#by loopstagirl

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True - Part 3

TW: POW, Torture Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 Thanks @loopstagirl for the support and inspiration!

Scott had thanked him. 

Scott had thanked him and it had made the Dog Tags in Jeff’s pocket feel all the heavier. 

“You found me.” 

It had sounded like the kid had never doubted him, and Jeff’s gut had started to refute the statement before he had consciously thought about it. 

Scott, I …

Wouldn’t have stopped until I did. 

I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. 

Or, perhaps the most truthful of all, 

I didn’t. 

Because Colonel Jeff Tracy had not found Captain Scott Tracy. Instead, his son had been presented to him as a pawn in the game between one country and the rest of the world. It had been Hugh and Kyrano that had worked their magic and found exactly where Scott had been held. 

Hell, it had even been Kyrano that had found him in the cells when Jeff hadn’t heard his own son’s cries for help. 

The nightmare that had woken Scott in a panic and sent all manner of alarms blaring, were proof most of all. 

Jeff hadn’t saved his son. 

He had spent six months trying, and failing, to find him. He had stood by as others had taken action and done all the heavy lifting for him. He had done nothing whilst all that time Scott had been fighting. 

“What’s that look for?”

Jeff looked up from where he had perched on the arm of the chair Scott had fallen asleep in, Val’s whisper breaking into his thoughts. 

“He thinks I saved him, Val.” He murmured back, his hand absently brushing over Scott’s still too short hair, “He thanked me.”

Val eyed him for a long moment before hopping up onto the empty bed, her eyes assessing both he and Scott in a way Jeff had long since come used to. She’d speak when she’d decided what needed to be said, once she’d gotten a full picture of what was happening and the mindset of those involved. It was a skill she used to her full advantage and had seen her rise through the ranks of the Air Force right on Jeff’s tail. 

“The nurses won’t be impressed when they find him out of bed.” She watched him, leaning forward like it was a secret Jeff hadn’t already known the moment Scott had forced himself upright. 

“He needed to move,” He fired back, ready to defend as he had done when the same nurses had tried to force an oxygen mask over Scott’s face, “to not feel trapped.” 

He’d known even before he had asked that he wouldn’t have stopped Scott, even if he had wanted to. His son had always wanted to move, had hated confinement of any sort even when he had been tiny. Lucy had always laughed, insisted that he had gotten it from Jeff himself, and had known that he would inevitably follow his father to the sky where the only limit was the horizon. 

Being bound to a bed, barely able to stay awake, had always felt like …

“You helped him?” Val asked, raising an eyebrow that held no real heat. 

Jeff straightened, prickling at the insinuation he couldn’t quite see, “I was hardly gonna leave him to struggle on his own.” 

Because he had done that once, and even to that day he was seeing the reminders of that very mistake. 

Scott hadn’t wanted help, had been determined to push through and manage on his own even when he was exhausted and hurting. Jeff had partly fallen back on his Colonel Voice to get the Captain to listen, and it had twisted something deep in his gut that it had come to that. 

He knew the way Scott had leaned into him after he had thrown up had been subconscious, and definitely something he wouldn’t have done had he been more awake. It was for the same reason that Scott hadn’t actively called out for Jeff, except for in his nightmares. 

A much younger Scott had needed his father, and he hadn’t been there, so at some point the kid had stopped asking for him. 

Jeff had come back to his son’s though, and had sworn every day that he would be there for them. He would pick them up when they fell, guide them when they were lost, hold them together when they fell apart. 

Alan had just been young enough to still ask for him. 

Gordon had his moments, but had followed an example set by his older brothers. 

Virgil had always been his mother’s son, and whilst he would ask for Jeff, he knew his mother had always been the parent he had called for first. 

John wasn’t like the others, had always needed someone to see when he needed help rather than simply ask for it. 

Scott had once been like Virgil, except the oldest had been his father’s son where Virgil had been his mother’s. When Jeff had fallen into his grief, Scott had fallen to not wanting to ask for help. Ever since had had come to his senses, Jeff had been watching and doing his best to give his son what he needed. 

“You’re protecting him.” Val stated softly, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips. 

Jeff looked down again, Scott’s face slack in dreamless sleep, peaceful. 

He’d do anything to keep his son feeling that at peace, but he knew he couldn’t stop the nightmares that would come eventually.

“I didn’t protect him from them, nobody protected him.” He whispered, “He saved his crew, and he saved himself, I just turned up to pull him outta there.” 

“Maybe.” Val nodded slowly, “or maybe you turned up right when he needed you to.”

Jeff frowned across to her, “What do you mean?”

Her look was soft as she sighed, “They train us hard for what happens in prison, tell us what to do, what to say. There’s no training for this though, is there? For what comes after.”

He knew she was right, there was no guidebook or protocol for what Scott was going through. There was no command that his son could follow to make it better. 

Unless…

He felt sick at the thought, not confident that Scott was really ready for it. 

Command was something he could do though, something Jeff had seen him demonstrate a handful of times since he had woken up. He had found his voice again, rooted deep and found the stubbornness that ran strong in his genes to get himself from the bed to the chair. There was still something more needed though, something to get him to see exactly how strong he had been through everything. 

“Tomorrow,” He swallowed, “I’ll talk to him about a debrief.”

If Val was surprised by his statement, she hid it well. 

“I can’t get you in on it.” She stated with a heavy sigh, “But if he agrees, I’ll find a way for you to listen in.”

Jeff wasn’t sure he was ready for that, to hear exactly what Scott had gone through without being at his side to support him through the memories. He trusted Val though, knew she had stood up for the rest of the squadron, and knew that she would do the same if not more for the man sleeping at Jeff’s side. 

Slipping off the bed, she crossed the room to squeeze his shoulder with a silent nod before leaving them as quietly as she had come.

***

The nurses hadn’t passed comment when they had come to check on Scott, and Jeff said nothing in return as he scratched gently at his son’s scalp and thought about how stiff he would be when he did eventually wake. He deserved peace, the chance to rest undisturbed for as long as his mind would allow him. 

Jeff’s phone buzzing in his pocket startled him as he hurried to answer it before it woke Scott. 

“Virgil.” He hissed, glancing down to Scott, grateful to see him undisturbed despite the blue-tinged hologram lighting up the room. 

His middle son looked firstly shocked and then guilty across the miles, “Sorry Dad, I just-- is that… Scott?” 

Jeff realized too late that Scott would have been in the frame and immediately shifted the field to hide the eldest away from his younger brother’s eyes. 

“He’s sleeping.” He murmured, “He’s still recovering.” 

Virgil nodded quickly, eyes still clearly shocked at whatever he had picked up on of his eldest brother’s state.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-- I just--”

Jeff straightened, already heightened senses picking up on the tone and immediately knowing the root of why his son had called. He glanced to the clock on the wall, a digital thing that showed the date in big bold numbers beneath the time. A quick mental calculation reminded him that Virgil had a recital that day, a solo he had been practicing since before Scott had been gone. 

They had both voiced hope that he would be home to see it. 

“What is it, son?” He asked softly, “Can your Grandmother still make it today?”

Virgil nodded quickly, glancing away from the phone before looking back again, “Yeah, Grandma’s still coming.” 

His voice didn’t hold its usual enthusiasm in anticipation of playing for his family. 

“I know you hoped he’d be home for this.” Jeff murmured, his free hand scratching over Scott’s scalp again, “We all did.” 

Virgil looked away again, someone out of field calling him, “I… it’s my turn for final rehearsal.”

Jeff smiled softly, understanding without the words needing to be asked, “I’m sure we could stay on the line whilst you play.”

Virgil’s face lit up, his eyes losing most of the worry that had settled there at the sight of his big brother, “You can? Ms Graham said it was fine but Grandma sid the doctors might--”

Jeff waved him off, quickly assuring him that the doctors could say all they wished. Scott had always encouraged Virgil to play, he was certain to appreciate the soft melodies even in his sleep. 

Or not, if the hand that reached to Jeff’s leg was of any indication. 

He glanced down as Virgil placed the phone on the corner of the piano, noting how Scott’s eyes were still rested closed even as he yawned. Reaching down, he rested his free hand over his son’s, unsurprised when Scott moved his hand to grip the best he could in response. 

Awake, listening, but not ready to face his brother was the summary Jeff came to as Virgil began to play.

He wasn’t sure when Scott’s body had tensed against him, but as the music floated through the speaker of his phone, Jeff noticed as slowly each part of Scott fully relaxed. Muscles that he was certain must have been tense for months, softened and lengthened as the melody flowed over them. The splinted fingers that had tried to curl around Jeff’s hand loosened until they were no longer holding on but resting lightly against Jeff’s palm. His eyes were open but distant, focussed somewhere in the middle of the floor but not really seeing the room they were in as the notes wrapped them in something soothing and calm. 

They perhaps could have sat like that forever, at peace with the music that had once been Lucy’s. Every song had it’s end though, and all too soon Virgil was looking back to the hologram with a smile much softer than the one he had given earlier. 

“Night Scott, night Dad.” He murmured softly before hanging up without another word. 

Jeff smiled to himself as he repocketed his phone, glancing down to Scott with a raised eyebrow, “How about we get you into bed? You’ll feel it tomorrow if you sleep here all night.”

Scott grunted as he shifted upright, clearly already feeling it after the few hours he had been sat in the chair. His eyes darted across the room to the bed, his jaw tensing as he gauged the distance he had to move. 

For a brief moment, Jeff thought he would need to convince his son to accept help once more, but right as he was about to step in front of him, Scott turned and held out his arms. 

“Easy does it, right?” Jeff had asked through his surprise, stepping up and supporting Scott’s weight just as he had done so earlier. 

Together they had shuffled back to the bed, Scott’s weight shifting more and more on to Jeff the further they got. Not that he minded, hell, Jeff would carry his son across that room a thousand times if it made things better.

“Dad?” Scott slurred as he sunk back into the pillows. 

“Yes, kiddo?”

“Tell Aunt Val you can lis’en.” 

By the time Jeff had interpreted just what Scott meant, the kid was asleep. 

***

Val had brought the Generals with her the next afternoon after a more lucid Scott had agreed to the debrief. She had stood at the door as the pair had introduced themselves and then asked Jeff to leave the room. 

He would never forgive the United States Air Force for what had followed when Scott had gripped onto his sleeve and stated in no uncertain terms that he wished for his father to stay. For a brief moment, Jeff had been assured that Scott would be fine as a flicker of the self-confident son shone through in the face of his superiors. 

Those superiors had instantly extinguished the flame.

There had been no gentle reminders, or soft explanations, no understanding or care for what the airman in the bed had been through whilst they had sat in their ivory towers. Without hesitation, one had barked a sharp reminder across the room, 

“You’ll do well to remember who’s in charge here, Captain.” 

Scott had instantly cowered, turning away from the authority figures and looking to Jeff with the same fear that he had found him with back in the cells. The hand that Jeff had taken in his own had been clammy and had shook as he held on to it tight. 

“Son, you listen to me,” He had told him, ignoring the pair at his back, “I’ll be right down the hall. You tell them everything that happened, and as soon as you’re done I’ll be right back here.”

It had taken a long moment before Scott had nodded and released Jeff’s arm enough for him to leave. 

As soon as he was out the door, he had shoved in the earbud Val had slipped to him and hurried to the office down the hall she had cleared for him. 

There he had listened, barely breathing, as Scott had recounted every detail of the six months he had been gone. 

From departing for the mission, to being shot down. 

From being helped by the villagers they were meant to be saving, to being captured. 

From being thrown in a cell with the rest of his squad, to fighting to protect them when their captors had come to interrogate them. 

It had all been almost robotic, Jeff could tell his son had slipped and fallen back to the Air Man he had been six months ago. There was no emotion there, the Generals didn’t have an interest in how their people felt, just one simple fact after another. 

“Your squadron told us--”

“You debriefed my people without me?” Scott cut in, “Sir, protocol dictates that any debrief should be--”

“You were unavailable, Captain.” Val told him gently, “Protocol was followed given the circumstance.”

“Your squadron described to us how you protected them.” One General continued, as if there hadn’t been an interruption, “Did you not trust them, Captain?”

Scott’s voice held the same flicker it had earlier as he responded, “I trust them all with my life, Sir.”

“So why take the beatings in their place?”

Anger curdled in Jeff’s own stomach, it had not been as simple as beatings, even he knew that much. The animals had tortured Scott and his squad, first for information and then, he imagined, just because they could. 

“It was torture, Sir.” Scott’s voice held an edge to it, sharp and dangerous, “I wasn’t going to let my people suffer more than they needed to, not if I could help it.”

“Your squad say you bartered with your captors, is that correct?”

“I bartered to protect them.”

“Yet it wasn’t enough, was it, Captain? You still lost half your team.”

There was a long pause, a quiet shuffling and a soft murmur of assurance from Val before Scott responded. 

“I failed my people, Sir.”

Jeff bowed his head, screwing his eyes shut to force his own tears away. Scott had failed nobody, he had done his best to protect his people in any way he had been able. He had stayed strong and fought, Jeff had seen how fiercely Scott protected his own, had been called to the principal's office over fights caused by bullies too many times to count.

“Why did they separate you?”

“Sir?”

“Your squad told us that just before their rescue, your captors split you from a group cell to individual cells. Why was this?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“So, in all your bartering, they never gave you anything?”

“They stayed away from my people.” Scott answered, his voice wavering, “They hurt me instead of them.”

“But they didn’t, did they Captain? They still hurt your comrades, didn’t they?”

Jeff felt his heart drop, the insinuation hitting him square in the chest. 

“Not as badly as they could have, Sir.” 

“What are you insinuating, General?” Val’s voice held as much ire as Jeff felt. 

“We find it awfully convenient that the Captain is reported to have bartered with the guards and was then hidden away when the extraction team arrived.”

Jeff slammed his fist on the desk, sending pens scattering across the floor as he half stood from the seat he had taken. How dare they imply that Scott had betrayed his country! They hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the scars or the nightmares, hadn’t heard their son scream their name like they couldn’t hear him. 

“You want to know where I was when they came?” 

Scott’s anger had always burned hot and fast, explosive against anyone that stood against him. It was something he had gotten from Jeff himself, a trait he had tried and failed to move him away from. 

Up the hallway, in a hospital bed, unable to stand for himself, Scott’s anger burned equally as hot but in a far more dangerous way. There hadn’t been any quiver in his question, each word had come as clear as the one before, his tone low and blunt. Anyone that had known the boy’s mother would have heard her as Jeff did in that question, and they would have known that whatever came next was far more dangerous than an explosion. 

“Please, enlighten us, Captain.”

Scott’s breaths turned ragged for a moment, anger and panic mixing briefly before a long breath was drawn in. 

“They put me in Solitary. To the right of the room where I was found, there was a concealed entrance, a room five by five.” 

Jeff felt sick as he remembered the screams for help he had heard over the phone, and he knew. 

“They took me there three times, General, and they left me there for weeks. Did my team tell you that? Did they tell you how they all thought I was dead the first time because I was gone for so long? Did they tell you how I couldn’t stand for a fortnight after they let me out? Did they tell you how I came back covered in my own filth because the guards thought it would remind me what sort of pig I was?”

Jeff was torn between pride and anger, between needing to listen and needing to stop. He’d had ideas, had made assumptions about everything his son must have been through, but he wasn’t sure any of them had quite matched the reality he was hearing as Scott ranted. 

“I was in there when they were saved! And I came out thinking they were dead and that I’d failed them all. That was when I gave up. That was when they could have killed me and I wouldn’t have cared.”

Jeff found himself gripping the desk to keep himself seated, his stomach churning enough that he thought about reaching for the waste bin. Scott had given up, had been ready to let them win. If Kyrano hadn’t have found him when he did…

“I think your people should be checking for that hidden room, General.” Val’s voice was the cool balm Jeff needed to hear, “That and the Squadron’s statements should be confirmation enough of Captain Tracy’s loyalty to the Force.”

Jeff didn’t wait for her text to confirm it was clear for him to return. He didn’t acknowledge the Generals as he passed them in the hallway. He didn’t stop for anything or anyone until his arms were wrapped around his son. 

Scott clung to him in return, a raw sob breaking free the moment that Val left them alone. 

“I’ve got you kiddo.” He murmured into his hair, “You’ve been so strong, I’m so proud. You didn’t fail, you saved Jen and Gary and Sienna, you did good Scott. You’re so brave.” 

His son’s tears weren’t like the ones that came before, they lacked the shaking grip that had come with fear and memories of terror that had been haunting him since he had woken up. 

His sobs were raw, his grip solid and sure against Jeff’s back, like he had finally realized that his father wasn’t going anywhere without him. He wasn’t sure if it was relief, anger, or something else that fueled them, but it was something.

He held on and kept repeating the soothing mantra until the sobs subsided into long aching breaths and Scott pulled back, clearly spent. 

“Dad?” He murmured, eyes drifting as Jeff repositioned himself to take hold of his hand.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

HIs eyes flickered to him, brow furrowing as he spoke, “I lied to them.” 

Jeff leant closer, holding on to Scott’s hand with both of his, “To who?”

“The Generals. Told ‘em I didn’t care. I did though, I wanted to come home, wanted to see the boys, and wanted to see you. Then you found me.”

He pulled Scott back to his chest, hugging him tightly as his own tears broke free and ran down into his son’s hair. 

[loopstagirl]

This is apparently what happens when I watch Trapped in the Sky...

"Hey."

Scott stepped out onto Virgil's balcony. His younger brother had his elbows resting on the railing, staring out at the horizon. Virgil glanced at him, offered a smile, but said nothing. He didn't have to.

Scott mirrored his position. For a moment, he looked out across the ocean. Then he turned his attention to his brother.

"You okay? How's the head?"

Virgil flushed. "It's fine and you know it."

Scott did: Brains had checked Virgil out as soon as they got home. Even so, he wouldn't be him if he didn't ask.

"Some first rescue, huh?" Scott said. They'd saved the Fireflash, saved the crew and passengers, including TinTin. Scott thought it was a resounding success. They'd even stopped the creep photographing One.

But, to his surprise, Virgil flushed.

"What?"

"Nothing," Virgil mumbled.

"Look, I know the guys are ribbing you about the elevator car flipping, but the pressure they were under, it's amazing only one gave out. It was just bad luck that it was the one you were in. Brains did the calculations, if it wasn't the control car to go-,"

"It's not that," Virgil cut in. He knew Brains' finding. He turned his back on the view, leaning his elbows on the balcony guard. "I know we saved them, but I did a lot of damage out there."

He sounded sheepish. Scott chuckled.

"From where car 3 had a signal failure? Don't worry about it. I was in that tower, Virg. The commander told them to let it burn. He, too, was focused on saving people."

Virgil sighed, and Scott saw his shoulders drop a fraction.

"Still," he muttered. "We can't afford for that level of collateral damage on other rescues. I blew up a plane, Scott."

"Without even trying," Scott teased, "I think Gordon's actually jealous."

But Virgil's exasperated look told Scott how serious he was about this.

"Look, it wasn't your fault. It was an equipment malfunction on the first time we've used them."

"I should've switched cars the instant I got that warning light."

Scott shrugged. "Maybe. It was your first time working under pressure. We all made mistakes out there. We'll do more testing in the future around the strain that the equipment can take. Run a few scenarios around what we should do about fault lights. It'll be okay."

Virgil smiled. "Thanks, Scott."

"Anytime."

They stood in silence for a few moments. Scott staring out to sea; Virgil gazing back into his room. Eventually, Scott broke it.

"I still want to know how some creep got into the cockpit of One," he grumbled.

Someone was right there, in his beloved 'bird, on her very first official outing. Photographing One was the best outcome – at least it set off the sensors and alerted Scott to the situation. If it had been anyone with any piloting skills, they could've tried taking off. Worse, they could've succeeded.

"You initiated the security protocols, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Scott said. "As soon as I got there. Landed her in a clear area, requested security, got a perimeter set up and cops surrounding her."

"Penny said it was someone posing as the police," Virgil said in a reassuring tone. "That's not your fault."

"We've got the most advanced machinery in the world and someone got through all our security first time."

"Did you lock the door?"

Virgil was joking. But Scott froze. A flush started working its way up his neck, heat building in his face. He sensed Virgil glanced at him, then turn to face him properly.

"Scott. Did you lock the door?"

"I-,"

He did. He must've done. He mentally went over his steps as he'd arrived at the scene. He'd cleared the area, requested secrecy and security, and not done anything until the control tower had reassured him of that. They were against the clock, so he'd moved as fast as possible to get Mobile Control set up in the tower.

Scott remembered jumping clear, racing to deal with the life-threatening situation awaiting him. He had no recollection of shutting the hatch behind him, let alone initiating the locking protocol.

"Oh Scotty." Virgil was trying to sound sympathetic, but all Scott could hear was his attempt to keep his laugher under check.

"I had to get to the tower," Scott protested, albeit feebly. "I needed-,"

"You know Grandma's favourite saying about barn doors?" There was no denying that Virgil was laughing now.

Scott groaned. He dropped his head into his hands. "Dad's going to kill me."

"He doesn't need to know," Virgil said. "It didn't come up in debriefing and no harm done. Dad'll forget about it."

"I was so short with those guys about security and all along, it was my fault."

"Think of it as an exercise for Penny and Parker. It was to test their response times and understand how they dealt with a situation like that."

"And if he'd gone the other way? She'd never have been able to catch him."

"Hey." Virgil's hand landed on his shoulder, giving him a small shake. "You taught me not to focus on what ifs. Take your own advice."

Scott took a deep breath and managed to look his brother in the eye. Only for a second before shame forced him to look away, but it was a start.

"You really wouldn't tell Dad?"

Virgil looked affronted. "I'm not a snitch. No one else needs to know but us."

He dropped his hand and headed towards his room. Then he looked back over his shoulder.

"Although maybe you should add locking the door into your checklist as you rush to save the day," he added.

Scott rolled his eyes, but it was half-hearted. He still couldn't believe he'd been so stupid, so reckless, on their first mission. The adrenaline rush and thrill of knowing they'd be able to help, even when all other efforts had failed, had filled his mind.

He followed Virgil into his bedroom, watching as his brother picked up a pencil and sketch pad. At least one of them looked more relaxed than five minutes ago.

It was only their first rescue. Mistakes were bound to happen. Some through mechanical errors; others, through personal errors.

Scott had a feeling he'd never forget to shut the door again, though.

Read on FF.Net ->

[merthurglompfest]

Title: Whispering Wings By: Loopstagirl Gift for: Alehalebane Rating: General Word Count: 4,386 words Warning(s): None Summary: Merlin couldn't leave Aithusa in the forest. But where in Camelot was he supposed to hide a baby dragon?

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54357235

[edutainer2022]

From the fanfic witers ask game:

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

26. Is there something you've written that you would never want your family to see?

@tikatu Thank you for the asks!

6. Oh, I'm always eagerly on record rereading stories by @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment. I was recently enjoying a reread of Never Too... series by @loopstagirl. The "emotional support rock" story (Just a Bruise) is a frequent revisit too. My bookmark list on AO3 is a reread list as well.

7. I really don't think so. I've never written anything NSFW. There're some darker emotional themes I tend to explore in all my fandoms - but my family have always been advanced readers. None of them are fluent enough in English (I think I only ever wrote two little drabbles for an obscure fandom in russian back in the day), though - so it's fairly safe =))

[onceandfutureclotpoll]

Title: A Twist of Fate

Author: Loopstagirl

Rating: Mature

Summary: The Round Table were notorious for getting the job done. But their latest target turns out to be a bit different from what they were expecting. Not to mention he seems to have a past with their leader.

[emachinescat]

Merlin Fics of Epic Proportions (50k+ words)

If you are looking for a good, long, novel-length read to immerse yourself in, here's a list to get you started! Fics are organized by word count, from highest to lowest.

Links to the featured authors' profiles:

Alaia Skyhawk

Alice I

BeyondTheStorm

Captain Ozone

ebhg

Emachinescat

llLethell

Loopstagirl

Sanguine Ink

Ultra-Geek

1. A Question of Motives by Alaia Skyhawk | Rating: T | Chapters: 82 | Words: 303,673

As he lay there bearing witness to the battle before him, he could scarce believe what he saw. What was he to believe? What to do? How are you supposed to react when the man you saw as your closest friend turns out to be a sorcerer? *Spoilers for SE-3*

2. Another's Favor by ebhg | Rating: T | Chapters: 24 | Words: 171,488

To fortify Nemeth's ties with Camelot after his rescue, Rodor offers Mithian's hand to the one man Arthur respects above all others. For power comes not with rank, but from one's connections. AU from Another's Sorrow, taking Series 5 where I wish it had actually gone. AKA, Where the Heck was Magic and Albion When I Wanted Them!

3. Healing Spells by BeyondTheStorm | Rating: T | Chapters: 27 | Words: 168,075

After revealing his magic to Arthur due to life-threatening circumstances, Merlin decides it's time he learned to heal. With Gaius off dealing with an illness in the outer villages, Merlin is left to his own methods, bearing some rather costly outcomes.

4. Beyond the Vale by BeyondTheStorm | Rating: T | Chapters: 28 | Words: 163,174

Post S3. When a patrol goes missing under strange circumstances, Arthur is determined to find out what happened, and no one can persuade him otherwise. With nothing to go on but a foreboding story, Merlin fears that their luck might finally run out.

5. Of Twisted Morals and Human Weaponry by BeyondTheStorm | Chapters: 26 | Words: 146,837

One month. It had been one month since Merlin had disappeared. When Arthur set out to find his missing servant, he hadn't had much of a plan, but he's pretty sure that getting kidnapped and being held for ransom by a morally imbalanced weapons dealer hadn't been part of it. *Friendship, no slash, eventual magic reveal*

6. Turning Back by Loopstagirl | Chapters: 17 | Words: 91,777

They knew the search for Morgana would be dangerous. But with everything seemingly out to get them, none of them could quite comprehend what fate had planned.

7. Dragonfasting by ebhg | Rating: T | Chapters: 15 | Words: 81,984

Aithusa's actions in Sword in the Stone pt 2 have drastic and far-reaching consequences, though not what anyone would have guessed. "Was it possible to foster such a great love from the seeds of redemption and forgiveness?" Mergana/Arwen

8. Facing the Truth by Sanguine Ink | Rating: T | Chapters: 18 | Words: 81,523

"Great, just what he needed, something else trying to off the prat on the way home." Merlin, Arthur, a very large spot of prison-cell-shaped trouble, and a lot to work out. Bromance, no slash, and lots of whump.

9. Ransoming Emrys by Emachinescat | Rating: T | Chapters: 25 | Words: 69,768

Arthur isn't the only one that people will pay handsomely for. A band of renegade druids that know how much the legendary "Emrys" is worth has decided to auction him off to the highest bidder. How far will Arthur and his friends go to get him back, especially when Merlin's secret is revealed?

10. The Heart of Magic by Alice I | Rating: K | Chapters: 14 | Words: 68,926

Something sinister has happened in Camelot and by all appearances, Merlin is at the heart of it. The young warlock must battle through a mysterious ailment and profound malaise to find an answer that lies beyond magic. No slash.

11. A Soul, A Mentality, A Name by CaptainOzone | Rating: T | Chapters: 15 | Words: 67,959

Bk1 of Prophesized. Merlin and Arthur are faced by a new, powerful threat: the Gvarath. Merlin once again dons the guise of Dragoon the Great to save Arthur. But the question is: will he be able to convince Arthur to fight alongside him? No slash.

12. This Cold Land by Emachinescat | Rating: T | Chapters: 23 | Words: 67,553

Raiders from the North attack Camelot, but plundering the coastal villages isn't all they want. They want the prince, but having never seen him before, accidentally grab the wrong man. While Arthur sets off on an impossible quest to find Merlin, the servant himself miles from home in frozen lands across the sea, the captive of brutal Vikings who think he's the prince.

13. The King's Legacy by llLethell | Rating: T | Chapters: 14 | Words: 61,655

"I hope you are rolling in your grave brother, I will find your son, and I hope he is like you. I will ruin him and gain a lovely weapon in the process." Cenred spat on the grave, "I win Balinor."

14. The Lost by Ultra-Geek | Rating: T | Chapters: 13 | Words: 52,381

In the blink of an eye, Merlin goes from laughing in the halls of Camelot to lying on the ground, hurt and alone, in an unfamiliar, ruined castle. Now all he has to do is figure out what's happened.

*Note: I am not even halfway done going through and re-organizing my Ultimate Master Fic List, so I'm sure I will come across more lengthy fics as I do so. Once I consolidate enough to warrant a part two to this list, I'll make and release one. :)

[gumnut-logic]

What's worse, when there is a deadly rescue to carry out, or when there is not? Virgil's not sure. 

Quic Fic Rec

This one is a great laugh from the wonderful @loopstagirl :D

@chenria More fluff :D

Nutty

(still poking around)

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True - Part 2

Part One Looks like @loopstagirl and I are tag-teaming this! Part One of their fic is what started this whole thing, and Part Two links directly to this part also!

Jeff hated himself. 

Hated that he hadn’t found a way to do more. 

Hated that he hadn’t been there when it had mattered. 

Hated that he had hurt his son in so many ways. 

When Scott hadn’t responded to his calls along the hallway of cells, his heart had dropped straight through his stomach. There was already blood on his hands, but he was prepared to add to it if his eldest wasn’t to be found within the compound that they had broken into. For all Jeff was concerned, he would burn the entire world if it meant he got Scott home safe and alive. 

With every call of the kid’s name, alive had felt less and less likely. 

Until Kyrano had heard the voice that Jeff had longed to hear for months and pulled open one of the heavy metal doors further along the hallway.

It was only the voice the Jeff recognised when he had stepped into the cell.. 

Under scraps of fabric that could hardly be described as clothes, the man was skin and bone, any muscle that there had been was wasted away to nothing in favor of survival. He was small in the corner of the cell, curled up to make himself look like nothing. 

It had sent Jeff’s blood boiling, half of him ready to turn back and bring each of the bodies he had left on the ground back to life just so he could kill them all over again. Scott Tracy was not nothing, he was everything, and whoever had done this to him deserved nothing less than the very pits of Hell.

His son had needed him. 

It had taken a tortuous few minutes for there to be any kind of response when Jeff had spoken to him, and he hadn’t been sure if reaching out to touch him had been the right thing to do. 

Scott hadn’t been hearing him though, instead undoubtedly expecting his tormentors to have returned for more. 

So he had placed his hand in the overgrown hair, that Scott in his right mind would have hated, and murmured softly to his boy in a way he hadn’t done since he had been little. 

When Scott had finally looked up, even the blue of his eyes had been barely recognisable behind a haze that Jeff had seen in others but had hoped his son would never have to experience. 

“We need to move.” Kyrano had warned from the doorway all too soon, “Hugh says we’ve been made.” 

Jeff had hated to ask anything of his son in that moment, but he was going to get them out of there, and for that he knew he would need Scott’s cooperation.

“Can you walk, son?”

Scott had been slow to swallow and then gave the smallest of nods, “Yes, Sir.”

Jeff had helped him to his feet, had held onto him as he had stumbled and shifted the weight completely off of his left leg. He hadn’t asked if he was alright, it was obvious that he wasn’t, but he had waited, watching again for the subtlest of nods before they had moved. 

Together, they had made it as far as the edge of the compound before Scott had given out, his body trembling and each breath heaving with the exertion. Jeff had paused, hoping that a moment of rest would have been enough for him to make it back as far as the car. 

Hugh had evidently had other ideas. 

“Captain Tracy!” The Brit had ordered, “Move.” 

“Hugh.” Jeff had bitten in return, as Scott had sobbed once more that he had tried. 

“He needs to move, Jeff.” Hugh had growled, “Else we’ll all end up back in there.” 

Scott was still trembling against him, but Jeff could hear the shouts on the horizon and knew Hugh made a valid point. 

“Sorry, kid.” He uttered before hoisting Scott up and over his shoulder, his body no heavier than a sack of grain he had once carted about on the farm in Kansas. 

From there they had run the rest of the distance to the car. 

Scott had drifted in and out as Hugh had driven, barely there to recognise just what was happening or where they were going. Jeff had simply held on to him and watched the uneven rise and fall of his chest, had felt the racing pulse at his wrist, and prayed that they weren’t too late. 

None of them had spoken on the short journey to the base, not even when they had been escorted directly to the medical building. Hugh and Kyrano had wordlessly stood guard as Jeff had followed his son to a cot, blocking the crowd that had swarmed them as news had gotten around the camp. The medics had worked fast and efficient, stripping away cloths that barely counted as clothes and taking Jeff’s breath with them. 

He had felt sick at the sight of the marks that had littered Scott’s body.

Sickness had turned to anger as a pair of Colonel’s had stepped into the room. 

“Jeff Tracy, I thought you were retired.”

It had been automatic to stand to attention, to narrow his eyes at the pair that had seemed far too young to hold a title equal to his own. 

“Once a Colonel, always a Colonel.” He had countered, “Colonels are meant to make decisions for their Airmen, and I didn’t see anyone doing anything to pull out your remaining prisoners.” 

Both had straightened at his accusation, one that they all had known ran far deeper than face value. 

They had done nothing, and so they had contributed to the mess of Scott’s body behind him. 

“Sir,” One of the medics had interrupted, “Captain Tracy needs a hospital.” 

“We’ll take him to London once he’s stable.” 

“Whilst under the care of the US Air Force, Captain Tracy will be sent to our hospital in Paris.”

Jeff had had enough of other people making decisions for his family. All it had gotten him was a son that had been missing for six months, on the brink of death itself, holding on through sheer grit and determination to get home.

Paris was foreign. 

Whilst Scott was semi-fluent in the language, Jeff hadn’t doubted that he would hardly be in the mindset to try and translate anything when he woke up. He had wanted somewhere familiar for them both, somewhere that conversations wouldn’t have to go through any kind of filter to be understood. 

After everything, Scott deserved to have everything as easy as Jeff could make it for him. 

“I pulled him out.” He stated, keeping his voice low and firm, knowing that the medic would send them all away if he dared to shout, “I decide what happens next. You all lost the right the minute you left him behind.”

There hadn’t been any argument after that. 

The medic had chased the other two Colonels out. 

Jeff had sat at the side of his son’s cot and looked at him, cataloging him from head to toe. 

The hair and beard were about the only things he had been able to do anything about. Scott hated not being clean shaven, had always insisted upon it from the minute he had hit puberty. Jeff had remembered love and laughter as he had taught him to shave standing in the en-suite of the master bedroom in Kansas. Lucy had been there, had laughed with the pair and taken a photo when the lesson had ended in a shaving foam war. 

He had asked for a razor and set himself to work. 

It was really too little, too late. Why hadn’t he fought harder, sooner? He could have prevented it all, he could have saved his son from another trauma to add to the pile. 

Instead, he had left him. 

Jeff was no better than the big-wigs that had left him behind in that prison, he wouldn’t have blamed Scott if he never forgave him. 

He wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself. 

“Don’t.” Hugh had stated as Kyrano had checked out the jet that would fly them to London, “I know that look in your eye, Jeff.”

He had shaken his head as they had watched the medics roll Scott across the tarmac.

“I still remember your call that day.” Hugh had continued, “Jeff Tracy is not a man that takes no for an answer.”

Jeff still hadn’t felt like it had been enough, not when he finally had Scott in front of him.

“What else would you have done, Jeff?”

Even three weeks later, he hadn’t found an answer to Hugh’s question. 

Three weeks of surgeries and tests, of sitting vigil and thinking through what-ifs, of answering questions from General’s he had long since stopped reporting to. Three weeks of assuring his family that, yes, Scott was alive but that there was always little else to tell whilst he was still in a coma. Three weeks of wanting to hold all five of his boys close and never let them go again. 

It must have been a cruel trick from the universe that Scott had woken right when Jeff had felt at his weakest. It had taken everything in him to be the calm and reassuring voice he had known his son needed to hear as he had fought against the tube in his throat. It had been all that he could say, that everything would be okay.

It was only when Jeff had woken to Scott’s eyes on him, finally gaining some of the clarity that should have been in their blue depths despite the cocktail of drugs, that he himself had finally started to believe that things would be alright. Scott would go home to his brothers, would get to live a life far away from the horrors he had faced. 

He had thought that he would have waited for questions, but it was a testament to his son’s strength that he had asked so soon for a timeframe. 

Jeff had felt nothing but shame as he had told him. 

It was all he could do to apologize, to be honest with the kid and tell him how he had tried. When Scott had broken down in front of him, Jeff knew it hadn’t been enough. Even as he had tried to comfort and calm him, he had known deep down that whilst Scott had fought every single day to live, he hadn’t fought hard enough to bring him home. 

Jeff had sworn years ago that he was going to do better, that he would let Scott be the kid that he had deserved to be, and he had let him down again. So, he had held him close and kissed his hair, and prayed that his son would find a way to forgive him and let him have another chance to be the father that his boys deserved to have. 

He had held on to him at every chance Scott had given, letting the man be the boy that needed his father, letting him cry and assuring him that he was enough and that Jeff was proud of him. 

He had held the Colonel’s and General’s at bay, refusing to let them near his son’s room until Scott was good and ready to talk to them. It had been luck that Kyrano had been with him at the time, his friend’s quiet but broad stature enough to help in intimidating the unwanted away. 

It was harder to keep the boys away. 

John had barely returned to American soil after spending the British summer with Hugh’s daughter, and had been plenty vocal about wanting to see his brother. The younger three had happily followed his lead and joined in begging to be allowed to see or speak to Scott. 

For all Jeff wanted them all together, he didn’t want them to overhear the same conversations that he had in the hospital hallways. He could still protect them from that part of the world, keep them far away from the kind of people that used other men as pawns in a game of chess that spanned entire continents. 

It was a relief that Scott seemed to share such a sentiment. 

Relief had only lasted for the briefest of moments, until Scott had next woken either unable or unwilling to speak. 

Jeff hadn’t been sure what he must have done wrong for his son to go silent, but there must have been something. They had been talking! Scott had given him a ghost of a smile as they had talked about his brothers. It hadn’t been much, but Jeff had been sure it had been small steps towards recovery from the mental scars. 

He had hovered outside the door when the doctors had asked him to leave, for all he had wanted to argue, he had known that they needed to assess Scott without him present to influence anything. He hadn’t been expecting Val’s call, but had been all the more grateful for it. 

“How is he?” The kid’s Godmother had asked straight off the bat. 

Jeff had scuffed his toe against the linoleum of the hallway and sighed heavily, feeling every one of the last six months heavy on his shoulders. 

“He woke up just before and Val… He-- I don’t-- He won’t, can’t, talk.”

Her voice had raised an octave as she had questioned him for the details, concern of new injuries making themselves know that perhaps the doctors had missed. He had been quick to assure her that it was more likely a trauma response, that had been what one nurse had mentioned as Jeff had left the room. 

“What if I caused it, Val? What if I told him too much too soon? We were talking about the boys, if he wanted to see them and now he just won’t--” 

“Jeff.” Vall had sighed, “This isn’t on you. His brain and his body are probably out of synch with everything that’s happened. Give him time.”

He had promised that he would. He would sit and talk to his son about anything he could, if only to let him know that he was there and ready to listen whenever Scott was ready to talk. Jeff was going to do everything in his power for him, he wasn’t going to fail him.

When the Colonel’s had come and Scott still hadn’t been talking, he had blocked them at the doorway and refused them entrance. If Scott wasn’t talking to Doctors or Nurses, there had been no doubt in Jeff’s mind that he hadn’t been ready to answer any sharp toned questions from the very men that had sent him to that hell hole. 

“You cannot delay this conversation inevitably, Colonel.” 

“I don’t wish to.” He had answered, fully aware of the importance of a debrief, “But I learned from my own men that they answer better when they’re in the right frame of mind. Right now my son is not and I will not have you hurt him further.”

He had left them at that, having heard Scott stirring in the room behind him he knew where his presence had been needed more. 

“They’re not coming to talk to you until you’re good and ready.” Jeff had told him when bleary blues had stared at the doorway for a moment too long, “You take as long as you need, son.”

He still hadn’t reached out to Jeff since he had woken up silent and withdrawn into himself, and Jeff didn’t try and reach out to him. It hurt to not be able to comfort him, but he understood. His captors and his squad had been the only people that had been near him for months, and both of their touches would have been entirely different from those that Jeff had been able to offer. 

“May we come in?” Val’s voice had been soft as she had opened the door a crack, Scott’s eyes instantly latching on to the sudden intruder. 

Jeff had looked to his son for his approval before waving Val into the room. A second figure had followed her, dressed in loose fitting pajamas, and hobbling in the same way Scott had when Jeff had pulled him out of the prison. 

“Jenny.” He had stood immediately when he had identified her, offering her his seat as Scott had watched her with wide eyes. 

She had moved slowly, eyes equally as locked on Scott as Val had helped her over to the chair. It had been like watching children who hadn’t seen each other in years, both equally unsure if what they were seeing had been truly real. 

Jenny had turned to Jeff suddenly, hands shaking as she reached out to him from the chair.

“Thank you.” She had whispered, “For...” She had trailed off as she looked to Scott, reaching out to take his splinted hand, having no such qualms in the way Jeff had.

He had understood her meaning though.

“There was never any doubt, Jen,” He nodded to his son, “And I wouldn’t have stopped looking until we had him home safe.”

Scott had looked up to him at that, something small flickering in his eyes before he had looked back to Jen’s hand over his own. 

“We’ll leave you two for a while.” Val had offered softly, “We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Jeff had paused, unsure about leaving when Scott had begged and he had promised that he would be there. 

After a long moment, the kid had nodded though, and Val had pulled him out the door to the uncomfortable plastic seats in the corridor. 

He had pressed his hands to his face, sucked in a slow shaky breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding onto, and tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. It wouldn’t do for him to break, not when his boy needed him to be strong, needed him to support him in ways that Jeff wasn’t quite sure how to do. 

Everyone had said to just be there for him, to wait and listen and eventually things would work themselves out. 

Jeff had never been one for sitting idle. 

“He’s strong, Jeff.” Val had murmured, her own eyes fixed on the door to Scott’s room, “Jenny told me a few things on our way over here. Scott saved them all.”

“At what cost?” He had found himself asking, understanding the implications of what Scott must have gone through as Captain in order to try and protect the others. 

Val would never give him details, such things were said in confidence and he hoped Scott would tell him right when he was good and ready. It hadn’t changed his want to know though, even if he knew the very picture that would be painted would turn his stomach and perhaps break him too. 

“He’s strong.” Val had repeated, “You remember what it used to be like when you went home after a deployment, shifting from Colonel to Dad.”

Jeff did remember, it had been hard some days, when the kids had been screaming and squealing in delight, when there had been shouting and running footsteps echoing across floorboards. There had always been a day or two when he had felt more on edge, ready for a disaster to strike and felt a need to be ready to act. 

Scott had been on defense for six months, had been constantly processing every waking moment as a Captain trying to protect his squad from hell. 

Six months of building up walls to protect both his men and himself, of being the one that couldn’t break for fear of what it would implicate to those he had been there with. 

Such walls never came down easily, Jeff knew from experience. 

Jeff also knew his son, and knew the sledgehammer he would have likely taken to those walls. 

It had been why he had asked so immediately about how long he’d been gone, about his crew, and had started to tell Jeff exactly what had happened. 

He’d broken down the walls quickly and efficiently with no way to protect himself from the flood they would release. 

Doing the same thing had led Jeff to throw himself into his work and drink after his wife’s death. 

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, see Scott go the same way. 

“Just be with him, Jeff.” Val had sighed, “Stick with him and you’ll see him come right.” 

He had looked across to her, tired, and feeling the weight of his whole world heavy on his shoulders, “How do you know?”

She had smiled softly as she had reached across and clasped his shoulder, “Because I know you Tracy’s, and you’re fighters, but you all have a hell of a lot of love in you.”

He had only chuckled at her answer, knowing her point had been perfectly valid. 

Looking down, he had pulled out his phone, “I should talk to the boys.”

Val had leveled him with a look before assuring him that the pair in Scott’s room would likely be a while. She had been quick to chase him away with comments about needing a shower and a shave. It was only that she had offered to stand guard at the room which had finally convinced him to slip away.

It had felt all kinds of wrong to leave the hospital, for fear of what could happen whilst he was gone. Val had promised though if there was the slightest thing that she would call. Hugh’s estate was only fifteen minutes away, less if Parker drove him. 

So he had stepped out and called his boys back home, assuring them all that Scott was as well as could be expected but not quite fit enough to speak to them all. He had listened as Alan had talked about school and his new class, had taken the time to ask how he liked his teachers and if he had finished his homework. Then came how Gordon had done at training that morning, a new personal best in a different stroke, and how his coach had started talking about the next olympics. Finally, Virgil and John had put their heads together with a plan to get across the pond to see their big brother, a plot that Jeff had waited to discourage until the younger pair had been far enough out of ear shot. 

“He misses you all,” He had assured the pair, knowing it was fact even if Scott hadn’t actually been able to tell him as such, “but right now, he’s still… processing.” 

It had been enough to convince them, just for a while longer, that they were best keeping their distance and sending their support quietly through the filter of Jeff. He had known they would ignore him eventually, that it would likely be his own mother that would betray him and bring them halfway around the world to see Scott. 

As he had picked up the dog tags off of the dresser in his room, Jeff could only hope that by the time his brothers arrived, Scott would be in a better state of mind.

[loopstagirl]

Fractured Reflection, Ch 3

Taking it back from @scribbles97 for the next chapter.

Chapter 1 | Jeff's POV 1 | Chapter 2 | Jeff's POV 2

TW: TW: POW, TW: torture

Scott knew he’d given his father permission to leave, but he wasn’t truly aware of the man stepping out. His gaze was locked on Jen. She was alive.

His dad had told him the surviving members of his unit had been rescued. But Scott wasn’t sure he’d truly believed him until this moment. Watching her cross the room; feeling her take his hand.

Silence fell over the two of them once they were alone. Then Jen suddenly shifted from the chair.

“Move over,” she said.

Scott understood. He obediently forced his aching body to shift slightly to the right, giving her space to climb onto the bed next to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and for a few moments, the two of them just breathed.

How many times in recent months had they slept like this? Trying to find a comfortable position, making sure one couldn’t be taken without the other knowing about it.

“She’s a good one, that General,” Jen murmured. “She listened to me. Let me talk. Didn’t tell me to just rest when I… when I…”

Scott felt her shudder next to him. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he lifted an arm, draping it over her shoulder and holding her close. In a way, he was envious. Jenny could find the words. She could say them out loud. She could let her defences down and not be afraid of what was going to come out of her mouth.

Then again, if what his father said was true, she’d had at least a month in this hospital by now. Judging by the look he’d seen in her eyes when she’d walked through the door, it wasn’t enough.

Silence fell again. Jen’s hand was twisting in the blanket, an involuntary movement. Scott moved his own splinted hand, returning her earlier movement and resting his hand on hers, stilling her. He recognised the anxious tick and knew her movements would only get more distressed if she continued. He’d watched her try to twist free of restraints too many times.

“We tried to tell them!” Jenny suddenly blurted out. She sat up, her abrupt movement sending a spasm of pain through Scott’s body but he hid it as she turned to face him, tears in her eyes. “We told them you were still there. That you were alive. They said they’d done a sweep and hadn’t found anyone else. I tried to tell them about… about….”

She couldn’t say it. She didn’t need to. Scott shrunk in on himself, the need to make himself smaller, to have room to breathe… his left foot gave a throb in remembered pain.

She’d tried to tell them about the hidden room. The small room. The dark room. The room where the only thing anyone could hear was their own screams. How many times had the guards mocked they forgot where the door was? A cursory sweep was not going to uncover it. Uncover him.

Nor did Scott blame the rescue party, though. They were deep in enemy territory, evacuating as many as they could. If the choice was between leaving him behind, or conducting a more thorough search and risking the lives of everyone they’d pulled out? Almost since the day they’d been caught, Scott had made it clear he didn’t care what happened to him, as long as his team survived.

“I knew you were alive,” Jen finished, her tone fierce even as tears shone in her eyes. “I knew it.”

Scott forced a small smile. He couldn’t allow her to shoulder this blame. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even the men and women sent in to get them out. They weren’t the ones who’d agreed to the trade; they weren’t the ones who’d have had a prisoner list and know that not everyone who’d gone it came out again.

He awkwardly took her hand, holding it over his own beating heart, wordless reassurance that he was, indeed, still alive. When their throats had been too raw for verbal reassurance, this had been their way of offering comfort.

Jen smiled. She picked up his other hand and mirrored the movement. Scott closed his eyes as her rapid heartbeat thudded under his hand. She was alive.

He glanced at the door, then back at Jen. She nodded.

“I told the general what you did,” she said quietly. “How many times you forced their attention on you, bartered with them to protect the rest of us. What they did to you in response.”

They’d been determined to get him to go back on the deal. If they could break him, if he begged them to stop…

But it didn’t matter how many times he was waterboarded or beaten. There was something deep in Scott that couldn’t be extinguished. He’d never really been aware of it until faced with that choice, but now he was conscious of it, he realised it had been burning in him since the first time John cried not out of need, but out of pain.

Scott would never let anyone be hurt when he was there to stop it.

“You shouldn’t have done it, Scott. What you went through-,” She trailed off.

They had all been tortured. Questioned for hours for information, then just for fun. Several of their teammates had succumbed to it. As far as Scott was concerned, he hadn’t stopped anything. He shook his head mutely, but Jen’s grip on his hand tightened.

“You took so much on yourself. You never let them… I would’ve broken, if not for you. When I couldn’t stand and you stepped in front of me. When Sienna couldn’t stop sobbing and you tackled the first guard, making them forget about her. All the times they had to get you in chains before they could take one of us… Scott, they’d lost interest by the time they got us out. They went through the motions, but that was all. We weren’t worth the effort when they had you.”

Scott’s gaze fell on his wrist. There was a scar there, in the perfect position for someone to fight against manacles. But it was healed. It had healed months ago.

She was wrong. He hadn’t protected them.

It was her faith in him, blind and undeserved, that made him force a word out.

“No.” It was a whisper, nothing more. His voice worked: he’d spoken to his father enough when he first had woken up. But his mind had caught up with the horrors inflicted on his body and he wasn’t sure how to find words when all he’d wanted to do was scream. He’d seen the look on his dad’s face when he’d cried: he couldn’t force the man to witness how broken his son was.

“No?” Jen looked at him, also glancing at his wrist before looking back at his face.

“They won,” Scott murmured. “I couldn’t save Mike. I couldn’t stop them. They took you all, one by one. They won that day months ago when they realised they didn’t have to chain me up anymore.”

“Scott…” Jen stared at him. “Captain, no. We all adapted. We all found ways to survive. No one had the strength to keep fighting, and you lasted longer than the rest of us.”

Scott looked at her. Did she really not blame him? He was their captain: he was supposed to keep the squad safe, make sure everything fell on him rather than them. But half their squad hadn’t made it home and the other half… Jen might’ve been talking, but there was no way in hell she was alright.

“If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me,” she continued.

“What?”

“I was the reason we were caught. If I could’ve run, we might have got out.”

Scott knew what she was referring to. The village they’d been helping. The anti-aircraft missiles half a kilometre away had been unpredictable. The area was supposed to be quiet; their enemy having moved on and left destruction behind. It wasn’t the first village they’d helped. But it was the first one where they’d arrived in their own plumes of smoke, all of them falling prey to the bullets that tore through the sky, making their engines scream as they fought to stay in the air. All four of them had been shot down. It was a miracle no one had died on impact.

There had been injuries, though. In the end, it was hard to say if they were helping the village, or the villagers had been helping them. Scott had carried Jenny in, her ankle swollen, not bearing her weight. How they’d got away with only a couple of broken bones between the eight of them had made Scott believe that luck was on their side.

Fate had just had other ideas in mind.

“You know we weren’t running,” he said softly. “Even if we’d been able to.”

His entire team had come to the decision unanimously. If their enemy thought the village had been helping them, they’d torch the entire place. Innocents would suffer if they’d tried to run. Scott would never have made it an order to stay, but his squad had been taking defensive positions and preparing to fight not only for their lives, but for the people who’d had helped them, before the words came from his mouth.

Scott felt a coil of pressure ease from his chest. This was something he knew how to do. Reassure a team mate, a brother, a random stranger he’d only met once. This was his job.

“Jen, look at me?” He waited until she held his gaze. “This isn’t your fault. Never think that.”

She stared into his eyes for a few moments, then looked away. Scott pulled her close as her sobs echoed through the room. How long had she been holding onto that misplaced guilt?

“I told them you were alive,” she murmured. She sagged against him and Scott just held her as her breathing started to even out.

His body struggled to support her weight, but he didn’t care. For the first time in months, he could protect his co-pilot from her surroundings. If he found out anyone had tried to debrief her without her Captain present…

Scott gave a small huff, the burst of air painful against his sore throat. He’d do what? He didn’t know how to talk about what had happened, how to get the stuck-up Colonels who’d never been out from behind a desk to understand.

It wasn’t like the team had been sitting in a cell, just waiting for a ride home. Every day, they’d had their strength, dignity and pride stripped from them until it became the norm for four USAF personnel to huddle into themselves, trying to make themselves invisible, every time they heard a door open.

How was he supposed to make anyone understand that?

Her weight started to get too much. Scott looked at the door. His dad was out there. He could call out, knowing the man would be by his side before Scott could blink. Or Val. Jen was right: she was one of the good ones. She wouldn’t have given up on him, either.

But he didn’t want help. He didn’t want anyone taking Jen away again, not until she was awake. They’d all been moved while out cold too many times. This had to be her choice.

He managed to shift. His breath caught in his throat as every nerve screamed at him. His body was used to movement meaning pain and right now, he was giving it more of that.

He was sweating, tears leaking from his eyes by the time he managed to get into a more comfortable position. The movement utterly exhausted him though. No sooner had he moved when sleep stole upon him, dragging him back.

-x-

Jen was gone.

They were all gone.

Even the light had gone.

It wasn’t dark: he could see. But it wasn’t light, either. A perpetual dimness that left him halfway between life and death. Everything the same hazy grey that made him want to scream, even to bleed, just to see colour.

He couldn’t move. No matter which way he twisted and turned, regardless of how much he thrashed, the unrelenting walls did nothing but close in further. They were crushing him. Didn’t anyone know they were crushing him?

Of course they knew. Just, no one cared.

Scott knew he was screaming. Begging. Pleading with them to let him out! He’d take anything they threw at him, suffer the beatings, the drownings; anything if it meant getting out of this room. But although his screams echoed in his own ears long after they’d stopped escaping his throat, he seemed to be the only one who could hear them.

“Wake up. Scott. C’mon. Wake up, son.”

He could hear a voice, a voice offering him a way out. But there was no door. No way free. The guards had meant what they’d said about forgetting where the door was. No one was going to be able to find him. He’d die, trapped in here alone, unable to breathe…

“Scott!”

There was a tone of command this time. An order. Orders he could do. Orders meant he didn’t have to think. They stopped the beatings, kept his teammates safe…

He fought to obey, the grey gradually giving way.

Light.

He was surrounded by light. He wasn’t in that room anymore. His father was looking down at him, concern and fear mingled into a loving gaze that Scott didn’t deserve. He tried to shift away but…

No!

He couldn’t move. He was still trapped.

A fast, urgent beeping came from somewhere far away, footsteps came running. His dad’s hands were on him, one holding his own, the other cupping his cheek.

“Son, I need you to calm down. Listen to me.”

He wanted to obey. God knew he wanted to obey: that meant the pain would stop. But he couldn’t. Not this time.

All he knew was that he was trapped, and he couldn’t breathe. He tried to focus on his father’s face, but something suddenly obscured his vision, hands reaching for him, something covering his mouth and nose.

Not again. They’d promised he was safe. They’d let him believe it was over. But here he was, held down, flat on his back, something covering his mouth and nose.

Scott screamed. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t be strong anymore. Not when he thought he was safe. But this time, in that scream, was a word. A name: a title.

Half-awake, half-delirious, trapped in his own blankets and fighting the oxygen mask a nurse was attempting to slip on, Scott Tracy screamed for his father.

“I’m here. I’m right here. Scotty, I’m here.”

The hands disappeared. Whatever was over his face disappeared. The pressure holding his limbs down eased as hands made short work of untangling the blankets from where his thrashing had twisted them around his legs.

He could move. He could breathe.

And hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him up, straight into strong arms that had promised to keep him safe, promised to let him just be himself.

Scott fell into the hold. Tentatively, as if fearing it would vanish, he lifted his arms, fingers brushing the material of his dad’s shirt, making sure it was real and not some trick, before latching on as if his life depended on it. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure that it didn’t.

Time passed. Scott had no idea how long. He was conscious, but not really in the room, refusing to let go. At some point, he’d been laid back down, but a hand had gripped his own, a promise that he wasn’t alone.

Finally, the room fell silent as the medical staff realised any intervention was making things worse.

Finally, his mind fell silent as Scott realised he was safe in the hospital, his dad by his side.

He forced his gaze on the man. His father was watching him, probably hadn’t looked away for this entire time. When he saw Scott focusing on him, he smiled warmly, a thumb brushing away the treacherous tears leaking from his eyes.

“I’m here,” he murmured softly. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He’d spoken to Jenny, and had a feeling that if his father hadn’t heard him, it would’ve been reported that he was talking again. But this was the first thing he’d said to him directly.

“For what?” There was shock and – if Scott wasn’t mistaken – repressed anger in his dad’s voice.

Scott shrugged. He gestured feebly at the room around them, encompassing himself in the movement.

“Being weak,” he muttered, looking away. “It was a dream, just a dream, I know that, but…”

He knew he’d begged them in reality as well. He could handle the beatings, the burnings, had only winced when they’d broken his fingers. But after experiencing that room once, he’d cracked. The second time they’d thrown him in, he’d fought, then pleaded with them, then finally fought the room. Not that it got him anything but a broken toe.

How could he admit to his father the man he’d raised was not the son he deserved?

“Never think that.” The fierce note in his dad’s voice made him jump. It was a commanding tone, full of authority and a demand to be heard, obeyed.

“But-,”

“You are not weak, Scott. You’re a survivor. You did what you had to in order to survive that place. I don’t care if you pleaded with them every single day. Hell, if it kept you safe, I hope you did. You have nothing to prove to me, you never have.”

Scott stared at the man, his breath catching in a way that had nothing to do with panic.

“My squad,” he said softly. “I had to…”

He had to keep them safe. And he’d fai-

“You saved them.” His father’s words stopped his thoughts before they’d fully formed.

“Jenny spoke to Val. She’s told her what happened. What you did. You’ve been so strong, Scott. My strong, brave boy. Those that made it back did so because of you. The only people who have failed are the ones who should’ve found you months ago. Who shouldn’t have left you behind.”

Scott shuddered. He wasn’t ready to talk about that. How it felt to know that someone, high up, knew he was still in there, and had decided that was an okay sacrifice to take. He might’ve done the same thing if he knew it meant keeping his team safe. Hell, he might have volunteered to stay behind.

“How’d you know I was alive?” he asked his father quietly. His team might’ve believed, but they hadn’t known. Not for sure. Not given they’d already been separated and Scott had been taken to solitary before the rescue.

His dad couldn’t meet his eye. “They gave me proof of life.”

“I don’t remember,” Scott said. Maybe they’d filmed him while he had been unconscious? Although that was hardly irrefutable proof that he was alive.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters if you’re here. You’re safe. And you’re going to be okay.”

Scott nodded, letting the words sink in. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed them, but he clung to them like a lifeline, not yet ready to let go and see if he could pull through on his own.

He forced himself up straighter, his father’s hands falling away as he did so.

“What’re you-,” his dad trailed off as Scott threw back the covers, twisting until his feet were hovering above the floor.

Slowly, he let them touch, his toes curling at the coldness that greeted them. He touched the floor again, then shifted further forward, readying himself to stand up.

“Scott. Stop. What are you doing?”

“I have to do this,” Scott said. He was talking to himself as much as his father. “I have to move.”

He couldn’t lie there, trapped in bed, with the nightmare still vivid in his mind. He needed to know that he had the power to move if he wanted to. That he wasn’t stuck in another sort of prison.

“I don’t think- Scott! Wait!” The command was back in his dad’s voice this time and Scott immediately stilled. He was braced against the side of the bed, palms pressed flat to the mattress even with the splint on his hand. The nail on his big left toe was still discoloured from where he’d kicked the wall in that room.

Scott looked up as his dad hurried around the bed.

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

Scott shook his head.

“Then let me help.”

Scott wanted to protest. He needed to do this on his own. But his dad spoke before he could.

“You’ve been in that bed for over a month, son. You were unconscious for weeks. Your legs aren’t going to support your weight. It doesn’t mean you’re weak: it means you have to take this slow and let me help.”

It went against his nature to ask for help. But slowly, Scott nodded. His father slipped one of Scott’s arms over his shoulder, his own wrapped around his son’s waist.

It was a gradual movement, but Scott shifted his weight from the bed to his feet. He would’ve fallen if it wasn’t for his father’s strong arms, but he was upright. He took a shuffling step, then another, suddenly wanting to pick up speed.

“Easy, soldier.”

Scott slowed, every instinct obeying. There was a low chuckle in his ear.

“Always wanted to run before you could walk,” a fond voice said.

Scott blushed, but focused on putting one foot before the other. In a strange, shuffling movement, he made his way across the room.

By the time he reached the other side, he was panting, sweat beading his forehead. When he lifted an arm to wipe it away, he saw his hand was shaking. Suddenly, the bed felt like a very long way away and Scott wasn’t sure how he was going to make it back, even with help.

“Here.”

He was being lent against a wall. Scott hoped the whimper that built in his throat didn’t escape his mouth as his father’s arms disappeared. But then a chair was being pulled over and he was being helped into it.

Scott half-sat, half-fell, every limb trembling violently. He felt sick.

But he’d done it. He’d moved from the bed. He’d chosen to move, and he’d done it. There were no walls, no locks, no chains, holding him back this time. Sure, he’d needed help, but no one had stopped him.

“Scotty?”

“I’m gonna hurl.”

A trash can was pushed in front of him just in time, a warm hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. Just the way it had done when he’d been a little boy, needing his father but not knowing how to admit it when he was trying so hard to be grown up.

The retching passed and his dad helped him take a few sips of water. Exhausted, Scott leant back in the chair, fighting to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t ready to return to bed or the nightmares.

“Dad?”

“Yes, kiddo?”

“You found me.” His voice was slurring. It didn’t matter what he wanted; his body had decided that was quite enough excitement for one day.

“Scott, I-,”

“Thank you.” This time, it was just a whisper. His eyes were already shut, his body slumping where he sat. The bed would have to wait for another day.

He was asleep before his father had a chance to respond.

[merthurglompfest]

Title: Moonlit Wings By: @loopstagirl Gift for: LilyMarleen / @supernatural-lily Rating: T Word Count/Medium: 3459 words Warning(s): None Creator Notes (Optional): Summary: Arthur had been all over his kingdom. He made the point of riding out as often as he could, wanting to be a presence among the people rather than a figurehead on a throne. But he’d never seen it from the angle he had tonight: never seen it all in one go. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45747373

[the-once-and-future-love]

18. Good Merlin Fics I’ve Read Recently (10/4/21)

A Considerable Head Start by ughbutidontwantto [gen]

A Fair Judgment by Camelittle [gen]

A Father's Wisdom by FandomStar

A Ghost of the Past by oswinsdolma [gen]

A Glimpse of Honesty by kimirce [gen]

A Long Way to Go Before We Are Truly Divine by Staraflur

A Marriage of (In)Convenience by Camelittle

A Tapestry of Scars by psychotic_fangirl369

Aftermath of a Siege by MoonsOfLothal [gen]

An Ox on the Tongue by seapotato

Baby™️ by YellowAndVeritablyBonaFide

Benediction by perfumes

Best Laid Plans are not Sober by charcharizard5

Blind by arthur_pendragon

Break My Step & Relent by seadeepy

Changes by Ana_Jacobs [gen]

Coming Undone by accordingtomel

Creature of Magic by N16 [gen]

Dark Thoughts by kriadydragon [gen]

(Don't You Dare) Let Go by Zaharya

Dove Is Almost Love, Isn't It? by Lolly047

Earth by driftingskies237

Earth, Sea, Sky by idlestories

Echoes by Minted_Midas [gen]

Enjoy The Silence by yavannauk

Fall from Grace by tourdefierce

First Snow by Miss_Em [gen]

Fool Me Once by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Fortunes by ReadingJunkie96

Good Fortune by platonic_boner [gen]

Golden Hour by paperstorm

His Father's Name by kimirce [gen]

Holes by N16 [gen]

I blew things out of proportion (and now you're blue) by heartsocold

I Could Recognise Him by Touch Alone by queerofthedagger

i will always pick you up by daffodilprince

It All Begins with a Goodbye by I_ran_out_of_books

i've got your heart! by RosePetalsAndRain

Knight Merlin by evaelisaa

Lest Faith Turn by lyrithim

Let us take back the Castle now, and you can behead me later, Sire. by coldishcase

Like Bottling A Concept. by Falcrow

Live and Live Again by prattery

Lust at First Sight by vintagelilacs

Make Me A Monster by TheCourtSorcerer

Melted Ice and Thermal Hearts by howshouldipresume

Merlin's Guide to Reading a Book by Mischel

might as well by didthattwinkjustcommittreason

most beloved by junekiss

Music To My Eyes by acciomerlin, mmmmay

Open Eyes by N16 [gen]

Only For You by  BrevitySoulWit93

Other Duties as Assigned by N16 [gen]

our lips are sealed by eat_crow

People Should Marry for Love, Not Convenience by Fantasy_lalaland

Quiet Light by prattery

Rendezvous by Loopstagirl

Roads We Could Have Walked - BBC Merlin Re-imagining by  Mx_Riley_Silversun

Rose Root, Dry Cowslips by SilverMyfanwy

Safer by EternalAgape

Sand Castles by IceQueen1 [gen]

Siren Song v2 by Ally_Oop

Soft Spot by tacos4two

Something both terrible and sweet by Leandra

Sorcerer by cat_77 [gen]

The Conscience of the King by ughbutidontwantto [gen]

The Fallen by ArtemisPendragon

The Favor by illiterateowl

The Fragile Pink of Dahlias and Fingertips by whatthedruidscallme

The Hand of the Enemy by N16 [gen]

The King is dead, long live the Prince by Misaratis

The Path with a Heart by Gilli_ann

the perfidious act of entrapment by arthur_pendragon

The Immortal's Encore by  The_Pen_and_the_Sword [gen]

The Longest Night by a_big_apple

The One Where Arthur Finds Out Exactly Why Merlin is Such a Bad Manservant by Chandlure [gen]

The Serving of Servants by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

The Stars With You (Anytime) by Flamebyrd

The Story's Come Back For You by Nebula5030 [gen]

the sweet blackberry is worth the bitter aftertaste by didthattwinkjustcommittreason

The Truth by Impala_Cherry_Trickster

the Revelations of Uther Pendragon by TheCourtSorcerer

The Unknown Path by LoopyLiesey

The Witchfinder: AU by DwaejiTokki [gen]

The Witchfinder's Legacy by WordsAblaze

This Cold Land by Emachinescat [gen]

this tangled thicket by objectlesson

Through Leon's Eyes by high_queen

time lost, love gained by TheDragon

To Kill a Nightmare by N16 [gen]

To the World we Dream About by TinyButFierce [gen]

Trust and Destiny by N16 [gen]

Trust In Me by AWitchWrites

Turning the Page by queerofthedagger, schweet_heart

Walk a Mile by hermanthejanitor

We Can Always Run by kairennart (Personaje), queerofthedagger

What I Didn't Know (Can Hurt Others) by Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore [gen]

When Your Love Wakes You by Fantasy_lalaland

Where This Road May Go by batgurl88

Wintering by seapotato

With Magic Soaking My Spine by Biromantic_Nerd [gen]

Within Me Trembles the Light by witchmd13

Words Whispered In The Dark by TheCourtSorcerer

You can hold my hand (if you let me hold yours too) by AmithiaEmrys (amithia), ElizaStorms

(you make me) weak in the knees by ladililn

[Last List]

[tsarinatorment]

Fic Recs

Felt like doing some fic recs today, so here are 20 of my favourite fics (because 20 is a round number), selected purely because they were the first ones I thought of, across various fandoms! As always, only complete fics get a mention.

(it's getting late now but if there's interest I'll do a "20 Tsari Fics" for those interested in which of my own I'd recommend)

A Son By Any Other Name by carryonstarkid Thunderbirds (AU) Teen. Family, Angst. Scott, Tracy Family. 83k Cursed as a child, Scott Tracy lives a life in which everyone he encounters must follow all of his given commands.

Chat's Eye View (Love letters to Paris) by Icka M Chif Miraculous Ladybug Gen. Friendship. Adrien, Marinette. 6k Adrien picks up a hobby, falls in love with his city, and inadvertently drives Paris crazy.

Cracks in the knight by authorettejasmin Detective Conan (Magic Kaito) Teen. Hurt/Comfort. Hakuba, KID. 5k Nightmare is dead. Hakuba is tired. And Kid is in his house.

for all those pages thumbed by Star_flaming Harry Potter Gen. Friendship. Filch. 30k Argus' life was a largely thankless one (unless you counted the thanks of the paintings he maintained), working on keeping a thousand year old castle from falling down around the ears of students who didn't care. He had his cat, his work, his books, and a constant boil of self hatred and resentment to get him by. And then a sixth year handed him a letter from her aunt, thanking him for acting as conservator of Hogwarts and calling him Dr. Filch. It was the first time he had been called Doctor since he started at the castle. He had little choice but to write back, after that.

In Dreams by m_arnie Riordanverse (PJO; TOA) Gen. Friendship. Zoe; Apollo. 5k Zoe did not get demigod dreams… until she did.

Mild-Mannered School Teacher/Adrenaline-Junkie Vigilante by JajaLala Boku no Hero Academia Teen. Family. Fuyumi; Dabi. 136k Fuyumi Todoroki was stressed. She was always the peacekeeper, the ice-quirk user who calms the hot-headed members of her family. What was she supposed to do when she was frustrated, and couldn't calm herself down? Go onto the streets and become a vigilante, of course. Follow this mild-mannered school teacher/adrenaline-junkie vigilante as she befriends the mysterious Dabi, tries not to get caught by the persistent Miruko, and through it all struggles to keep her family together.

Mission Impossible by Loopstagirl Thunderbirds Teen. Family, Adventure. Scott, Gordon. 55k Being selected for his first solo mission should have been exciting for Captain Scott Tracy of the Air Force. But there was something else at play. Something dangerous and deadly. Something that could cost him more than his life.

Nine Lives by P_Artsypants Miraculous Ladybug Teen. Hurt/Comfort/Angst. Adrien, Marinette. 59k When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up Adrien? I'll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up Adrien.

On Their Side by Gumnut Thunderbirds (TAG) Gen. Family, Humour. Colonel Casey, Gordon, Virgil. 1k She trusted these boys with a great deal.

See You Again by cookietosser One Piece Teen. Family/Angst. Rocinante; Law. 15k Rocinante has been through a lot in his life. Adding uncontrollable time travel into the mix? That's just the icing on the cake.

The Dragon-King's Temple by Kryal Stargate SG-1/Avatar: The Last Airbender Teen. Friendship. Zuko; Toph; Jack. 196k Through the spite of the spirits or plain rotten chance, a door that would have been better left untouched has opened. On the other hand, with Fire and Earth as one's allies, sometimes escaping is the easy part.

The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris Avatar: The Last Airbender Teen. Family/Friendship. Zuko; The Gaang. 36k Some people are born with soulmarks. Zuko has them, but his grandfather burned them off because they "make you weak." Team Avatar has a few things to say about that.

The Silent Conversation by mcj Thunderbirds (TOS) Teen. Hurt/Comfort. Scott, Jeff. 5k The sound of sirens, a flash of light and waking up under a pile of rubble. How can Scott survive knowing help just might not come?

The Trouble With Eastern by teaandtumblr One Piece Gen. Friendship. Strawhat Pirates, Law. 3k What would happen if everyone on the Grand Line really did speak different languages? A couple of little explorations done here and there.

the weight of family (the pull of gravity) by Origamidragons Jojo's Bizarre Adventures (Part 6) Gen. Family. Jolyne, Giorno. 1k "It's your lucky day, Kujo. Somebody made your bail," the guard said. "Says he's your cousin."

There May Be Some Collateral Damage by metisket Bleach/Harry Potter Teen. Friendship. Ichigo, Harry, Weasley Twins. 61k Ichigo’s been ordered to go undercover at a magic school to bodyguard a kid named Harry Potter, and this would be fine, except that he’s about as good at bodyguarding as he is at magic. And he considers it a good day, magic-wise, if he hasn’t set anything on fire.

Uncle Bilbo Is Not Going On Your Adventure by Erisah_Mae Lord of the Rings Gen. Family. Bilbo, Frodo, Thorin, Gandalf. 16k Gandalf assumes that he is going to be able to bully Bilbo into coming along on the quest for Erebor. You know what they say about people who assume... Bilbo's not going, and nothing Gandalf can say is going to change his mind.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden One Piece Teen. Family/Hurt/Comfort. Buggy; Shanks, Roger Pirates. 280k The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them. Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

What the Cat Dragged In by Kryal Marvel/Miraculous Ladybug Gen. Friendship. Tony; Adrien; Marinette. 70k Tony's pretty sure it's written into cosmic law somewhere: superheroes are not supposed be cute. Apparently, no one's told these two. He’s okay with that.

While the Ring Went South... by ThunderaTiger Lord of the Rings Gen. Friendship. The Fellowship. 145k For two weeks, the Fellowship wandered south from Rivendell making for Caradhras, yet Tolkien tells us almost nothing of this journey. Behold the missing scenes!

[disappearinginq]

Fic Recs Ask Meme: 1, 2, 4, 8, and 18 assuming they've not already been asked?

👍🏽 A fic you bookmarked recently

Henry's Allegory of the Doghouse by Emachinescat I’ve been re-watching Psych because it’s been...probably since it aired that I watched most of it? And never a complete re-watch, so NATURALLY I have started looking for Shawn whump and ta daaaa! Emachinescat has it in SPADES. Also, conveniently a huge chunk are episode tags, so it’s like a little extra cherry on top during the rewatch. 

🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times

It’s actually gone now - which I’m mad about, but the author pretty much up and vanished from her entire online presence overnight and the only reason why I have it is because I pulled it from the web several years prior, but it’s by an author called beamirang, “A Problem From Hell”. It’s about 2009 reboot Kirk’s Tarsus IV experience and the return of Kodos. Alllll the whump. Alllll the emotional turmoil. 

👀 A fic that you love a normal amount

The Lost Warlock by Loopstagirl (she might be on AO3, but I haven’t looked). It’s technically part of a series, but it’s an alternate beginning of Merlin where Merlin and Arthur meet when both of them are kids. Arthur gets kidnapped for ransom in  The Lost Prince and Merlin is the one who finds him. Lost Warlock - surprise, surprise - is where Merlin gets kidnapped by a bandit who knows how to bind magic for his own use, and Arthur is the one who comes and saves him. They’re fun, and despite the content, pretty mellow and light. Plus, I dig alternate meetings. 

👌🏼 A fic someone else recommended to you

I...don’t know? Wow. That sounds terrible. But weirdly enough, not a whole lot of people recommend me fics (feel free to change that :-D)

😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

Hilariously, given what I write, I don’t actually read a whole lot of hurt without comfort because the world is already a dark, miserable place lately. So the closest thing I have is something I book marked waaay long ago on ffn.net in the Danny Phantom fandom:  Shadow of a Doubt by HaiJu. A very dark view of what would happen if Maddie ever got a hold of the Ghost Boy without knowing he was her son. There’s a sequel, but a lot of this story is dark, dark, dark.  

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True

A direct result of This Fic of @loopstagirl 's. I'm afraid to say it spiralled into something much larger than planned and there may or may not be a Part 2 lurking. TW: POW

“Daddy!” Alan’s wide blue eyes shone bright in the snowy landscape, “When’s Scotty comin’ home?”

Jeff gaped, trying to reach out for his youngest only to find he was just out of reach downhill from where he stood. 

“He’s not.” Virgil appeared, hunched up under a tree off to Jeff’s right, the snow mounded up all around him, “Dad sent him to the Air Force and he’s not coming home.”

“No,” He found himself answering, “I-- I didn’t.”

He hadn’t forced him to go, it had all been Scott’s choice. 

Hadn’t it?

To his left, Alan screamed, begging for Jeff to bring him back, for his Scotty to come home. 

To his right, Virgil continued to rant, “He just wanted to make you proud, he just wanted to do everything just like you, he just had to follow your footsteps.”

Jeff shook his head, unsure of which son to turn to first, which to beg more forgiveness of. He knew he hadn’t been there enough and had been trying to do better, to be the father they deserved. He had stepped up so Scott could step back and be the teenager he should have been. He’d taken the interest he should have in all of their hobbies, supported them in their aspirations, encouraged them to make their dream jobs a reality. 

He stumbled back as Virgil shoved him, falling back into the snow but not feeling the bite of its chill. 

“It’s your fault he’s gone!” Virgil yelled, “Just like Mom. It’s all your fault!”

Before he could speak, the hillside shifted to a mountain, a low threatening rumble filling his senses as he looked for both Virgil and Alan as the snow around him started to move. 

“No!”

He caught himself, the yell a gasp of breath on his lips. 

He was home, the farmhouse in Kansas familiar and warm as it always was in the summer months. 

His bedsheets were tangled around his feet, twisted in the way as they always were after the nightmare. 

Rubbing his face, Jeff forced his breath to slow, forced the racing beat of his heart to settle into something healthier. 

It was just a nightmare. 

The same nightmare he had been having for months, ever since the news had broken of the Bereznian war and he had known. 

He had known that Scott would be amongst the American Service Men and Women that would be deployed to the area in some capacity. There had been no doubt in Jeff’s mind that his eldest would face the same dangers as he had himself during the Global Conflict. 

There had been a handful of precious days before he had been deployed, Jeff had gotten John home from Oxford for the occasion, determined to have all of his boys together and in arms reach for just a moment. He had spoiled them all rotten, and if the eldest three had cottoned on to his reasoning, none of them had passed comment. Scott had laughed and joked as bright as any of them, beanpole arms and legs toned with muscle easily scooping up both youngest brothers, much to their delight. 

It had been on the kid’s last night that Jeff had pulled him aside to share a measure of whiskey out on the back porch, a memory that he clung to in the long minutes after his nightmares. He had held his son close and Scott had leant into him like he had done when there had been far fewer brothers around. They had talked about the Air Force and what likely came next for Scott after deployment and what challenges he would likely face. 

Then, when the drinks were finished and Scott had clung to his father for just a moment too long, he had promised Jeff one thing that neither knew he could guarantee. 

“I’ll be fine, Dad.”

Jeff hadn’t corrected him, instead he had laughed and nodded, agreeing that the kid would be home for Christmas. 

The Holidays had been months ago, but at least had been accompanied by letters and holo-calls, even if the latter had been static-filled and intermittent. Scott had still been smiling, but Jeff had caught the weariness behind his eyes that not even the hologram could hide. He had wondered at the time if he had looked the same when calling his young family from far off lands. 

It had been after that that the nightmares had gotten more regular. Though only when John had gone back to College and Virgil had started spending more time in the library after school that his mind had started to trick him into believing that his sons were drifting out of his reach. 

He’d gone through enough psych evaluations as part of his NASA training to know it came from a deep rooted fear that he wasn’t enough for them. So he’d gone to his therapist and talked about his fears, and gone home and made sure his remaining four son’s knew he loved them and was there for them, whatever they wanted in life. 

It had been Virgil who had clocked on to Jeff’s sudden overtness, and who had gently called him out on the matter one afternoon whilst the pair had replaced a broken fence post on the driveway. Jeff had admitted as much as he had dared, not wanting to feed into the fear he knew the middle child held for his eldest brother. They had paused in their work long enough for Jeff to apologize for not being there sooner, for not being more and doing better, and Virgil had forgiven him. 

Yet still the nightmare had come. 

Life went on though and the family had adapted to their new normal, Scott’s holocalls becoming more infrequent until they had stopped altogether. Jeff had assured the rest of the family that it was simply signal issues, that a good old fashioned letter was undoubtedly in the post on its way to them to tell them as much as he could about his latest missions.

Jeff’s words had sounded hollow to his own ears as he had remembered his own most dire moments of the Global Conflict and how he had still found a way to get a message home to his family. Scott would have found a way. If there had been any possibility, Scott would have sent them something to let them know he was fine. 

The missions weren’t long, Bereznik wasn’t a large country, Scott himself had told them as much. A couple of days was usually the worst of it, newer rules of flying hours and rest periods forcing the Air Force’s hand in ensuring their people were well looked after. Jeff had tried to tell himself that they would hear something soon, that Scott was just busy and the storm system Jeff had watched sweep over the foreign country on the Weather Channel had knocked out comms. 

Then his nightmare had come true. 

It had been whilst the kids had all been away at school and Jeff himself had been in the middle of a business meeting. The incessant knocking at the door had been a mild irritation right up to the moment when he had identified the CAO. 

“No.” He had stated, stepping back from the doorway, “Tell me he’s not--”

“Captain Tracy’s Squadron has been MIA for a month.”

They had refused to tell him more, no matter how much he had yelled and how many times he had stated his rank in the same damned Air Force. Even when he had begged, finally clocking what day it was in April and using it as part of his reasoning, they had still given him nothing more to go on.

Val had been his first call, and then Kyrano. 

The third had been his mother. 

His brilliant mother who had never pulled her punches, had listened as he had berated himself for letting Scott follow his footsteps and enlist. Never once did she tell him that it would all be okay. 

Instead she had listened, patient as ever, despite her obvious horror at the thought of what could have happened to Scott. She had waited out Jeff’s rant and hugged him when he had finally burned himself out before she had asked what he was going to do about it. 

She had looked after the boys whilst Jeff had made calls to every contact he had. He had found the version of himself that had once been a Colonel and used it as the strength he needed to get through each of the calls when one after another ended in promises he knew would be empty. 

His demands had gotten him a story though, a squad on an aid mission to support a supply drop to civilians trapped in the mess of war. They had been shot down in enemy territory but had made contact from the village they had been trying to assist. There hadn’t been any further contact, too risky Jeff had been told, but when recovery crews had finally made it to the village three weeks later, the whole place had been razed to the ground. 

It was a sanitized version of events, Jeff knew that much from his own experience, but it was something to work off of.

So he had, throwing the business and his projects on the back-burner to focus everything he could on one tiny village in the center of Bereznik and the fact that nothing of the Air Force Squadron had been found there. 

As spring had turned into summer and new updates had gotten fewer and farther between, he had finally accepted a need to tell the boys. 

He had tried to explain that MIA was good news, it was better than the definitive alternative, it meant there was still hope. None of them had really seemed convinced by his reasoning, Alan screaming and begging in the same way that Jeff had pictured in his nightmares, Virgil staying solemnly quiet as he shed his own tears in a way that was entirely opposite to the reaction Jeff’s mind had conjured up. John and Gordon had both frozen, each wide eyed and horrified at what they were hearing, he had seen Gordon’s tears later when the kid had pulled himself out of the pool at training. 

As far as he knew, John had never cried. 

Despite their reactions, the nightmares had come the same as they always did. 

In his gut, Jeff hated himself. 

Even as he knew there was nothing more that he could do, not without something key in finding where Scott could have ended up. He hated that he was stuck, on the opposite side of the world, with nothing more to do than wait for one of the few that would help to call and tell him they’d found something. 

He knew he wouldn’t sleep for a while after the nightmare, the what-ifs too loud in his mind for him to shut off. So, as he always did, he pulled himself out of bed and slipped downstairs to the office, hoping to at least be productive with the few hours before he needed the boys up to get Gordon to training. 

It took him a moment to realize the vid-message icon was coming from his personal comm, not for business. 

He opened it quickly, knowing only a handful of people would leave a message for him overnight. 

Val’s hologram popped up, bathing the whole room in a soft blue as her pinched brow looked up to him.

“I’m not calling because I haven’t time.” She started, voice soft like she couldn’t afford to be heard, “So you’ll get this in the morning and maybe I’ll have more answers. The GDF have been called in to retrieve Prisoners of War from a base not far from the village. I’ll call you when I have answers.” 

His hand reached out instinctively to call her, needing something more after the long long months of nothing. 

The call didn’t connect. 

“Dammit, Val.” He uttered, rubbing his hand over the stubble that had begun to form along his jaw, “What am I meant to do with that?”

He was still too far away, needed to be closer than he was in that moment. He needed to be there. 

Jeff couldn’t go to Bereznik, but he could fly himself to London, that was only an hour from Paris, where he knew they had been taking the worst injured. 

A few phone calls later and the plan was set in motion, his mother would take the boys, he would fly himself to London and meet Hugh, an old friend he’d not caught up with in too long. 

What he hadn’t expected when he stepped out onto the tarmac into a gray London morning, was for Kyrano to be standing next to Hugh. Jeff hadn’t even been aware that the pair had known one another, let alone that Kyrano was in London. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Jeff.” Hugh had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, “Kyrano and I have been crossing paths since before you knew me.”

Jeff looked to the Malay, raising an eyebrow, “You have?”

Kyrano smiled in that soft, knowing way that betrayed the kind of man he really was, “You don’t know everything Jeff, even if you wish you did.”

He shook his head in admission as Hugh gestured towards a truck. Where it would take them, Jeff wasn’t quite sure, but he didn’t doubt that the pair that had met him would have some kind of plan in place.

“Is there any news?” He asked as they pulled out of the airport.

“No.” Kyrano shook his head, from the passenger seat, “Val told you she would call.”

“Do we know why they’re releasing them?”

“Also, no.” Hugh answered, glancing back in the rear-view, “Though sources suggest it’s less of a release and more of a trade.” 

Jeff couldn’t say he particularly cared for the semantics of release versus trade, he needed to know the details, who and why and when. The Bereznian forces weren’t the sort to simply let people go, not without a valid reason or a high price. The opposition had to have had something that the other had desperately wanted.

“They’ve not taken people back this whole war, why now?” He murmured, “Who did we capture?”

“That, my friend, is what we’re going to find out.” Hugh answered without looking back, “Might as well get comfortable, it’s a couple of hours to Norfolk.”

Jeff took the hint, settling back in his seat and managing to doze for a brief time before the familiar roar of jet engines woke him. 

The base was familiar, likely one he himself had stayed at for a stint during the Global Conflict, though he knew he’d have been lying if the bases hadn’t all come to look the same over the years. 

Their car was waved through after Hugh had given the guard on the gate a few choice words, drawing Jeff straighter as they weaved through the buildings to one closer to the airfield itself. 

Hugh had ordered the pair to stay put as he had slipped out the car and strode towards the offices, pausing to salute the man on the door before vanishing inside. Neither had spoken as they had waited what felt like hours, both able to see the silhouettes of people arguing through the unshuttered windows. 

In all the months he had been waiting for news, he had never seen the action his friends had been taking in person. It had always been from a distance, vid-calls and messages that left out what they had all been doing behind the scenes for him and his son. 

He had always been grateful, but never more so than after seeing all they had been doing for him in action.

Hugh’s sigh was heavy as he got back into the car, slamming the door harder than necessary as he did so.

“I don’t know what new Colonel Casey is going to call you with later, but I wouldn’t expect it to be good news, Jeff.”

It hadn’t been good news. 

It hadn’t been until the next day that Val had called on a secure line, and after tutting when she had discovered he was in London, she had filled them in on everything she had known. 

A group of highly decorated Bereznian Soldiers had been caught by the Opposition on a takeover of a base close to the border, intel had suggested the loss had been devastating to the Bereznian army and left morale sinking quickly. It was no surprise that the country wanted them back, if only to boost the confidence of the young men in their forces and renew their efforts. A swap had been agreed, the handful of captured American and French soldiers were to be released in a man for man exchange.

Except the Oposition had refused to release a captured Colonel, and the Bereznian’s had accepted without argument. 

Scott’s squadron had been amongst the men and women released. 

Scott had not.

It had stunk of horseshit. 

Val had agreed as much. 

“They’re not in a good way, Jeff, but when I can I’ll try and get something out of them.” Val had promised before she had ended the call. 

So he had been left with nothing else to do, but wait. 

He was sick and tired of waiting. It had been months since he had heard his son’s voice, even longer since he had held him close and been able to tell him just how much he loved him. There had never been anything for him to do other than stand by and wait for others to make their move. 

Just where had that gotten him?

“We need to find out where that base is.” He had told Hugh and Kyrano over dinner, “I’m not waiting any more, I’m going to find my son.” 

Both had shared a look, one that Jeff knew as a question of if there was a son left to even save. 

Jeff didn’t want to think about that as a possibility. 

Hugh had eventually nodded and cleared his office though, setting up a map in place of the encyclopedias that had filled the desk space. Jeff had raised an eyebrow when the man had produced the copies so quickly, but Hugh had simply shrugged and told him how it was best to be prepared. 

They had plotted late into the night, and long into the next day. Jeff had caught catnaps as the other pair had discussed security protocols, and they had slept as he called in favors from old friends still in the forces in the hopes of someone letting slip of a location.

Time moved slowly, like the whole world around him was moving through molasses, everything just taking that much longer than he wanted it to. 

In the end, Val didn’t need to find out anything for him. 

It had come from his secretary in New York, an innocuous little box that Jeff had been too intrigued by to not open. Inside had been a letter with a number, and his son’s dog tags. 

It had been with Hugh and Kyrano at his back that he had made the call. 

“You have my attention.”

“How much does your Son mean to you, Jeff Tracy?”

“I don’t bargain for lives. Where is my son?” 

“We are not bargaining, and you are in no position to make orders of us.”

“What do you want?”

“A million of your American Dollars. A secure wire transfer.” 

“I want proof of life.” 

“Oh, we can arrange that, just listen.” 

Silence on the other end of the line for a moment before…

“Let me out! Please! Let me-- Let me out!”

Jeff’s heart stalled in his chest, a memory of his son being so much younger and getting himself trapped under the bed echoing with the cry of fear. His little boy, terrified of whatever happened next with nobody to come to his rescue.

Kyrano’s hand on his shoulder snapped him from the memory, a sharp nod as the man pointed to one of the maps where Hugh had drawn a big red circle. 

They’d gotten a location, the final piece they had needed. 

“It’ll take time to get that sort of money together.” He forced his voice to remain steady, “A week at least.” 

“We can wait that long. Let us hope your son can also.” 

And then the line was cut. 

Jeff had wanted to collapse in a heap, to sob and beg of someone to save his little boy and fix everything for him. 

“They didn’t bother about their Colonel because they need money more.” Hugh stated, “If you pay up, they’ll likely keep Scott and barter for the Colonel as well.”

Instead Jeff forced steel into his spine and cleared the lump from his throat. His heart restarted with a fire burning in its pit, anger at the players that had decided his boy wasn’t worth it, anger at the Bereznian’s that were hurting him, anger at the whole damned war for trying to take his son. 

They had confirmation, Scott was alive. They knew where he was. They had a plan to get to him. 

It all fell into motion perfectly quickly, the molasses cleared and everything suddenly running at double speed.

He had only paused long enough to visit his son’s rescued squadron when Val had finally given the all clear. Men and women, shells of their previous selves that Jeff had met in passing. Kids just like his son who had gone into the war thinking they could survive anything the world threw at them. 

Jenny, Scott’s co-pilot, once as quick witted and bold as his son had always been, had barely been recognisable, her cropped hair uneven in the way it had grown out, her cheeks hollow, and her eyes without the spark that Jeff had always seen when the crew had been on leave. She was small in the bed, a shadow, not the strong bold woman that had challenged his son. 

She had grasped onto Jeff’s hand the best she had been able with fingers that evidently hadn’t healed in the way that they should have, her voice barely above a whisper as she had told him how their superiors wouldn’t listen to a trio that would undoubtedly receive an Honourable Discharge in weeks to come. Jeff would have words about it later, once he had his son safe he would tear a new one to anyone who had considered it acceptable to leave a man behind.

“Scott’s alive.” Jenny had hissed, “Of that I’m certain, Colonel.”

“We’ll bring him home.” He had assured her, closing his hands over hers, hoping and praying that she was right. 

“He’s the strongest of us all.” She had nodded, the tiniest spark coming back to her features for a brief moment, “He’ll keep fighting, if not for us, then for his family.”

It was with that Jeff had left, his own hope quietly fanned from a spark into a smoulder. 

All that was left to do was arm themselves. 

In abstract, Jeff had always known Hugh had held an armory of sorts, though he had never seen or imagined just what such a place would contain. Never in a hundred years would he have pictured the secret room the Aristocrat had led them to, weapons old and new lining the walls on all three sides. 

Kyrano took free reign, but as Jeff reached out, Hugh stopped him. 

“You’re not coming that far, Jeff.” 

“What?” He had spun, thinking back to the plans they had made, and what they had agreed would happen once they touched down in a clearing just beyond the base.

Hugh had held both hands up, almost like an apology, “You’re too involved, too at risk yourself.”

Whilst it had been true, it wasn’t the biggest problem that Jeff had foreseen. He had a son to save, a son he was going to fight to get back, a son that he had left to face the world long before he had been drawn into a war. Jeff wasn’t going to leave him to struggle through on his own, not again.

Hugh and Kyrano of all people should have understood.

“You both have daughters,” He started, waiting until Kyrano had turned to look at him, “can you truthfully tell me you wouldn’t see the world burn for them?”

“The difference is, Jeff, we have.” Hugh shook his head, “That is a place we have both been to and a place neither of us would choose to send another parent to. We do not know your son’s status, and whatever we find there you will undoubtedly carry with you for the rest of your life.” 

Kyrano set the rifle down that he had been examining, “What Hugh means is, you might know what Prisoners of War go through and have seen the extent of Jenny and Gary’s wounds, but Jeff, that will not prepare you for whatever they might have done to your own son.”

Jeff held his hand out again for the gun Hugh had taken from him, “I’m coming with you.”

The pair had shared a look but hadn’t argued. 

Jeff had helped himself to whatever weapons he saw fit. 

Then they were there, the three of them and a car of Hugh’s own design tucked safely away in a clearing barely a mile from the base. Night had fallen and wordlessly they had moved, the plan working seamlessly as they had slipped in through a disused entrance. 

There hadn’t been as many guards as they had expected, and the reason for everything fell into place as Jeff had pulled a man he had knocked out into a small cell. Their uniforms were grubby, tattered and frayed at the edges, the men themselves skinnier than a soldier on home soil should have been. 

The country was bankrupt. 

That was why they wanted money. Why they had kept hold of Scott and used him to bargain. 

It was why the Oposition hadn’t bothered to bring Scott home, they must’ve believed that soon enough the war would be over ayway. 

All the while, his boy, his strong, brave boy, had been left to suffer. 

It was with anger in his heart that he no longer hesitated in pulling the trigger with each soldier that had come to face them. 

Jeff was finding his son and taking him home. 

And nobody was getting in his way.

[loopstagirl]

Slippery Slope, Chapter 5

"It's… mountainous," Virgil said. He stared at the expanse of rock and snow looming above – far, far above – him. Gordon snorted.

"You're a genius," Gordon said, his tone deadpan. "The mountain is mountainous. John? John, you're no longer the clever one of the family."

Virgil elbowed his brother hard, not risking words. Their father was off to one side, deep in discussion with Brains. Even though he was helping their friend put his jetpack on, he had the 'dad' ability of hearing a son swear, however far away he was.

Brains didn't look bothered by the slope in front of them. Virgil wasn't so sure.

"I was hoping for something a little more, I dunno… green slope instead of black?"

He would've balked at coming down this one. Somehow, going up it seemed more daunting.

"You've got this." Scott clapped him on the shoulder, tone as reassuring as ever. "Stay in a straight line and try not to fall over. The pack will do the rest."

"Then you take it," Virgil said. "Even you can handle a straight line."

"Pretty sure there's evidence to the contrary," John muttered, only just loud enough for Virgil to hear. He chuckled, feeling a little of his apprehension ease as he recalled Scott's attempts to prove just that point.

Scott either didn't hear or chose to ignore John. "It's just like all our other tests. You'll be fine."

That wasn't the reassurance his brother no doubt intended. Virgil stared at him.

"How many times has that gone wrong?" His voice rose an octave, but for once, he didn't care.

Scott rolled his eyes. His hand remained on Virgil's shoulder. Virgil liked to think it was his brother simply giving some comfort. But he had a feeling Scott knew he was close to bolting. This no longer felt like a good idea. He looked around for John, intending to ask if he wanted the pack, but Gordon spoke first.

"We'll go to the nursery slopes," he said. The mocking concern in his voice made Virgil narrow his eyes. "Get a couple of knee-high squirts to test it instead."

Virgil bit his tongue. His reactions were leaving him wide open for teasing brothers but for Gordon, it was more than that. He was frustrated he couldn't even be in the running for testing.

"Can we just get this done?" Alan grumbled. "I'm freezing."

He had his arms folded, shifting on the spot. He, too, was put out he couldn't do the testing, and was sulking about it.

"John?"

Something was different in Scott's tone this time. Virgil was starting to hear it more and more. It wasn't a big brother corralling younger siblings: it was a commander expecting to be obeyed.

John looked up from where he was kneeling in the snow. He closed the back of the pack, fastening it with a screwdriver that had come from who knew where, and held it out to Virgil.

"All yours," he said.

"It's safe, right?"

He meant what he'd said to Scott. Many of their tests had gone wrong. Sometimes just the equipment malfunctioning. But there had also been bruises, scrapes, the odd burn and even unconsciousness. Virgil didn't relish the prospect of being knocked out while halfway up this slope. It would be a long way down again.

John nodded towards their dad and Brains.

"He seems okay."

Brains had the pack on. He was moving – up the mountain. He may have been going slow, but he was steadily drawing away from the Tracys. They all watched for a moment, and when everything seemed to be going okay, their dad joined them.

"Ready?" he said with a warm smile. Virgil just nodded.

Scott took the pack, helping Virgil slide it on his back and double-checking the straps.

"Keep your thumb on the switch at all times or you'll stall," he said, sliding the remote into Virgil's gloved hand.

"You know the drill: full report when you reach the top," his dad ordered.

Virgil nodded again. They were getting used to the type of information Brains deemed necessary to make any adjustments or enhance performance.

Clipping his boots into his skis, Virgil shuffled into position. If he cut across at an angle, he could follow Brains' path. If the pack did what it was supposed to, it'd be a clear run to the top.

He jammed his thumb on the trigger, and moved forward.

An inch.

…then another…

…and another, finally reaching the start of the incline.

It was hard keeping his balance at this speed. Virgil pushed harder on the switch but nothing changed.

"What an anticlimax," Alan grumbled. Virgil intended to glare at him, but quickly realised looking over his shoulder was an easy way to lose his balance.

John caught up with him in two long strides. "This isn't right," he said, "let go a sec?"

Virgil released the switch. The motor died, and he promptly slid back the few inches he'd gone.

Scott and John moved as one. Scott braced the skis, stopping Virgil from sliding back further, while John put a hand on his back.

"Gords?" John held a hand out without looking. Gordon passed him the screwdriver.

"Slow is fine," Virgil said quickly.

John only laughed, opening the jetpack again.

"Gravity will win with the speed you were going." He was silent for a moment, then, "aha."

"Should I be worried?" Virgil looked anxiously over his shoulder, wondering if he was about to see smoke.

"Lose connection."

Scott's hand replaced John's, supporting him, as John fixed the circuitry.

"Two inches and he's burnt it out," Alan said.

"Enough," their dad snapped. He got worried every time they tested something new. "Can you fix it?"

Virgil nodded, making to slide out of the straps, then realised his dad wasn't talking to him. He might be the engineer of the family, but John knew how to tweak some wiring.

Scott chuckled but John remained quiet. Virgil could feel him fiddling with the wires. It only took a few moments before John was closing everything back up - again.

"Should be good to go," he said.

Virgil trusted him. Honestly, he did. But it was a relief when Scott didn't stop bracing him.

Virgil glanced at his father, who gave him a reassuring nod. Virgil took a deep breath, and jabbed his thumb back on the switch before he could change his mind.

It was one of the weirdest sensations he'd ever felt. A constant force pressed against him, making him move in a direction that felt it defeated all odds. Finding his balance, Virgil let his skis run smoothly – up the mountain. He didn't dare look around, afraid of losing his balance.

It was easy to keep his balance. While he wasn't moving fast, his pace was steady, and Virgil grinned. No doubt Alan and Scott would complain about the speed, but he was just glad it seemed to work. Given the conditions needed for this, he would be the only Tracy who got to test it on real snow, and he was determined to give a report that would make his brothers jealous.

After a while, Virgil started shifting his weight, moving in wide arcs across the slope. A rescue was never going to be in a straight line. It felt easier than skiing normally, not having to worry about his speed, and he let out a delighted laugh.

One turn went a little too wide and Virgil felt his balance slip. Instinctively, he changed his grip on the poles, letting go of the switch as he did.

The motor immediately cut. Virgil had one panicked thought of Gravity! Before his fumbling hand found the switch again. The force driving him upwards now felt comforting against his back as it kicked in.

No one at the base of the mountain would've seen what happened. But Virgil intended to ask Brains to make some adjustments. More than likely he'd need both hands free for a rescue.

He went back to his turns though, knowing it was the easiest way to find any other alterations. He still had some way to go before he reached the top and Virgil forced himself to relax. He intended to enjoy every moment.

-x-

"He's doing okay," Scott said.

With a grin, he held out a hand without looking. Alan huffed but slipped a bill into it. As soon as Virgil had left to talk to Brains after breakfast, the bets had started. Scott knew there was no way Virgil would stick to the plan of a straight run to the top without any deviation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his dad look skyward. But then Scott burst out laughing when the man gestured at Gordon, who handed over his own money with a scowl. Scott turned his attention back to Virgil.

"Brains thought it would take them an hour to reach the top. It's gonna take him two if he keeps going in the wrong direction."

"It's still up," John shrugged. He reached for his own skis. "That's what counts, right?"

Jeff nodded. His arms were folded, narrowed eyes fixed on Virgil. Scott had a feeling he wasn't going to move, or even look away.

"I'm going to get a few runs in," John continued. "Anyone coming?"

Gordon picked up Virgil's snowboard and the two started off.

"Wait for me!" Alan called. "I'm coming with you: meeting TinTin for a coffee."

Scott watched them go, not moving. He heard his father's low chuckle.

"You can't just stand here watching," the man said. Scott blushed but shook his head.

"Not planning on. I'm going to meet him up top. Just didn't fancy going with those three."

It didn't matter that Alan couldn't ski either. He'd join in with the other two ribbing him about it, and Scott wasn't in the mood while Virgil was testing their future equipment.

He took a few steps, then glanced back.

"Aren't you coming?"

His dad shook his head, gaze still locked on Virgil.

Laughing, Scott moved off. His father's rebuke didn't stop the man from doing exactly what he'd told his son not to. No doubt he'd watch Virgil for as long as he could from here, then hurry up the slope to continue watching from the top. Scott at least wanted to get a hot drink rather than watch while freezing.

He ducked under the makeshift barrier that separated their part of the mountain. Scott's smirk didn't fade. No matter how much he denied it, his father had bought a mountain!

Two men were standing only a few paces away. Scott hesitated. One appeared to be fixing a loose ski, but there was something about their posture…

Scott took his time putting the barrier back into position. They were still fiddling even when he was done. Scott had spent enough time the day before trying to sort out his own skis and even he knew it didn't take that long.

"Okay, fellas?" His voice was casual, friendly even, and he kept his own posture relaxed. That didn't mean he wasn't surreptitiously checking if anyone else was around.

"Admiring the view," one called back. "While my buddy here figures out which way the ski goes. Pretty spectacular, right?" He gestured at the slope behind Scott.

Scott didn't turn. "Sure is. Off limits though."

He didn't like how close they were. If he sounded like a spoilt rich boy, then so be it: he wasn't letting them past the barrier. At least his father was still there for back-up if needed.

"We heard," the second man muttered, just loud enough for Scott to hear. His tone was dark and his gaze drifted over Scott's shoulder.

"Going to need you to clear this area," Scott said. Technically, this area didn't belong to his family, but there weren't any other runs accessible. There was nothing for these men here.

"Got it!" The second man spoke again. This time, his tone was overly bright. Just like that, his ski slotted into place.

He turned, heading back towards the slopes. "See you around."

He started pushing through the snow, his friend following with a nod.

Scott watched them go, biting his lip. Should he tell the rest of the family? He kept his gaze trained on the men, but they didn't do anything other than join the queue for the lifts. Scott shook his head. A few months on an island with a barrage of secrets, and suddenly he was paranoid.

He trudged through the snow, heading for the lift himself. Glancing over his shoulder, he admitted the man was right: the view was spectacular. Their slope was almost pristine with snow and would be a beautiful photo opportunity, despite the 'No Admittance' sign the Tracys had put up.

Trying to forget them, Scott took the lift back to the bar he'd visited before. This time, it was full of families grabbing hot drinks and snacks, although the atmosphere was just as vibrant.

A girl waved at him and it took Scott a moment to recognise her from a few nights ago. He smiled but headed for the bar, more interested in a coffee than a pick up this time.

"You."

It wasn't the greeting Scott was used to and he started, before grinning ruefully at the barmaid.

"Me," he said. She shook her head, pretending to back off.

"Oh no. I've seen what those dimples can do. Keep them to yourself, you hear?"

Scott laughed and held his hands up in surrender. "Just a coffee, please."

"Cream?"

"Please."

"Name?"

"Why'd you need my name?" In a way, it was nice she hadn't recognised him yet.

"I'm not introducing myself to a stranger. Name?"

"Scott," he said, deciding to leave off surnames.

"Cara."

She slid him his coffee; he passed the money back. But he stayed sitting where he was. Virgil wouldn't appreciate having both his brother and father staring at him. At least, that's what he told himself. In all reality, he enjoyed chatting to Cara as she easily kept on top of the morning rush. He figured his future career may be easier than juggling six coffee orders from patrons too impatient to wait their turn.

Once he'd finished his drink, he decided it was time to move. He wanted to hear how Virgil and Brains had fared. While he wasn't certain about this invention – anyone waiting to be rescued by him on skis was going to have a very long wait – he enjoyed watching Brains' work.

He stood to leave, and raised voices brought his thoughts back to reality.

"Seats are for customers only. Either place an order, or leave." Cara's voice was firm but exasperated, and Scott knew this wasn't the first time she'd addressed the two men sitting at a window table.

Scott couldn't help himself and he looked over. One of the men was staring out of the window and Scott jolted when he noticed he had a pair of binoculars. Not what one usually saw on a skiing vacation.

The other man replied to Cara in a voice too low for Scott to hear.

"Out." Cara's response was clipped and angry. "Before I call security."

Scott stepped away from his stool. Some kid Alan's age stole it before he'd taken a second step, but he was leaving anyway. This wasn't the type of place to have security and he didn't like the posture of those men – or the binoculars.

"Problem?" His tone was light. Cara glanced at him, but looked relieved rather than exasperated by his interference.

"Won't leave, won't order, won't take a hint," she said.

"You heard her." Scott's voice deepened, a hint of a command slipping in. "Time to go."

Both men looked around properly. Scott blinked, trying to hide his reaction. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. He didn't like this.

"Keep showing up where you're not wanted, don't you, fellas?" He said. It was the same men as before.

"And you keep trying to move us on. You own the mountain or something?"

"Wellll," Scott drawled with a small smirk. "Technically-,"

"We're going." The man with the binoculars had let them rest against his chest, and tugged on his friend's arm. For a second, Scott thought his friend was going to throw him off, but then the pair of them stood and barged their way through, almost knocking a young boy flat as they left.

"Thanks." Cara flashed him a smile. "Maybe you've got other skills than just dimples, after all."

She hurried away before Scott could respond. The queue at the bar waiting for drinks wasn't getting any shorter.

Scott leant forward, trying to see what the man could've been watching so intently. There view overlooked many of the slopes, but it wasn't that which made a cold trickle run down Scott's spine.

A familiar looking private slope was almost straight ahead. Scott couldn't see much from this distance, but with enhanced vision…

He hurried out of the door. As he pulled his hat on, he wondered where the two men had gone. Maybe he really was being paranoid?

Or maybe not. No sooner had he cleared the door when there came an angry shout. Two skimobiles shot from the small shack a few feet away. They didn't follow the marked-out route but instead cut directly across the path, causing people to lurch out of their way.

Scott was already moving before his brain finished registering they were heading towards the Tracy's slope: heading towards Virgil.

Scott ran, slipped, and grabbed onto a convenient handrail as he tried to keep his footing. Regaining his balance, he hurried towards the 'For Hire' shack, hoping there was another skimobile available. He scrabbled in his pocket for his phone as he ran, but he'd left it back at the lodge.

Scott slowed. Despite himself, a grin spread across his face. He'd left it because he had another way of contacting his family. One they hadn't quite got used to yet, even if they were all wearing their new communicators.

He ducked behind the closest shelter, barely noticing it was the restrooms. Pulling off a glove, he then rolled back his cuff and pressed a button on his watch. With that one touch, he signalled the rest of the family.

"Guys? I think we have a situation."

He didn't know what was going on. Had no idea where the others were. Or even if Virgil was indeed in trouble.

But as he mobilised his team for the first time, the thrill that ran through him was greater than anything he'd felt before, even in the Air Force.

He made it to the hut and hired the fastest skimobile left, having no idea what he said to the guy behind the counter. As soon as he was out, Scott kicked it to life and, with a roar of an engine, he shot after the men posing a threat to his family.

Virgil might enjoy skiing.

But this? This was more to his style.

Read it all on FF.net

[merthurglompfest]

Title: Sweet Dreams By: @loopstagirl Gift for: @rapha-writes Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 6530 Warning(s): None Summary: Camelot was cold and empty. There was nothing for him here. Arthur was king, and magic was still forbidden. His dreams, however, were telling him something else. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064803