Not caring about anything else in that moment except warmth, he sat down in the chair between Armin and Hange, close to the fire.

Armin didn’t appear hurt, but there was a look of utter dejection on his face.

“It’s ok Armin, Eren had trouble his first time too! “ reassured Mikasa. “Right Eren?”

Eren turned at his name. “What? Oh yeah…” he quickly turned back around to stare at the flames.

Hange sighed quizzically, looking up from their notes. “It seems that mood clearly plays a role in one’s ability to transform. Eren always had trouble if he was feeling nervous or apprehensive, or unsure about something.” Hange directed their statements at Eren, but he didn’t look back in their direction.

“You’d better figure it out soon kid so we can get the hell out of this freezing cold bunker,” said Levi shakily, then he sneezed, quiet enough so that only Hange heard it. They narrowed their eyes at Levi skeptically but didn’t say anything.

“You have to be sure of yourself Armin. You have to envision the future you dream of, and you have to take hold of it with all your strength. If you hesitate, it’s all for nothing.” Eren’s voice sounded far away, even though he only stood a few feet away from Levi. It was the most he had heard the boy say for weeks.

“Well, yes…” said Hange, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “In less solemn terms than Eren just put it, you need to have a clear goal, and you need confidence!”

I know what’s wrong, thought Levi. It’s Erwin’s shadow. It’s still too tall for him to reach. That same tall, blue-eyed shadow echoed in Levi’s mind too. He knew what it felt like to be tasked with making someone’s life meaningful after they were gone.

Armin only sighed and shook his head. “I know, you’re trying to help and I appreciate it, I really do, but… I can’t help but wonder every day if you made the wrong decision Captain.”

Armin’s sad blue stare rose to meet Levi’s cold gray eyes. For a second, he thought he could see Erwin’s icy gaze, filled with stone cold-determination, but then the shadow faded to leave behind ripples in the terrified boy’s face.

“I didn’t make the wrong decision,” said Levi, trying to make his voice sound certain. “This is what Erwin would have wanted.” As he said this, he could almost see Erwin’s shadow again, nodding to his words behind Armin’s face.

Levi shivered and sneezed again, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, feeling suddenly very tired. The feeling had started to sneak back into his limbs again, but now they were heavy with a dull ache that was settling deep into his whole body.

“Tea’s ready!” said Sasha.

Levi sighed and stood shakily to walk back over to the table, leaving the blanket behind. He poured himself a cup and sat down, still shivering. He held the cup in his hands, letting the warmth spread upward through his fingertips.

He was almost aware of the others clattering about chatting and eating all around him, but they were like shadows in the corner of his vision. I’m still so cold. Why can’t I get warm?

Hands shaking, Levi lifted the cup to his mouth, letting the hot liquid warm his insides. Someone pushed a plate towards him. He glanced over to see that it was Hange.

“You should eat,” they said, buttering a piece of bread for themself and sitting down beside him.

Levi ignored the bread and focused instead on drinking the tea in slow sips, willing it to make him stop shivering so visibly.

“The rain is turning into sleet,” observed Sasha, looking toward the window.

Levi looked and saw sheets of white slamming against the glass.

“Looks like you’ll need to stay the night here commander,” said Connie.

“Yes I suppose you’re right,” replied Hange. “I really did underestimate this weather didn’t I?”

Within the hour, the sleet had turned into snow, and it rattled relentlessly against the window panes.

Leaving his bread untouched, Levi washed his teacup and then wandered back over to the fire. Armin had fallen asleep, the red titan marks on his face already starting to fade.

“We should put him in bed,” said Levi, bending down to pick him up. His arms felt unusually weak though, which was strange. Why do my bones feel like they’re filled with ice. I hate rain...I’m too stiff to lift even this scrawny teenager!

“I can do it,” said Eren’s voice behind him.

“Go ahead,” said Levi, glancing at him sideways. Eren lifted one of Armin’s arms over his shoulder, and Mikasa rushed over to help. Together they carried their friend up to bed.

Levi sighed and edged closer to the fire. I hope I’m not this stiff tomorrow, there’s so much to do around here…

“You alright?” Asked Hange, kneeling down next to him. “You seem tired.”

He shivered again, picking up his discarded blanket from earlier. He avoided their question and said, “where will you sleep? With the rate of that snow outside, it looks like you might be stuck here for a few days at least.”

“Don’t worry about me! I always figure it out,” they replied. “Besides, I want to stay up a bit later to study my notes anyway.”

Levi nodded in reply and glanced over to the table where Jean, Connie and Sasha were still chatting. “Hey, make sure you clean up that mess when you’re done,” he remarked. Normally he would stay and do it himself, but Hange might have been right. He was tired. Even where he stood, he struggled to keep his eyes open. He would have to trust them to clean it properly, just this once…

“Captain can I have your bread?” Asked Sasha.

“Hmmm…? Yeah, fine…” he muttered, walking blearily towards his room. He sank onto his bed with a strange heaviness, shivering under the blankets, and let sleep take him.

When he was gone, Sasha exclaimed in a shocked whisper, “what? He never says yes! This is my lucky day!”

“Sasha you’re getting crumbs everywhere. We need to keep it clean or the Captain will freak out!” protested Jean.

Connie chimed in with, “Hey! Won’t you share?”

When the two had divided the bread between them, Jean remarked, “don’t you think it's weird though, Captain Levi never goes to bed early?”

Sasha was too immersed in her bread to hear him.

Connie shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s been a pretty long day, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Jean frowned, looking out the window where the show was swirling out in the dark. “I hope you’re right.”

***

Levi woke groggily. His throat burned and there was a heavy weight in his chest that made every part of his body ache. He groaned and got out of bed, shocked when he had to sit down again because a wave of dizziness almost sent him reeling.

He sighed, and that sigh turned into a dry cough that made his head throb.

Damn it, he cursed to himself. He made the decision to ignore his body screaming in protest, and put a clean shirt on with aggressive determination, preparing to go downstairs. This is nothing, I’m just chilled from yesterday, I just need to wake up a bit. He coughed again as he went carefully down the stairs.

Hange had woken up sitting stiffly in the chair by the fire, notes open across their lap. The coals had died down to ash. Someone had thrown a blanket across them at some point, they weren’t sure who. They yawned, stretched, and stood, looking out the window.

Well, looks like I won’t be making it back to HQ anytime soon. Snow was piled almost up to the window panes, the inside of the glass covered with frost. They shuddered and put a log on the dead fire, attempting to blow some life into it.

The kitchen had been tidied from the night before, but it was nowhere near spotless. A few crumbs still littered the floor where Connie and Sasha had battled over the captain’s bread.

He won’t be happy.

While they waited for the fire to grow, they pondered their notes again. Something was definitely holding Armin back...they had a feeling it was the pressure. The poor boy had Erwin’s whole legacy to uphold. Damn it Levi, I can’t believe you put him in this position.

Hange heard light footfalls on the steps accompanied by ragged breathing that stopped suddenly and was replaced by a rough, hollow sounding cough.

That doesn’t sound good…

“Where is everyone?” asked Levi hoarsely as he slowly walked into the room. “Lazy kids, just because it’s snowing doesn’t mean they get a break.” He looked out the window, noticing the empty watchtower blurred by the blinding light of the heavy snow on the ground. “We should get someone on lookout duty-” he ended the thought abruptly as he shook with coughing again.

Ignoring Hange’s eyebrows rising in concern, he went outside to fill the kettle with snow, shocked when he opened the door to see that it came all the way up to his shoulders. He cursed under his breath and shivered, filling it quickly and slamming the door shut. He put the kettle on the stove, his chest burning, unable to stifle the shaky cough that shuddered through his body again.

“Levi, I don’t like the sound of that cough,” said Hange, not hiding the concern in their voice.

“It's nothing,” he retorted. His eyes stopped, noticing a few crumbs on the floor where the scouts had been sitting the night before. Damn it, I thought I told them to clean up… He sighed in annoyance, but it came out as a cough, more painful than the last one.

“Levi….” began Hange. “Don’t worry about the crumbs, and don’t worry about the lookout! The snow will be too thick to see anyway. Besides, no one will be out stalking us in this weather.” They took a moment to look at his face, which was shadowed by the usual dark circles, but they were deeper today, and he was pale, his dark gray eyes glassy and distant.

He ignored them and went over to get the broom in the corner. He swept the crumbs away and started to make tea.

Hange shook their head. He was too stubborn. When the kettle boiled, they sat down together to let it brew.

“Are they seriously all still asleep?” Levi asked, shocked at how raspy his voice sounded. He was grateful for the warmth of the cup in his hands. He let the steam float up to his face and briefly relieve the throbbing in his head.

Hange shrugged, “Not everyone is an insomniac like you.”

He glared at them and shook his head. “Any epiphanies in your late night research?”

They took a deep breath. “Armin won’t be able to control his titan ability until he can escape the pressure of Erwin’s sacrifice.”

Levi nodded, “well he’d better figure it out soon-” he broke off, coughing again.

Hange opened their mouth to say something, but at that moment Mikasa came downstairs, followed by the others.

“Armin is still asleep,” she said as she sat down beside Hange.

“How is he?” Hange asked.

“He seems fine,” Mikasa continued, “the titan marks have faded at least.”

“Good, good…” Hange nodded, pouring themself another cup of tea.

Levi shot Sasha, Connie and Jean a subtle glare as they sat down at the table. “I thought I told you to clean up after-” but he broke off again, another rattling cough shaking his chest.

“I’m so sorry captain!” said Sasha, eyes wide.

“Wait, uh Captain Levi are you ok?” Asked Connie tentatively.

He was barely aware of their responses, and he didn’t catch the worried glances that shot between everyone seated at the table. He ignored them and sipped his tea in frustration, willing his hands to stop shaking, hoping that the warm liquid would subside the deep chill that was making his whole body ache.

He started feeling progressively worse throughout the day. He tried to keep himself busy, ignoring the pain in his head by sweeping the rest of the floor, assigning odd tasks to the scouts, and pointedly ignoring the way they were all looking at him.

Jean, Eren and Mikasa managed to clear a way to the stable to check on the horses. Hange decided that they didn’t need to bother with clearing a way to the watchtower. No one would be able to find them in this snow anyway. Levi narrowed his eyes uneasily, but Hange out-ranked him, so their word was what the scouts followed. He knew they were probably right. It was too cold out to keep watch safely, and there was no point staring at gray fields of snow for hours with no real threat.

He glanced out the window, half expecting more snow to start falling from the gray skies. He still remembered the first time he had seen snow. Mesmerized and terrified at those sparkling white drops that froze on impact, and looked like stars turned to dust. Farlan and Isabel never got to see snow. It almost seemed like the gray sky itself was scattering cold ash for all those who had never gotten to gaze at its beauty.

While the others cleared the snow in front of the door, Sasha and Connie chopped vegetables for soup, and Armin slept for most of the day. Hange tried to be useful around the house, hoping that everyone at HQ wasn’t too worried about them. There was no helping it though. It was hard enough to clear a path to the horses, forget trying to clear it all the way to the road. Hange was starting to get worried though, worried about Levi.

His cough started sounding worse as the day went on. At one point, Hange caught him staring out the window, shivering and gazing at something in a distant corner of his mind that only he could see.

“Levi,” they said gently, “come away from there, it's too cold!”

He didn’t respond, so they placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but didn’t protest when they guided him over to sit by the fire.

It should have warmed him, but he still shivered weakly, spots dancing before his eyes, almost like it was snowing inside the fire.

He was aware of Hange looking into his eyes, “Levi…” they said quietly, placing a hand on his forehead.

He started to brush them away, “what are you doing?”

“You’re burning up!” exclaimed Hange.

He sighed again, he hated other people fussing over him, but regretted it instantly because it sent him into another painful coughing fit.

“Levi, I’m worried about you,” said Hange, “you’re not well!”

Levi knew they were probably right, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball in front of the fire and stay there forever, but he couldn’t possibly go rest; there was still too much to do, too much to think about, Erwin’s shadow was watching him, he needed to do it justice…

Erwin’s shadow walked down the stairs, but it was much smaller than Erwin. “Er, hello Commander, Captain,” he said.

Hange stood, “ah, our colossal awakens!”

Levi was puzzled. Erwin was tall, yes, but he was no titan, what was Hange talking about.

Hange noticed that Armin looked bleary-eyed from sleep, but otherwise fine. They were worried about Levi though. He looked at Armin with a pained, almost confused expression. He’s delirious…

“I’m so sorry,” said the small boy standing there with Erwin’s eyes. Yes, not Erwin, Erwin is dead Levi, get it together.

Levi opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t because his whole body was racked by shaking as he coughed again.

“Captain! Are you alright?” gasped Armin.

“He’s not,” said Hange. “Levi, I need you to go back to bed, and yes, that’s an order!”

Levi regarded them with dark gray eyes, misted over with a feverish glow. Too weak to protest, he stood up shakily and began to walk toward the stairs. Why is Hange giving me orders, he thought, confused, Where’s Erwin? He stumbled and swayed where he stood. The whole room spun, and lights danced in his eyes, turning into shadows as he fell.

Armin and Hange reacted quickly. They caught him as he collapsed so he didn’t hit the floor.

“What happened to him?” Asked Armin, his voice high pitched with concern.

“What’s going on?” asked Sasha, peeking in from the kitchen, Connie close behind. They must have heard the commotion and come to investigate.

“I need you to bring me some cold water and a clean cloth,” said Hange.

Sasha’s eyes widened as she saw the unconscious Levi in between Armin and Hange’s arms. “Yes sir!” she disappeared into the kitchen to do what Hange asked.

“Connie, can you help me bring him upstairs?” said Hange.

“Yes sir,” said Connie, running over to take the captain’s limp form from Armin, who sighed with relief. He still hadn’t quite gotten his strength back from yesterday. “Armin, can you go check on our soup?” Armin nodded and wandered into the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder as he watched Connie and Hange carry Levi’s unconscious body between them up the stairs.

They placed him down on his bed. His eyelids fluttered slightly but he didn’t wake up. He was shivering weakly, but a thin gray sweat was coating the surface of his skin, sticking his dark hair to his head.

Sasha came back with cold water and a few dry kitchen towels. Hange took one from her and dipped in the basin, placing the cool cloth on Levi’s pale forehead.

Sasha and Connie lingered uncomfortably in the doorway, watching as Hange unbuttoned Levi’s shirt, which was plastered to his body with sweat.

“Is he going to be ok?” Asked Connie in a whisper.

No one answered him.

“Do you need anything else?” asked Sasha, breaking the tense silence except for Levi’s ragged breathing.

“No,” replied Hange, “just let the others know where I am, and keep that fire burning.”

They nodded and went back to the kitchen, leaving Hange alone sitting on the edge of the bed, looking more worried than the scouts had ever seen them.

They found Armin standing dazed before the pot on the stove, stirring mechanically, unfocused and clearly worried.

“This is my fault,” he whimpered. He looked up at Sasha and Connie, alarm in his eyes. “He gave me his cloak yesterday, and he must have gotten too cold, and now…” he looked like he might cry.

“No, Armin, it’s not your fault!” said Connie reassuringly. “He would have done the same for any of us, you had no idea that your cloak would burn off, or that the rain would be that cold!”

“But the experiment failed…. I failed! I’ll never live up to Erwin’s expectations.” Armin sank down in a chair at the table, utterly defeated.

“You need to stop blaming yourself Armin,” said Sasha, taking over at the stove-top, pouring a handful of herbs into the broth. “The decision was never yours, and you’re trying your best!”

“You just need to get used to it,” added Connie. “You’re only human so don’t beat yourself up!”

Armin sighed, looking toward the stairs with an expression of anguish. I really hope they’re right.

“I’ve had enough snow to last a lifetime,” complained Jean, entering the door, and hanging up his cloak, followed by Mikasa and Eren.

“At least we’ve cleared a path to the stable now,” said Mikasa.

“It only took us three hours,” grumbled Eren.

Jean sighed and sat down at the table. “What’s with you guys? You look like someone just died.”

Armin looked at the floor and Sasha stirred the pot on the stove awkwardly.

“Well…” said Connie, “It’s Captain Levi, he’s really unwell.”

Mikasa’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he alright?”

“I thought he didn’t look too good this morning…” added Jean.

“What happened?” asked Eren.

“I guess…” said Armin, “the cold yesterday must have gotten to him, he just collapsed right in front of us!”

Seeing Armin’s worried expression, Mikasa said, “He’s humanity’s strongest. He just needs to rest for a few days, he’ll be fine.”

Her tone didn’t sound convincing enough though, and the room fell into a tense silence, the only sound Sasha’s wooden spoon scraping the bottom of the pot.

***

A few minutes after Sasha and Connie left, Levi’s eyes fluttered open weakly and he stared up at Hange, looking very confused. He tried to sit up, but he was seized by another painful coughing fit and was forced to sink back down onto the pillows, shaking.

“Shhh,” said Hange, pushing him down and drawing the blanket up to cover him.

“Hange what happened?” he asked weakly, his voice hoarse and strained.

“You fainted,” they replied, readjusting the cloth on his forehead. “Connie helped me carry you in here.”

He coughed again.“Damn it, how did this happen, I can’t-” but he couldn’t finish, his chest shaking with echoing tremors. He moaned softly and closed his eyes.

“Just rest,” said Hange. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” His eyelids flickered and closed as he settled into an uneasy sleep, wheezing gently and still shaking.

They watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, then replaced the cloth on his forehead, already lukewarm with the heat from his fever. When they were sure he was really sleeping, they quietly closed the door and went back downstairs.

***

Levi slept fitfully the rest of that day, and all the while, the snow still fell outside. Hange went back to check on him a few hours later, but he was still deep in a feverish dream, shivering beneath the blankets, chest rising raggedly and hair plastered to his head in lank strands.

Hange felt his forehead again. The fever was still high, possibly even higher than before. This worried them; they had never seen him this sick in all the years they had known him. They were trained as a field medic, first aid and emergency battle operations etc., but they were certainly no doctor. If this didn’t get any better soon….well, they just had to hope it would. Travelling would be impossible for at least the next few days.

For now, they kept the fever controlled by replacing the cloth on his forehead intermittently.

A soft knock on the door sounded and Mikasa entered the room, carrying a steaming cup of tea. “How is he?” she asked, setting it down on the table.

Hange’s brow furrowed. “Fever is still high and he’s struggling to breathe.” they watched the erratic rise and fall of his chest uneasily.

“Maybe steam will help,” said Mikasa, bringing the teacup close to Levi’s face.

“Good idea!” Hange observed, lifting his head slightly so he could inhale it.

He spluttered and coughed, then gasped weakly, but it did seem to give him some temporary relief.

“We need more steam,” said Hange.

“On it!” said Mikasa, turning to leave.

A few minutes later, she returned with the kettle and an empty washbasin.

They lifted Levi’s head again and held the steaming water up to his face. He gasped, then breathed in and out, coughing. He leaned back on the pillows, still shaking, but he breathed more easily, at least for a little while.

***

Levi dreamed of blue eyes following him. “Erwin, what do you still need from me?” But the blue receded into gray, drowning in snow.

“Wait!” cried Levi, “Where are you going?” but the blue eyes disappeared, and he heard nothing but his own voice, reverberating back at him.

He wandered in a directionless fog, steps heavy, his body aching with weariness as he trudged onward.

A roar resounded behind him and he flinched as something flew through the air. It landed at his feet in the mist and he almost screamed. Lifeless eyes underneath tousled red hair stared back at him. Isabel….

A familiar laugh echoed nearby. Farlan? He turned around, but the laugh faded and turned into a scream before disappearing into the fog completely.

He sank to his knees, utterly defeated. He could hear voices calling out his name, and they all flashed before his eyes.

He saw Gunther dangling from his mangled gear, half of Eld’s body strewn across the forest floor, Oluo’s head sawn off, and Petra... Oh Petra.

She called to him, but he couldn’t stand. His legs wouldn’t lift from the damp ground, and the mist suffocated him, drowning their voices until they disappeared. He was sinking into the ground, and then he fell, plummeting downward through tunnels of darkness until he landed with a thud in a dirty puddle, no stars here; it reeked of the underground.

A tall man with a face shielded by a black hat turned to look at Levi, lying in the muck, but he shook his head and walked away, until Levi could see him no more.

The puddle enveloped him like a blanket, and there was a woman in a white dress standing over him. Her black hair flowed down her back like rainfall on a window on a moonless night, and her cold gray eyes looked down on him lovingly. She brushed lank hair out of his face with pale fingers.

“Mother?” he croaked.

“Shhhh Levi, you’re safe now.” her voice was soothing, and he believed her, he let his eyes close, and darkness settled over him.

He wanted to stay there forever, but voices started to plague him again.

“Let me rest, please,” he begged.

“Levi. You must not regret your decision,” and there were blue eyes looking at him from the shadows again.

“Erwin…” he whispered.

“Do not regret. Fulfil your promise.”

“I’m so tired Erwin…” Levi protested. He wished that the blue eyes would close and leave him be. The woman in the white dress was still there, but she too, was fading, her hands translucent and eyes empty.

“No, don’t go!” he begged.

She grasped his hand one more time, and then disappeared into the shadows.

“Remember your promise,” said Erwin, but it wasn’t Erwin’s voice. Armin Arlert looked at him with sincerity in the mist, “Please stay with us Captain!”

“Please…” but he wasn’t sure whose voice it was pleading with him now.

“I promised…. I remember….” whispered Levi, and then he sank into shadows, many voices still echoing in their tendrils of mist around him, utterly incomprehensible.

***

The snow stopped falling after two days, but it showed no sign of melting. The scouts were trapped here until they could find a way to clear a path to the road, which was still several miles to the west of their isolated location.

Hange was getting increasingly more worried about Levi. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness, and the fever, like the snow, showed no signs of abating. Mikasa had been clever with the steam; when his breathing became too laboured, they brought a basin of boiling water to his face, and it seemed to instill a temporary respite to his pained struggle.

But he also wasn’t getting any better. Hange worried that he would need stronger medicine than whatever meager supplies they had here at the cabin; honey and hot water could only do so much. But in this snow, it would be impossible to go in search of anything.

Hange cooled Levi’s burning forehead with the wet cloth, listening to the erratic rise and fall of his chest with concern.

“You should get some rest,” said Armin, entering the room softly behind them. “I can stay with him for awhile.”

Hange nodded, knowing he was right. They didn’t like the thought of leaving him, but they felt their eyelids drooping heavily. They stood and stretched, then went to the bed they had set up down the hall. “Wake me if there’s any change.”

When Hange left, Armin sat down by the Captain’s side. His face was pale, his cheeks hollow and his dark hair dull and plastered to his face by sweat. A few incomprehensible words danced on his parched lips.

Armin felt an overwhelming sense of guilt as he looked at his sick captain. This is my fault. If only I had been able to transform properly, he wouldn’t have needed to give me his cloak. Better still, if I had died instead of Erwin. Erwin was a colossal human, even without the titan ability. I am nothing…

“No… don’t go…” whispered Levi feverishly in his sleep.

Armin inhaled sharply. “I’m right here Captain!”

“Erwin… no… let me rest, please…” his face twisted with grief and anguish, “can I go? The promise… I can’t…”

Armin’s eyes widened in alarm. He grasped Levi’s frail, sweaty hand in his own. “Please, stay with us captain, please!” begged Armin. He wrung out the cloth and dampened it again in the cold water, placing it on Levi’s burning forehead.

“I promised… I remember…” whispered Levi, coughing weakly in his sleep.

Armin heard the door open gently behind him as someone else walked into the room. He turned around, surprised to see that it was Eren.

“How is he?” he asked, still hovering in the doorway.

“Not good,” Armin shook his head.

Eren looked down at the ground and slowly walked over to lean on the edge of the table by the bed.

“Eren,” began Armin in a quiet voice. “Why couldn’t I transform?” A faint tremor of despair had crept up into his gentle tone.

Eren shook his head uneasily. He knew Armin would ask him this question. It was part of the reason why he had been avoiding the others this whole time. The strange sensation he had felt when he touched Queen Historia’s hand- well, he couldn’t shake the heavy weight of this immense secret he carried. He couldn’t shake the guilt, for being partially responsible for Commander Erwin’s death, and the legacy that Armin now had to fulfil. All he had wanted was to see the ocean, but this? I can see how tormented he is, the amount of anguish this is causing him, and it’s all my fault.

Eren hadn’t wanted to watch the experiment. He didn’t want to watch his friend suffer like that, a suffering that he knew all too well.

When Eren didn’t answer Armin’s feeble question, he sighed in resignation and looked away. It seemed even his best friend had lost faith in him.

The two boys were so wrapped up in their own thoughts that they nearly didn’t notice how quiet Levi had become

Eren noticed first. “Wait, Armin, something’s wrong.”

Armin shot up in alarm. Levi’s chest had stopped rising and falling, and the familiar pained breaths were silent.

“Captain Levi!” shouted Armin, shaking the captain’s frail body.

“I’ll get Hange!” said Eren, running out the door.

“Please hurry!” said Armin.

Armin lifted Levi, rubbing between his shoulder-blades vigorously. His skin was still emanating dangerous amounts of heat, which in this moment was actually a good thing, because it meant his body was still trying to fight, trying to live…

“Please Captain Levi,” begged Armin as he rubbed up and down, willing the breath to come back into his lungs.

The door banged open and Hange sprinted over to the bed. “Good Armin, keep rubbing. Levi!” they cried urgently, placing two fingers on Levi’s neck, where a very weak pulse was thankfully still fluttering. His lips were starting to turn blue.

Eren came into the room, carrying a steaming kettle. He poured it into the basin and handed it to Hange, who lifted it in front of Levi’s face.

Armin could feel the heartbeat weakening under his fingers, almost to nothing. A few tense moments followed, and then they all nearly jumped up in alarm as Levi gasped and coughed. He struggled for breath as his whole frame shook, but Armin lowered his shoulders with relief. That was close, too close.

Hange shook their head solemnly, reapplying the cold cloth to Levi’s forehead. “He’s not getting any better and there’s not much I can do for him without some stronger medicine.”

“But we’re trapped here…” said Eren.

Hange furrowed their brow quizzically. “Your father was a doctor wasn’t he Eren? Do you have any idea what he would have used to treat something like this?”

Eren thought for a moment and shook his head. “My father didn’t tell me much about what he did-he made all his medicines down in the cellar, where I wasn’t allowed. I think he planned to teach me one day, but he never got a chance…”

Think! Armin, Think, he begged himself. You can’t let the captain die. If he dies it's your fault. There has to be a way we can clear that snow and find him some medicine…?

He stood up suddenly, an idea forming in his mind.

“What is it?” Asked Eren.

“That’s the face of someone who’s just come up with a hypothesis,” remarked Hange observantly.

“We need a way to clear the snow so we can somehow get to a doctor or an apothecary…” began Armin, “and we know that titan steam can melt it, so what if I transform into a titan, clear the way enough for someone to make it to the main road, and from there ride to the nearest town where there’s bound to be someone that has what we need!”

“A brilliant idea Armin!” replied Hange excitedly, “But can you do it?”

“There’s also the risk that someone could see us, we don’t want to alarm civilians,” pointed out Eren,

Armin added, “that’s why it would be better to just get the medicine directly from them rather than bridging a doctor here- we don’t want too many people asking how on earth we cleared the snow away- you know what he needs right Hange?”

“More or less,” Hange agreed.

Armin continued, addressing Eren. “You and Mikasa will spot me as I transform, and cut me out and bring me back here while someone-probably Sasha because she knows the terrain around here the best- rides on.”

“But what if it’s too hot to get close?” wondered Eren.

“Then you can transform too, and take me down.”

Eren sighed, looking slightly uncomfortable, but then he nodded. “Okay.”

“Hmmm,” said Hange, “It’s risky, but…” they looked gravely at Levi’s shuddering form beside them, “I don’t think we have a choice.”

Eren stayed with Levi while Armin and Hange went downstairs to brief the others. The plan was this: Armin would transform and clear away the snow, and Mikasa and Eren would follow at a safe distance to retrieve Armin when he had finished.

Sasha and Connie would ride to the nearest village with a note carrying written instructions from Hange, to be shown to the closest doctor they could find. Trost would be ideal, but it was too far to ride quickly on the icy roads. Hange would have gone themself, but they didn’t dare leave Levi’s side now.

Jean sat with Levi while Hange went to the roof with Armin, Mikasa and Eren to execute the plan.

Armin didn’t feel nervous for once. He was ready to repay Captain Levi for saving his life back in Shiganshina. He would make them all proud. He would honor Erwin’s memory.

“Are you ready?” asked Hange.

Armin nodded.

“Remember to jump outwards so that the house doesn’t catch on fire,” they reminded him.

Right, don’t screw this up.

He took a deep breath, and leapt off the roof, slitting his palm with a knife. Electricity rippled through his body, and suddenly he was very tall. He looked down and could see snow down below, melting at his feet.

“Armin!” someone shouted. “Get away from the house!”

Dazed, he turned around, seeing Hange, Eren and Mikasa standing on top of the roof, edging away nervously.

What am I doing? Confusion clouded his mind. It's so hot in here…

“Armin! Go! You have to save Captain Levi!” shouted Connie from the stable. Armin looked down at Connie and Sasha, edging cautiously backwards, horses stamping impatiently. That’s right, I need to clear the way so they can go and find medicine for the Captain.

Armin shook away the fog and stepped forward, surprised at the heavy thud his feet made when they hit the ground, snow sizzling upon impact. I have to save Captain Levi. That thought propelled him forward as he plowed through the deep snow, the path clearing as he went.

“Good, it’s working!” Called Hange. “Sasha, Connie! Make sure you wait until we retrieve Armin before you ride!”

“Yes Commander!” shouted Sasha.

“Eren, Mikasa, now it’s your turn!” said Hange, turning to the two scouts beside them on the rooftop.

“On it!” Said Eren, breaking into a run and biting his hand as he jumped off the roof.

As he transformed down below, Mikasa leapt onto his shoulder with her ODM gear engaged.

Mikasa observed Armin’s colossal making its way through the trees. It was still much smaller than Berthold’s titan, smaller even than Eren as he pounded through the melted snow after him. Despite its size though, it was accomplishing what it meant to.

They followed at a safe distance for about ten minutes. Please let no one be on the road, thought Mikasa, anxiety thrumming in her chest. This was not a sight that she wanted just anyone to see.

“Eren, we’re getting close,” warned Mikasa.

Eren grunted in reply, and he sped up behind Armin.

Armin seemed to be aware of his surroundings, because Mikasa heard a loud crash up ahead as the colossal titan sank to its knees.

Mikasa sprinted off of Eren’s shoulder and zoomed ahead to scout out the road. Armin’s titan body had collapsed, steaming in the snow, and the road, still snowy but clear enough to ride stretched south toward Trost. No one else was in sight, so Mikasa breathed a sigh of relief as she assessed whether or not it was safe enough yet to retrieve Armin from the carcass.

The steam was too thick for her to see anything though. “Eren!” she shouted. “I need your help!”

Eren rumbled towards them and reached his hand into the steaming body, pulling Armin out, cradling his in the giant hand. The body immediately disintegrated, leaving more steam behind.

“Quick!” said Mikasa. “We need to get out of sight before anyone sees us!”

She leapt onto Eren’s shoulder and they sprinted back to the house, Armin lying unconscious in Eren’s arms.

When Hange saw them returning, they called down to Sasha and Connie. “Go! Hurry and come back as soon as you can!”

“Yes Commander!” They both shouted in unison, and galloped away down the path that Armin had cleared.

Mikasa leapt onto the ground, and Eren gently placed Armin down. Hange joined her and they carried him between them inside to give Eren enough space to transform back again. Mikasa was about to go back outside and help Eren in, but he stumbled in on his own, and immediately collapsed into a chair by the fire.

Armin’s eyes fluttered open where he sat in the other chair where Hange and Mikasa had set him down.

“Did I do it?” he asked feebly.

Hange knelt down in front of him. “Yes! You’re a hero Armin! Erwin would be proud.”

At this Armin could no longer control himself; he shuddered and tears fell from his eyes.

“Armin,” began Eren.

“No, I’m okay,” he stuttered. “I’m just so relieved!” He glanced at the staircase. “I just hope we’re not too late…”

Hange and Mikasa shooed Eren and Armin to bed to rest, and then Hange went to relieve Jean.

“You look like you could use some rest too,” said Mikasa, noticing the lines of exhaustion tracing Hange’s good eye.

Hange shook their head stubbornly. “No, I’ll stay with Levi until Sasha and Connie come back.”

Mikasa didn’t argue.

***

Jean and Mikasa tried to keep themselves busy, taking turns on lookout duty. Mikasa couldn't focus though, no matter what mindless task around the house she assigned herself. Levi would almost be proud at how tidy the place looked. Too restless to think anymore, she filled two teacups and went out to sit with Jean in the watchtower. She climbed up and sat beside him in the cold as they both stared out over the muddy, mangled path that Armin had plowed through what had been deep snow earlier that morning.

“Thanks,” muttered Jean, taking the cup gratefully from her in his shivering hands.

They sipped their tea, eyes fixed on the horizon for any sign of Sasha or Connie coming back, tension in the air as the time trickled by slowly.

“It’s weird seeing the captain this vulnerable,” said Jean absentmindedly. “He’s humanity’s strongest soldier you know? Something about seeing him like this just feels...wrong.”

Mikasa only nodded in reply. He spoke exactly what she felt.

“What will we do if he dies?” Continued Jean. “I mean, we need him. He can’t die!” she could hear the panic creeping into his voice.

Mikasa had no answer for that. She said instead. “I can take over lookout duty for now, you should go inside and get warm.”

He nodded grimly, “Maybe I can finally convince Hange to take a break.” He left, taking his empty teacup with him and leaving Mikasa alone in the tower. She stared into the gray abyss of broken trees, trying not to imagine the worst.

***

Hange was exhausted, but they refused to give in to sleep. Levi needed them now more than ever. The fever refused to drop and his breathing became weaker and weaker as the minutes ticked by.

“You can’t leave me Levi,” they whispered, grabbing his pale hand. “These kids need you, the world needs you, I need you. ”

They bent their head down and didn’t try to stop the subtle tears that fell from their eyes. Levi shivered weakly in his sleep. Hange moved their hand up to his chest, so they could feel the fluttering of his heartbeat under their touch. It was so weak, like a baby bird, so they cradled it there, willing it to stay and learn to fly.

***

There was a small bird chirping in the mist. Levi followed the sound of its voice and saw it on the damp ground, wings too small and weak to fly, crying out in a terrified high-pitched chirp.

He sank to his knees beside it. Isabel would have tried to save you… but it seems all I can do is die with you...

He lay down on the cold ground, letting the mist cover him.

He heard someone calling his name.

No...be quiet. I’m tired, just let me sleep please…

He closed his eyes and saw many faces beckoning to him. They were speaking but he couldn’t hear them. Isabel and Farlan waved to him. “Come with us!” they seemed to say. Oluo, El and Gunther called to him, but they were too far away for him to hear, and then there was Petra, smiling reassuringly.

“I can’t hear you!” he protested. The woman in the white dress from before, Kuchel Ackerman, reached out her hand, and he tried to grasp it, but there were Erwin’s hard, blue eyes, shaking his head.

“I need you,” said someone’s voice.

Levi tried to ignore it. He blinked and shook his head. Petra and the others were walking further away from him now.

“No! Take me with you!” he begged, but the mist stifled his voice, and no noise reached them.

The woman in white still beckoned to him, but her shape was blurry; he couldn’t see her face anymore.

“Remember your promise,” echoed Erwin’s voice.

“But Erwin, I can’t…. I’m too tired… Please! Take me with you!” He begged his mother, protesting Erwin’s last orders that rang in his ears even through the sifling mist. But Kuchel drifted back, out of sight, and the mist thickened, leaving him in shadows, the bird still chirping weakly beside him.

***

Mikasa shivered in the watchtower, her eyelids drooping. Please hurry, she silently willed, eyes fixed on the horizon. It was almost nightfall now, and the dusk glare cast a dusty glow on the path of mud, snow and broken trees. She considered going inside to wake up Eren or Armin to relieve her, or Jean. No, I have to stay, I have to keep watching. She knew despite her exhaustion she wouldn’t be able to sleep, so she stiffened her jaw and looked forward, eyes peeled for any movement on the darkening horizon.

Jean opened the door to Levi’s room gently, careful not to make too much noise. Hange had fallen asleep next to him, one hand lying on his chest. Jean could see it gently rising and falling, which brought momentary relief. He thought about waking Hange, but they looked so peaceful there, he figured it was better to leave them be.

Levi’s face was gray like shadows in the snow, and he coughed weakly in his sleep. Jean quietly tiptoed over to the bed and replaced the cloth on his forehead, careful not to wake the sleeping commander. He exited the room and peeked in at Eren and Armin who were both still fast asleep, before going downstairs to start another kettle. As he was filling it with snow from outside, he heard Mikasa shout.

“I can see them! They’re coming down the road!” The shaky desperation in her voice was apparent as she looked at Jean by the door. He almost dropped the kettle in relief. Finally.

Hange woke upon hearing Mikasa’s shout from outside. They sat up, surprised that they had fallen asleep, hand still across Levi’s chest that shuddered under their touch. Are they back? They stood up frantically and peeked out the door.

Jean was standing at the bottom of the stairs, halfway in the door, and Armin and Eren must have woken with the noise, because they both blinked drowsily into the hallway, observing intently.

“Mikasa spotted them!” said Jean. “They’re almost here!”

Hange breathed a sigh of relief and glanced back into the room at Levi’s sleeping form. “Just hold on a little longer,” they whispered.

Sasha and Connie leaped off their horses with urgency, not even bothering to take them to the stable before going inside. Sasha reached protectively into the satchel on her back, its precious contents bundled in her scarf. She and Connie had ridden without stopping until they came across a village. They knocked urgently at every door until someone could direct them to a doctor.

A grey-eyed man with foggy glasses opened the door, looking at the two of them with confusion. “Dr. Friedman?” asked Connie politely.

“Yes?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“We are here on urgent military business, here is a notice from our commander,” said Sasha quickly. She thrust Hange’s note into the doctor’s hands.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” he said, ushering them inside.

They lingered just beyond the doorway while the doctor’s watery eyes scanned Hange’s instructions.

“I see,” he said, looking up at them gravely when he had finished.

Sasha and Connie both returned his glance, desperate and unblinking.

“So, it sounds like it is a quite serious chest infection, high fever, difficulty breathing, yes?” mused the doctor, walking over to a cupboard and taking out some bottles and a scale.

“Yes sir,” said Connie, shuffling his feet on the floor.

Sasha fidgeted with her hands behind her back. Please hurry.

After what felt like an eternity later, the doctor pressed a bottle of something into her trembling hands, along with a written note for Hange.

Connie hastily paid him and muttered his thanks.

Sasha nodded clumsily in gratitude, and they rode off quickly, Dr. Friedman watching them go with his brow furrowed. He was silently wondering why on earth the instructions in the Commander’s notice had said no doctor was to come to their location, only to send medicine. No matter, he thought, going back inside.

Now Sasha and Connie blundered into the house, not even stopping to remove their cloaks as they trundled up the stairs, meeting Hange in the entrance to Levi’s room.

“Good work you two,” said Hange, taking the bottle gingerly from Sasha. They lingered anxiously in the doorway as the one-eyed commander scanned the instructions scrawled on the note. They nodded and went over to Levi’s side.

“Can one of you get me some water?” asked Hange, opening the bottle and looking inside.

Sasha muttered a hurried, “yes sir,” before sprinting downstairs and returning speedily with a cup of cold water. Jean entered the room behind her, with the kettle that had just boiled. Mikasa, having abandoned her post in the watchtower, hovered outside in the hallway, joined by Eren and Armin, still in their nightclothes.

Hange gently lifted Levi from the pillows so he was sitting semi-upright. “Jean, can you hold his nostrils shut?”

Jean pinched Levi’s nose while Hange cautiously measured some of the tonic into the lid of the bottle and poured it into Levi’s mouth. They gave him some water to ensure that it went down. His chest shook slightly, but he was too weak to cough, of which Hange was glad for once, because it meant that the medicine had a chance to enter his body.

“Hopefully this will bring the fever down, and clear the infection,” said Hange after they had laid his head back on the pillows, keeping him upright so that he could breathe more easily.

“Now what?” asked Connie, still standing in the doorway.

“Now we wait to see if it takes effect,” Hange replied in a whisper, brushing some of Levi’s damp hair back from his forehead.

Hange was so exhausted that they almost didn’t notice Jean’s steady hand on their shoulder. “Commander Hange, you should really get some rest, we can look after him.”

Hange glanced backwards to see all of the scouts standing in the doorway, worry etched deep on all of their faces. They smiled slightly. If Levi ever finds out that this many people were in his room at once, watching him sleep…. Well who says I ever have to tell him?

“Okay,” they said, standing and walking towards the door. Jean had already replaced them at the bedside, cooling Levi’s forehead again.

“Thank you, all of you for your help. I know the Captain will be deeply grateful when he wakes up. He likes to pretend like he doesn’t need anyone, but I know him better than that. He needs all of us, just as much as we need him…” Hange trailed off and sighed, looking once more at Levi’s sleeping form. They weren’t sure if they imagined it, but he already looked more at ease. Too tired to hear the scouts bashfully respond to them, Commander Hange walked to their bed, with limbs heavy, and was asleep within minutes.

By the next morning, Levi’s fever had dropped a considerable amount, and his breathing seemed to become less labored. The medicine thankfully seemed to be taking effect.

The scouts worked diligently to clean up the house the next day, ensuring that every corner, every surface, and anything beyond was tidy and spotless. They kept the kettle boiling, fire roaring and lookout manned. They would be fine.

The snow outside also started to melt on its own, signalling that Hange would have no choice but to return to HQ soon. They had already been away for far too long, and they had accomplished what they had come here to do, though not necessarily in the way that they expected. Knowing this, they decided to depart the next morning, after they were sure that Levi was really on the road to recovery. It made them uneasy, leaving Levi before he had regained consciousness, but they also felt reassured that he was in good hands.

Levi’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He felt warm, a heavy blanket on top of him. He stared upwards into shocked blue eyes. Erwin…? But then he blinked. No, it was Armin, who looked at him wide-eyed with an expression of pure relief.

“Captain! You’re awake!” he exclaimed, and placed a cold hand on Levi’s forehead.

“What are you doing?” he coughed, trying to sit up.

Armin pulled his hand away, breathing with a sigh of relief. “Fever is gone. You really scared us Captain!”

Levi groaned, sinking back down into the pillows. “What happened?”

“You had a fever sir,” stuttered Armin, “you were unconscious for about four days, we were really worried!”

Unconscious for four days? He thought in alarm.

He was aware of the door creaking open softly, and Hange entered the room, beaming. “I thought I heard right!” They exclaimed, rushing towards the bed and ensnaring Levi in a crippling hug. They broke away, muttering apologies when he started coughing again, his chest still echoing with the hollow sound, but no longer gasping for breath like he had been.

Hange felt his forehead just as Armin had done and smiled to feel that it had indeed cooled to a normal temperature.

“How are you feeling?” asked Armin gently.

Levi closed his eyes tightly for a second, opening them slowly. “Better now that you’re not crushing me anymore.” His voice was still hoarse. The fever had broken, but he was far from well. His face was pale and drawn, and his eyes were glassy and distant, carrying more shadows than they had before.

“You have Armin to thank for saving your life!” said Hange.

Armin shifted his eyes to the floor, looking embarrassed. “Well I…”

“Come on, give yourself some credit!” said Hange, slapping him on the shoulder with a little too much force.

“Oh…?” replied Levi, raising an eyebrow weakly.

“He transformed and melted all the snow so we were able to find you some medicine,” said Hange.

Levi widened his eyes as much as the strain in his head would allow, impressed. “Thank you Armin, it seems I owe you a great deal.”

“It wasn’t just me,” protested Armin. “Commander Hange rarely left your side, Sasha and Connie were the ones who ran to get the medicine, Eren and Mikasa retrieved me, and Jean made sure you stayed alive while we were gone: we all helped each other. You don’t owe me anything Captain. We’re a squad and that’s what we do. We need each other; at least, I couldn’t have done it alone.” Armin averted his eyes after his outburst of sincerity.

Levi nodded in cool agreement. “It seems I chose my squad well. Erwin would be proud.”

“I’m heading back to HQ in the morning,” said Hange, “but I feel better leaving, knowing you’re in very good hands.” They smiled at Armin.

Armin looked down at the floor again, not sure if he should believe the captain’s, or the commander’s words.

Levi shuddered and coughed again, wondering why he was still so tired if he had really been asleep for four days as Armin had said.

“We should let you rest,” said Hange softly, noticing his eyelids begin to droop with heaviness.

Too exhausted and weak to reply, Levi allowed himself to sink down onto the pillows, and within seconds, he was asleep. Hange adjusted the blankets once more before they quietly left the room with Armin.

Levi slept most of the next day, consistently and without strange dreams this time. Hange peeked in briefly before they left, careful not to wake him. They hadn’t ever seen Levi sleep this soundly before. However quiet they tried to be though, he still blinked awake and said hoarsely, “where are you going?”

Even when he’s sick he’s still the world’s lightest sleeper…

“I have to go back to HQ now,” Hange said. “I’ve already been away too long, and the snow is clearing, so I don’t really have an excuse anymore.”

“Good,” grunted Levi, “I’m starting to feel like one of your experiments.”

Hange laughed. “You’ll be in good hands here, try not to miss me too much.”

He nodded and then coughed. “Seriously though, Thank you Hange. I really do appreciate it.”

Their good eye widened. “What’s that? Captain Levi expressing his appreciation for me ? Do you have a fever again?” They felt his forehead just to be sure, grinning sideways when it was revealed to be cool and dry.

He shrugged weakly. “Armin was right, maybe we do all need each other.”

Hange smiled at that and said, “No cleaning when I’m gone, no training, no unnecessary exertion- you’re still very weak so I’m ordering you to stay in bed and let the squad take care of you.”

He rolled his eyes slightly, but muttered a quiet, “yes commander,” so Hange was able to leave satisfied.

The medicine and instructions were left on the bedside table for the scouts to administer. They all waved to Hange as they rode away down the muddy path through the broken trees.

Sometime in the evening the day Hange left, there was a soft knock on Levi’s door. He grunted, waking up slowly and sitting up, still a little shaky.

Mikasa came in with a steaming bowl that she set down on the table. “I brought you some food,” she said. “I mean- I don’t know if you’re hungry but you should probably eat something.”

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, starting to try to get out of bed, but his muscles wouldn’t obey, and he laid back down, feeling drained as if he had just faced a titan headlong. Where is all my energy? I’m supposed to be humanity’s strongest soldier, but I can barely even lift my head.

“It’s ok,” reassured Mikasa, “Don’t try to get up. You’ve been very sick sir, so it’ll be awhile before you can get your strength back.”

Levi avoided her eyes as she brought the bowl closer to him. He tried to take it from her, but she withdrew when she noticed his hands trembling. “I’d better do it,” she said in a soothing voice.

Utterly defeated by the humiliation that he was too weak to even lift his hand to eat, he allowed Mikasa to feed him the warm broth. He wasn’t aware of it tasting like anything, but he could feel it warming his body and soothing the tremors in his chest.

He wanted to stop halfway through the bowl, but Mikasa looked at him sternly and made him finish the rest, “The only way you’ll get stronger is if you eat.”

The soup made him feel warm and sleepy. Mikasa’s face was blurring before his eyes. “Rest now sir,” she said, drawing the blanket up to cover him, but he didn’t hear her; he had already closed his eyes and sunk into sleep.

Levi woke the next day to dim light coming through his icy window panes. The soft glow came from the west, signalling that it was sunset. Did I really sleep all day?

He gingerly climbed out of bed. His muscles screamed in protest, and he still coughed roughly as he stood. Hange had ordered him to stay in bed, yes, but his body was stiff and achy, not from the feverish chill in his body anymore, but from lying in bed for 5 days straight.

Shakily, he put a clean shirt on and wrapped a thin blanket around his shoulders. He didn’t know where his jacket was and he didn’t have the energy to look for it. The house was still cold, but he was certain now that this was from the frost on the windows, and not from fever.

He stumbled out of the room, holding on to the wall for support.

“Captain, what are you doing!” Exclaimed Sasha from behind him.

He turned his face to see her eyes, wide-eyed with concern.

He coughed, “I need to get out of that room, I need some air.”

She was next to him in an instant, offering her arm for support, which he reluctantly took. “Commander Hange said-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t try to clean or do anything strenuous, I just want to go downstairs,” he croaked.

Sasha looked uneasy, “but Captain Levi…”

He narrowed his eyes at her and she nodded, allowing her to take hold of his shoulders and help him downstairs.

Levi almost gasped out loud when he saw the downstairs. His eyes widened in surprise. “What...it’s completely spotless!” Every surface had been dusted, cleaned and polished.

Sashsa blushed… “Er, we cleaned a bit while you were asleep.”

Levi allowed her to guide him into the kitchen, which was immaculately clean, not a smudge nor crumb in sight. A pot of soup boiled invitingly on the stove. He actually admitted that he found himself hungry, unlike yesterday when he had forced himself to eat to appease Mikasa.

The others were milling around the kitchen, setting the table and getting ready to eat together.

“Captain Levi!” They all shouted in unison.

“Enough already,” he grumbled, as Sasha helped him into a chair. “You can’t be that happy to see me.”

“Sir, shouldn’t you still be in bed?” asked Armin nervously.

“You still look a bit pale…” remarked Mikasa. She also noticed that he had visibly lost weight. His clothes hung loosely around his shoulders and his cheeks were hollow on his face, dark circles etched deeply below his eyes.

Levi glared at them both, “So? What is it to you?”

Well at least he has his attitude back, that’s a good sign, thought Eren.

Sasha poured him a bowl of soup and set it down in front of him. He nodded to her gratefully, trying to stifle the slight shaking in his hands as he lifted the spoon. Damn it, I can do this myself... His efforts weren’t enough to completely hide his struggle though, based on the expression of concern that they were all shooting in his direction. He ignored them and instead took another look around the room intently. “I have to say, I am impressed, I’ve never seen it this clean in here; I couldn’t have done a better job myself.”

They all widened their eyes and ate their soup, too shocked that Captain Levi was complimenting them to actually say anything. “Th-thank you Captain?” said Jean hesitantly.

They all stared nervously around the table, and it was Sasha who finally broke the silence. “We were just so worried about you sir!”

“We thought you were going to die!” added Armin.

“Uh yeah… it was really unsettling having you out of commission,” said Jean.

“Please never scare us like that again Sir!” cried Mikasa.

Eren didn’t say anything but nodded vigorously in agreement, his green eyes directed across the table with determined intensity.

“Relax, it’ll take more than a stupid cough to kill me,” said Levi, ending his sentence in annoyance as he actually started coughing.

He ignored their looks of concern and said, “So, did anything interesting happen while I was asleep? I mean, besides Armin turning into a titan and Eren not being a sulky teen anymore and ignoring the rest of us.”

Eren scowled. Sasha giggled softly and Armin and Mikasa both averted their eyes.

“Pretty much sums it up sir…” said Jean, clearly trying not to laugh.

Just at that moment, the door opened with a gust of chilly air and Connie trundled in from the watchtower. He hung his cloak and said, without turning around, “Eren it’s your turn on lookout!”

He walked into the kitchen and broke into a huge smile when he saw Levi. “Captain!” He exclaimed, “Welcome back!”

“Thank you Connie,” he replied, his voice husky.

Eren stood up, eyes downcast and went to take up his post outside. Okay nevermind, he’s as moody as always.

Levi tried to help them clear away the dishes after they were all done eating, but Mikasa firmly stopped him. “Sorry sir, but Hange strictly ordered us not to let you clean.”

“Did they now…?” he sighed. There was no point fighting back over a few dishes, besides, he didn’t have the energy anyway.

Instead, he succumbed to sitting in front of the fire, subtly watching them clean up. He could hear Sasha and Connie splashing dishwater at each other, Jean complaining when it accidentally struck him, and Armin’s light footfalls as he swept the floor, Mikasa’s hands wiping down the table in smooth, polished motions…

The noises were comforting; the sound of their laughter and rhythmic working brought a warm feeling into his chest.

Someone brought him a cup of tea, but his eyes were already starting to become heavy. “Thank you,” he murmured, smiling slightly, and then feeling warm and content, he allowed himself to rest.

“I’ve never seen him look this relaxed!” whispered Mikasa, who had put down the teacup.

“Shhhh,” said Armin, covering him gently with a blanket.

They diminished into the kitchen, leaving him there with a peaceful expression on his face.

Levi slept soundly and dreamed of snow, but this time no blue-eyed shadows followed him, and he was able to watch glittering white flakes dance, laughing peacefully as they fell.

#whump #hurt comfort #levi ackerman #sickfic #attack on titan #levi #sick levi #fanfiction #levi squad #survey corps #hange zoë

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

Fic title meme : pulvis et umbra sumus (We Are Dust And Shadows)

On every single document, including the ones that show what actually happened to Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark is listed as dead among them.

He is not.

But in not calling in the accident on the abandoned road, Tony managed to find someone else to take his place and escaped.

Tony Stark is dead. A whole family funeral and everything. Obadiah pretends to cry. Tony is at the funeral with shitty dye in his hair and sunglasses that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Ha.

The funeral is closed casket. All their faces are rumored to be impossible to fix with make-up.

He makes new documents. Anthony Jarvis, from Boston. Airtight background. Likes puzzles. Scored damn high on the SAT, but not the perfect score.

(Killed him to answer some of those questions wrong, seriously.)

Anthony Jarvis goes to MIT and requests a single room. He gets one for one semester, and then the room next to his burns and destroys his as well. So he gets moved to Jim Rhodes’.

Jim becomes Rhodey, and he is the first friend of Anthony Jarvis, and nicknames him Tony.

He grins at that.

There are plenty of times that Tony wants to tell him. The thing about secrets is that they need to be shared. No one really wants a secret, nor do they want to keep it. But he keeps his mouth shut and asks if he wants to go for Thai food.

“This is the third time this week.”

“Not my fault it’s good! I’ll pay...”

“Sign me up.”

Tony and Rhodey gets Thai food. It’s good.

Rhodey lets him in on a secret that Tony had actually known about since his room assignment.

(You remember that guy’s room that caught on fire? Yeah, he swore that his microwave hadn’t been on, and nothing had been plugged in. He was right. But Tony needed an accident.)

In other circumstances, Rhodey would have ignored the offer that he had. He had had his heart set on Air Force. But there was something about the man who talked to him.

“It’s a place called Strategic-Homeland-something I can’t remember,” Rhodey says. “Point is, they’re a big deal and kind of shady, but not in the government shady kind of way. The only thing I can find out about them is that they’re an international company who need engineers, pilots, and basically anyone like you and me. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Tony nods.

“You want me in on this?”

“I mean, you did tell me a couple of weeks ago that you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after graduation.”

(It was two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours ago. Not like he was counting.)

“...thanks. I’ll check it out with you.”

Anthony Jarvis shows up in a nice suit, stupid sunglasses, and impresses the higher-ups by diagnosing a problem with the engine that others had previously marked as “impossible.”

He’s hired on the spot, same as Rhodey.

Tony Jarvis gets his own keycard, finds an apartment in New York that’s within at least biking distance, and gets started on inventing some cute little toys for the spies in Research and Development.

He brings the laser-lipstick to life, poison-drop-earrings, spyglasses that actually work and have HD, and briefcases that use mirroring technology to change color.

“How did you do this?” Rhodey asks, eyes wide. “I swear this is unreal.”

“Aw,” Tony says. “You sap. I got some inspiration from some old comic book ads. I think I’m gonna try a ring decoder next, what do you think?”

“Almost makes me want to go on missions instead of flying them.”

Tony Jarvis is known for working odd yet long hours. He comes up with results. And he keeps his head down and minds his own business.

This is all to find out exactly who killed his parents. As much as his and Howard’s relationship was...interesting, he still wanted to know.

His desire to know the truth leads to somewhere he hadn’t thought was possible: Hydra.

His hands freeze as he looks at the paper file with thick, black lines all over. The information there was sparse. Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark all died. It was ruled:

And there’s nothing there.

It wasn’t an accident. Sure he knew that, but there was something far more sinister at play. Why wasn’t it an accident?

He gets Alexander Pierce in his apartment with a man in the corner. His arm gleams in what little light from the lamps outside give off.

“Why are you searching for the Stark files?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you just schedule a meeting? I’m available tomorrow at three,” Tony jokes. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Someone you wouldn’t want to shake hands with,” Pierce answers. “You need to stop looking into this before you find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Accidents will happen,” Pierce says. He gets up from the table, to the counter. Gets out a glass. And makes himself water. He smiles as he looks to the man in the corner. “Do you want any water, Winter Soldier?”

Winter Soldier remains impassive.

Tony stills.

“So, the legends are true. And Hydra is still around.”

“And if you aren’t careful, you won’t be,” Pierce says. “Don’t bring any of this up. Or this won’t be the last time you see Winter Soldier. I know your moves, Jarvis. Don’t think you can surprise me.”

They exit the apartment. Tony realizes that Pierce took his glass.

And he laughs.

Because this? Not according to plan, but god he’s gonna have fun with it.

It starts with telling Rhodey who he actually is.

It does not go as planned.

“So let me get this straight. I’ve known you for years and you just. Never told me?” Rhodey asks. “Why not?”

“To be completely fair, no one knows besides a man in Wisconsin, and he’s from Wisconsin,” Tony says. “Also I was drunk. Drunk me is a terrible person who would sell me for a buffalo nickel.”

“I’m still mad, even if that’s funny,” Rhodey says, trying not to smile. “So. Why tell me now? I’m assuming you need something.”

“I would like your help,” Tony says. “It is not required but I am toppling a secret organization living in SHIELD and I think if I get your help, I will most likely not get fired by the end of this. Fury likes you, he hates me.”

“False, he mildly tolerates you. You’ll be fine. Probably. Who else should we get to help?”

Tony had originally planned for no one.

But then there was Pepper Potts.

She had been deemed by the media as “crazy” for accusing Obadiah Stane, longtime-CEO of Stark Industries, as ordering a hit out on the Stark family.

She had been booted from the company--anticipated--and then Hydra had ordered a hit on her.

Slightly unexpected.

Point is, Rhodey brings her into the apartment and tells Tony casually that the grocery store had run out of his usual hummus brand, was the generic okay?

“That’s like asking if I’m okay with blue pens,” Tony curses. “Also, is that Pepper Potts? Why is she here? Did you run into her at the grocery store?”

“No, as I was coming back. Did you know that she has a hit out on her? Fun times.”

“Oh my god, will someone explain to me what’s going on here?!” Pepper seethes. “I was just trying to get my yogurt without anyone taking a picture of me and some random fucking guy had a knife thrown at me and then this guy took me to your house!”

She then rants for ten minutes about the “questionable design choices going on in this establishment, who honestly thinks shot glasses are a decoration?!”

“Are you done?” Tony asks. “Because if you want to help with a conspiracy plot, you need to be done.”

She is.

Pepper does not get a job with SHIELD. In fact, she mainly just decides to take care of the redecoration in Tony’s apartment.

“You will be paying me for this.”

“Why would I do that? You’re using my money to buy everything. You’re living here rent free for now.”

“Because I’m helping you make better life choices. I also want new shoes.”

What Pepper does is provide very valuable access to Stark Industries: she knows the ins and outs, what employees do and don’t do, and also is very helpful in telling Tony what he needs to do when he takes the company over.

“Who said I was going to take it over?”

“Me,” Pepper says. “Also because I reviewed every single old document and the company was specified to go to next-of-kin. You are. And you’re not dead.”

“My death certificate is literally framed,” Tony says, pointing to his graduation photo that Rhodey took. He had swapped out his official diploma with it as a joke. No one had seen it. He thought it was hilarious.

“Yeah, but they can do DNA testing,” Pepper says. “This is like the twenty-first century Anastasia except this time they don’t find you with metal detectors!”

“I don’t like that you know that story as well as you do,” Rhodey says. “But I’ll leave you a credit card for furniture and groceries. If you get rid of my drinks in the fridge I’m literally never forgiving you.”

“Noted, and I don’t need forgiveness,” Pepper says. “But they’ll stay there.”

So begins the plot.

Pierce doesn’t know three things, which is a lot of things not to know:

1.) Tony Jarvis is not Tony Jarvis.

2.) Rhodey actually likes Tony and most of the time him saying that he would “kill Tony in a variety of ways, starting with sporks and moving forward...” is mostly (mostly) a joke.

3.) Pepper Potts resides in their apartment and is having fun telling Tony she bought new silverware.

“Why did you buy new silverware! It was fine!”

“I recognized all of these forks and knives from restaurants. Why did you steal them from restaurants?”

“They can replace them!”

“Don’t. Anyways now your spoons match and you don’t have the shitty ones from different places. Also I painted the bathroom.”

“My landlord is gonna kill me.”

“I made her cookies and discovered that she likes going to concerts. You’ll be fine.”

(Pepper is a goddess. You can’t convince them otherwise.)

Pierce doesn’t know any of this, but he still holds a key piece of blackmail: Tony Jarvis shouldn’t know about Hydra, and he’ll do anything to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job.

Tony has been recording their conversations for weeks.

(Pierce thinks he doesn’t design things to get around the available technology. Pathetic.)

He also has bugged Pierce as well as his house, and figures out that Winter Soldier is going to be on assignment within the DC area in an effort to kill some higher-up on the foodchain that was SHIELD.

Well.

Tony has always wanted to go and see the cherry blossoms a little more up close.

Pepper, of course, doesn’t like that they left his boots on.

“This couch is new and red,” she says. “Take off his boots!”

“He is unconscious and probably won’t be in the next fifteen minutes,” Rhodey says. “We are not touching him and possibly shortening that fifteen minutes.”

Winter Soldier wakes up to three faces staring at him.

“Mission failed?” he asks, voice robotic.

“Nope, you just got a new one,” says the man on the right. He is wearing a t-shirt. Winter Soldier thinks that in this situation, a t-shirt is not the best option.

(Of course, he’s not supposed to think. But they don’t have to know that.”

“Can you take your shoes off?” says the woman in the middle. “Please. You’re getting germs on the couch.”

He’s confused.

“Who am I killing?”

“No one, yet,” says the man on the left. “Do you know who you are?”

“Winter Soldier.”

“No, like a name? I’m assuming you’ve had a name at some point.”

“Someone has called me Mr. Freeze before.”

The man on the left snorts. Man on the right taps his arm lightly.

“Well, um, okay then. How do you feel about the name...aw shit. I can’t think of a name for you when your mask is on. Can you take the mask off?”

He takes it off. It’s nicer to breathe.

The man in the t-shirt pauses.

“Okay. So your name is Bucky Barnes. Do you know that name?”

Something clicked. But he doesn’t know what.

“Sounds...familiar.”

“Cool! So that’s your name now, do me a favor and don’t google it. I’m Tony, this is Rhodey, and this is Pepper. If you don’t take your shoes off, you’re going to be scared of her.”

Newly-named-Bucky highly doubts that he will be scared of Pepper because she is built like a twig and she is wearing high heels.

(He is wrong about ten minutes later when she forcibly throws a fork at him.)

“Why am I here?” he asks. “Should I be checking back in with Handler Pierce?”

“No,” comes the consensus from everyone else in the room.

“Technically, he thinks you went rogue and went back to Russia. He’s organizing a team to go get you. We hired an actor to play you. It’s been entertaining. He got some plums. Do you like plums?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“It’s vapid and not interesting at all, Tony loves questions like that,” Rhodey says. “Now come on. We need to get you actual shirts. Also some body wash.”

Bucky Barnes learns how to be a person. He stares at himself in the mirror for an hour and smiles slightly when Pepper calls him “vain” and pushes him aside to grab her hairbrush.

He then learns that Hydra is trying to overtake SHIELD and they have a slight window with Pierce out.

This involves two things:

1.) Tony Stark coming back from the dead.

2.) SHIELD panicking that they didn’t know this secret and taking another look at the paperwork, in which case Hydra will be found out.

These are both easier than anticipated. Tony can act like a showman better than anyone, and has been carefully growing a goatee that is eerily reminiscent of his late father’s. Of course he’s had to switch it up.

The media is going crazy. SHIELD as well. They’re scrambling to find paperwork that proves that it happened, and they find that the “accident” was no accident. That Howard hadn’t been working for the “enemy” at the time.

The enemy was in the building, and they had blended in seamlessly.

This all happens on a Wednesday, by the way. Pepper has it marked on the calendar and everything. Rhodey made his coffee.

Bucky is busy slamming people into drywall and listening for any word from Rhodey, who is also slamming people into drywall.

“You know, you’d think we’d get something like a suit of armor for this,” Rhodey pants out, slamming another guy out of his way.

Bucky nods.

“Best I can offer is a grenade.”

“Where in the fuck did you get a grenade?!”

“Supply closet. Second floor. What, you didn’t check?”

“No sorry must’ve missed it--of course I didn’t fucking check the second floor closet!” Rhodey yells.

Bucky says he’s stressed. He should calm himself.

Rhodey chucks a particularly nasty Hydra agent out a window.

(Bucky thinks Rhodey is probably the coolest person he’ll ever meet.)

Tony is fashionably late to the take-down of the century. He’s already foiled a lot of plans, and taken a key-card for Project Insight to work.

He waltzes in and nearly gets hit by a mug.

“So, how’s the party going?” he yells over to Pepper. Pepper is still in her heels. She looks like a goddess still, as usual. It is a Wednesday, after all.

“As fine as it can be,” Pepper says. “We’ve met some resistance. With Pierce gone there’s little infrastructure. You got his plane delayed, correct?”

“Even better. Got it sent to London. Motherfucker is gonna be there for a while,” Tony says. “Also may or may not have said that he was a threat. SHIELD branch there will investigate, find out some questionable things in his file that he will swear up and down were never there.”

“Good,” Pepper says. She launches a stapler at someone’s head. “Do you think we’ll have time to pick up takeout for dinner?”

“Depends on whether or not Deputy Director Hill is Hydra.”

They see Maria Hill pass by in a blur, yelling as she jumps onto a man and sends him crashing down over a railing.

“Lovely, she isn’t!” Pepper cheers. “By the way, I was thinking about redoing our kitchen.”

“‘Our’ kitchen?” Tony says, ducking a bullet and drawing out his personal lipstick-laser, firing it with expert precision. “I told you the living situation was temporary.”

“Oh please, you have an extra room.”

“Which was an office!” Tony tells her.

“Like you can’t have your office at Stark Industries,” Pepper says. “I expect to hear how the reveal went over dinner. Also, please hire me back. I don’t wanna be your interior decorator for forever.”

“Neither do I, you like modern art. Disgusting.”

And so the fighting resumes.

It is done by five-thirty-two, with an official surrender from Pierce.

“Thank god, I already ordered Chinese and they said it’d be here at six,” Rhodey says.

They all sit on the red couch.

Shoes on.

Tony tips four hundred percent.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Rhodey asks.

“I am not moving for six hours,” Bucky answers. “Also maybe getting a library card.”

“This is the first thing you want out of the icebox? A library card?” Tony asks, laughing.

Pepper laughs.

“I have errands to run. You can come with me and we’ll swing by.”

“What are the errands?”

“Getting a kitchen mixer and also making sure that my plates match my napkins.”

“A travesty if it doesn’t happen,” Rhodey deadpans. “Pass the lo mein, Tony. You’re hogging it.”

“I had to fight on a Wednesday and run,” Tony says. “Today isn’t cardio day.”

“Literally hate it when you speak,” Rhodey says. “Absolutely abhor your language.”

They go to bed, although it’s more of laying on the floor.

Sure, Tony will have to deal with retaking a business that he knows a bit less about and Pepper will have to be trained (again) and also fight against being made CEO (but she won’t fight much). Rhodey will get a new job with SI because it’s not like Tony will let him work at SHIELD (Rhodey tries, Tony will get him fired at some point). Bucky just...he needs to get a bit more than a library card.

But that’s for tomorrow.

#BUCKLE IN BOYS WE GOT A LONGGGGGG ONE #bucky barnes #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #yes this took all day yes i didn't proofread it #but i love this so much #lovelyirony writes

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boxoftheskyking · 4 years ago

Text

Something Good, Part Nineteen

Only one more chapter to go!

This whole chapter was written while listening to this orchestral cover of All Star.

In which the Wens make their move

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen

The next two weeks are strange. Good, but strange. Wei Wuxian is happy in a way he’s never been before. It’s not the thrill of being brilliant and young and powerful that he was used to as a teenager, before everything. The time he’d been dreaming of going back to. But this kind of happiness feels rooted, nourished, covered with dirt, but surprisingly nice because of it. Not the flash of a firework in the dark, magical and startling, but something that knows from the inside out because he’s built it with his own hands. Maybe not beautiful, or particularly unique, but solid at the corners so the rain stays out.

He spends his nights in the Jingshi wrapped around Lan Wangji, which he doubts he’ll ever get used to. It’s something the other servants have clearly noticed and very significantly don’t comment on. Wang Xiaolu has almost asked him about twenty times but always changes tack at the very last second.

The children have been working on their papermen, and by now they can all at least get them standing upright. Lan Wangji taught them a simple warming charm, the kind of thing used to boil a pot of tea, which only ended up setting a few bushes on fire. Lan Sizhui has an astonishing level of spiritual power for his age, and Lan Jingyi’s hair is a few inches shorter as a result. Jingyi has told the story about seventy times in the week since it happened—by the fiftieth time he has Sizhui breathing fire out his nose like a dragon. It still stings Wei Wuxian a bit to watch them work on developing their power, not being able to do something so simple himself, but at meal times now the children squabble over who gets to reheat Wei-qianbei’s food.

On his second day off ever, he eats dinner in the Jingshi with Lan Wangji. He chatters on about the day, silly things the little ones said, ideas for new activities to try out, while Lan Wangji eats silently. After they are pleasantly full, Wei Wuxian leans back on his elbows while Lan Wangji takes the tray and sets it outside the door.

“What are you doing?” Wei Wuxian asks on a yawn.

“Putting the dishes out for—” Lan Wangji cuts off, looking awkward.

“It takes, what, five minutes to walk to the kitchen?”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, closes it. Wei Wuxian gets up.

“Here, I’ll take it.”

“Someone is coming for it.”

“Yeah, but it’s out of the way for everyone. It’s no problem, I’ll—”

“No, sit down. I’ll take it.”

After that night, everyone has been bringing their own dishes back to the kitchen. Madam Xiao has had to set up a counter outside the door, sick of useless people in her kitchen. Wei Wuxian finds it all hilarious. He even caught Lan Qiren dropping a tray off once.

All in all, it’s felt a little like a holiday—one of those festival weeks when real life takes a step back and things seem lighter, free of consequences, magical by virtue of being temporary. He’s not pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist, but it’s hard not to just cover his head in Lan Wangji’s soft sheets and wish to never leave.

In the end it’s not a surprise when messengers from the Wen Sect arrive to ruin everything. Wei Wuxian is lucky enough to catch them at the gates while walking the children back from a day trip to Caiyi Town.

The messengers are no one he recognizes, though the way Wen Ning freezes for a moment tells him they aren’t simply minor disciples. They carry with them a huge banner bearing the Wen sun symbol, and Wei Wuxian snorts at the splendor of it all.

He sends Wen Ning to get the kids cleaned up and joins the heated argument between the lead two messengers and the Lan guards.

“We can’t just let you in,” the older guard is insisting. “You have no passes, no invitation, and no authorization to enter Cloud Recesses.”

“Here, here, what’s the problem?” Wei Wuxian shoves his way into the middle, tossing a paperman out behind him directed to Lan Wangji.

“We have an urgent message from His Excellency that must be delivered to Sect Leader Lan immediately.”

“Oh, well this is awful!” Wei Wuxian slings a comradely arm over one of the messenger’s shoulders, which is furiously shoved off. “What a tragedy for Qishan!”

“What are you talking about, boy?” the messenger snaps at him. Wei Wuxian winks at the Lan guards and turns a concerned face to the visitors.

“Why, His Excellency failed to send a single letter informing the Lan Sect of your impending arrival. Surely he would never have committed such a breach of etiquette willingly, which can only mean something terrible has happened to the supply of paper in Qishan. A warehouse fire, perhaps? All of the paper producers are on strike? Or is it ink that’s dried up entirely?”

The younger Lan guard covers a laugh with a cough, and the messengers look about ready to draw swords. He takes a step back just to be safe.

“Shall I fetch a few reams for you to take back? Perhaps the loan of a few scribes as well, if writing itself has fallen out of fashion—”

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian turns with a grin. “Ah, Hanguang Jun, I was just telling these fine gentlemen—”

Lan Wangji cuts him off with a look.

“Right.” Wei Wuxian steps back with the guards.

“State your business,” Lan Wangji commands, and Wei Wuxian is surprised that the messengers don’t end up with frostbite from his tone alone.

“We are here to speak to the Sect Leader.”

The older Lan guard huffs at the disrespectful tone, and Wei Wuxian imagines how satisfying it would be to chase these interlopers down the hill with a few fierce corpses. Nothing excessive. A dozen, perhaps.

“Whatever message you have for the Sect Leader will be given to me. State your business before I decide it’s not worth my time.”

The Wen messengers dart worried looks at each other. One shrugs, then pulls a scroll out of his sleeve.

“Oh look! Paper!”

The older Lan guard elbows him in the side.

“Sect Leader Lan.” The messenger looks up from the scroll, coughs, and restarts. “Second Master Lan. His Excellency has commanded that all Lan Sect disciples shall attend indoctrination in Qishan. Second Master Lan will also attend a compulsory conference in Qishan. Furthermore, the Cloud Recesses are officially declared the Gusu Supervisory Outpost of Qishan Wen. This flag is to hang at your gate, and all sect governance decisions henceforth will require authorization from His Excellency. The Wen Sect will appoint a supervisor from Qishan as a representative of His Excellency, who will be housed in the Gusu Supervisory Outpost of Qishan Wen and assist the Sect Leader in the governance of Gusu.”

Each sentence is like a kick to Wei Wuxian’s stomach, but Lan Wangji just stares, impassive.

“When will this supervisor arrive?” he asks flatly.

“Within the week. He will be accompanied by a company of soldiers to escort the disciples to Qishan, as well as a company who will be stationed in Gusu to assist with defense of the Gusu Supervisory Outpost of Qishan Wen. His Excellency is aware that the Lan Sect lacks able warriors.”

Wei Wuxian only manages to avoid shouting by not knowing what to yell first. Who do you think you’re speaking to? seems about right, but so is You fucking butchered them all!

Lan Wangji just nods once. The messenger rolls up the scroll and hands it to him.

“Your message has been delivered. You may leave the Cloud Recesses.”

“It’s late,” a younger messenger pipes up. “We could use a meal and place to stay for the night.”

“There are inns in Caiyi Town,” Lan Wangji says.

The messengers last about a minute of silent staring before they step back, muttering. The flag is passed to the younger guard, who holds it in front of his face to mask his furious expression. They watch the Wens walk back down the path in silence, then step through the entrance, which seals invisibly behind them.

“Lan Zhan—” Wei Wuxian starts, but can’t think where to begin.

“Lan Zhuohan, give me the flag. Please.”

The guard hands it over, frowning. “I suppose I’ll fetch a ladder, Hanguang Jun.”

“You will not.” Lan Wangji looks at the flag for a moment, then snaps the pole over his knee. He throws the broken pieces to the ground and then rips the flag in half with a growl.

“Oh, good,” Wei Wuxian breathes. It’s very difficult not to jump on him in front of the guards, but he manages it. “I’ve got a fire talisman here, if you—”

“No. Need to show Brother.” His jaw is clenched and his eyes are burning, ice turned to fire.

They leave the guards at the gate and drag the flag behind them up to the library pavilion where Lan Xichen is writing. He listens calmy, which almost sends Wei Wuxian into a rage. It’s happening, it’s happening, it’s finally happening, why is no one yelling?

But then he looks down, he sees Lan Xichen’s knuckles white around his brush, the tip soaking ink into the paper, smearing his words, and Wei Wuxian can breathe again.

“What are we going to do?” Wei Wuxian blurts out. “I’ve killed people before, I’ll do it again. Gladly, this time.”

“We have time.” Lan Xichen lays down his brush and delicately wipes off his fingertips on the inside of his sleeve. “A few days at least. We need to get the children somewhere safe.”

“What about the older disciples?” Lan Wangji asks. “Can we stall?”

“We run, right?” Wei Wuxian asks. “They can come back and there’ll be no one here, just empty rooms and rabbits.”

Lan Xichen shakes his head. “There’s too many people in Cloud Recesses. If the Wens are clever, which they are, they’ll already have people stationed around Gusu. I wouldn’t be surprised if the messengers from today are still on the mountain, waiting for us to move.”

Wei Wuxian feels lighting shoot up his spine, like a hit from Zidian, setting all of him vibrating. It’s happening, it’s happening. “I’ll die before they touch the children,” he says, and Lan Wangji glares at him.

“You will not.”

“I will—”

“If we are careful, that will not be necessary. But I appreciate the sentiment, Wei Wuxian.” Lan Xichen rises, rolling his papers and tucking them away. “I need to speak to Uncle. Wangji, Wei Wuxian, if you could check the perimeter, make sure there are no unwelcome guests. Wen Qing will be helpful.”

It takes two full hours to check the woods, all of the hidden paths, caves, and shadowed places. By the time the three of them return to the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian is about to crawl out of his skin.

“Do you want to spar, Lan Zhan? Can we spar?”

“He’ll kill you,” Wen Qing says mildly, blowing on her cup of tea. “By accident, but he’ll kill you.”

“How about you, then?”

“I’ll kill you, too.”

“Ugh, I’ll find a six-year-old, then.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says softly. “Sit down.”

“Don’t tell me to sit down, Lan Zhan, I want to hit something.”

“I can’t tell if you’re scared or excited,” Wen Qing says.

“I can’t either.” He flops down on the ground next to her. “I just want it to be over. Or, no, I don’t. I just want something to do.”

“We need to pretend everything is normal,” Lan Wangji says. “If Wen Qing is correct, and she is, they’ll be sending the Dire Owl to watch us. We can’t give them reason to send forces any sooner.”

“I don’t know how I’ll sleep. I should stay outside the kids’ quarters, shouldn’t I? Just in case? Or, no, that’s suspicious. Can I sharpen Bichen, Lan Zhan? Or maybe—”

“Go run around the mountain, would you? Then maybe you’ll calm down,” Wen Qing drops a hand on his bouncing knee.

“Lan Zhan, you’re really going to have to wear me out tonight.”

“And that’s my cue,” Wen Qing rises, flicking his ear as she passes him. “We have a few days, and then who knows. I’m going to see my brother. You two get some rest while we still can.”

After she leaves, Wei Wuxian gets up and starts pacing again.

“Wei Ying, come here.”

“If I stop moving I’ll die.”

“No, you won’t. Sit here.”

Wei Wuxian groans but sits down on the bed. Lan Wangji sits next to him and wraps his arms around him.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines. Lan Wangji pulls him over so they’re laying sideways on the bed.

“If we have to run,” Lan Wangji says. “We won’t have a bed for a while. If we have to take the children, we won’t be alone for a while.”

“Hmm, what are you suggesting?”

“You know what I’m suggesting.”

“I suppose we do have to act like everything is normal. If we didn’t, it would be suspicious.”

“Please do not imply that Wen spies are watching us make love.”

Wei Wuxian turns in his arms and pulls a face. “What if they are, though?”

Lan Wangji kisses him. “Stop talking.”

“But Lan Zhan—”

He kisses him again. “Stop. Talking.”

“I like the way you ripped that banner, Lan Zhan.”

“Hmm.”

“Think you could rip my shirt like that?”

“How many shirts do you have?”

“Clothes are overrated. If we have to escape, maybe I should be naked, then I’ll startle people and the rest of you can run.”

Lan Wangji rolls over on top of him. “Please stop talking.”

“I thought you liked me.”

Lan Wangji sighs and leans up on his elbow. “I love you very much. Now will you please be quiet.”

“Hmm.”

It’s a good night. Wei Wuxian keeps pausing to memorize the look on Lan Wangji’s face, the feel of his mouth, the weight of him, the angle of his neck on the pillow, the smell of gentians outside the window. He wraps both arms and legs around Lan Wangji above him, trying to feel their breathing together like one body, blood pulsing through all their veins together. It almost feels like having a core again, being so close.

Lan Wangji falls asleep on his chest, and he stays awake for a long time, braiding and combing and re-braiding his hair. Remember this, remember this, his brain shouts, hammering against his skull. Shut it away somewhere no one can find it.

He breathes in the smell of Lan Wangji’s hair and shuts his eyes against the first rays of dawn. A few more days. Hold on to how this feels, keep it for yourself, be selfish.

In the end, they don’t have a few days. The Wen advance party arrives at noon.

Part Twenty

#assorted writings #something good #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #oh my goodness you guys we are almost done!#this chapter is dedicated to christopher plummer ripping the nazi flag #a v sexy move

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moontheoretist · 4 years ago

Quote

The show currently on had a bunch of stuffed shirts sitting at a round table. ["...my esteemed colleague, Professor Newell, gives too much credence to the ex-Avengers' education. I simply don't believe they all read and fully comprehended the document they were rejecting. Steve Rogers had a high school diploma and one year of art college."] Steve curled his lip. ["That doesn't mean he's illiterate," Newell, a brown-haired man with glasses, said. The other man, his tight coils of hair salt and pepper gray, raised an eyebrow. "As a lawyer, I'd be the first to say legal documents are needlessly complex, but no lay person can just sit down and read a 1000-page legal agreement and absorb the intricacies with nothing more than a high school education from the 1940s. Not without help." Newell ceded the point with a nod. "And Wanda Maximoff is a street orphan and doesn't even have that. Ditto Clint Barton, who grew up in a traveling circus. The Ant Man has an engineering degree, which makes me think he would have ample education to comprehend the Accords, but he had little time to do it in—only the flight to Germany, and investigators say he was likely shrunk and in Clint Barton's pocket, as there's no evidence of him on the passenger list, but he suddenly appeared at the Leipzig/Halle airport. It's questionable he bothered to shrink the Accords with him or bring the necessary resources to decipher all the legalese."] Scott got up and left the room. Wanda curled up and hugged her knees to her chest. Steve remembered the hasty conversation he'd had with Scott before the battle. Scott had no idea about the Accords back then. He thought they were there to fight over killer assassins. Steve rubbed his forehead. ["That leaves only Sergeant Sam Wilson, a man well-educated by the armed forces. I wondered what made him reject a document that his own government and one hundred and sixteen other countries supported, and then I read up on Lieutenant General Ross' record. Any man who has served in the military and heard of Ross' abuse of his own forces and how he used his own daughter as bait in pursuit of The Hulk would have zero respect for the retired general and Secretary of State. Ross was spearheading the US support of the Accords. Whether or not this influenced Sergeant Wilson's decision to reject them, I cannot say."] "This is bullshit," Clint said, obviously fuming. "I didn't need some stupid diploma to tell me the Accords are a shitty idea." ["You haven't said anything about the Black Widow," the moderator said, shifting his papers around on the big desk. "Ms. Romanov is an interesting case. Raised and educated by the top-secret Soviet training program called the Red Room, the Black Widow supported the Accords at first. She appeared to recognize their necessity, but then during the fight at the airport seemed to run into an issue of allegiance in fighting her friends. Understandable, I think. It's why the Avengers should never have been sent to contain the renegades. But who else could battle that sort of might? "In any event, it appears to be no coincidence that the Avengers who sided with the Accords all have master's degrees or higher." "Or much higher," the mediator said, abandoning neutrality. "Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes as a master's in engineering as well as officer's training, Stark has multiple doctorates, and the Vision is said to have access to the sum of all human knowledge. The King of Wakanda obviously has the finest political education as a leader of his nation, and I understand he is also an engineer." "Nothing is known about the Spider-Man," Newell said. "No, that's true. He'll have to remain an enigma." "But it's your contention that education had something to do with renegades choosing not to support the Accords," the mediator said. "I think it's obvious."] *** ["Hello, all. Thank you for time. "As Mr. Sjöberg mentioned, I recently came into some information regarding The Winter Soldier that I felt was of international importance, especially since he had the protection of some very powerful people. The ICC is just the place to turn when the State is unable or unwilling to carry out an investigation and prosecute the perpetrators."] Steve drew in a shocked breath. ["I found this information at a Hydra bunker in Siberia, where Rogers, Barnes and I had an altercation about whether suppressing this information was cool or not." Stark gave an acid grin. "In the course of this disagreement, Rogers disabled my suit and left me in the Hydra bunker to freeze, unable to radio a rescue team."] Sam sank his head into his hands with a curse. ["However, Rogers' 'leave our teammates behind' policy turned out to be useful, because while searching for a way to communicate with my rescue team, I discovered a trove of records spanning back decades on the Hydra supersoldier program. I looked through all of it, hoping to save it and get retrieved before Hydra returned. "What I discovered was more than enough: movies, photos, and detailed plans to assassinate political heads of state, industrial leaders, diplomats, prominent artists, radical leaders and activists, all of whom were murdered by The Winter Soldier. Included in these documents were the names of the ones who ordered the kills, the criminals behind the deeds. For the last three weeks, with the assistance of the Joint Terrorism Task Force, that's what we've been up to—rounding up the bad guys with a vengeance." The murmurs grew into a roar of approval. "Most of the Hydra operatives still living have been arrested for their complicity in murdering countless important figures who stood against Hydra's core principles of racism and fascism. Despite the unnecessary delay introduced by Rogers, who could have put us onto Barnes and thus the location of the bunker that much sooner, the loved ones and family members of the deceased will at long last know, and hopefully find peace in knowing, just what happened to their loved ones, and why."] Tony's voice trembled on the last part, and Steve felt a pit growing in his stomach that he couldn't shake off. ["My only regret is whom I have to thank for this. The man behind the Vienna bombing was the one who revealed the truth to me by showing me the video of my parents being murdered by The Winter Soldier. The man who told me the truth is a criminal. But then, the man who kept the truth from us all is a criminal as well. "Thank you all for listening. There will be no questions."] *** Tony lifted his hand and smacked away the letter he was writing as Rhodey walked in. "Sour patch! Look at you. How're the legs feeling?" "Better now that I tweaked the timing on the left one. Feels more natural now. But, Tony..." "Awesome. You should totally patent that port thing. That was really good work." Tony pulled up the schematics of Rhodey's braces to take a look at the timing adjustment port Rhodey had added. "I don't have time for—that's not why I came in here, Tones. Vision got a call—" "Time, shmime. I'll have Friday draft up the diagrams and application for you." "It would be my pleasure, Colonel Rhodes." "Yes, fine. Thanks, Fri. Tones, listen. Something's happened with the renegades." Tony stopped fiddling and gave Rhodey his full attention. "Tell me." "It's weird as hell." Rhodey dropped onto a lab stool and rolled over to join him. "Wanda contacted Vision to tell him she delivered Rogers to the US Embassy in Nairobi. I checked, and sure enough, according to embassy officials, she made him walk in like a zombie, then directed him to 'Wait here until Tony Stark comes to arrest you.'"

Into the Weeds by truet

This is literally the best Team Iron Man fic I read till now, and it includes all the things I missed from the other ones: acknowledgment of Rhodey’s smarts, acknowledgment of the education Rogues had, acknowledgment that Wanda may actually get angry at Steve when she learns what he did and what it means to her, acknowledgment that Hydra agents who ordered the murders should be arrested, acknowledgment of Tony relying on other people to actually accomplish or polish the things he engages with (JCCT, braces).

The only thing it doesn’t have is acknowledgment that Shuri doesn’t need BARF to help Barnes, but it’s only because the fact that the story never reaches that point, but damn, so many Team Iron Man fics mistreats other charas and I know it is not malicious, that it is because the authors love Tony and want him to fix the issues himself, but Tony isn’t omnipotent god of science and I would like people to get that Shuri is as mart as he is and can definitely handle helping Barnes and making his arm without Tony’s help, as much as Rhodey can fix his braces and doesn’t need Tony to constantly do it for him, because he has proper education to handle that, and also he is the user, so he knows best what is wrong and what is right and what works.

I also tend to like the stories which don’t demonize Wanda more than the ones which do, because I think she was radicalized, but not evil and those stories, where she is an evil Hydra agent or actually went mad long ago and nobody noticed, as much as interesting and enjoyable don’t really get what it means to be radicalized and then trying to de-radicalize and also heavily fall into the trap of demonizing a woman in the same way misogynist media creators usually do and the only thing I can blame is the fact that we all are raised in the society which hates women and even if we don’t actively believe in it some of it stays with us, in our subconscious and affects what we write and how. Everybody is capable of evil as long as they believe something very much and Wanda is more prone to that due to her background. Not to mention that those stories also usually infantilize her and I like to see her actually being treated like an adult she always was, who understands the consequences of Steve’s action for her and who would do something, albeit something stupid mind you, to mitigate her case, because she is an adult, and she like any other adult person would want to help her case somehow.

Oh, and author also knows how the whole “who arrests who” system works, so their stories actually show that nobody in the MCU creator board of creators, including the Russos, does a goddamn research about Europe. Most people don’t have this knowledge, so movies don’t seem off to them, but to people who do have this knowledge movies are weird and illogical.

#tony stark #pro tony stark #steve rogers critical #mcu steve rogers critical #james rhodey rhodes #wanda maximoff #mcu fanfiction

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scentedsongrebel · 4 years ago

Text

Tyohaar (Festival)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Celebrating Dussehra in Delhi with the Soldier Trio.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Hindu references, mythological stories, Mentions of Violence, minor angst, Hospitals and injuries, tell me if I miss any....

Word Count: 4290

A/N: Sorry for the delay you guys, I was having a rough few days but I finally have it out. Hope you guys like it.

This from the same universe as my stories Homecoming and Bura na Mano Holi hai but can be read as a stand alone.

Hope you guys like it and sorry for any mistake.

Pictures not mine credit to the owners.

Steve runs his right hand through his hair as he looks over at the crowd gathered around him. The constant buzz was voices hangs around in the air as people keep talking over each other and children burst firecrackers with their parents close by, keeping watch.

You stand near the ice cream stall, Bucky and Sam with their Bionic masks on their faces concealing their true identity, check over the huge menu that the ice cream vendor points at. Your figures visible through a street light under which you all stand in the dark that comes with 9pm.

When you had seen the ice cream cart making its way in your direction, you had just screeched in excitement and ran towards it hastily asking what ice creams each of them would like to have.

The cart itself was impressive with a huge refrigerator attached to wheels at the bottom for the guy manning it to propel it in whatever direction he wants. Several pictures of ice cream bar were hanging off the top of the thing attached to the huge half cylinder shaped roof over the cart and one corner of the cart had several menus hanging off it.

After looking at the menu once he had decided on the simple orange bar but after you had exclaimed about this kulfi thing being amazing he decided to try that.

Bucky and Sam were an entire other story. They had to make their own decision and so they had been staring at the god damned thing for the past 5 minutes not reaching any decision.

You had already started licking your kulfi bar and Steve was very close to stop waiting for his friends and just eat the thing himself.

"I really wanna go for this chocolate bar but there are like three of them. Which one do I even go for?"

"The one that you want Sam" Steve grinds his teeth together, having lost all his patience close to 3 minutes ago

"I don't know what I want that's the problem Steve" He sighs and Steve has to take a deep breath as he comes in closer to look at the menu properly

"Well you're allergic to nuts so the fruit and nut option is out"

"What if its the best one?" Bucky pipes in and you nod from beside him, the corner of your lip stained with cream from your kulfi

"It is amazing, the nuts just add perfect crunch to it" Steve closes his eyes in annoyance before opening them again and shooting a glare your way as he wipes the food off your face with a tissue that he picks up from the cart

"Damn it" Sam hits his hand against the pillar supporting the roof of the ice cream cart, winces in pain, shakes his hand, then brings it to his chest to cradle it with the other hand to relieve the pain that punching a metal cart entails

Steve shoots a very very apologetic look the appalled guys way who not so discretely pulls his cart away from the group. With his face heating up, he turns back to his friends, very dedicated to get it over with as fast as he can before he looses all his money in the huge tip he sure is given the guy.

"No ice cream is worth a run to the hospital"

"How do you know it isn't though?" you shoot him a cheeky smile and before he can stop, Steve finds his lips breaking into a curve.

"He would take the chocolate bar" Steve finally decides before there is any more argument and is relieved when Sam seems to accept his decision.

The vendor scrunches his eyebrows together before pointing at the chocolate option on the menu in question and nods his head when Steve gives his confirmation. Steve has to remind himself that not everyone in the world understands English.

"Bucky?"

"I'm gonna go with the butterscotch cornetto"

"Good"

Once the orders are placed and received and Steve has thanked and given extra tip to the vendor for his commendable patience, they head on towards the crowd.

"Its funny how you preach about Sam not eating nuts cause he's allergic but when it comes to you, you don't practice"

"I'm not allergic to anything"

"Oh but you were when you were the small punk" he grins "remember when milk products would give you horrible gas but that didn't stop you" Bucky says through a bite of his ice cream, prompting you to giggle as Steve shoots him a pointed look

"Yeah I grew up and know that's dangerous"

"Oh yeah you grew up alright" Bucky gestures at his body as Steve huffs

You stop a little away from the cluster of people that have gathered in the park and the others follow your lead.

A massive crowd of people has gathered around the park and form a circle around two enormously huge statues of three mustached guys in some kind of robes. They are standing at almost 20 feet tall, one smaller than the other. The statues are tied to the ground by long ropes that keep them erect.

When Sam had curiously asked about the material used to design the appreciable design you had google searched and informed them about how they made use of bamboo sticks to make the frame of the body after which paper and cloth is used to cover it and lastly paint to give the clothes color and add facial features.

The mustache is very important

You had told them after Bucky made a comment about it being his favorite.

"Okay so I just realized this dude in the center has additional heads? On either side" Sam wonders curiously as he looks over at the design

"Those are heads?" Bucky squints as he now watches the statue with a new perspective "Holy shit! Those are heads, I thought that was some jewelry"

Steve scrunches his eyebrows together and looks over at the statue in the middle and there it is. Tiny heads on either side of the face.

"Yeah, why does he have-" Steve points his finger at the subject in question and starts counting "9, no sorry 10. Why does he have 10 heads? And why are they so small?"

You shoot a small grin his way, looking around at the crowd gathered and take his hand in yours

"The heads are supposed to be the same size but I guess it would have messed up the balancing of the statue so they used small sized heads"

"Okay that makes sense but what are we here for" Sam crosses his arms and winces as a screaming child runs by him "And why are we not on the quinjet and half way to New York by now?"

It was a simple reckon mission to check up on the anonymous tip of a possible Hydra base in a small village in North India.

It was just gonna be the Soldier Trio but you gotten really excited when you learned they were going to your home country and decided to join them.

Seeing as it was just a reckon for an anonymous tip that was mailed to Tony and because they really didn't think it would turn out to be anything, Steve had agreed for you to join them on the condition that you stay at the hotel while they finish their job.

The simple mission did turn into a full fledged fight when the base actually did have a fully functioning Hydra facility and one of their guys in civilian clothes recognized Steve and issued a warning. It took hours to take them down with the help from the Indian Army and Thankfully, there were no civilian casualties.

Steve had stopped the rest of the Avengers from getting their as the fight was almost over by the time they got the news and there was no use for them to travel all the way across the world for nothing and so they stayed.

Following that was a stay at an Army hospital where Sam got treated for a broken nose and several severe wounds across his body while Steve and Bucky were pretty much healed completely by the time they got to the hospital.

You had been safe and sound when Steve had rushed to your hotel room in Delhi in panic only to find you watching the news in fear and trying to get in contact. After all this time with the Avengers you knew better than to leave the hotel.

After a teary reunion and you having completely examined him for injuries and kissing the hell out of him, you spent the rest of the week in the hospital, looking over Sam.

Following that was an entire week of diplomatic meetings in New Delhi, explaining to the government officials why a simple reckon turned into the destruction that it did and the presence of Hydra, their aim and all the other stuff that was out of your expertise and so you let it go.

You were the Avengers'' doctor, not an Avenger and sitting alone while the team deals with these things is something you are used to.

So seeing all this you could understand why Sam would be desperate to go home and just sleep for a whole month but when you were on the way to the airport and saw a Rawan statue on the way, there was no way you would have gotten on the plane. Especially when you googled it and realized Dussehra was today.

"We are here because its Dussehra Sam!" You exclaim, your mouth slips in a huge grin as you feel the warmth that always comes with celebrating festivals at home.

"You already said that Y/n" He grits his teeth and you make a face at him

"Its a festival. Don't you think its faith that I'm here and we're free, exactly on Dussehra?"

"I really don't"

"You should" You straighten up the kurta that you had purchased at one of the stores on the way in your festival excitement. Once who had learned you actually were home on Dussehra for the first time in 3 years, there was no stopping you from going all out and buying an Indian outfit from the first store you could find.

It was a dark green 3/4th sleeve Kurta that ran down to just below your knee. It was quiet modest the little fake buttons running down the middle from the closed collar. It was had simple golden design all through it and you had paired it with a designed palazzo that you had honestly fallen in love with.

(I’m really bad at this description. Sorry)

Before Sam can but in with another comment you motion towards a corner of the park and lead Steve by hand, which he does not resist. You know Sam and Bucky will follow close behind.

When you reach a less crowded corner where you are a little away from the crowd and still have a view of the statues you sit down on the grass, pulling Steve's hand to pull him down with you.

"We really need to sit on the ground?" He asks, clearly knowing the answer

"Its grass Steve and I've seen you in proximity of way worse things like Alien blood and and Hydra goons" You chastise and Steve sighs

Bucky quietly sits down in front of you, patting your shoulder with his metal hand that is disguised with some advance SHEILD tech, before settling down and crossing his legs

"I love that you keep Hydra goons and Alien goo at the same level of gross"

You just shrug as Sam sighs and sits down too and Steve is left with no other option but to follow. The four of you sit around in a small circle with your legs crossed.

"Yeah so Dussehra" You rub your hands together "I did not want to have to scream for Sam in all that noise"

You refer to the loud, screaming children that were making it hard to talk at the place that you guys previously stood at.

"What do you mean for Sam?"

"We got super hearing Pal, we can hear her even if she whispers" Steve squeezes his shoulder and Sam swats his hand away, licking quickly at the corner of his ice cream that starts to melt and fall down.

"Yeah so whatever" You pull the attention back to yourself

"Today is Dussehra" You start to explain "It is the Hindu festival that signifies the victory of good over evil.

See years ago Lord Ram was the King of Ayodhya, he is one of the human birth of Lord Vishnu, one of the three major Hindu gods. And he was sent on a 14 year exile because of a promise his father made to his step mother"

"She a villain?" Sam buts in and you shake your head

"She loved him like her own son. Lord Ram had two step mothers Kaikeyi and Sumitra and his birth mother was Kausalya. He was the son of King Dasharath and he had three brothers Laxman, Bharat and Shatrugan. They were a very close knit family"

"Then why did she send him on an exile?"

"She got carried away. My mom always says that it was the part that she had to play to take Lord Ram to his destiny. He was God, he was supposed to accomplish the mission he had for this birth and Kaikeyi was an important part of that. She regretted her choice and tried to make it better but Ram declined. But that is a story for Diwali. I will tell you then."

"Okay" Steve takes your hand in his and prompts you to narrate the story further. Sam and Bucky looking at you in interest

You take long, deep breath and continue

"Yeah so during his exile, his wife Sita ji and his brother Laxman accompanied him through his journey in the forests. One day his brother had an altercation with King Rawan's sister and cut her nose"

"He what?"

"Yeah, she survived, never understood the logistics of it but she survived and returned to her brother and to avenge his sister and because he was evil he decided to kidnap Lord Ram's wife Sita who was the human birth of goddess Laxmi, the wife to lord Vishnu"

"The one Ram is the human form of?" Bucky asks trying to keep up and you nod

"Yes. So he fools Sita, making her think he was an innocent Sadhu asking for food and then abducted her and took her to Lanka and then after a 10 month long hunt and help from several people he found on the way, he finally discovers Lanka and kills Rawan."

"10 months??" Sam exclaims and you nod

"No one knew where Lanka was at the time, Lord Ram had assembled an Army of half humans and half monkeys who helped him in search"

"Half monkeys" A hint of a smile takes over Bucky;s face but you just nod

"Its so interesting because I was talking to my father once and we figured that the descriptions of the Half monkeys or the vanar sena matches that of the primitive man so my father had said that it could mean that was the time we were transitioning from that form to this form and thus there were both forms existing simultaneously"

"Wow. But that is not part of the story?"

"Its not clearly stated but my father and I really did wonder about it a lot and it makes sense."

"Okay?" Bucky nods his head, furrowing his eyebrows together in understanding

"And Lanka meaning Sri Lanka?" Steve asks and you nod

"Yes, he was the King of Lanka, present day Sri Lanka and that may also be the reason it took them so long to find Lanka, it was an island in the south. They did not know anything about it"

"Wow. Okay I think I get it a little bit" Sam nods his head "So one of those dude is Rawan?" You nod "and the others?"

"The middle one is Rawan, the other two are his brother Kumbhkaran and his son Meghnath, they were one of the key helpers of Rawan but that is a story for another time"

The collective nods of all three of their head tells you that their minds have exhausted their capacity and you giggle at the thought and look back at the people that have started to prepare for the ceremony, if you can call it that

"They are gonna burn the statues one by one, the last one being Rawan. This ceremony signifies, Lord Ram's victory of good over evil"

"And the 10 heads?"

"Rawan had 10 heads, it was part of a blessing he had earned from Lord Shiva after years of hard worshiping. When Ram tried to kill Rawan, he tried to shoot arrows at his head but they would just re-emerge until Rawan's other brother, Vibhishan who had decided to support good and had thus betrayed his brother told Lord Ram to aim at his stomach."

"And he died?"

"Yes" you grin "Tale as old as time. Victory of good over evil"

Sam sits up straight from where he was completely crouched, a little stick in his hand, now that he had eaten all the ice cream from it.

"Well okay, nice story" he runs his tongue across his lips and looks up at the big statues and the now busy crowd "When are they gonna- you know?" he wiggles his fingers trying to imitate the gracious dance of the fire

By the time you had finished your story, a the crowd had doubled. From the corner of your eye, you could see the people that were preparing to roll up a newspaper

"You see them" You point at the group of men and three pairs of eyes follow your motion "Those people over there with the rolled up paper? They are gonna light fire on the paper and then place in on the statues that have been filled with inflammables"

"Oh okay"

You guys sit in silence for a while as the announcement that the function is starting is made, from your position in the far end, it is very easy to have a perfect glimpse of the festivities and so you four sit there with Sam and Bucky who were previously facing you have turned their backs on you as they face the other side.

You sit besides Steve, your shoulders touching and your hand in his but still maintaining a respectful distance as is appreciated in this place.

"After everything that the trip brought" Steve whispers in your ear, not taking his eyes off the man that starts to light up the statue of Meghnath, it takes a while before the flame catches up and the statue quickly starts to catch fire and everyone starts moving farther away "I'm glad you could have this"

He squeezes your hand lightly and you turn to look his way

"Thankyou for letting me tag along with you guys"

"I'm always glad to have you around doll" A small curve takes his lips as people scream in joy when the statue starts to completely burn and they start to light up the Kumbhkaran statue "Though I would prefer trips where I'm not worried about Hydra getting to you"

You bite your lower lip as the loud sound of crackers that had been tied inside the statue start to burst

"God its been so long since things have been so loud around me. God I missed it"

Steve throws his head back and laughs before shaking his head

"We can have our house as loud as you want"

You laugh at that

"Yeah, no I think the sound pollution is only good when given in small doses"

"We have have whatever you want in our home"

“okay...?” you shoot him a skeptical look as he grins

"Why are you not getting it?" he asks

A loud cheer comes from in front of you as they start to finally light up Rawan

"Getting what?"

"I'm asking you something"

"There was no question Steven" You are now extremely confused

"Well fine" He huffs and looks around to make sure no one is looking and takes both your hands in his as he takes your attention to him "I'm trying to talk about building our life together"

"We already live together"

"Yeah and that's the best thing that ever happened to me"

You smile

"Okay...?"

The loud noise of crackers booms from the front as people scream in excitement

"Y/n, my love" he starts, staring deep into your eyes "When I was pulled out of that frozen state and been told that I slept for almost 70 years and everyone and everything I knew was gone, I never thought I would have a reason"

He stops to take a deep breath and you feel your heart quicken in its speed

"A reason to want to stay you know? I went through the motions, did what was considered right for the world, fought the fight that needed to be fought but I was just going through the motions. Doing what I thought I needed to do. Doing what may very well be the reason I woke up now right? Because everything happens for a reason right?

And I thought my reason was this. To discover Hydra' presence in SHEILD, fight off freaking Aliens and every Avenger thing that I did and still do. It was all I had except for my friends but even that felt hallow like they were only my co-workers even after I found Bucky, there was something missing. It wasn't until I met you that I started loving life. I have never done that. Even in the forties, I had hated myself, dreaded the next day and that is what I was doing now but Y/n my love, you slammed your way into my life and unknowingly broke down every single wall that I had built. And I love you for that and for the amazing, brilliant, smart, beautiful, kind, lovely person that you are and so so much more my love-"

"Steve" You whisper, tears freely falling down your eyes and even through the explosion of voices around you, you know he hears your whispers just like every other voice around you is muted except for his

"Y/n" he whispers back and you barely make it out on the shape of his lips

"Y/n I have been waiting for the right moment since forever ago and I even went the traditional route and got your mothers' permission and since then I've been waiting and waiting but I just couldn’t find the right moment"

"Steve"

"Right now, in this exact moment, this exact second of time, I think I realize that every moment I have with you is perfect. There is no the perfect moment because everyone I have with you is perfect"

"Steve"

"So Y/n L/n, would you do me the honor of marrying me and making me the happiest man on earth?"

"I- Steve"

A second of stutter in your voice and Steve feels his heart stop. What the hell did he do. You didn’t want this. You were not ready. He should not have done this here. He should not have spoiled this day for you. He should have waited. He should have the ring.

"I'm sorry but the ring is this secret safe in the house and I never thought it would happen like this but I promise to give it to you the moment we land in New York if you say yes that is and its okay if you don’t” He starts blabbering, his fear taking over his tongue “Its okay if you say no. I can live with that. Its fine. No hard feelings. I-”

“Shut up” you scream and he goes silent before looking around, noticing how people move away from the smoke coming off the burning statues and get closer to where the four of you sit

“I would have kissed you right now but I don’t think that would be appropriate in this setting” You tease pointing at the group of kids that are starting at the group of you suspiciously and Steve checks his mask just to make sure its still working

“Are you?”

“Saying yes?” you bite your lip “Maybe? I don’t know. Give me the ring and maybe you’ll get an answer.”

You push yourself up from the ground, patting his shoulder one last time, saying something about checking where you guys could have dinner around here, leaving him dumb founded and confused.

“You know she said yes right?” Bucky asks as he stands up too, offering a hand to Steve to help him stand. He then offers his hand to Sam who takes it but falls on his butt when Bucky pulls him up and then leaves his hand promptly.

“She did?” Steve asks still confused.

“You were the one who said you loved her horrible jokes man” Sam says, massaging his back to relieve some pain he had gotten after his fall, punching Bucky on the shoulder which has zero effect on the super soldier and then he is following after you

“Come on Punk, I was promised food” Bucky follows right behind Sam, leaving behind a very confused Steve with a group of kids that have closed in on him

Before he can understand what is happening, one of the kids blocks his way

“Are you Captain America?”

And now Steve really is speechless.

---- THE END ----

Sorry if this felt like a rushed ending but my brain had stopped working.

@fangirl-swagg Thankyou for encouraging me to just write it. I would have quit half way through if it wasn’t for your enthusiasm.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x desi reader #steve rogers x indian reader #steve rogers desi reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fluff

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 3 years ago

Text

all my fears they have become

“Where do you expect a military base to be?”

“DC? Like the Pentagon?”

The Anderson family make their way to the Military secured base in Nashville, but are denied entry.

(cross-posted on ao3!)

here is this series’s masterlist!

𖥔

When Ron was several years old, he pushed another boy on the playground to the floor.

They had been arguing about the slide, shoulders and hands jutting and grabbing at each other in an attempt to slow the other down.

Ron looked at the boy, smaller than him, and perhaps even younger, and shoved the boy off the bars that lead to the structure and the slide.

He had fallen onto the wooden chips with a harmless thud, but his eyes still widened and watered, limbs that had been pettily swinging now crumpling into himself.

Ron remembers watching that boy drop into himself emptily, mother running over to him and fussing over the boy worriedly. He looked so weak.

(And Ron remembers just as clearly not feeling a drop of sympathy for him.)

His mother had taken him aside, patting the spot beside her in the bench as a gesture to sit down.

“Why’d you do that, Ron?” She said simply, eyes gazing over the small park. Her hands sat in her lap, even though Ron felt like she should have been holding his own.

“Because I wanted to go on the slide first.” He replied, looking at her. There were patches of dusty foundation appearing in blotches on her skin, and the young boy absently wondered where the purple went.

After a moment of silence, she finally turned to him, brows furrowed with something he couldn’t quite make out at the time. “You can’t do that. You can’t push or hurt people just to get what you want.”

Ron blinked, “But why? It works.” Ron really couldn’t comprehend why his mother didn’t want him to do so, especially when it was something she never had a problem with when he did it.

“It’s not —“ Her eyes thinned, “you hurt him, Ron. You shouldn’t hurt other people.”

And Ron watched his mothers expression poke at him, face contorted into something that made him want to look at his shoes. It made him feel small. It made him feel weak.

“Okay, Mom.”

Ron didn’t want to make Sam feel that way. In fact, Ron wanted his brother to feel the exact opposite of that.

But he couldn’t leave it alone — how could you, when you can see clearly where those thoughts are going?

“What the hell do you mean we can’t allow you entry?!” Ron’s father shouted, finger digging sharply into the man’s chest.

The soldier in front of him, dressed in neat camouflage print uniform and flat military cap, looked at Ron’s father with a straight-face, while also addressing the large crowd forming behind the Anderson family, “The base has already reached maximum capacity, and in allowing you entry, we will be effectively sabotaging our efforts, as well as the lives of other citizens.”

“What about our lives? We’re fucking citizens, are we not?!” Someone behind them rasps out angrily.

Ron’s father looked to hold the same sentiment, hands bunched into fists at his sides. The family of four had pulled the car out of the side of the road after Ron’s father had done something underneath the hood of the car, before resuming their route down an extra (and significantly less crowded) road that not many used.

“We have children!” A mother in the crowd says desperately. The highway overhead makes a crashing noise, attention flitting to the sound momentarily. It’s filled with cars that honk angrily, and many split off down the nearest exit route.

(They had the right idea, Ron thinks later on, going down the city main road that leads straight out of Nashville.)

The soldier’s straight face split for a slight moment, one that held pity and a light apology, before slipping back into poker, “We have direct orders to escort remaining citizens to another camp outside of the city.”

The crowd’s rumbling quieted, all looking at each other with a sort of hopeful relief. A few people had actually seen the dead walking — not quite clearly, in Ron’s case, but mob paranoia was a wonderful thing that spread like absolute hellfire.

His father teetered on the edge, while his mother tried desperately to pull her husband back to peaceful sobriety. She looked not nearly as worried as Ron’s father, but perhaps she was just better at pretending.

“Ron? Where — are we going?” Sam stuttered out, hand nervously clutching Ron’s own like a lifeline, wideyedly surveying the grey building, as well as the others — which was starkly blacked out in comparison to the military building that held a small, though noticeable, brightened window.

“We’re, uh,” Ron racked his mind for a simple response. His brother was a stubborn person, and an easily frightened one, too. One wrong answer would send him off the deep end of rapid-fire questions, whilst the other would mute him into wincing obedience. “We’re going, er, somewhere.”

Ron bit his tongue. Wrong answer.

“Where’s somewhere?”

“I don’t know, maybe Tellico.” Ron responded with a shrug, deciding to try and humor (distract, perhaps) his younger brother. Their mother and father ushered the two of them along, worried they might break off.

Sam wrinkles his nose, “No way. Tellico is boring.”

“Where do you expect a military base to be?”

“DC? Like the Pentagon?”

Ron blew air from his lips halfheartedly, slowly boarding up the steps of the cramped bus with his brother and his parents in tow, “Sure.”

The military bus wasn’t discreet, holding camouflage splatters on every inch of the steel armoured frame, with an equally green and serious soldier driving in the front seat.

“D’you think Aunt Stacy is in a military base?” His brother said without much thought, eyes piercing into the side of Ron’s face.

“What?” Ron said, looking back at his brother with a tense expression.

Aunt Stacy was their mothers sister — sick with the illness, not so much as able to communicate with them, and couldn’t see their mother nor them in the urgency to cease all actions with the sick in a shaky attempt to stop the spread.

Sam repeated his question simply, fingers tapping lightly on the side of his seat.

“Why—“ Ron blinked incredulously, eyes doing a once over on his brother, “What do you mean?”

His brother gave a shrug, “She’s sick. She has the sick.”

Ron nodded slowly, “So?” Their aunt was safely (well, that was what the government had said on the news, with doctors and nurses who looked aged far beyond their years, worn and frail, nodding seedily) being taken care of in Nashville’s hospitals, after the Knoxville hospital hadn’t any room left.

“Do they still even bring the sick? Don’t they turn?”

They… did. Turn, that was.

But Ron was sure it could be handled, right? The officials said so, echoing it with a laugh.

The world was past illnesses like the flu that would’ve killed many centuries ago, so they could do this, right?

Right?

“I’m sure they can handle a flu, Sam.” Ron said, brows creased.

(He knows he’s trying to convince himself. He knows. But it keeps the fear on hold, for now.)

“Shouldn’t they just leave them?”

Boys Sam’s age didn’t have a filter, and were sometimes ignorant, but Ron was sure they could still be empathetic, whether or not what he said was the truth.

“I,” Ron’s lips couldn’t quite form the words he’d wanted, “Don’t think about that, Sam.”

His brother opened his mouth to respond, “Don’t.” Ron interrupted, sharper than he intended.

“Okay, Ron.”

𖥔

Ron couldn’t fall asleep.

His brother was out like a light against Ron’s forearm, breathing light and seamlessly in the seat, as well as many others, who’s breathing mirrored Sam’s in each row.

Ron’s father sat still as a statue, eyes closed tightly, and Ron thought his mother had been fast asleep on her husband’s shoulder, but her own open eyes reflected against street lamp lights in the furthering plains like the crystal marbles he used to collect.

It was completely calm in the bus, littered with families, and was slowly followed by another military bus holding more citizens, and perhaps more soldiers.

Despite the safety that was guaranteed, there was an uneasiness sitting in the pit of his stomach, twisting and turning without fail as to make him nauseous, settling in like it’d never go away.

His brother’s words echoed carelessly in the depths of his mind, while a whispering appeared, planting seeds of doubt where there shouldn’t be.

Aunt Stacy… she’ll be okay, right? They have a cure, don’t they? It’s just a flu… you know, you’re starting to sound like your father.

Ron felt his mouth go dry.

You saw the hospitals, Ron. How could they possibly fix all of it? The government’s keeping information mum — and you’re on a bus to a military camp outside of Nashville… is this how they fix it?

Is this how, Ron?

No. No, Ron thinks, shaking himself.

Sam is right, isn’t he? They just need to leave the sick… seal them away… that’s what you think now, too, right? Just leave Aunt Stacy… and the rest… just leave them.

That’s how they’d fix it, right? That’s how they should fix it, right, Ron?

Ron feels something pull the sleeve of his sweater, making his head turn.

“Are we there yet, Ron?”

The older boy swallows the dry feeling in his mouth, trying to respond, “We’re,” the bus fell to a stop.

The soldier driving in the front slapped the roof of the bus with a step, “We’re here.” Though his attention seemed to be targeted to his fellow soldiers, rather than them.

“Yeah. Sure.” Ron said, giving a weak grin to his younger brother, whose eyes peered outside of the windows carefully.

The Anderson family stepped out of the bus, watching the remaining passengers and soldiers file out of the vehicle. The sky had turned dark, now, and stars speckled it’s black backsplash like paint on canvas, littering its surroundings luminously.

One of the men clad in military print surveyed the back of the bus carefully, a rifle in hand that swung in his grip without much care. He pulled a few soldiers back with him, whispering things Ron couldn’t make out.

The clearing they’d parked in was just that, sitting near an undergrowth of trees, whilst it’s left side was remarkably dry bare, not much in sight. Sam shivered lightly, looking up at the sky like Ron had done so earlier, and the older boy shrugged off his coat and placed it on his brother, more than a little worried he’d catch something.

Sam had always been fragile, even as a baby, and the family would spend countless nights awake, watching him carefully — as well as many nights rushing to the hospital. He was premature, so Ron would learn to accept it as something that just happened.

His mother always liked to point out the differences between the boys, late at night when her eyes drooped with fatigue, and Ron tried to get her to sleep.

“Sam’s delicate. You know that — but, you, Ron,” She’d chuckle, “you’ve always been the opposite. Never needed much care, much attention.”

Ron would nod absently, looking for blankets hidden in the couch cushions, because if his mother didn’t want to sleep in bed beside her husband, well, so be it.

“You’re brother got it from your dad, definitely. A lot like me, you are, Ron.” She’d trail off.

(Ron didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing — and if it was even true at all. His mother was wrong about a lot of things, and later in the blond’s life, she’d echo anger towards him, “You’re exactly like your father. Exactly.” and Ron wouldn’t know what was real.

But Ron did know what he’d gotten from the man — his paranoia. Though the world Ron would grow up in called for exactly that, Ron knows that even if it hadn’t gone to shit, things around the corner of his home would ingrain paranoia into his bones.)

Before Ron could think, the soldiers appeared once more, and ushered the group back into the bus with little indignation for their questions.

The soldier who had driven sat back into his seat, pushing down on the accelerator pedal as soon as they had all boarded, looking behind him and into the side mirror every so often.

No one asks any more questions, simply content with what they’ve been given, and the guarantee of safety just in their reach, but Ron’s mind drifts elsewhere.

He’d heard the soldiers talk about the ‘rendezvous point’ that they’d stop at to account for the citizens and men — and had just as equally heard when the driver of their bus said, “And if one of us doesn’t arrive, we know what that means. We go, and we don’t look for the other.” as the rest of the soldiers nodded solemnly.

Ron closes his eyes, wishing for sleep, and tries to convince himself that the bus is just lagging along, and will soon catch up with them.

(He waves away the thoughts that it could’ve been us, could’ve been us and the worser thoughts, like thank god it isn’t.)

#twd #ron anderson #austin abrams #the walking dead #walking dead #hurt #angst #sam anderson #jessie anderson #pete anderson

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sannflwrr · 4 years ago

Text

The Dog Tag

moodboard creds to @aprilisque your talent is extraterrestrial

Author: sannflwrr

Pairing: Jaebeom x MC

Rating: PG

Warnings: mentions of war, a little bit of angst, military!jb

Summary: It’s the second-coming, and all she wants is to see him one last time.

The world I awaken to is dark, the means of light is the measly blue night lamp which flickers every few seconds. Suppressing a groan, I wake. It’s been months, months of sleeping on the floor, perhaps the effects of sleeping on a brittle and uncomfortable surface is finally starting to show through. The pain is something I can ignore, especially when there’s so many other things of higher importance. One being, the war.

Many call it the Second Coming. It felt much similar to the end of the world, I agree. The once empty hospital had become a refuge center for those displaced and without a home after the bombings began. Currently every room was occupied, every bed usurped. As a doctor, my responsibility was to head to the sick bay every morning, take care of as many wounded as I could, and return back to my sleeping quarters late in the evening. My mother shifts on the floor beside me, and I sit up. We’re lucky to still be together. I’m lucky to have her with me still. I never imagined a day where we would be working together side by side, yet seeing her face especially during this difficult era of darkness and gloom, brings back a temporary feeling of hope which I had much before our world went to shit.

The large clock up above on the tall walls says it’s much earlier than the rise of the sun, but I quietly gather the jacket bunched next to me, and exit the room. Mere awareness to the day brought back the memories of yesterday, and the day before…reminding me of what today is.

The halls are dark, asides from the emergency lights which cast them in an uncomfortable green glow. I've become accustomed to this eerie color, and continue down the corridor, and past the couple flights of stairs. The Western Hospital has become a center of hope for many. Those who are here are safe, they say. And they may think so, not realizing that we currently don’t have much defense guarding the place. That government asked Unit 13, which had been surveying the area around the hospital, to pull out months ago. A temporary adjustment they had said. They said that Unit 13 would be back, so that the hospital doesn’t stay unguarded for too long. Today the unit is supposed to return. I wrap the jacket around me tighter, inhaling the remnants of its previous user on it. The smell is almost gone, which makes my heart ache dully. He’s fading from this jacket, and I don’t want to forget him.

I open the door feeding into the main entrance of the hospital, searching the premise for any of my coworkers. I see several, sitting tiredly at what used to be the waiting room. They’re waiting, like so many others, like I am. Waiting for Unit 13 to come back.

Not long after, the sounds of a vehicle approach, must be a van of some sort. Up until now, my pulse had been relatively normal. But now, well, I can’t even think clearly enough to check how fast it is. It’s either he’s here or he’s not. He’s in this car, or he is dead. Hands fisting, I bunch the bottom flaps of his jacket into my fists. I should be ready to accept the latter, death is so common nowadays, it barely touches my conscience. But it would wreck my world if Jaebeom was dead. Many of my coworkers rush out to greet them, but I find myself planted in my position, unable to move.

God, I’m so scared.

My mind flicks back to a random instance, before all this. Jaebeom had been a part of my life for so many years, it was impossible to think of one without him in it. We had been together, unofficially and officially, for so long, I couldn’t think of one without him. We’re sitting in my old apartment, it had been Valentine’s Day. I completely forgot about the holiday, giving that I tended to overlook these things and poured my entire being into the residency I had obtained. Jaebeom had surprised me at my door, knowing I was home, with a giant bag filled with groceries. Let’s make dinner together, he had said. Minutes later I realized what the day was, and stared at him open-mouthed. He only laughed at me in response, brushing his hand over mine.

I look at them. They’re tired, and worn out. My hands are not as soft as they used to be, back when I used to take particular care of them to make sure they stay soft. All that changed after the war began. I stopped wearing makeup, stopped cutting my hair, stopped wearing anything particular to my fancy, asides from the dark blue scrubs I carried. Like the ones I wear now. My hair is always in a simple braid, definitely much longer than it used to be. I look older, and feel more tired than I actually am. Some days, I am so close to giving up. Then I remember my mother, who sleeps next to me.

And I remember Jaebeom, who’s outside on the frontlines, every day.

Soldiers always wear these dog tags as necklaces, an inexpensive piece of identification, a silver chain with a tag identifying their name. It has no real purpose aside from that, no tracking device inside. When Jaebeom had received his, he gave it to me. Maybe it was his equivalent for something else, I don’t know. Legally, there’s nothing binding us together, though I think about it whenever I’m trying to fall asleep. Between all of this, the bombings, the death, worrying about day-to-day survival, the idea of marriage didn’t come up as conversation between us. He didn’t even say anything about it to me the day he gave me his necklace, the day he left with Unit 13. But god, that look in his eyes. I don’t think I would ever forget. It spoke so much louder than any of his words.

And there it is again. My hands loosen against the jacket, sliding against my sides. They’ve started to walk in, the other professionals are shouting orders to them about identification and certain protocols, though muffled. He’s at the back of the group, and I know I’m not imagining it, because he’s staring back at me, equally shocked. I don’t know if that word even covers how I feel, months of feeling sad, lonely, desperate, angry.

Hopeful.

Why is he shocked? I would have asked, had my sanity been at its norm. Why is he shocked? I’m not the one who’s going into the red front everyday. But I know later, after taking one step in his direction, that turns into several until my face is buried in his shoulder. Maybe it was that Jaebeom saw so many people die too. Maybe he felt just as desperate as I did.

“Jae, oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” He repeats softly, both his arms squeezing around me. It’s been so long. He smells the same, sounds the same, it makes me want to cry. It would be a cruel dream if I were to wake up now. But he feels so so real, part of me — no all of me — believes that he is, in fact, here. He’s back.

I still have a couple hours before my shift begins, finding myself sitting in the creepy green hallway. Jaebeom leans against the wall, head resting upwards. We’re quiet, not much noise asides from his thumb softly rubbing against the back of my hand.

“You still wear it.” He says, drifting his focus to the necklace I wear.

“Of course.” My eyes shift to his cheek. “Kind of considered it like our version of a promise ring.”

“Promise ring?” Then he laughs, making my insides bubble. “Isn’t that what, like teenagers give to each other when they’re dating?”

I find myself chuckling with him. “Sure. But it is a promise. A promise that you were going to come back.”

“How about the other kind of ring?” Jae asks gently, eyes finding mine, which stare at the wall across from us. “Legally binding, and all.”

A hum escapes my lips. “Hm. I guess this could be that too.”

“Would you want it to be?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t take the fact that you still go out there everyday. And one day you might not come back.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, knowing well that it’s true. He has probably seen many make similar promises to their loved ones, only to break it and not return. He has seen many die on the front, it clouds his eyes and turns it stormy. Jaebeom looks down. At least now I know he won’t be going much further than the hospital for a good while. Though the stability between us is not permanent, I know well enough to take advantage of every moment possible. This world feels like the end, and I would not like things to go down without at least some happiness.

“You know, I would have…” Jaebeom starts, looking at his hands. Then turns his head to me. “Had the bombings not been there, I would have asked you.”

“Had you asked, I would have said yes.” I respond simply. I glance at my watch, it buzzes. I have an hour left. “Though, you didn’t exactly have to ask. When the war started, I assumed we were there.”

With this, it’s hard to have uncertainties. Had things been normal, maybe I wouldn’t have been too sure about taking that step with Jaebeom. But now that the sky is crumbling and many days are red, I know exactly what I want. And he knows too.

“Was it scary?” I find myself asking, genuinely curious, but equally concerned for the things he has seen. Somewhere between our conversation, we scooted closer, constantly one limb touching another, his arm wraps around my shoulder. Jaebeom nods.

“Yeah. I was scared that I might die at any moment. Obviously death scares me, but your face kept me pushing through. I just wanted to see you again, missed you so much.”

“Whenever you want to talk about Jae, I’m always here.” I pat his knee. “But I think you really should get some sleep. You’ve been through a lot, just take some time to sit back. You’re okay now.” I move away from him just to get a better look. “You’re back.”

The kiss is different from the first time after seeing him in months. That one had been desperate, thousands of emotions flying at each other in distress. My elbows hook around his neck, the momentum knocking the both of us back against the wall. Jaebeom snorts against my mouth. Though the bigger problem has not gone away, it makes it that much tolerable when he’s around. When he’s here, I’m okay.

“God,” He mumbles after pulling away. “I can’t even tell you how much I love you. If I could, I would totally marry you.”

I smile into him. “One of the many things I love about you Jaebeom, you always seem to know what I’m thinking too.”

#jaebeom #got7jb #got7 jb #the great war #second coming

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writers-block246 · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fanfiction - The Light Amidst My Darkness

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could). Curse words are also included.

Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. Set before Infinity War and Endgame. Slow burn.

——————————————————————————

Chapter 1:

Your heels clicked on the cold marble tile as you strode towards your office. You unconsciously took a sharp turn down one of the compound’s hallways, caught up in your own little world. Thoughts swam in your head as you tried to make sense of the day’s tasks. I have a session with Wanda at 9:30, a meeting with my boss at 11, another session at 3. Did I mention lunch? What am I doing for that? A salad? A burge-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of sounds floating down to you from the second floor’s overhang. Reflexively, your head shot up to determine the source of the ruckus. Almost immediately, your eyes met with cold icy blue ones. The Winter Soldier. Or the White Wolf, whatever they were calling him these days. Throughout the past few weeks, you had only come across the man (super soldier?) a few times. But now, in the middle of the hallway, his stare had stopped you right in your tracks. Suddenly, you recalled the details on his file. You had been given the information, which you had placed with the rest of the teams’s files, when he first officially joined the team and came to stay at the tower. Credited with over 100 assassinations of government officials, ranging across various countries. Charged with multiple war crimes. Cybernetic left arm. Enhanced abilities, including superhuman strength. Russian spy skilled in hand-to-hand combat and the use of many weapons. Simply put, the man was deadly. A shiver ran through you, images of the acts he had committed flitted through your mind. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation toward him. Enough in fact, to make you want to exit the area as quickly as possible.

You caught yourself. It wasn’t professional for you, a psychotherapist, to let emotions take over your rationale. Nor should you make judgments without having even truly met the man. Not to mention, Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, had defended James Barnes multiple times. And if there was anyone you trusted completely, it was the Captain. So, you would trust his judgement of character here. Steeling yourself under the assassin’s intense gaze, you nodded to him and continued on your way to your office.

As you walked along, you thought about all James Buchanan Barnes had went through. Flung from a train, captured by Hydra, and brainwashed to become the exact thing he had fought against. You wondered what it felt like to be at someone’s mercy with the mere utterance of a few words. Forced to commit deeds you never would on your own, awakening to the aftermath. Even worse, you thought, to be pitted against your closest friend, facing off from different parts of the battlefield. To be a twisted version of what made Captain America so great.

You decided to cut Mr. Barnes some slack. He had been through enough.

With that final thought, you stepped into your office.

Wanda Maximoff sat in her usual chair, patiently awaiting your arrival. Upon hearing you enter, she looked up from her phone and gave you a smile. “Heya, Doc.”

You couldn’t help but grin in response. “Hello, Wanda. How are you today?”

And with that, your first session of the day began. However, your mind kept wandering to those piercing blue eyes. You couldn’t deny that the soldier was handsome, incredibly so, actually. Tall, strongly built, and with those pretty blue eyes and dark hair. No matter how many times you tried to prevent your mind from replaying the scene in the hallway, you still found yourself getting distracted.

Wanda seemed to notice. “Are you okay Y/N? You seem a little off today?”

Shaking your head a little to relieve yourself of those distracting thoughts, you replied: “I’m fine, Wanda. I appreciate you asking, though.”

Its not like me to get distracted, especially during my job.

“Of course. We are friends, you know.”

You chuckled. “I know. But right now, I’m your therapist. So keep talking.”

“If I do, will you listen this time?” She said with a smirk.

You decided to ignore that comment. “So how would you describe your state of mind these past few days?”

Wanda gave a slight laugh, knowing what you were doing. However, she cut you a break and continued your conversation.

The minutes passed by with little to no thought of James Barnes, and soon, your therapy session had ended.

“Alright, that’s it. I’ll see you again at 3pm Thursday.”

She smiled. “Sounds good, Doc.”

You said your goodbyes as you walked her to the door of your office. Once she left, you sighed and sat down at your desk. You checked the clock: 10:42. You groaned. Eighteen minutes until your meeting. While contemplating the advantages and disadvantages of faking an illness (the flu? Chicken pox? The plague?), a notification popped up on your phone. Checking it, you realized it was an email from your boss:

Good Morning, Y/N!

I just wanted to let you know that our meeting has been cancelled. Director Fury said he needs to speak with you. 11 sharp.

Have a good day!

-Katherine Newman

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach. What could Fury want with me? You hardly ever spoke with the Director unless it had to do with one of your clients. Was this it? Am I getting fired? Is this because of me zoning out today? Did Wanda say something to him? No, no she would never sell me out like that.

You tried to calm your racing nerves. You were overreacting, you knew, but Fury had a way of intimidating people. Unclenching your fists, you swallowed and checked the clock once more: 10:45. 15 minutes. 15 minutes until you had to see Fury face to face.

15 minutes to make yourself presentable and cross the entire tower.

Shit!

Grabbing your things quickly, you made for the door. Heels clacking loudly against the floor, you began a fast pace toward Fury’s office. There was no way you could be late to a meeting with him of all people. The minutes it took to reach his workplace felt like hours due to your frantic worries. Finally, your eyes met with the name plaque on his door: Nick Fury.

Smoothing down your skirt, you took a deep breath and knocked. A muffled ‘enter’ was your response. Another deep breath and you were opening the door, only to be met with the same icy blue eyes from earlier.

There, sitting in front of Fury’s desk, was the object of your obsession for the past few hours: James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier.

Once more, you found yourself floored by the man’s intensity. This time, however, it was Fury’s voice that brought you back to the present.

“Have a seat, Miss Y/L/N.”

Only hesitating slightly, you closed the door behind you and headed to the seat next to Bucky. You made sure to not balk when taking the seat next to him, however, as you did not want him to think you feared him.

Once you were settled, Fury cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I had your meeting cancelled today.”

“Yes, sir,” you hesitantly replied.

“I’ve called you here to introduce you to your new patient.”

. . . new . . . patient?

Despite your confused appearance, Fury continued on. “He has to be cleared before he can go on any missions. Your sessions with Mr. Barnes will begin Friday.”

You felt James’s gaze on you. An unnamed feeling spread across your body.

He’s waiting for my reaction, you realized. He wants to see how I’ll respond to having to work with him.

Drawing strength from every professional fiber of your body, you prepared yourself and smiled. “Sounds good to me, Director Fury. Do you have a specific time in mind?”

His response was curt. “2:30pm.”

You smiled again, desperate to hide your nerves. “I’ll schedule it right away, sir.”

“Good.”

Ignoring Fury’s usual bluntness, you turned to James. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Barnes.”

There was a hint of surprise in his expression, but he schooled himself quickly. Nodding, he turned back to Fury.

You didn’t take offense at his brusque nature. It was commonplace, you knew, for those that struggled with mental illness to behave in a blunt or off-kilter way. Instead, you made a mental note to express happiness at being around him. It would do him good for him to know people can be comfortable, and even look forward to, him being around.

(Even if I’m not totally comfortable).

Fury turned to look at James. “That’s all, Mr. Barnes. Remember your appointment, and I know you are aware of her office’s location.”

Was that . . . a . . . teasing tone of voice?

Even better, you could have sworn a light blush had settled on the soldier’s cheeks.

Nodding once more, James rose and strode out of the room.

Again, you were not put off by his behavior, as you had seen similar conduct from your other patients. Instead, you wondered about the odd exchange between Mr. Barnes and Fury. Am I missing something?

Your gaze settled back on Fury. “Was there a reason you had my meeting cancelled, Director Fury? Not to be disrespectful, but couldn’t you’ve just had me meet you later, sir?”

He chuckled. “Well sure, but that wouldn’t get you out of your meeting would it?”

You laughed, and felt the tension that you hadn’t even realized was still there release from your shoulders.

“It’s much appreciated, Director Fury.”

“No problem. And kid?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get back to work.”

You scrambled for your things. “Yep, sure thing, sir.”

Headed toward the door, you gave one last look behind you. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Goodbye, kid.”

“Y-yep. Goodbye,” you stuttered.

You stepped out of his office and shut the door behind you. Breathing a sigh of relief, you made your way back to your office.

-Admin Cheyenne

More to come!!

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CT-7567 | Rex Characters: CC-1010 | Fox, CT-7567 | Rex Additional Tags: post-jedi purge, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Order 66, Order 66 Aftermath, Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, More Hurt Than Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt Series: Part 11 of Clone Trooper Files Summary:

Fox muses over what happened to him and the other clones after order 66, and an old friend shows up unexpectedly.

Full fanfic below:

The only time the clone troopers were recognized and praised for their work was when they were forced to slaughter their generals, their friends. Their only recognition came after the Jedi purge.

After learning of the Jedi’s attempt to the life of the Supreme Chancellor, on democracy itself, and hearing of the clone troopers’ brave choice to stand with the republic - now the Galactic Empire - and kill those traitors where they stood, the people sung praises to the armored soldiers, thanked them whenever they saw one of the soldiers patrolling the streets of Coruscant, and even demanded a statue representing a clone trooper to be placed next to the Senate building.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant guard raised his eyes to the effigy towering in front of him. It portrayed a clone trooper with blaster raised ahead, the Senate building farther ahead behind him as if under his guard. The ground by his feet was littered with clone trooper - stormtroopers, as they were called now - helmets, representing those fallen in the fight to maintain order.

Most people thought the tall obsidian wall behind him had engraved stripes on it, but if one bothered to inspect it closer, they would see that every inch of had been covered in listings of dead troopers.

Fox had been summoned to inspect something that had been target of questions and complains lately - the large aurebesh graffiti on it, painted on a deep blue shade he knew too well, the same of Commander Appo’s unit, the 501st.

The graffiti covered the entire wall, reading: “we are born slaves, we live as slaves, we die as slaves”; Under it, it continued: “the innocent jedi blood will always be in our hands”. And, beneath that, a word was written over and over until the wall was entirely covered in paint:

Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives

Fox looked up at the clone stormtrooper statue, noticing that someone seemed to have taken a hammer and nail to where his right temple would be under the helmet, denting the durasteel and making a circular hole there a few inches deep. He touched his own helmet on the same place, wondering what it all meant.

That night, he requested his ARC trooper to cover his shift for him. Unprofessional, yes, but the sight of the statue and the wall left him with what felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch in his brain. Before he could chastise himself for doing so, his feet were carrying him back to the square, now lit by a few streetlamps and completely empty. That part of the city was mostly dead at night – no stores or restaurants there, only the official buildings that were out of duty that late.

Fox was a lonely shadow in the square, staring at the statue – the cleaning commissioned by the government would start the following morning, and soon enough the cryptic message would no longer be there.

Fox noticed someone approaching from his side, and he didn’t know if it was the fact that they were dressed in clone armor or the fact that he did not expect an ambush at this particular situation, but he took too late to draw his blaster, and soon the man was standing in front of him, hands up in a clear demonstration of peace.

It only took Fox a quick glance to recognize the pauldrons and kama, his eyes finally resting at the jaig eyes painted on the white helmet. His hand jumped to his holster, and he quickly drew his blaster, pointing it at the clone’s chest.

“You…!”

“Calm down, Fox.” Rex’s voice came through the speakers of his helmet, that same cadence of every vod’s voice carrying through his words “I’m not here to fight you.”

Fox fixed his grip on his blaster.

“You’re a traitor!”

“No, I am not.” Rex said, reaching for the clasps of his helmet, unsealing it and slowly pulling it off to reveal himself; he looks tired, his previously neatly trimmed blond hair now growing into a fuzz, his face darkened by a five o’clock shadow; there was a scar on his right temple, right where the statue had been damaged “I’m a clone trooper, just like you. And we need to speak, brother.”

Rex tucked his armor under his arm and Fox jerked his blaster forward, pushing its muzzle against Rex’s chestplate with a metallic clink that seemed to echo into the night.

“I’m not your brother, you kriffing traitor!” Fox growled, scowl deepening in his features “You disgraced your battalion, abandoned them at their moment of need! The only way you could’ve redeemed yourself would be dying in battle for your men! You being alive and breathing only means that they died for nothing while you hid away like a coward!”

Fox had his blaster at the ready. He could shoot Rex at any moment, but he believed he owed his fellow vod’e to make sure he died knowing how he had wronged them.

“Appo is still trying to clean the reputation of the 501st after you soiled it with your actions! The messages relayed by Jesse let everyone know that you sided with a traitor Jedi, that you chose her over the republic, over your own brothers!”

Rex did not flinch at the blaster being pressed to his sternum, ready to shoot him point-blank, his eyes remaining focused and calm even as Fox angrily spat at his feet, eyes burning at his brother.

“She had done nothing wrong.” Rex said flatly, tone calm like the one they had been instructed to use in negotiations “Nor have any of the other generals. Much less the jedi and children that my men killed in the temple.”

“We had orders.” Fox said tensely, his eyes narrowing at Rex “Orders we were expected to follow, that you were expected to follow.”

“Obeying questionable orders without question isn’t right, and you know it. We are not droids.”

“We are soldiers! We were bred and trained to follow orders, to obey.” Fox squinted at Rex “When the hells did you forget this?”

Rex sighed, or maybe he scoffed, waving his head.

“When my general in charge ordered me to shoot to kill at my own brothers of the 212th. When he betrayed us and sliced three of my men into bits in front of my eyes. When we were ordered to go back under heavy fire to retrieve a Jedi general’s body so that he could be buried, even if we had to die for it, while the body of his clone commander was left to rot in a ravine.”

Fox shook his own head, looking at Rex’s belt for a moment to see if he was unarmed to then lower his weapon.

“This is part of the job.”

“This is not a job.” Rex said between his gritted teeth “It’s slavery.”

Fox took a couple of steps back, eyes still trained on Rex.

“I don’t have time for your agitator talk, Rex”

“And yet you are listening.”

Fox raised his blaster again, pointing it at Rex’s head and scowling.

“Just tell me what you want from me before I blast you dead.”

Rex stared at him for a long moment, and the two troopers shared that brief silence in contemplation. Fox’s armor was different now, still carrying a few markings that identified him as a commanding officer, but most of his individuality had been stripped. It was a stark contrast to Rex’s armor, the kama on his hips and the tally marks drawn all over his vambraces and helmet, and the jaig eyes above his visor.

Rex turned his head to gaze at the night sky above them.

“That night at the warehouse… All your troopers had stuns in their blasters, except for you.” He lowered his head to look back at Fox “Yours had real heat. Why was that?”

Fox blinks in confusion, frowning. From the very back of his mind, he remembers the chancellor pulling him aside and speaking in a voice that made his brain feel like it had been wrapped in cotton wool.

“I want lethal force to be used on that clone. You must terminate him.”

“Sir…” Fox remember having said “He’s an ARC trooper, Captain Rex trusts him with his life. He offers no danger, he…”

“This is my order to you, as a soldier, and you will follow.”

Chancellor Palpatine’s words made him feel even more detached from himself, and he recalls having mumbled:

“Good soldiers… follow orders.”

“He was dangerous. The ARC trooper-”

“His name was Fives.” Rex interrupts him, sounding angry for the first time

“He had to die! I had to-” Fox frowned, lowering the blaster again and shaking his head

“Even you don’t believe that, vod.”

Fox grits his teeth, eyes going from one side to another.

“It was an accident!”

“That’s more like it.” Rex says like he’s playing a game of clue, leading Fox to a prize he won’t yet reveal “You knew him. Not too well, but you did. We had drinks together, we had joint missions to protect the senators during attacks to Cosruscant, you knew Fives. You knew he was a good man.”

Fox’s head hurts like it’s being squeezed by a wookie, and he hastily pries his helmet off his head, letting it fall to the ground with a dull clatter.

“No. I- I never…” he brings his free hand to his forehead, his throat feeling narrow “I didn’t want to! I didn’t! But my orders… Good soldiers… Good soldiers follow orders, good soldiers… follow… orders…”

“The same thing happened with every commanding trooper, all of them opened fire at the people they had sworn to protect, their generals, their friends. I know, Fox, because I felt it too, all my rational thought being replaced by a visceral bloodthirst that made me fire at my commander and send every trooper under my command after her with orders to shoot to kill. She was my friend, she was… like a sister to me.”

Rex took a step closer, voice fraying at the edges.

“And I know that Appo and every men in Torrent Company would never willingly shoot at unarmed jedi and little children, moons, no matter where in the nine hells the order to do so had come from. They would question, and refuse, and die standing if they had to, but they wouldn’t ever do that atrocity. Boost and Sinker would never willingly fire at their General’s ship. You know them as much as I do, vod! You know it!”

Fox jerks his weapon forward, aims the blaster right between Rex’s brown eyes, his teeth bared and his breath coming in shallow huffs.

“Shut up!” he screams, and his voice carries through the night “Shut up, they had it coming, they…!” he opens and closes his mouth, wetting his lips and moving his eyes around like he’s desperately seeking for an answer that never comes “We had orders, we…!” his finger shakes over the trigger, threatens to squeeze it “KRIFFING HELLS!”

The blaster drops down from his weak fingers, and Fox clutches his head between his hands. Rex hesitates to then walk up to him, reaching for his arm. Fox fought back, wrenching his hand away but Rex caught his wrist, fighting until he could wrestle Fox into a hug, the commander still weakly trying to break free from his arms.

“We didn’t want to… we didn’t…” he gasped, and his sight grew blurry, tears stinging at his eyes and spilling over his cheeks “Manda, none of us did… and we couldn’t stop… we couldn’t…”

Rex holds him with all his might. He remembers the day he punched Fox into a bloody pulp a couple of weeks after he had killed Fives. The inherent bond between brothers that every trooper had for one another no matter what felt like it had been severed between them after the ARC trooper’s death. But after learning of Order 66, of Sidius’ true identity, Rex couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Commander. None of that had been his fault. None of this tragedy was their fault.

Fox seemed to finally had given up the struggle, slumping into Rex’s arms and pressing his face to the captain’s pauldrons, his own shoulders jumping under his sobs.

“It made so much sense back then. We felt proud. Those of us that had successfully… eliminated their target received medals of valor for it.” Fox squeezed his eyes tight, the tears running non-stop now “And just last week… Bly’s men found him in his office, the medal and a holo of General Secura on his desk… he killed himself, Rex! Shot his own head, and I couldn’t understand why, just assumed he’d gone defective… Stars, what have we done…”

Rex shut his eyes in pain, grieving the lost friend. Everyone in the troops knew of Bly and Aayla’s case. He could only imagine how it must have pained him to realize, past the daze of order sixty-six, that he had shot his beloved point-blank like a droid.

“It’s not our fault.” Rex said, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was speaking to Fox or himself “They planted a chip in our brains since our tubes, and it was activated by order sixty-six. We were already doomed even before we were decanted. There was nothing we could have done to stop this.”

Fox cries harder into his arms, and Rex understands; knowing what happened and how doesn’t ease the pain, doesn’t fix what is broken, doesn’t wake the dead. The two men stand there, clone trooper and stormtrooper, and after what feels like several long minutes, Fox pulls back some, discreetly wiping his eyes.

“Leave Coruscant. I’ll turn my back now, and you’ll be gone, copy that?”

Rex frowns in confusion, shaking his head.

“No… No, vod, I came to bring you back.” He points at the scar on his head “We can fix this, we can free you too. You don’t have to stay. You don’t have to serve them.”

Fox leans down to pick up his helmet, hiding his face away under the safety of the white plastoid.

“And then what? I’m not like you, Rex, I’m not strong enough to just… desert the army. This is all I have.”

“We could fight against the Empire! We could fight for what’s right!”

Fox shook his head, and Rex could almost see the disillusioned smile he hid.

“I fought all my life for what I thought was right, and it turned out that both sides were wrong. I can’t bear to go through this again. I’m sorry.”

Rex’s eyes widened, tears collecting at their corners while Fox picked up his blaster, sinking it in his holster again.

“So you would rather continue to be their slave instead?!”

This time it was Fox who looked up to the night sky. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done that – always too busy commandeering his men and watching over his shoulder; it was beautiful, thousands and thousands of twinkling dots shining against the backdrop of endless black.

“Like you said: we are born slaves, we live as slaves and we die as slaves. I’m used to it.”

“But-”

“I can’t wash the blood off my hands, Rex. I hate myself, I hate my vod’e and what we have become, but at the very least, all there’s left for me to do is follow orders and wait for my time to die. It’s peaceful. It’s what I need. Don’t be cruel giving me hope. I can’t stand it.” He sighed heavily, the sound hissing through his speakers “I’ll enjoy the stars a bit more, and when I look back down, I won’t be your vod anymore. I hope you are gone by then.”

Rex merely stared at him for a couple of long minutes before nodding, placing his own helmet on his head again.

“I’ll miss you, brother.”

Fox merely nodded, and soon he could hear the sound of footsteps dying away, followed by the hiss of a jetpack. He sighed, gazing at the stars and feeling thankful for the helmet that hid the tears that streamed down his face.

“I’ll miss you too.”

#my fics #in this house we understand and cry for fox

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skeletorific · 5 years ago

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How do you think the Beforus Ancestors(Aradia, Tavros, Sollux, Karkat, Nepeta, Kanaya, Terezi, Vriska, Equius, Gamzee, Eridan and Feferi)were like? I love your Alternian Ancestors stuff so far and was curious what you Interpretation of the Beforus ancestors were.

oh HELL yes I am about this.

Aradia Megido, the Tombkeep: I see Aradia as being born a bit later than the others, while the coddling laws are at their strongest. Rather than put up with that, as quickly as she can she removes herself from Beforan society to the very outskirts. Like their Alternian counterparts, Beforan’s are often avoidant of the notion of death. However, in their case, it is not because death is a failure of the dying, but a failure of those around them. It is not seen as a natural cycle but something to be abhorred and feared at all costs. As such, tombs are kept, but they are far away from the rest of civilization and usually talked about in hushed tones. Aradia grows up among these tombs, befriending the local ghosts and considers them her own coddling charge. She guards the tombs from any who get too curious, or more often, from well-meaning government officials looking to tear down monuments to such “nastiness”. What they find instead is an angry little girl with powerful psiionics. She becomes something of a bedtime story for young grubs, even long after her passing. They say she still haunts the halls.

Tavros Nitram, the Menager: In parallel to his obsession with Fiduspawn, I see Beforan Tavros as being some variety of animal handler, using his fully fledged wings (and his bronzeblood bankroll) to travel the world and collect rare and exotic creatures to his own plot of land, to tend to and train. Some know him as a kindly soul, treating all beasts with the utmost love and dedication. He seems like some kind of fairy tale figure, surrounded on all sides by animal companions who he communes with. To others, this is reckless ecosystem mixing, but then, what do scientists know anyways. He prefers the hero title a bit more, as it aligns more with his intentions anyways. Eventually one of his expeditions ends poorly, with him being confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life. Outwardly he dies content to let his coddler and his animal friends care for him for the rest of his life, but there’s a restless spirit that he passes down to his descendant.

Sollux Captor, The Dronebee: Completely and utterly unremarkable in every way. Sollux contented himself with working his function as a goldblood. His technical ability was fostered at every turn by a Beforan education system eager to see a lowblood embrace their “natural talents”, but while he made minor waves in the programming circles in which he moved with his often unique approach to coding, to most he was just one worker among thousands, very valuable of course! Every worker is valuable :) But ultimately.....not worthy of notice. Which is fine: that’s how Sollux likes it, and more than that if left him time to pursue more personal projects, such as a little game later known as sgrub. Just because he’s not vocally complaining doesn’t mean he’s not compiling a list. From his perspective, Beforan civilization is a ticking timebomb anyways. Why shouldn’t he be the one to start the countdown?

Karkat Vantas, the Advocate: Look, I know we all love revolutionary Karkat, but I think something we forget is that Karkat was pretty pro-system even as late in the game as Act 6. So, for the Beforan model.....well, every system needs its bootlickers. Karkat Vantas becomes a mouthpiece for some lowblood lobbying groups, acting in vocal support of the Empress’s coddling plan. Its not all love of power: legitimately there is a part of Karkat that tries to see how this is good. Healthy. The needs of his friends are being met, they’re safe, and attended to. Surely all of that is worth a little......infantilization, right? He deals with a lot of criticism from other lowbloods for being a sellout, and though he does his best to cultivate a calm unflappable demeanor so craved by Beforans, I guarantee Beforus has more than a few Grubtube compiliations of Vantas meltdowns that Kankri watches when he needs a good cringe. As he got older he slowly began to question the system he’d spent his whole life building, but ultimately lowbloods don’t live long enough for those kinds of regrets.

Nepeta Leijon, the Believer: What, you think clowns have the monopoly on weird religious communes? Nah. To be fair to Nepeta, her commune’s status as a “cult” is probably more indicative of Beforan prudery than anything else. Her sect, the Righteous Assembly of Withdrawn Renegades (or RAWR for short), is dedicated to the principles of free love and a return to the natural. Within the massive tunnel and cave system in which they live, trolls are free to strip themselves of signifiers like caste and clan and live as the gods intended: covered in dirt, chasing something furry, and flirting furrociously :33. While Nepeta in life insisted there was no leader it was her effect on people that kept them coming back for more, and while the commune purrsisted after her eventual death, ultimately its membership dwindled. Meulin was brought up among some of the last vestiges of it, and some of their old hideouts have been inherited by the Lost Weeaboos.

Kanaya Maryam, The Prioress: Literally, the prior. One of the earliest trolls, widely considered the Matriarch of Trolls in some sense. In her time she revolutionized many of the practices of auxiliatrices, ensuring greater safety for the grubs and greater care for the mother grubs. Many of the norms now in place for jadebloods are in large part due to her own influence. Despite her farreaching influence (and the fact that she left behind a journal of her practices), not much is known about her personal temperament. Quick readers may catch a certain dry sarcasm behind her words, and the especially studious scholar may note slight reference to a few great lovers (and a few great disappearances, *cough* rainbowdrinker *cough*. Her greatest secret is her brief and tumultuous kismesis with Vriska Serket, notorious Mafiosa, but only a very few historians have ever uncovered it. In part, her long shadow may have contributed to her descendant’s eventual anxiety regarding her prescribed role,

Terezi Pyrope, the Gumshoe: Beforan justice is tricky. As opposed to Alternia, there are in fact actual laws in place that aren’t just “don’t fuck with highbloods”, but in many ways its almost more corrupt. More often than not the courts are more concerned with petty infractions than it is with actual injustice, and furthermore, inter-caste tension remains a huge concern that bubbles up in violence. After a few years badgering olives for traffic tickets while watching actual fully fledged crime families get off scott free, well....Terezi had had enough. She took her pursuit of justice into the real world, working as a private detective for hire. She’s notorious for her, erm....quirks, but she’s a fastidious hunter and a careful investigator when she wants to be. She brings em back alive. USU4LLY >:).

Vriska Serket, the Mafiosa/Mapm8ker: Let’s be clear, a lot of Vriska’s society was laid on top of her and it was abuse from which she struggled to free herself. However, what does one do when freed from society, but seek to shake things up a bit. She’s still a thief of Light, make mistake, and she slowly works up the ranks from card shark working the tables to in charge of a small army of foot soldiers, smuggling mindhoney to goldbloods (who have been restricted “for their own good”) and sopor slime to clowns. She’s the flamboyant head of her own criminal empire, with the code of only stealing from those she deems worthy and a reckless approach to life

However, most of that isn’t generally known. And to the outside world, she’s just a simple cartographer, travelling the world to assemble some nice, safe, boring maps. Indeed, when her journal was finally unearthed by her descendant, she couldn’t help but wonder if these exploits were true, or simply a story her ancestor liked to imagine herself into on her off days. Tough to say.

Equius Zahhak, the Showpony: Alright, y’all knew I couldn’t stay away from that one. Equius was something of a puzzle to his descendent when Horuss actually went back through his (meticulously kept) caste records. By all accounts, he was an intelligent, capable, hardworking man. A tinkerer in his off hours, he was a pioneer in the field of robotics, and by all accounts not romantically unsuccessful. And yet, the man never seemed concerned with making a name for himself. Instead, over the course of his long life, you could perpetually find him at the shoulder of someone more powerful and important than he was. Was he....a bodyguard? Trophy husband? Butler? Hard to say, but there he was. Trotted out like the loyal steed he was.

Gamzee Makara, the Borrower: A peculiar legend of clownery regards a strange “hobo looking motherfucker what will wander into your hive and be all and snatching up your most secretous things for the messiah’s wider purposes”. So far as is known, he is not malignant, although its not unknown for a troll to occasionally disappear while running after him to retrieve their stolen items. Even without that possible threat, its usually not worth it to chase after him: the things he takes have a way of ending up back in your hands, one miraculous way or another. Gamzee is an itinerant monk, wandering the countrysides. Some passerby he’ll occasionally offer aid to, or proverbs. Which might be helpful if anyone could decipher what they mean. Ultimately he’s a happy man, if prone to fits of temper and bouts of melancholy. Still, as he notes, he’s got motherfucking friends all over these globes :o) what’s a motherfucker gotta be lonely for?

Eridan Ampora, the Magician: Well.....the Empress doesn’t exactly need Orphaners. As such, the violets are largely left to their own devices. Given they’re often prone to creative endeavours, Eridan found his own outlet. He became renowned as an illusionist, and at one point his shows were capable of drawing large and massive crowds, who would gasp in awe at his tricks and wonder if the violet really did have a trace of magic in his blood. He seemed to like the idea, eventually penning a popular grubling children’s series about a boy with those very abilities (which eventually found its way into the young hands of his descendent). However, celebrity wasn’t necessarily the best mix with Eridan’s temperament. He was prone to some truly disastrous quadrant outings, as well as developing several more addictive habits to drown out the oddly oppressive loneliness that permeated him. These bad habits were only worsened by the worst thing to ever happen to Eridan Ampora: the internet. With access to videos of his performance, most were pretty easily able to spot the trick of it, and hell hath no fury like a cyberbullying teen going after a b list internet celebrity. He took it as a sign to swear off the craft forever and lived the rest of his life on book residuals, alone, drunk, and miserable

Feferi Peixes, Her Highness: Not as much to say about this one, as Feferi is the one we have the most information about. Like it says on the tine, she instituted the coddling system on Beforus. This was widely considered a Bad Idea by those victimized by it, but you couldn’t pay anyone in Feferi’s court to tell her that. The Empress is sweet tempered and excitable, it’d be like telling a child 12 perigree night is cancelled. Perhaps the great irony is that as Feferi gets older, the thing that frustrates her most is that it feels like no one takes her seriously as a person. Merely as a figurehead. Still, she lives her life on Beforus ultimately convinced this is what’s best for the greater good.

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onwardintolight · 5 years ago

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~~~

Leia woke up late to the sound of wailing.

Ben’s wailing, coming from the living quarters.

Karabast, she muttered under her breath. What time was it?

She checked her chrono. 1230.

Ugh. Again?

Blinking back the sleep that threatened to pull her under once more, she groaned as she sat up.

Ben’s cries came more fiercely now, mixed with a few choice babbled syllables he’d been trying on for size lately. The cold, empty spot beside her in bed told her Han was out there with him. That was a relief. Their son had an escape artist streak; at least this time he wasn’t crawling around the house all on his own, looking to see how much trouble he could get into. Still, her heart sank. They were all about equal parenting, but it seemed like Han had been shouldering the greater burden as of late.

She fixed her eyes on the light streaming through the window, trying to get them to adjust. It didn’t really help. Her head still hurt; the room was still blurry. She forced herself to get up anyway.

Han looked at her apologetically when she finally lurched into the living quarters. “I was tryin’ to let you sleep,” he said. “I guess this little ruffian had other ideas. ‘M sorry, sweetheart.” Inexplicably, Ben had already stopped crying; he was now contentedly perched on Han’s hip, tugging at his hair.

“I’m sorry, Han, I should have been up hours ago; I should never have made you take care of Ben this long—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, acting affronted. “Made me? I chose to spend time with this little guy.” He ruffled Ben’s hair. “Besides, you needed to get some rest.”

She didn’t argue; she was too tired, and it would be a losing battle, anyway. He knew she’d been staying up half the night lately, unable to sleep. For no good reason, she thought angrily. It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t get any sleep when she lay down; it was that somehow, dragging herself into bed seemed like a near impossible task. She’d distract herself with pointless research or dumb holonet shows, watching the hours tick by, too weary to go through her bedtime rituals, too anxious to let her mind rest. Too afraid to face the possibility of another nightmare.

“Rest is overrated,” she grumbled. “I need some caf.”

She headed for the kitchen, but Han stepped in her way. “I’ve got it, sweetheart. You go sit down.”

She tried to step around him, but he blocked her again. Her ire spiked. “Han, stop it.”

“Go sit down.” 

“Why? How incapable do you think I am? Last I checked, I don’t have the virus.”

“Leia—”

“Just let me do it.”

He raised his free arm placatingly. “Okay. Sure.” He stepped aside, frowning. She had probably pissed him off, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She stepped into the kitchen and fumbled around in the cabinets for the ground caf. There wasn’t much left in the container, she noted with alarm. She should have ordered some more days ago. The way everything was in the galaxy right now, it would take forever to arrive. Somehow, the prospect of less caf over the coming days made her feel breathless, almost dizzy. She leaned against the counter, trying to get ahold of herself.

She was almost always on edge these days. Funny how the end of her time as a soldier didn’t signal the end of that. Truth be told, she didn’t know how to stop being that way.

It had gotten better, for a time—it had taken awhile for things to settle down before she had Ben, and in the meantime her Jedi training had helped her learn new techniques to calm herself (even if it simultaneously stirred up some deeper fears). Then there was that honeymoon phase of life with their new little family, that shaky and awkward but ultimately hopeful step she and Han had taken together into new territory. It had been a deeply happy experience overall, even if hard at times. Being together was a gift, thanks to a galaxy newly at peace, and she had treasured this weird, messy, beautiful, strangely domestic era in their life. She would miss it, when it was gone.

But all the same, she yearned to get back to work. She felt in her bones that she still had more to give to the galaxy, if only she had the opportunity. Han was itching to get back in the cockpit, too. It was past time to forge a new normal with her family, where they could all be who they fully were as they found new ways to grow and love together.

Apparently the galaxy had different plans.

During her parental leave, she’d taken time off because she chose to, and she’d been okay with that. She’d never expected this pandemic to come in later and take so many choices away. When people started getting sick on Corellia, no one had guessed how quickly it would spread, stopping the whole galaxy in its tracks. They’d been quarantining now for almost a month, and she didn’t know how much longer she could stand it. She even found herself missing the polite, insistent prattling of her protocol droid, T-2LC, who lately more often than not sat powered down in their home office with nothing to do.

Unfortunately, even if it weren’t for the pandemic, she had still been semi-exiled from the Republic government. Oh, it wasn’t as though it were official or anything—people still treated her with utmost respect, and she still counted several of those in leadership, Mon Mothma and Ackbar in particular, as dear friends. But the truth of the matter was that she had been gradually, quietly sidelined, ever since Kashyyyk. She did not regret in the slightest her actions at the time, but her angry outbursts and rogue behavior were not forgotten. The new government had truly taken off after the Battle of Jakku, right around the time Ben was born, and she had missed out on much of that formative time. After her parental leave was over, she had simply not been invited back.

That hurt.

Despite all that, she’d done her best to liason with the Alderaanian remnant, to take care of their needs and ensure they had adequate representation on Chandrila. In fact, she still had work to do on that, even if the virus had put much on hold.

But lately, she’d been doing nothing. She’d just been sitting around at home: restless, fatigued, and oddly enough, terrified.

The daylight outside the kitchen window disappeared into clouds, dimming everything around her.

It was strange. She’d been through countless battles; she’d seen so many horrors. And yet here she was, with a different kind of fear, one that seemed to have gripped her in ways deeper than she could have imagined. Not fear of the pandemic, per se, though of course she was worried about her family, about everyone she cared about, about the entire galaxy.

No, even more than that, Leia was terrified of who she was, of what she’d become. She hardly recognized the woman in the mirror anymore. The woman who was no longer consumed by the fight for galactic justice. The woman who had nowhere to channel her grief anymore, and no giant, all-important cause to distract her. She was alone with herself, now, and the longer this went on, the more she hated herself.

Swallowing, she forced herself to move. She dipped a measuring spoon into the ground caf, brought it to the caf maker. Her hand was unsteady, though; some spilled out on the counter. She muttered a curse under her breath and stabbed at the controls to get the thing running. It would do.

This pandemic had stirred something deep inside her. Instinct had kicked in—she needed to be back on the front lines, leading, making a difference. She needed to fight. But she couldn’t fight, not this time. Not when the enemy was a virus instead of an evil Empire. She felt desperate to do something besides sitting locked away at home. She’d always done something. But there was nothing for her to do now, no role they wanted her to fill. None of her skills that might be useful were needed. The true soldiers, this time, were the medics, the farmers and food suppliers, the workers providing what everyone needed.

She couldn’t fight. But she couldn’t seem to make herself back away from it, either. She was stuck.

The air felt heavy, thick. The smell of caf filled the room. She stared half-seeing as it slowly dripped into the carafe.

Why?

Why couldn’t she back down? Why couldn’t she just be content with isolating with her family? That was what was needed of her, after all. That was the way she was making a difference.

The problem was, it didn’t feel like enough.

It was never enough.

As long as she was fighting, she could at least say she was working to make Alderaan’s sacrifice count. Working to atone for her part in all that.

No, she challenged herself. That’s not how this works; you know better, now.

She sighed and turned away, shaking her head. She didn’t blame herself as much as she used to. At least, not on the surface. She’d come a long way since those first few years, in no small part thanks to Han. But still, shame had settled inside her core and refused to budge, no matter what she told it; it was shaped like a pointed finger forever turned inward, whispering of “should haves” and “should nows,” never letting her rest.

Those whispers had only gotten stronger lately, as the paralysis set in. The feeling of being trapped between fight or flight had settled on her as a heavy weight. She was depressed, she’d come to realize with a shock. It was hardly the first time, but she didn’t ever remember it being so destructive to her functionality, not even at her lowest of lows. In addition, her anxiety was hitting insane levels. Wartime levels; maybe even higher. Little things made her jump, took her right back—a sound that reminded her of blaster fire. The smell of something burning. The unexpected chime of the door. Ben’s cries.

For kriff’s sake, a slight note of anger in Han’s voice was nearly enough to make her panic and react to him in ways she hadn’t in years. Any hint of disappointment or even simple requests could send her into a meltdown, as she tried to prove to him (and even more so, to herself) that she really was capable, that she wasn’t as much to blame for everything as some inner part of her clearly still thought.

The clouds outside drew closer, and she felt, more than heard, a faint, distant rumble. For a moment, she remembered lightning on Appenza Peak, her old bedroom windows thrown open to see it. She pushed the image away.

To Han’s credit, he seemed to have caught on that something was amiss with her, moreso than normal. He’d been taking on even more responsibility with Ben lately, not snapping back (well, at least not usually), and treating her with vastly more grace than she felt like she deserved. His attempt to let her sleep in this morning warmed her heart, but at the same time, it speared her through with guilt like a blaster bolt. She should be better than this.

Where was the Leia that sucked it up and helped saved the galaxy? Where was the Leia who had commanded troops and put her life on the line again and again? Yes, that Leia had suffered greatly and had been dealing with no small amount of PTSD, but somehow she’d gotten through and fought despite it all. Perhaps that Leia would have stayed up most of the night as she’d done the night before—probably intent on the distraction of supply charts and strategies instead of wandering their flat aimlessly—but that Leia would have also forced herself awake the next morning and worked until she practically made herself sick.

That Leia had definitely not been healthy, but she was functional.

At least that Leia got stuff done.

Now, she was useless. She was just as haunted by everything that had happened, if not more so, but she had nothing to do, nowhere to run.

Nowhere to run. Trapped.

Her neck was hurting again, and her arm—the places the torture droids had once injected her. The muscles in her shoulders and back felt tense, hard as a rock. She had a headache. The room spun a little. In fact, the room seemed not quite there. Was she really here?

“Leia?” Han appeared in the doorway, Ben still on his hip.

“I… I think I need to go sit down,” she mumbled.

He nodded, brows knit. “I’ll bring you a cup of caf when it’s done.”

She stumbled over to the couch, feeling vaguely relieved as it embraced her. Idly, she watched as the sky outside grew darker, more ominous. Force, she hoped it would storm. She could hardly take the thick stillness.

Minutes passed. She heard the sound of the caf maker finishing its work, Han rummaging in the cabinet, liquid being poured into a mug. He brought it out to her, and she took it, set it on the table beside her to cool. She sat back, hands over her eyes against the pressure, and managed a nod. “Thanks, darling,” she murmured.

He was being so sweet, so caring, and she was so, so grateful for him.

She also hated it. She hated that she had put him in a position where he felt like he had to do everything for her and Ben. Where he had to take care of her as if she were another child. He was suffering, too; aching to get back out among the stars, haunted by the reports of the sick and dying in the slums of his old homeworld. She should have been able to deal with all this herself.

But… she couldn’t. Not right now. Everything hurt. She could barely even catch a good breath, for kriff’s sake. She tried breathing in and out, slowly and deeply. Did it help? Perhaps a little, but it was hard to tell. All she wanted to do was curl up in a fetal position and just… not be there. Not be her, this new, useless Leia. She started to curl in on herself, but then she remembered curling up in a ball on the floor of the Death Star cell, and she stopped.

No.

She could almost feel the gaze of the cell guards, hear the breath of Vader. Instead, she leaned forward and focused on her breathing again—how was it possible that it was even shallower than before?

“Sweetheart? You okay?” Han’s voice came through the static in her head.

She started to nod, hands still over her eyes, then stopped. After a moment, she shook her head no instead. She felt deeply ashamed, but that was the truth of the matter—she wasn’t okay. Not at all.

Vaguely, she heard Ben babbling on the floor, the sound of him handling and biting some things that were most likely toys. Han must have distracted him for the moment. She decided she didn’t have the energy to care all that much what Han had given him to play with; she’d trust his judgment for now.

“Turn around,” Han said, sitting beside her. She felt his hands start to rub at her neck, her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath. It felt so good.

His touch was also real, here, now—unlike Vader, the guards, the cell, or that room of horrors in Cloud City. She remembered the exercises Luke had taught her, and she tuned into the sensations, focusing on them, letting everything else fall away. Emptying herself of all but this moment, his hands, her muscles… she was a cup to be filled up.

Her breath finally slowed, deepened, and tears filled her eyes. Gratitude, relief, frustration, grief… it all threatened to spill out. Her breath hitched again.

“Breathe, Leia. It’s okay.”

“What the hell is wrong with me?” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Han, I don’t know why I’m like this, I don’t know who I am anymore….” She turned and lay her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.

“Sweetheart,” he said finally, “you’ve been through a hell of a lot of trauma. My guess? Now that you’re forced to relax, now that you can’t fight, it’s all tryin’ to come out, shoutin’ at you to deal with it. That’s probably a good thing, you know, because it means you’re safe now. You’ve gotta take some time to heal.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. She recognized the truth in his words. He’d clearly learned a lot in his own therapy sessions post-carbonite, as much as he’d complained about them. Maybe it was time to look into that for herself again, too. She could hardly be any more of a mess.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to deal with it. I’ve been a terrible person to be around, lately, and I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I can’t just manage—“

“Sshhh,” he said. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know. We’re in this together, okay? Let me help you. Let me help you rest.”

“I can’t, there’s so much I should—”

“I’m serious. You need to rest.” Han sighed. “You’re already a hero, Leia. You’ve helped save the whole goddamn galaxy. It’s okay to rest now. You need it.”

Leia stared at the wall. Then, finally, in a small voice, she said, “I’m afraid if I let myself rest, I’ll never be able to rise up and do what I need to do again.” A few moments passed; when she continued, her voice was edged with panic. “What if this is actually the real me? What if I never fully deal with it? What if I just… waste away, and become someone people pity?” She blinked back tears again. “I can’t stand the thought of people’s pity. Like, ‘Oh, she fought in the war, she was a great leader, it’s a shame what she’s let herself become—’”

“Leia, stop it. First of all, no way is anyone gonna pity you like that. Again, you’re a hero. You will always be a hero. People know who you really are—” he held up a hand to stop her from interrupting—“and that person is the person I still see before me right now. Someone’s who’s incredibly strong. Someone who will always fight for what’s right. Someone who, right now, is fighting a battle inside that’s, oh I dunno, at least as big as any she’s ever fought on the outside. It’s just that now, fighting looks like rest, like sleeping in late, like letting your husband help you. Like cuddling and feeding and loving on a baby. Like muddling through the day however you can while processing all the hell you’ve been through.”

The tears were falling, now. Leia shut her eyes, burying her head into Han’s chest. She tried to let his words sink in.

“We’re a team, Leia,” Han said, his voice filled with conviction. “Things are hard right now, but we’ll get through this together. You don’t have to have it all figured out on your own.”

She exhaled, nodding silently. She’d probably need to be reminded again before long, but for now, his words were enough to fade some of the shame.

A flash came, then a low rumble. Shakily, she stood up and walked over to the window, watching as the first few drops of rain pattered against it. Han followed, coming up to put his arm around her as they looked out on the storm together. She leaned against him.

It calmed her, somehow, seeing the tumult outside. It always had. She could almost smell the rain, feel the rush of the wind. She half wanted to rush out on their bedroom balcony and let it all drench her. Unfortunately, she was all too aware that their flat was near the top of one of Hanna City’s few towers.

Maybe she would later, once the lightning had passed. She would go out with Han, Ben in her arms, and teach her son how to laugh in the rain.

Her breaths were starting to come more fully now.

“Mama,” a little voice said, and she felt a tug at her pant leg. Ben had crawled over and was holding his arms up to her. She reached down and picked him up, pulled him into her embrace.

“I love you,” she whispered, and her heart felt suddenly full. He wriggled around, untamed as always, twisting in her arms so he could look out the window along with them, mouth open wide in wonder.

“Da,” he said, pointing a chubby little finger at the wild sky.

A bolt of lightning shrieked down from the clouds, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the whole flat. She caressed Ben’s curly head, ready to offer comfort. No need; he seemed to be enjoying the show as much as she was.

Another bolt of lightning struck the outskirts of the city, spectacular in its vivid starkness. For a moment, she felt like a finger of that light was breaking through, piercing the dense, sluggish dark inside her, leaving a far deeper imprint than the silhouette still burning in her eyes.

It was right then that she knew it: this heaviness wouldn’t last forever. Someday, perhaps not as long as she feared, this time of intense processing would be over. She’d get up from her rest, get back to being her more functional self again, and work once more to heal all the wrongs of the galaxy. Perhaps by then, she’d be doing it wholler, wiser. More healed, herself. And maybe, just maybe, the galaxy would be even better for it.

But in the meantime, she would tend to her wounds and embrace the lightning as it came.

In the meantime, she would finally learn how to rest.

Notes:

Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hope it encourages you like it did me, especially in these uncertain times when so many of us are dealing with the trauma of our own pandemic.

I literally wrote this as part of my own therapy for PTSD, so please be kind. If you are considering leaving a comment about how this "proves" Han and Leia were bad parents or that you think Leia would never struggle like this or need time to process her trauma, please refrain and take your false and harmful negativity elsewhere. It's hard enough for anyone struggling with PTSD to take the time to heal as it is. Thank you.

For those of you who are struggling with PTSD and/or other mental health issues, I see you. You are not weak; you are strong. You are fighting an incredibly difficult battle. It's okay if you weren't productive today. It's okay to rest. It's okay to take the time to heal. You are worth so much.

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