#he's in agony. worst possible way of this coming out. great job team. even more painful than he thought it would be.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

How long do you think it took for the other first years to realize that Megumi is literally Gojo’s boy? I can’t ever imagine them getting an answer out of Megumi (he absolutely can and will summon Mohoraga to make sure he’ll take this truth to the grave) but on the other hand we have Gojo broadcasting to the world his blatant favoritism of Megumi ahahaha

ooooh that's an excellent question. It was definitely well after yuuji died and came back to life, so more than a month at least. By the time Yuuji officially comes back to life, Kugisaki's already started teasing megumi about Gojo's obvious favoritism of him. Yuuji quickly hops on board with it.

I think the other first years initially assume that Gojo's just the kind to play favorites with students or is partial to megumi because he was originally the only first year in Gojo's class or something. Megumi isn't about to tell them that Gojo raised him, so he just brushes it off whenever they start to tease him.

The second years, however, had Megumi as Gojo's son built into their introduction. It's so long been foundational to how they think of him that they just assume everyone knows. They're the ones to rat him out.

(nobara, taking the piss: and there's gojo playing favorites again. it's completely unfair.

Yuuji, immediately on the same bullshit as her: completely

Nobara: what do you have that we don't fushiguro

Panda, overhearing this: ... I mean it's kind of obvious, right?

Megumi, knows the jig is up: *takes off for the door*

Panda: I mean yeah Megumi's Gojo's favorite. He's his son. didn't you know?

Nobara: :o

Yuuji: :o

Nobara: he's his fucking wha--hey, get back here!

Yuuji, Climbing On Top Of Him: Why don't you tell us anything about your life?????)

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Queen Of The Damned”

In the whole eternity, The Queen of the Underworld only loved once: he was mortal and died shortly after she gave him a child. So when The Joker says he’s a Prince, he’s not actually lying or being a presumptuous lunatic: the green haired man is in fact royalty and sole heir to The Realm Below.

“Stop fidgeting!!!” the nurse admonishes. “This is a new experimental drug and it will help you, OK?” she tries to reason with the patient confined inside a straitjacket, heavy chains bounding him to the metal table.

“Let me go!” he hisses and tries to bite her as she checks his neck for pulse.

“I can’t let you go, Mister Joker. We’re trying to make you better, alright?” the caregiver dodges his teeth before J can sink them in her flesh.

“If you don’t untie me, my Mother will come!!! She doesn’t like it if I’m in danger!”

“Shut the hell up, you insane bastard!” the attending physician can’t hold in his bitterness while mixing the serum.

“Doctor Reeves!” the woman raises her voice. “That’s not the way we talk! I know you are new at Arkham Asylum, but I would really appreciate it if you treat our cases with respect!”

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes for his unprofessional remark. “He gets on my nerves!”

“Yes well… Please keep your personal opinions to yourself because they’re not doing any good! The patient is very agitated; would you like me to take over?” she offers and gets cut off.

“I don’t need your expertise, I’m a doctor for God’s sake!”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” the nurse sighs at his obvious crankiness; why does she have to be stuck during the night shift with Reeves?! Arkham’s South Wing is already harboring the worst criminals and a psychiatrist that took the job for the thrills can’t possibly render assistance to the troubled convicts incarcerated here.

“I’m done,” he taps the syringe and approaches The Joker when the lights suddenly flicker. “Another power outage?! The storm is not that bad!” the guy rants and doesn’t realize the prisoner is not struggling to escape anymore.  

“My Mother’s coming!” the most demented smile flourishes on The Joker’s lips. “I warned you!” he maniacally starts laughing with delight. “You should have listened!”

A low rumble shakes the immense building and the convoluted hallways fill up with mist: the Queen of The Realm Below steps in the world of the living again, surrounded by her loyal army of twisted warriors.

“Protect The Prince!” the invisible wraiths shriek, crawling on the walls in order to destroy the cameras. Some fly through brick and metal with the sole purpose of fulfilling their ruler’s command: no greater honor than aid her son trapped in the human kingdom.

He often gets in trouble and somehow miraculously vanishes or avoids hazardous situations; this is his first time at Arkham and the authorities will believe tonight’s events are an inside job or simply an elaborate breakout plotted by The Joker’s team.

Ironically enough The King of Gotham is not even crazy: his mind works on a totally different level due to the unearthly heritage. There is no cure for a person that’s not sick, no medicine or therapy allegedly mending something that’s not fractured.

“Why isn’t the generator kicking in?” Reeves stares at the ceiling and the nurse carefully listens, pointing out a disturbing detail:

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” the doctor crinkles his nose. “It’s silent.”

“Exactly,” she mutters. “Why is it so quiet?”

“I have no idea,” he prepares to poke The Joker’s arm when the halogen bulbs instantly go out. “Ana, can you…” the psychiatrist mumbles as the lights turn back on. “Finally!” he turns towards the woman and gasps at the frightening apparition standing next to him. Your sword whooshes in the stillness and the corpse falls to the ground, abruptly followed by the caregiver’s: both didn’t have the opportunity to process what they saw by pure coincidence. It was gone in a second along with their existence.

The Queen towers over the medical ward, slowly taking off her helmet; her hair intensely burns, eternally fueled by the fires of The Underworld.

“You came!” The Joker face brightens up with pure happiness noticing the creatures’ claws release him from his constraints: they grumble, coo and chirp seeing The Prince is safe and sound; he pets a few kneeling at his feet while rushing in your arms. “Mother!” J sniffles and you hold him tight until his body relaxes a little bit.

“Are you hurt?” you whisper and your son pouts, burying his cheeks in the cold silver of your plated armor.

“No,” the muffled word prompts a kiss on his forehead; The Joker lets go, unwilling to watch his mother depart: he’s aware she can’t linger for too long, yet the desire to stay close to her never fades. “When are you going to take me with you?” the piercing blue eyes inherited from his father glare into yours.

“Soon,” the elusive reply makes him frown.

“You promised and I’m always left behind!”

How can you explain why he’s still here?... J wouldn’t comprehend what coming with you to The Realm Below means: he would have to get rid of his mortal shell and you just don’t have the strength to witness him die.  

Despite the horrifying moniker, The Queen of The Damned is neither good nor evil; her actions are invariably guided by circumstances.

She takes care of lost, damaged spirits and although powerful and feared, Y/N is also the recipient of her legions’ constant devotion, for no other Monarch of The Underworld ever enjoyed being cherished by its subject as much as you are.

The abomination born from her love with a human didn’t diminish the horde’s allegiance: it actually made them adore The Queen more because affection is desperately craved in The Realm Below and they can’t wait to have a Prince willing to share his Mother’s duties!

But The Joker’s arrival keeps on getting postponed…  

“You know what I’ll do?” J mischievously snickers. “I’m gonna call my crew and tell them to pick me up. The mystery of how I’m able to walk out of this place without their intervention will drive them nuts! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” his sinister chuckle resonates in the room; he feels such gratification thinking about it one could presume he’s in a cheerful disposition. “Did you clear the path for me?” The Prince inquires and the entities snarl, excited he’s paying attention to their mighty deeds. “Perfect!” your son praises. “I’ll signal when to open the gates, ok?”

They growl at his approval and you have to interrupt the joyful mood:

“I have to go…”

“Is dad waiting for you?” J asks, already guessing the answer.

“Yes,” you nod and reassure: “Don’t worry, I’ll return when you need me!”

Before the sentence ends The Queen disappears, abandoning her descendant inside the Arkham Asylum. The Joker sulks, upset he can’t follow you and gets distracted by the commotion created on the other side of Block H: apparently some guards weren’t annihilated as expected.

“You said you cleared the path!” he scolds and picks up the phone, dialing Frost’s number. “No matter, I’ll get reinforcements and we’ll make this a party on our own, hm?” the silver grin widens at the concept of fighting his way out himself.

In the meantime, J’s mother materializes by the Endless Wall that separates The Realm Below from The Realm Above: its transparent, glass like composition is meant to keep you apart from the man you love. Why?

The response is easy: The King reigning over The Realm Above always craved your fondness and felt betrayed when you gave your attention to a mere human; deciding to give Kai a child was the epitome of mockery for the jealous emperor. He never accepted your choices had nothing to do with him. Thus he took the matters in his own hands and ensured Kai’s demise, making certain you won’t be able to save him: the mortal you loved was killed in a car crash and went to The Realm Above, which was the plan all along. Since The Joker’s father was at peace when he passed and not a lost, broken soul, he didn’t wind up in your kingdom; The Emperor sealed the borders as soon as Kai appeared on his domain, making sure you won’t touch or hear each other again.  

You tried to break the spell without success: only the one that casted such magic could reverse it and The King has no intention to do so. He likes torturing The Queen of The Damned and her beloved, that’s why he lingers in the shadows to glutton at their agony every time they meet.

Today is no exception and it sure brings The Emperor great comfort to view the aftermath of his revolting actions: it probably hurts because you’re unable to do more than gaze at the man you love. Such a fit punishment for a stuck-up Queen rejecting his proposal. You sure got what you deserved! All the powers you possess are useless against his impenetrable curse unleashed out of pure resentment.

Hmm… what’s going on?... You suddenly seem flustered and The King is trying to estimate on the motive; Kai keeps on calling your name, yet you can’t discern the sounds anyway. You swiftly fade in a hurry, neglecting to wave goodbye for a valid pretext: the sharp ache in your chest alerted that something awful happened to your son.

**************  

The Joker is lying on the floor, almost unconscious from the blood loss. The red stain under him is growing bigger and bigger, reaching the collapsed security officers that stood between J and his freedom. He was overly hyped and decided to create mayhem: being reckless provoked the dark side of his personality and he didn’t wait for his gang nor allowed the wraiths to intervene.

The Clown Prince of Crime definitely counts on his Mother’s aid, therefore he doesn’t have to worry about consequences to his endeavors. He trusts you won’t fail to show up and get him out of messy situations like this one.

“M-mother…”, The Joker wheezes as you hover over him. “Mother… h-help me…”, he begs and your hesitation puzzles your heir; his father distracted you and in exchange J got severely injured.

“… …. …. I won’t… I can’t have your father, but I’ll take you…” The Queen confesses, adamant to overcome her delay in fulfilling his wish for years. Maybe she won’t be determined like she is now if another chance will arise in the future.

“Really?...” the hope in his tone makes you sadder. “Mother…” he winces in pain, trying to touch you. “Please h-help me…It…it hurts…”

You grab his fingers and squeeze them in yours, pecking his tattooed knuckles.

“I know…I’m sorry…”

“W-why won’t you…” and he pauses, taking a last labored breath, “…help m-me?!...”

His eyelids are closing, the individual labeled as one of the worse criminals lastly fleeing the prison of his mortal half. The Joker is dead and The Prince of The Realm Below emerges from his remains, stunned to wake up next to you.

“Mother?...” he blinks and you cup his face, relieved you had the courage to do what  you deferred in the past.

“It’s ok,” you smile. “You’ll get used to the sensation, give it a few moments,” you pass your hand to his burning hair, amazed at the terrifying beauty he was blessed with thanks to his ancestry.

“Boss!!!”

“Mister Joker!!”

“Mister J, where are you?” the questions echo in the deserted Block H: his henchmen finally infiltrated the area, spooked at the unnerving feeling that something is shady. When they arrived, the Asylum’s gates were open; nobody around on the street, no guards, no medical personnel, nobody they could spot anywhere on their way to pick up The Joker as instructed.

“Over here!” Frost shouts and rushes to The Joker’s corpse, swiftly taking his pulse. “Shit!” he mumbles when he detects no heartbeat.

“What the fuck?!” Panda is the second to stumble on the scene, baffled to notice his employer covered in blood wearing just a pair of sweatpants.

“We need to get out this instant!” Frost commands as the others join the small group. “Help me carry him!”

“J?..” a woman’s voice emerges. “J?” the visibly pregnant Ava runs on the empty corridor. “Oh my God!” she panics when she sees them trying to lift him up. “J?” she gently caresses his face, panicked when there’s no movement. “Is he dead?” she presses on his wounds and starts crying since the guys are quiet. “Aren’t you going to do anything??!!” she screams, desperate to acknowledge not too much can be done.

“… Mother…” The Prince articulates and you already predict his request: “… Can I stay?”

Who else understands him better to begin with? He loves the mortal and you can relate to his anguish. Of course he wants to go with you also, yet there are things that are holding him back in the human world.

“I suppose I’m condemned to ages of loneliness…” you utter and give him a violent nudge before you change your mind.

The Prince falls back into his body; The Joker gasping for air makes Frost and Panda almost drop him on the marble floor.

“J!” Ava exclaims in disbelief. “Baby??!!” she brings her ear to his lips because he’s saying something.

“Mother… Mother…” J faintly repeats and the woman misinterprets. “Yes, I’m going to be a mom and you’re going to be a dad. You already know this, hm?” she caresses his face. “Be careful!” Ava reprimands as they wrap Richard’s jacket around The Joker and Panda drags a stretcher next to them.

“Jesus boss, we thought we lost you!” Jonny adds and barely deciphers his reply:

“You’re not that lucky…”

The Joker keeps staring at The Queen and the army hidden to the rest of them: she’s leaving and although weakened, he wants to apologize for generating more sorrow when she doesn’t deserve it.

“Forgive me…” J whispers and your last words only he can discern give him unexpected bliss:

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

**************

You come near the transparent wall, seeking to find consolation even if it’s impossible: Kay is on the other side, the palm of his right hand against the invisible barrier. You cover it with yours, wishing you could tell him so much but what’s the point?...  He can’t hear you.

“I couldn’t bring him with me,” The Queen whispers nevertheless. “He wanted to stay… and I couldn’t force him…”

Something is trickling down your face and you touch it, confused.

What is this?! Tears don’t exist in The Underworld; a few drip on the barrier and it starts sizzling to your legion’s dismay. They sniff the bubbly fumes, curiously scratching at the expanding chain reaction: the wall is melting.

You and Kay watch the gap becoming larger and larger until there’s enough space to fit. Is this real or an illusion?!

I guess you’ll have to find out so you take a few shaky steps towards him, not being able to suppress your astonishment when he yanks you in his arms.  

The Emperor is lurking in the shadows, furious his unbreakable magic is dissipating with each passing moment. Your warriors are granted free passage again and they spill inside The Kingdom Above, howling while awaiting orders.  

As she hugs the man she loves, The Mother of lost spirits sneers through her clenched teeth:

“Attack!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[thatfairyfangirl]

True Colors Chapter 31

“Oh Bucky, come here a moment would you?” Nana beckoned from the kitchen. You and Bucky had been training in the backyard. You traded each other confused glances as you can with paused to take a drink of water heading back to the house.

“What can I do for you Nana?” He asked toweling himself off.

“If you are going to be part of this family there a a few things you'll be needing to know.” she explained. Looking around the kitchen You realized she had lain out all the things for her homemade Apple pie. “Like the family Apple pie. Someone in the family will need to pass it on when I'm gone.”

“Nana you taught me how to make that when I was ten.” You chuckled as you got yourself a glass of water.

“Doll...be realistic.” Bucky joked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind kissing your cheek. “You're a terrible cook.”

“Oh don't even get me started… I don't think in all my life I ever saw anyone burn an empty pan before (y/n) came along.” You dropped your head shaking it in shame at the memory as the two laughed.

“Doll how did you manage that?”

“I- I don't even know.” You chuckled as you picked up a knife to cut the apples only to be shooed away from the food by Nana.

“Oh don't feel too badly. Your talents lie elsewhere.” She reassured you as she patted your cheek. This was all too surreal for you, you honestly couldn't recall the last time either your mom or nana being this supportive of you. You found yourself looking for the insults hidden in the conversation, but even then you could still see they were trying.

“THAT is true.” Bucky agreed as he chopped up the apples, having no real desire to learn but seeing that it meant something to her he thought it best to humor her. “Voice of an angel. I assume she gets that from her father?”

“Oh no. Dad was great with instruments and a wonderful teacher but he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.” You chuckled. “Mom was the vocalist.”

“I've got some home movies stashed in the attic if you are interested.” Your mom chimed in as she made her way into the kitchen to grab a soda.”

“Oh mom please no. Those are so embarrassing.” You begged as your phone chimed, telling you that you had yet another message from your label reminding you that you still had a music video to shoot.

“Oh I wasn't talking about the music.” Bucky rose a brow at Nanas comment before glancing back to his beloved with a questioning look on his face. You just shrugged, sure you had no idea what she was talking about, music had been your life ever since you were small. “She hasn't done it in years, but she used to be quite the dancer.”

You there your head back in laughter. “Nana I dance all the time. Its kinda part of my job.”

“Don't you remember mom?” Your mother asked her. “She was in that musical.”

“No not like that. Don't you remember when you used to come dancing with me?” Bucky looked between the family with a smile, happy to see the rupture that had been there for so many years had finally been mended.

“Oh! You mean dance night at the church! Do they still do that?” You asked with a smile, finding it nice to think of the fond memories of your youth.

“I never miss a week.” Nana answered with a proud smile as she slid the our into the oven. “In fact it's tonight.”

“Oh Nana I don't think it would be a good idea tonight.”

“What's dance night?” Bucky asked with a chuckle.

“Every week the church hosts this ballroom dance class slash social.” You explained. “We wouldn't be there to watch you and that would put you at too much risk sorry Nana but please no.”

“Sounds like a blast to me.” Bucky smiled to the old woman. “If she really has her heart set on going I can take get Doll.” He assured you as he rested his biopic hand over your hip pulling you into his side. “What do you say Nana? Would you be my date?”

~ ~ ~ ~

You weren't sure who you felt worse for, your mom and nana or the school of mutants you left them with to meet up with the team. But it had to be done. You and Bucky were called in to Germany and the school was the safest place you knew.

As you moved through the base like a rainbow whirlwind, ambushing the base in hopes to catch Schmidt before he had a chance to get a way you came across the one man you never dreamed of. He stood there frozen as he looked on you. The man you long ago thought dead. “Daddy?” You whispered before someone ordered him to shoot. You shook your head lightly. No. No way your own father would shoot his baby girl… “Daddy what's-”

BANG

Your world went dark as your suit stained red with your blood. “SPECTRUM!” Bucky shouted with wide eyes as he rushed to your side, looking up to see the man who shot you running in the other direction. His eyes narrowed, face hardening as he looked down the barrel of his gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him in the side sending him to the ground as Bucky stood, storming to the agent, kicking him over so that he could face his death. Flashes of family photos in your living room flew in his mind as he saw who you inherited your eyes from.

“Buck.” You choked on the words as your side gushed blood. He curses lightly under his breath as he slammed the barrel into your father's temple to knock him out before lifting the both of you to rush you to the quinjet.

“Umm Frosty...that man's skull is not red.” Tony informed him as he rushed past him to get you to the med bay as fast as possible.

“Yeah I see that.” He replied as he dropped your long lost father. “Look familiar?” He asked as he broke into the med kits.

“Holy Sh-” Tony bit back the swear as everyone regrouped. “What happened to him?”

“He shot (Y/n).” Bucky answered as he tore open your uniform, to pack gauze on the bullet hole in your side. Just from where it was he could tell it missed anything important. So long as he could stop the bleeding soon it will be little more than a scar. But how that scar got there, he was sure that would haunt you.

~ ~ ~ ~

You sat up in your bed, pastel rainbow hair spilling in your eyes as, your shirt pulled up as your fingers traced lightly over the scar the bullet had left, knowing it will forever be there as a reminder to who your father really was. You drew in a sigh letting the firey pain shot up your side as you lowered your feet to the cold tile floor. Only hair fell in your eyes as your mind raced with the same question over and over. But how? You remembered burying him. You watched them lower his casket in the grave. But in a way it didn't matter how. He was here. He was in the basement. Next to Mike. “Time for a family reunion.” You muttered to yourself as you willed your body to stand. Every step was pain, burning in your side and agony in your soul.

“Doll?” Bucky rushed to your side like your knight in shining armor. “You should be in bed.” He said as he wrapped a supportive arm around you.

“This is more important.” You stated stubbornly as you took his arm to support yourself. “Help me downstairs.” You added with a groan as you felt the wound shoot jabs of pain through you.

~ ~ ~ ~

“I think you owe me an explanation.” You demanded as you looked down to your father sitting on the floor of his cell.

“Yeah Dad...what the hell?” Mike asked as he leaned against the bars to his own cell, power dampening collar blinking dully under his straight jacket. Normally you would be against such mutant treatment. But in his case you knew it was necessary. “Go on Dad. Tell her.”

“You shut up.” Bucky snapped pulling a gun out to point in Mike's direction. “Or I'll kill you myself.”

Your father's eyes closed in shame as he turned away. He drew in a deep breath as he stood, finding the strength to turn and face you. “I joined HYDRA the summer before I started college. I'm in their recruitment division. Your mother never even knew. But the thing about Hydra once you're in you don't get to leave.” He glanced up to Bucky. “You know that first hand don't you son.”

Bucky's face grew hard as his bionic fist clenched. “Don't call me that. Ever.”

“Is Mike my brother?” You asked, though somewhere deep down you already knew the answer.

He nodded gently. “The worst mistake I ever made. Hydra caught wind of mutants and wanted me to start recruiting them. When I figured out Mike was one I knew I had to get away from you guys. That wasn't the life I wanted for my baby girl.”

“You better shut up old man or Sin's going to get mad.” Mike warned With a demented growl.

“Who's going to tell her? You're never seeing the outside of this cell again. And neither am I.” Your father snapped back before reaching his hand out to you. “God I hope I didn't do any real damage to you back there. Are you alright baby girl? I'm so sorry. For everything.”

“I'll live.” You said flatly as he gripped your hand pulling you to him. “If your truly sorry then tell us who they sent to watch mom.”

“What? No They never bothered with your mother. As far as they are aware your relationship with her is too strained to use her as leverage against you.”

“What do they even want with me?” You asked, tears in your eyes. “I'm just a singer.”

“They gave up on mutant recruitment when they realized a human wouldn't be able to find them. But then you came along. A guiding star for all the mutants of the world. Red Skull wants you to corrupt mutant kind to Hydra.” His eyes welled With tears as he looked up to his daughter, so proud of what you became without him. “I'm so sorry sweetheart. If I could go back I would have done things worlds differently. Never give them what they want. Never stop being the amazing light you are.” He begged before grabbing Bucky's gun and pulling the trigger, splattering your brother on the wall before doing the same to himself, preferring death to what would happen if Hydra ever learned he lived and told. This was the only way he could truly protect you from himself. With a gasp of horror you buried yourself into Bucky as his blood and bits of brain sprayed you.

[musicalluna]

epistaxis, 7/7

this was originally a not fic written by @samurljacksonwho is allowing me to make it in to a full fic since i’m obssessed

warning: there will be quite a lot of blood in this fic :p

read part 1 read part 2 read part 3 read part 4 read part 5 read part 6

--

Steve is only partially aware of what's going on around him as the surgery wraps up and the doctors wheel him out of the OR. His face hurts so badly he feels blind with it. Breathing hurts and making faces hurts and crying hurts—everything hurts.

Someone puts a hand on his arm and says, “We're going to give you some pain medication, Captain. It should help a little bit.”

They have a few things, that, if carefully administered, can help him manage his pain. Steve waits desperately, praying with every second that passes that it will kick in soon.

Finally, finally after what feels like another eternity, the pain starts to draw back. He relaxes shakily against the bed, just now realizing how tense he'd been. He doesn't like feeling slow and foggy, but right now anything is better than the sensation of his face feeling inside out.

“Welcome back, old man.” Natasha leans into his field of view and smiles at him, one hand cupping his jaw. “I know you probably feel like you got hit by a Mack truck, but you're okay. The surgery went as well as could be expected. Tony is verbally eviscerating the team of anesthesiologists, and we're here. Do you know where you are?”

Steve starts to nod and then stops when it sends pain sparking out in a starburst through his face.

“Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

He blinks once.

“Okay good,” she says, voice warm and smooth as honey. “Where are you pain-wise? Use your fingers.”

Steve curls his fingers to indicate a six. Not feeling great, but not the worst he's felt either. He starts to ask how long it's been and the moment his throat starts to move, everything explodes with searing level-nine agony.

“...it's all right, ride it out, Steve, you'll be okay. Are you with us again?”

Steve twitches his head in a nod, because his eyelashes are clumped together with tears. That had been fucking excruciating, he won't do it again.

“You're probably not going to be able to talk for a little while, Steve,” Bruce says and steps into view on Steve's other side. “Everything is connected and it's going to cause you a fair amount of pain.”

No shit. Steve wants to say, but he doesn't dare try.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Steve's hand judders in a gesture that means sort of and thankfully it's understood.

“You underwent surgery to remove a piece of shrapnel caught at the back of your nose near the top of your throat. It went well, except you woke up during surgery, which was something I hope to god none of us have to witness ever again.”

Steve vaguely recalls the sense of panic when he'd woken, and he hopes not either.

“Your job now is to rest. Are you thirsty?”

Steve blinks once and someone hands Nat a cup. She carefully feeds a piece of chipped ice into his mouth. If he weren't tired to his bones, Steve would be more embarrassed. He tries not to move his mouth too much, nudging the ice around with the smallest movements possible.

Exhausted, he closes his eyes even though Bruce is still talking.

When Steve opens his eyes again, the sun is coming up. He feels groggy, eyes sticky and his mouth is horrible. To his relief, the pain has banked, reduced to a steady, low-level throb.

He looks around the room and discovers Tony slumped in the chair next to the bed with his head tipped back on the seat back. His mouth is hanging open a little and he's snoring. Natasha is curled up in a chair on his other side, eyes fixed on the screen of her phone, which is casting shifting blue light across her face. Last, he spots Clint tucked back in one of the corners sitting on a countertop. He's watching Steve.

Steve lifts his fingers in greeting and Clint's single-minded focus eases a little. “Hey, Cap. How you feeling?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Remembering how bad it hurt last time he tried to speak, Steve swallows carefully, testing how it feels. It sharpens the discomfort in the back of his throat briefly, but compared to how it felt before it's not bad. “Better,” he tries. His voice sounds terrible, but it works.

“Good.” Clint tosses a small object at Tony and it hits him in the forehead before Steve can protest.

Tony jerks awake, blinking blearily.

He stares at Steve for a moment and then shoves himself upright, scrubbing his face. “Steve! Hey, hey, you're awake. Hallelujah, I don't want to be the boss anymore.”

“You're not,” Steve replies and Tony winces at the sound of his voice. “Nat is.”

Clint snickers.

Tony ignores him. “How's your face?”

“Aches,” Steve admits. “'s better though.” He's surprised when Tony puts a hand on his head and pushes his fingers through Steve's hair. It feels nice, despite how weirdly intimate it is for Tony.

“You hungry? Thirsty?”

“Yes,” Steve says, aware of just how much the instant the thought is placed in his head.

Tony huffs. “All right. The docs said you should have cold, soft foods. Birdbrain—”

“Already on it,” Clint says mildly, fingers flying over his phone screen.

Meanwhile, there's movement on Steve's other side and he looks over to find Natasha has put aside her phone and gotten a cup of ice chips from somewhere.

She smirks at him and holds out a spoon with a chip. “Open wide for the airplane, Stevie.”

“You are the worst,” Steve informs her, but he opens his mouth and takes the ice. It's cool and refreshing, but he wishes he could have water instead. It's just enough to make him want more. “How long was I out?” he asks, the shrinking chip clicking against his teeth.

Tony shrugs. “Eight hours or so.”

That explains why it doesn't hurt as bad. It must be starting to heal.

Thor arrives then, carting a tub of Steve's favorite ice cream. “I come bearing a feast!”

Thor plops the tub down in Steve's lap and he grunts.

“You need help?” Tony asks when Steve accepts the spoon Thor offers and Steve's temper flares.

“I'm not an invalid,” he snaps.

Tony immediately draws back, his lips thinning. “Yeah, got it, never mind,” he mutters.

Natasha pinches the back of his arm and Steve yells, “Son of a bitch!” around the spoon in his mouth.

“Don't be an asshole,” she says severely.

“Then don't treat me like I'm helpless,” Steve retorts.

Natasha's hand darts out again, pinching and twisting the side of his nearest pec. He swears even louder this time, a sear of pain tearing through his throat. “You went through something traumatic, Steve, and we want to be here for you while you recover. If you could try not to be a self-centered asshole for thirty seconds maybe you'd realize that.”

“Besides, letting your friends help you when you're down is not the same as being an invalid or being helpless.” Clint raises his eyebrows. “Unless you think you guys helping me out after I lost my hearing was that.”

“That's...not the same,” Steve mutters.

“Uh, yeah, it fucking is,” Clint retorts. “You don't get your own set of rules. You're not that special.”

Steve's mouth pulls into an almost-smile.

“Let us love you!” Clint mostly yells, overdramatic.

“Believe it or not, this isn't entirely about you, Steve,” Natasha says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Aye,” Thor agrees. “It comforts me to know that you remain here with us and have not gone on to Valhalla.”

“You may have felt it but you didn't have to see the way you looked on that table,” Tony says.

Before Steve can say anything in reply, the door opens again and Angavu steps inside. “Welcome back, Captain,” she says and then gently lobs a tiny glass jar at him. It lands with the faintest impact on the blankets over his chest and Steve looks down, picking it up.

Inside, there's a tiny shard of needle-sharp green plastic.

Staring at it, Steve can hardly believe this tiny piece of plastic is what nearly did him in. After everything he's been through and survived.

He hadn't realized how heavily he'd started relying on his new serum-fueled health. He's gotten cocky, expecting to come out the other side of just about anything unscathed. This is the first time something so insignificant has come so close to ending everything. All because he hadn't taken something minor more seriously. He should know that because of his enhanced body, seemingly insignificant issues could be signs of more serious problems.

He looks up at Tony and, swallowing his pride, says, “Thank you.”

Tony's head wobbles and pulls back. “What? Are you talking to me?”

“If it weren't for your paranoid fussing, I probably would have kept ignoring it and that...could have ended really badly. So thanks.”

“Oh, well.” Tony shrugs, eyes skipping nervously across the floor. “I'm happy to annoy the shit out of you in the name of keeping you alive. Kind of fond of you, you know, Rogers?”

Tony never fails to be better than Steve expects. Even after all this time, he's still letting the brash exterior fool him. He owes Tony better than that.

And, he realizes, looking down at the little piece of shrapnel again, he's still acting like that ninety-pound asthmatic with something to prove. His limits have shifted and he's probably worse now than ever about recognizing when he's reached them.

He needs to stop. He needs to rely on his teammates to recognize not only his strength but his weaknesses.

He holds out his hand and Tony steps forward uncertainly, fingers curling around the tiny bottle when Steve puts it in his palm. “Keep annoying the shit out of me,” Steve tells him. “You saved my life.”

“Holy shit,” Clint stage whispers, “I think he just had an existential epiphany.”

Tony curls his hand around Steve's and squeezes. “You got it, Cap.”

The impulse to prove himself strong enough, sturdy enough, worthy enough is always going to be there, but Steve wants to do better. His team deserves that.

[the-paris-of-people]

That Cute Couple You See at a Coffee Shop

SURPRISE! (Or not?) I’m your @tgpsecretsanta @alys07! I hope you enjoy this Cheleanor Cinderella Story/College AU I wrote for you! You can read it on AO3 or down in the cut below! 

P.S. special thanks to @chidi-anagonye for editing! <3 

Summary: What happens when Chidi and Eleanor begin messaging each other online, with no idea of who the other really is? 

Words: 5555

I got my latte with almond milk this morning, pinged Chidi’s penpal. A special shoutout to you, bud.

A grin slipped onto Chidi’s lips. He was in the middle of class, his seminar about Middle Eastern civilization, but still he typed back,

I’m jealous. But! at least you’re able to enjoy it without any of my agony and guilt.

Did you just make a joke? She wrote back. Look at you! I’m impressed. Character development.

You taught me well.

“Chidi!” Tahani hissed, catching Chidi in the middle of his lovestruck look at his computer. “Chidi!” She cried again, tapping his desk with her manicured index finger.

“Huh? What?”

“Look, I know you are quite infatuated with this mystery girl, but can you please pay attention for one moment so we can meet with our group project partners?”

“Right! Sorry!” Chidi cleared his throat. As he whipped out his notes from his backpack, Tahani squinted at Chidi’s iMessage. Blushing furiously, Chidi clicked the ‘X’ at the corner of the window. The last thing Tahani needed to see were his ramblings from last night, after he told his mystery friend that he wished they were a couple he had seen at the coffeehouse, studying together, staring into each other’s eyes. He then panicked because he realized how desperate he sounded. To cover for his semi-flirty messages, he typed out a long explanation, spanning paragraphs, but it didn’t work. He was bad at lying, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even drunk. He was just that awkward.

“Ugh,” Tahani sighed, flopping down in the seat next to him dramatically. “Chidi, you obviously like this girl. It’s been three months. Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?”

“First of all,” Chidi shut his laptop. “You should not be reading my messages! Also, no. It wouldn’t be right to disclose my feelings if she doesn’t have all of the information she can possibly can have about me. And! I don’t know if she has a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or if she’s romantically interested in any gender at all! It would be ethically unsound for me to dump that burden on her. And since finals are approaching, and it might distract her, too!”

“I mean that’s technically true, but still-“

“Alright!”  interrupted Eleanor, the de facto leader of their project team, barreling in from the doorway. “Let’s get to work!”

Perfect timing, Chidi thought, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Did you just get to class?” he inquired, eyeing the coffee cup still in hand and scarf around her neck. It didn’t surprise him, Eleanor always came late, but still, it floored Chidi how she strolled in with unabashed confidence. Chidi shriveled away when he arrived even one minute late, how could Eleanor muster the guts to come forty five minutes after class began?

“Long line at Michael’s,” Eleanor explained, setting her cup down and pulling her messy notes onto the desk. As Chidi learned from their midterm presentation, Eleanor wasn’t the best student, but she was the best at organizing their projects of the four of them. Unlike Chidi, she didn’t waver on which details to include and unlike Tahani, she wasn’t concerned with how to woo the teacher for self-validation. And unlike Jason, she actually had… a brain, so she could contribute sometimes.

(To be honest, Chidi didn’t know how Jason got into college at all. Not that he minded having him there, he always offered free snacks at their group meetings, but he wasn’t... the sharpest tool in the shed)

“By the way, I saw Jason nuzzling with Janet by the windows,” Eleanor mentioned. “ So I guess they’re not coming either.”

“Wait, Jason and Janet together?” Tahani asked, flabbergasted. Tahani wasn’t the only one surprised. Jason was a great guy but Janet wasn’t exactly... his type. She was pretty, funny, president of the student body and the Scholars Club. On top of that, she knew everything. He wasn’t exaggerating. She literally knew everything. Sometimes his friend Simone joked she was secretly a robot.  “Since when have they been… dating?”

“I wouldn’t say they’ve been ‘dating’ if you know what I mean,” Eleanor snorted. She flipped through her stack of loose leaf paper and pulled out her project notes, clicking into her planning mode, “Alright, so we have five more days to put together our final presentation, and from what I remember from what we talked about on Tuesday, no one has any weekend finals, so I vote we get together Saturday and Sunday and just bang this shiz out, ya feel me?” Proud of her quick thinking, Eleanor laid back in her seat and propped her feet up on Jason’s vacant chair.

“Oh!” Tahani clucked. “I’m sorry Eleanor! But no can do!”

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor sat back up.

“What Tahani is trying to say is, the Scholars Club has a ball on Saturday of winter finals week,” Chidi filled her in, “And since Tahani and I are on the board, we’re busy planning until Saturday, and then on Sunday, we have to clean up and debrief, so it probably won’t be until Monday that we can work on the presentation.”

“Seriously?” Eleanor threw her head back and groaned.  “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“Well, we’ve been caught up with other finals, Scholars Club events, I’m part of the Plato society…”

“Oh my god, I get it, you ner-” Eleanor paused mid-sentence.

Chidi cocked his head at her. Was she about to say nerds? Huh. He felt like he had heard that phrase from somewhere, but he couldn’t place where…

“-naturally very busy overachievers,” Eleanor covered. She froze for a second before flapping her lips exasperatedly, folding up her notes and shoving them back into her backpack. “I guess we’ll just do it on Monday around my philosophy final, then.”

“I’m sorry, Eleanor,” Tahani patted her hand. “But I promise I’ll come by your dorm tonight to give you that face cream. It will make all your blemishes disappear!”

“Tahani, I never said-”

“Oh, I’m so excited to see your triple, Eleanor!” Tahani interrupted, clapping her hands together. “I bet it’s just so… quaint.”

She shot her one last grin before gathering all her books and striding away, her floral dress billowing behind her. Eleanor’s mouth dropped open at she watched Tahani exit, still wondering what just happened.

“Don’t worry,” Chidi told her. “She gave me face cream last week, too. You don’t need it.”

Eleanor’s eyes sparkled before she coughed and stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. For some reason, Chidi found himself liking the way her eyes glimmered under the fluorescent lights, how the ends of her mouth softened, how her cheeks tinted pink. She looked pretty.

Calm down, Chidi, he scolded himself as he shook his head. One crush at a time.

***

I ate a quesadilla for lunch today, Chidi texted mystery girl later that day, at the library with Uzo. And now I have a giant stomach ache.

I’m sorry, philosophy cutie, she instantly replied. I wish you didn’t feel so sick all the time :(

The campus health center is open until 7. She added. Maybe you can make an appointment? She sent him a link to the online appointment maker.

I have to study for my psych final tomorrow, Chidi messaged. But thank you for checking for me. That was really nice of you.

Guess you’re not the only one with character development.  :)

Chidi chuckled to himself. He began crafting a witty response, clicking on the urban dictionary link he bookmarked to match her constant use of casual slang. He felt Uzo peering over his shoulder and turned around.

“Shrimp freak again?” Uzo lifted an eyebrow.

Chidi nodded.

Uzo, his childhood best friend, his roommate, his pseudo-brother, was one of the only people who knew the full story. Of how Chidi wrote under a pen name for the university’s online philosophy zine. Of how one day, “StoneColdSteveAustinfreak” had commented on his post, mocking his rigidity and suggesting he “lighten up.” Chidi responded politely, requesting that she directly contact him for her difference in perspective, and two days later, he received a message from shrimpfreak1014 over his newspaper gmail chat. At the time, he was refining his midterm paper for deontology, checking every now and again for messages. Somehow, he remained embroiled in an argument with her until three A.M.

She irritated Chidi to to end. She was argumentative, and she made fun of his nerdy habits, and her sense of humor was cruder than he liked. But at the same time, Chidi didn’t want to stop talking to her. She was sharp and witty and unlike anyone he’d ever met. She was selfish, but she was trying to be better. She was rude, but she apologized when she went too far. She coined herself as a moral particularist, yet she sometimes cited Kant in her arguments, emphasizing when she did just to tease him.

And soon, as their chats grew more and more frequent, they became closer. She messaged him during her work breaks, and he talked to her while he worked on his homework late at night, bags sagging under his eyes as he alternated between his essay about Plato to their discussion of Tim Scanlon. They were friends, advisors, maybe even confidantes, their conversations ranging from philosophy to their favorite coffeehouse on campus to their lives outside of university. She told him how she emancipated from her parents at fourteen, how she worked three jobs to pay off her student loans, how she decided to become a better person after a near-death experience getting her stomach pumped. He confided that his grandmother passed away last year and he missed her, he missed the snacks she used to send and the stews she used to serve. Since then, he told her, he had been more anxious than usual, the simplest of decisions causing his palms to sweat and his leg to bounce .

Listen, dude, how about this? She wrote. Since you’ve been my dorky mentor and you’ve helped me a better person and all the junk, why don’t I help you make decisions? I’m good at that stuff, anyway.

You would do that? He asked.

Yeah, man, I owe it to you! She insisted. The next time you freak out over a big decision just come to me.

And so he came to her each time he freaked out, faced with a choice between white or black, right or left, frozen mocha or coffee.

Just get the frozen mocha, she would reply, as if choosing was so easy. You don’t even like the taste of fair trade coffee at the cafe, so why not get something you enjoy?

You’re right, said Chidi, shocked at her ability to choose without qualms. And so they went on, Chidi as her philosophy mentor and shrimpfreak as his decision maker, and Chidi found himself aching for her messages. During the day, his mind began drifting to her: how perfectly she complemented Chidi, how since they started talking, he softened her and she strengthened him. He wonder about her in ways he shouldn’t, about how her eyes were probably bright and fearless, about if her mouth would curl after a quip, about how her skin would feel against his, cuddling in Chidi’s bed-

No, no, no. It was wrong. How could he have a crush on her when-

“Chidi?” Uzo waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him back to reality. “Chidi? Dude, are you freaking out about your crush on shrimp freak again?”

“A little,” Chidi squeaked. “Okay, well a lot,” He admitted. “I can’t handle this anymore, Uzo! I mean I’ve kept this from her for way too long, and I’m the one who’s always maintained a moral code of honesty! And if I do tell her how I feel, it could potentially destroy our relationship and all the progress she’s made! And who am I to destroy progress, Uzo? I don’t have that kind of authority!”

“Listen, you’ve got to calm down, man,” Uzo advised, while Chidi gasped for air. “Look, it seems like this is eating you alive inside…”

“Pretty much everything does!”

“Right, but it seems like you like her a lot, so… why don’t you put yourself out there? ” He punched Chidi lightly on the shoulder. “Ask her to the Scholars Club ball.”

“The Scholars Club ball?”

“The Scholars Club ball.” Uzo nodded. “Just so you have a shot at meeting in person. I mean, it’s been four months and you don’t even know her real name. You can just go as friends, too. No pressure. But this way, you don’t have to worry about her not knowing who you really are, and if you want, you can come clean and tell her about your feelings.”

“Huh. That’s not a bad idea, actually.” Chidi pondered, tilting his head. If they went to the Scholar’s Ball together, they could have a lot of fun. Shrimpfreak could meet Uzo and Tahani and Simone, and they could talk and laugh all through the night. And maybe, just maybe, (just a thought!) they could slow-dance together, too. He even knew how to sell it to her. There were tons of caterers and free cocktail shrimp. He’s sure she would like that.

But there were drawbacks, too, and Chidi had to consider those, too. Maybe he could make a pros and cons list. Or maybe he would use that Magic 8 Ball in the student union to make a decision for him.

“I’ll think about it,” he told Uzo.

“You’re going to stay up all night agonizing about whether to ask her, aren’t you?” Uzo anticipated.

“Yeah, pretty much!”

“I know you too well, buddy,” Uzo laughed.

***

“Eleanor!” Tahani sang outside her door. “I have your face cream!”

“Oh, no,” Eleanor muttered. “Here we go.”

She closed her laptop and ripped down her Stone Cold Steve Austin poster. Eleanor wasn’t sure if Chidi told her about their messages, but wasn’t taking any chances. She scanned her room for any other defining items that might give her away. Luckily, she wasn’t much of a decorator, unlike Becky, who littered her desk with pictures of cats, Spiderman figurines, and frog drawings by her cousin, Jeremy. Yeah, sure, the frog sketches were cute, but the Spiderman figurines? Come on, Becky!

“Hello, Eleanor!” Tahani greeted as Eleanor opened the door, waltzing right into her room without permission.

“Sure, come on in, Tahani. I definitely invited you.” Eleanor grumbled and flopped onto her bed.

“Here’s a bag with some face cream, and some other Korean skincare products I’d thought you might like to try!” Tahani perched herself on the edge of Eleanor’s bed. As she examined the rest of Eleanor’s dorm room, her face scrunched. “Why, this space is awfully… cramped…”

“Because it’s a dorm room,” Eleanor drawled sarcastically. “It’s small? It’s something normal college students usually live in?”

“I mean it’s nothing compared to the spacious single I have in the Scholar’s Club house, and it’s not as quaint as I thought, but I have to admit, it’s quite cute. Aside from the Spiderman figurines on that desk, which are creeping me out…”

“Right? Thank you!” Eleanor threw her hands up in the air emphatically. “I keep telling Becky to turn them to the side so we don’t have to see them!”

“Though I suppose they would creep out the people walking and looking at the dorm windows,” Tahani giggled.

“Haha! You’re right!” Eleanor snickered. “There’s no winning, is there?”

“Not unless you accidentally throw them in the garbage can!” Tahani joked.

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had, babe!” Eleanor rolled over from laughing so hard. Tahani, who was keeling over with her laughter along with her, suddenly stopped, focusing on the left corner of Eleanor’s room.

Eleanor’s eyes widened. Oh no. She had completely forgotten that she left her work backpack on her desk. It was free of badges and patches and tacky Becky-like decorations… besides the small shrimp keychain on the zipper.

Shit.

“Say Eleanor,” Tahani spun back towards Eleanor. “Shrimp doesn’t happen to be your favorite food, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tahani,” Eleanor challenged, shooting Tahani her sharpest eyes. Tahani’s normally light demeanor darkened to match Eleanor’s venomous stare.

“Anyway,” Eleanor swung her legs around her bed and stood up. The faster she could shove Tahani out of the room, the better. “I think it’s time for you to go, Tahani,” She pushed Tahani back towards the door with her feeble muscles. Jeez, she was surprisingly strong. “Buh-bye! See you Monday!”

“Hang on just a second,” Tahani resisted Eleanor’s shove.“You don’t happen to have a poster of Stone Cold Steve Austin, do you?”

“Again,” Eleanor choked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tahani. See you later, okay buh-bye!”

“Oh, really?” Tahani smugly leaned against the doorframe, pointing to the back of the room. “Then why is that Stone Cold Steve Austin poster on the ground?”

Eleanor flicked her eyes back to the back of the room. Her Stone Cold Steve Austin poster was lying face-up. Fuck. She tore the poster down but she forgot to turn it over or hide it under the bed. Damn it, Eleanor!

“Okay, fine, you caught me!” Eleanor caved. She sighed and walked back to her bed. “I’m shrimpfreak1014.”

“Well, since I am very well-connected,” bragged Tahani, shutting the door and joining her on the bed. “I happen to know the identity of the lucky man you’ve been talking with-”

“Please,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “ I know it’s Chidi. I sit behind him in class and he’s not super discrete about messaging on his laptop.”

“Oh,” Tahani shook herself out of her initial shock before agreeing, “That is true. But if you know who he is, and you both are very close, why don’t you tell him who you are?”  

Because it’s Chidi, she wanted to say. He’s intelligent and patient and kind and he genuinely cares about people. He cares about me. But I don’t even know if he cares about me me. Eleanor me.

And I couldn’t stand losing him if he didn’t.

“Because I don’t even know if he likes me,” she said instead. She avoided Tahani’s gaze as her eyes welled with tears, tucking the strands of hair behind her ears. God, she probably looked like an idiot, getting all soft talking about how much she liked him. “We always bicker while working on projects, and he always gives me a funny look whenever I say something ignorant, and I just… I don’t want him to change his mind if he knows who I really am…”

“Eleanor,” comforted Tahani, rubbing her back in circles. “I’ve known Chidi for a long time, and he doesn’t dislike anyone. Including you. And also…” Tahani hesitated  “You never know how someone will react if you tell them how you feel, so it never hurts to try. Like the time I told Daniel Radcliffe that…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Eleanor cut her off. “I always get it. But…. Thanks, Tahani. I guess. Maybe. I’ll think about it.” She smiled up at her in between sniffles.

“No problem, friend,” Tahani gave her one last pat on the back before heading back to the door, this time, without Eleanor forcing her out. “Well, I better get going. I have to run a bunch of errands for the ball. But Eleanor,” Tahani lingered in the doorway, rocking back and forth on her feet. “If you ever want to get lunch or something…I’d be happy to put something in my calendar.”

“That would be great, Tahani,” accepted Eleanor, grinning. Sure, Tahani was a snob, and she name-dropped too much. She wore heels even though she didn’t need them, and she was too concerned with her popularity…but she also had a good heart. And she was kind of fun to be around. It was only fair that Eleanor gave her a chance.

“But only if we go to get burgers,” she added. “I’m not much of a fancy girl, and you could use some loosening up.”

“Well, I look forward to the grease.” Tahani bobbed her head, then double-checked, “Is grease something to look forward to?”

“You’ll see, babe,” Eleanor winked at her. “You’ll see.”

***

Chidi paced up and down the shiny, hardwood floor of the Scholars Club house kitchen. He had been at it for an hour and a half. Femi already came down to check if he was okay, and he had already scarfed down three bananas from the ornate ceramic fruit bowl Tahani had made for the kitchen. Okay, he was going to go over the possible outcomes one last time, then he was going to decide on what to do…

Hey, bud, his phone vibrated in his hand, disrupting his train of thought. Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Feeling alright?

Chidi trembled as he reread the message. He couldn’t keep up this charade any longer, otherwise he would just end up freezing her out. Yeah, that’s what normally ended up happening with his friends and ex-girlfriends he couldn’t break secrets to, but he didn’t want this to happen with her. He didn’t want to lose her; he wanted this, finally, to be the one that stuck.

You know what? His mind whipped into shape and settled, He was going to do it. If shrimpfreak had taught him anything, it was how to be more decisive. He yearned so badly to meet her, he yearned for nothing else, but he was letting the tossing and turning of his mind prevent him from going for what he desired.

Hey! He texted. Thanks for checking up on me. I was just thinking how to ask you something. So I’m part of the Scholars Club on campus and we’re having a ball on Saturday night. Do you want to go with me? Just as friends, of course. There’ll be free shrimp!

He held his breath while he waited for her response. Nothing.

He removed another banana from the fruit bowl. Maybe the overload of potassium could somehow carry him through the day.

***

It was only in his final class of the day, creating a study guide for philosophy of neuroscience alongside Simone, when he heard back from shrimpfreak1014:

Sorry man, I have work from 9-5 tomorrow and then I have to finish my group project. :(  

Oh, Chidi responded, swallowing his disappointment. I understand. Good luck with finals! If you end up having time, feel free to come by.  

Yeah, honestly, dude, I’m not really sure if I will. I don’t know if I’m ready to meet yet.

Chidi blinked, pushing down the sickening feeling slithering up his throat.

That’s okay, He reassured, although he was stewing in his own regret. We can just meet when we’re ready. There’s no rush, right?

No response.

Chidi heaved as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“You okay, Chidi?” Simone asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” He somehow managed to lie through his heaving. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

This was why he couldn’t make decisions.

***

On the day of the ball, Chidi rose with dread.

He was surprised he could get up at all- his muscles fatigued from restless turning, his eyes strained from rereading old messages all night. Uzo calmed him down for a little bit in the morning, promising that shrimp freak just needed some time to process the idea of meeting him in person. Chidi told him he was probably right, but still, he checked his phone a couple more times to see if she had messaged back.

The rest of the day kept him distracted enough; he and the rest of the board met in the living room to begin ball preparations: wrapping carnations around the banisters, confirming arrival times of the caterers, transporting surprise gift bags to the gazebo. He felt normal, for the most part- until he overheard Simone and Vicky talking about their dates.

Chidi’s stomach boiled with agony. He didn’t know why he cared so much- he had been fine with not having a date, with not meeting his secret friend in the near future. Now he couldn’t get it out of his head, and he hated himself for it. Why did he have to go and ruin everything?

As the sun lowered over the Scholars Club house hill, the guests rolled into the living room. Chidi feigned a smile as he tore them in half, trying not to let his misery get the best of them. They had planned this ball for months and at least it was going well: the decorations colorful yet classy, the guests adorned in flowing gowns and fitted suits.

After he finished up registration, Chidi floated throughout the house to different groups, greeting them and asking if they were having a good time. It wasn’t a distraction, he tried to convince himself. It was part of his job as a board member. He wasn’t trying to keep his mind off shrimpfreak at all. He wasn’t even thinking about her.

“Chidi!” beckoned Simone from the kitchen.

Chidi let out a sad smile and moved towards Tahani, Uzo, and Simone. As he approached them, Tahani handed him a plate of shrimp. Chidi thanked her gratefully and popped it in his mouth, humming delightfully at its taste.

“Mmmm.” He turned to Tahani. “You did a great job with all of this. The shrimp is so much better than last year, and people seem to be having a great time.”

“It’s much better than the one Kamilah threw two years ago, isn’t it?”

“Oh, much better,” Chidi reassured, and he meant it. Kamilah’s taste was a little too loud and garish for him, but Tahani struck the tasteful balance between sophisticated and fun.

“Be honest,” Uzo slugged an arm around his shoulder. “How are you holding up, man?”

“Could be better,” He shrugged. “But, I’m not doing horrible. I think… I’m going to go outside for a little bit. Get some fresh air.”

“Oh,” Uzo dropped his arm from his shoulders. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m okay.”

“Would you like some more shrimp, Chidi?” Tahani extended out another plate.

“I’m good,” Chidi tried to think of an excuse so he didn’t sound lame “I’ll come back in later… maybe… to get some more.”

Skeptically, Simone crossed her arms. “You’re going to go outside and read until you calm down for a bit, aren’t you?”

“I-I-I-I-I, um-” Chidi stuttered, but their gleeful chortles freed him explanation.

“Go ahead, mate,” Simone shooed him off. “Just come back after the dance ends to clean up. We’re going out to iHop after.”

Chidi confirmed their plans one last time before he left for the gazebo. On the way out, he grabbed his copy of Symposium, the one he had purposely left on the living room table in case he wanted to escape. Deftly, he balanced the book with his plate of shrimp as he pushed open the door. He paused on the steps to appreciate how beautiful the night was, the thickness of the black winter sky, the shimmering stars that lay overhead. The gazebo stood brightly against the dark with its fresh white paint, quickly drawing Chidi in with its solitaire.

Ever since he was a freshman, Chidi sought solace in the gazebo. He frequently snuck away when he needed to be by himself, especially after his grandmother passed away. It boasted a sprawling view of the campus and open panels that breathed in fresh air. Yes, the paint was chipping, and the roof crumbled when it rained, but Chidi loved it nonetheless. Last spring, Tahani held a fundraiser for its restoration, and by fall, it had returned to its former glory. The days of Chidi’s secret, safe place slipped away as he found kids, not even from the Scholar’s Club, using it as a gathering spot to down shots. He was surprised no one was out here right now. He hoped it stayed that way.

Chidi closed his eyes, listening to the plucking of the guitar seep out of the house. He was in his favorite place. The music inside was slowing, the shadows were swaying loosely, and he felt, just for once, that he could handle things.

He opened his book and begin to read.

“Hey nerd,” A brash voice echoed from the doorway mid-paragraph. He snapped his head up to see a familiar frame leaning against the entrance. Wait… was that? No… it couldn’t be…

“Are you reading Plato during the ball?” teased Eleanor. She sauntered over and joined him on the bench.

Chidi opened his mouth to ask her more questions, but instead, he broke into a grin. It was Eleanor. Of course it was Eleanor. No one else was as funny and hard-working and brave as she was. He should have known. He had crushes on both shrimpfreak and Eleanor for the same reasons; how could he not have figured it out before?

“Just needed to get away for a little bit.” He shut back his book and slid it to the side. Eleanor was dressed more casually than normal. Her hair was messy, she sported oversized, food-stained sweats, and still, Chidi couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Did you kn-”

“Yeah, yeah, I knew,” Eleanor scoffed. “You leave your messages open way too much, Chidi.”

“Right,” Chidi couldn’t help but laugh. She was right. Tahani was always telling him that, too.

Eleanor bit her lip and gave him a shy smile.

He scooted closer to her.

“Um, I created a rough outline of the project!” She cried. She began fiddling with her fingers. “It’s almost done, we just have to add more details in the slides.”

“You worked on the project?” Chidi felt himself warm towards her. He knew how much she hated schoolwork. “Without us there?”

“Yeah,” Eleanor shifted in her seat. “I mean, you and Tahani and Jason are all my friends. I just figured it would make things easier for all of us, since I had the time.”

“That was really nice of you, Eleanor,” His voice fell quietly at the end of his sentence. Eleanor glanced down at her shoes, failing to hide her blush. Chidi wanted to hold her so badly, but he kept talking,

“So, you emancipated from your parents when you were fourteen?”

“Yup. That’s why I work three jobs. I’m surprised you never noticed. I’ve been on shift when you ordered your frozen mochas at the coffeehouse.”

“And you like shrimp?”

“More than I love life itself. And I’m ready to wolf down this unlimited free shrimp! If I’m still allowed to, that is.”

Chidi ducked his head down and chuckled to himself. He couldn’t wait to talk with her the rest of the night.  

“I can’t believe you came,” he said happily. “I’m really happy you did.”

“You are?” Eleanor’s eyes shone.

“Of course I am,” He lifted her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb. Eleanor wove her fingers in his and squeezed his hands, leaning her forehead against his.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. He could feel her shaking against him. “I said no because I freaked out, not because I didn’t want to see you.”

“I understand,” Chidi empathized. “I freak out all the time.”

“That couldn’t be more true,” Eleanor agreed endearingly.

They moved in closer to each other.

“Eleanor?” Chidi licked his lips nervously. He didn’t know why he was about to ask what he was about to ask, but he really wanted to. “Can I- can I kiss you?”

Eleanor beamed up at him.

“Go ahead, bud.”

Chidi sprang his lips onto Eleanor’s, moving his mouth passionately against hers. Eleanor drew back at first, startled, but then she sank into the kiss, her mouth curving against Chidi’s in a smile. Chidi removed his hand from hers and wrapped them around her back, sliding one down to her waist and the other up her back. As Eleanor laid her hands on his stomach and let them travel up to his shoulders, Chidi reveled in having her fingers against his chest. This, he realized, thoughts unlocking as they kissed and kissed, is what he always dreamed of. It was always Eleanor he heard when reading her messages. It was always Eleanor he imagined kissing. It was always Eleanor he longed to be near, and now he finally was: her tiny little body pressed against his, her mouth moving with trademark feistiness he admired and loved.

They kissed until their lips grew weary, reluctantly pulling apart as they clung to each other still. Eleanor gazed up at him, her eyes full, and it struck Chidi that he’d never seen her so happy. Guess they both made each other that way.

Chidi kissed her forehead as she snuggled herself his chest. He felt ready to make million decisions right then, with Eleanor in his arms in his favorite place, the brisk air gusting all around them.  

“Hey, shrimpfreak.” He bumbled as the music spilled back into the gazebo, “Do you- do you maybe want to dance? Um, with me?”

Eleanor laughed, tugging Chidi up onto his feet.

“Come on, Kantafficado.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Show me how it’s done.”

[reivenesque]

Hurt MacGyver/AU Post 2.11 - 1/3

Requested by and dedicated to @geminidaydreamer and also @thehemingwaygoldfish who got me waaaaay deep into the MacGyver fandom (she waterboarded me with Mac and Lucas Till perfection until I caved) and all the other great people I met in this fandom so far @bibs-blocksberg @murdocsmacattack @wild-chaser @wolfypuppypiles @classymike44 @patriotproblems @toomanyfandomsshreya @bestcouples and many other people that I probably forgot (sorry *ashamed*) and @random-fandom-whump in case you want to read it too :)

Consider this my Christmas gift to you all ❤️

Summary: What if instead of visiting Cage at her home that night, Murdoc instead went after Mac? 

A Celebration to Die For Chapter 1: He Ain’t Heavy.

“I’m telling you Riles, my Spidey-senses are tingling. And they’ve not yet lead me astray,” said Jack as he pulled his car into the familiar driveway.

“You mean your MacSpidey-senses? I swear Jack, you helicopter parent Mac even worse than you do me,” said Riley with a chuckle. “He’s a big boy.”

“He’s a big boy with a big brain and a small sense of self-preservation, miniscule, there’s the difference,” said Jack as he put his car in park and stepped out before he could even finish the sentence. “I called him and he didn’t pick up and I don’t like it one bit.”

Being arrested really wasn’t any fun, but it was definitely more fun than mulling over the very real possibility that he’d actually killed someone, and not just any random someone, an innocent civilian on top of it all.

Luckily (which probably wasn’t the appropriate choice of word) it ended up not being his fault and Mac didn’t think he’d ever felt relief that profound in his life. Sure he’d felt relief before, mostly when it came to life threatening situations that involved very real danger and a very high possibility of death – he’d experienced his fair share, but still, somewhere in the back of his mind there was always this knowledge that somehow, someway, Jack would always be there to save him and vice-versa.

But killing someone – the guilt that came along with it, that would have been something not even Jack would have been able to save him from.

And like normal people, who had normal friendships and normal jobs that didn’t involve thwarting murderers and terrorists on the down low every day, they – and by they, he meant Bozer – had decreed that a little arrest for domestic terrorism and a small case of ‘almost got killed by a cartel hitman’, didn’t automatically mean that Christmas was completely ruined.

In his words: “The Christmas pastrami still lives!”

Mac honestly didn’t think that the pastrami could get any worse, but it defied even his expectation and somehow year after year it continued to get progressively worse. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell Bozer that though. He might be all about logic and the science, but he wasn’t an asshole to his friends.

The doorbell that suddenly rang wasn’t indicative or anything, it just meant that someone was at his front door. He knew it wasn’t Jack because the only time Jack had ever used the doorbell was when a police officer had escorted him over there while he was drunk because he’d somehow forgotten where he actually lived. He knew Cage was going to be late because she’d just gotten back from interviewing Hector Ruiz and was trying to squeeze in some last minute shopping. Bozer was at some secret dead-drop to get his present from Leanna which really only left Riley and Matty, and he knew Matty had a knack for making a grand entrance.

The doorbell rang again, shaking him out of his reverie before he put down the scissors he was using to cut the wrapping paper, hollering out, “I’m coming,” while trudging down the steps when the third ring came almost immediately after the second.

The hallway and living room was dimly lit when he got down to the foyer; the only source of light was from the tree in the living room. The house was barren and silent, the only sound coming from the distant Christmas music playing loudly at one of the houses down the street.

There was no one at the door when he pulled it open, only a small almost unnoticeable wrapped package left on the welcome mat on the stoop.

Mac half stepped out, looking around the yard, not finding any sign that there was even anyone there before he bent down to pick up the package.

“Bozer, is that you?” he said aloud, looking around, almost waiting for Bozer or someone to come jumping out of the bushes yelling surprise.

But there was only silence.

His hand automatically reached for his phone in his pocket but found the pocket empty, so he grabbed the small package and turned to enter, closing the door behind him before making his way towards the stairs leading to the veranda.

It was the sound of the hammer of a pistol clicking that stopped him dead in his tracks. He felt his heart drop to his stomach and he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid.

“Murdoc,” he said through gritted teeth; turning to look towards the darkened living room and the Christmas tree that stood unassumingly in the corner.

A shadow moved in the dark.

“Very good, MacGyver,” came the almost purring drawl. “Too bad you weren’t as vigilant when I slipped into your house nearly fifteen minutes ago. You’d think after my last visit, you might have set up slightly better security measures. But hey, what would I know,” he said, slithering into the brightness; the light from the tree framing him like an unbefitting colourful halo.

“What are you doing here, Murdoc?” asked Mac, straightening his back and levelling Murdoc with a glare.

“I just came to extend my most heartfelt seasonal greeting to my favourite boy wonder,” he said with a grin. “I was going to pay one of your team a visit instead but I thought – hey, I haven’t seen MacGyver in a while and to be completely honest, I’ve missed our back and forth banter. Do you know how hard it is to find a conversational partner that’s smart, interesting and easy on the eyes?”

Mac’s mind was already moving a mile a minute, glancing around the room at anything he could use to disarm Murdoc; his house was filled with it, the only problem was trying to make a move before Murdoc could even –

The pain was sudden, unexpected and almost mind numbing.

He found himself propelled back into the wall and for a moment he couldn’t move or think and for a split second he felt absolutely nothing.

The pain came gradually like a leaking dam. First it started in his abdomen, spreading out across his chest and torso and almost causing him to see white as his brain tried to process the level of agony his body was feeling. His legs couldn’t support his weight and he found himself sliding down the length of the wall, slumping heavily onto the hardwood floor.

His hand subconsciously went to his stomach and even in the darkness of the room he could see the gleaming red liquid trickling through his fingers and down his arm when he lifted his hand up in front of his face.

Murdoc just shot him.

Murdoc tsk-ed disapprovingly when he moved closer, stopping about a meter away and lowering himself down to a crouch in front of Mac. Mac couldn’t concentrate on the eyes that were gazing creepily at him; he couldn’t even concentrate enough to reach for the glass bottle beside him or the brass pail full of pennies that Jack for some reason thought was an appropriate choice for decoration. He couldn’t even think of protecting himself or taking out Murdoc even though the man was within reach. He could only concentrate on trying to breathe in and out and not allow the stars that were already flooding his vision to get the better of him and lose consciousness. Murdoc had taken him once, and he was never going to let that happen again.

He just needed to stall… he needed to make time for Jack to get there… for Matty and Cage… they would catch Murdoc. They’d get him and arrest him and… they would come…

Everything was dipping in and out of focus around him, he couldn’t he focus on the image of Murdoc’s face in front of him or the peculiar look he was wearing.

He looked down and could only focus on the blood that was slowly pooling around him, like he was sitting in a puddle that was getting progressively bigger. The whole left side of his shirt and pants was saturated in blood and the blood kept leaking through his fingers no matter how much pressure he applied on the wound.

“W-Why?” he rasped out, feeling the word being ripped from his throat like a gasp.

“Do I need a reason?” asked Murdoc. “I am a killer after all. To be honest, I didn’t want to do it this way; I’m far too fond of you to let you go out in such an… underwhelming manner – but I’m also about entertainment, you see. I didn’t hit any major organs, so really the only real risk here is blood loss and I see you’re already losing a whole lot,” he said. He’d moved in close and was crouched barely a foot away, his gloved hand reaching over to touch the blood that was slowly trickling down to the floor; fiddling with it between his fingers.

Mac’s breath was coming out ragged, he could feel his eyelids drooping through he kept his eyes trained on Murdoc. He could feel a cough bubbling inside his chest, the sudden jolt was agonizing on his body, but the worst was the copper tang he suddenly tasted on his tongue. His brain could still process what was happening but he just couldn’t concentrate. He was so focused on trying to keep conscious and trying to keep breathing he could scarcely do more than that.

“Oh dear,” said Murdoc, the tone of his voice almost disappointed when he noticed the tinge of blood on Mac’s lips. “Seems like the bullet ricocheted and must have nicked your lung,” he said with a sigh, “Looks like my skills have gotten rusty. Damn. I honestly wanted to play around more, MacGyver. Think of this as my Christmas present to you – a test. You seem more than capable of getting yourself out of any kind of distress, consider this the ultimate one. If you manage to survive this then you have my utmost respect.”

He reached over with his blood soaked glove, cupping the side of Mac’s face in his palm. Mac could only muster up a weak glare, unable to even slap his hand away. His could feel the rattling inside his chest and the blood that was backing up his windpipe and he knew it was bad.

As quickly as the touch came, it was gone; Mac could feel his own warm blood staining his cheek and jaw and all of a sudden Murdoc was on his feet.

“Well, MacGyver, it’s been fun. I left a gift specially for you under the tree for when… you know – until then all  have to say is ‘may the odds be ever in your favour’,” he said. Mac couldn’t even muster up the energy to keep his eyes on Murdoc as he walked away, only the sound of his whistling signaling his departure as his got further and further away until he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing and then there was only silence.

He tried to move but only managed to jolt the wound in his side causing him to hiss in pain. He couldn’t push himself up or move even a fraction, but he needed to get to his phone, he needed to call Jack… he needed… he needed…

He felt himself slipping sideways down the wall now slick with his blood, crashing painfully to the floor on his injured side. He didn’t have the energy to push himself up or call for help or to even keep his eyes open. The only thing he could do was lie there and hope that Jack would come and save him, as he’d done over and over again; as he would continue to do until the day he died.

He was assured of that.

His last conscious thought was seeing his mother’s beautiful face crouching down in front of him, her presence framed by the light behind her almost like a halo. In his last moment, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he found himself muttering the unfamiliar word, “Mom.”

He forgot how much he missed seeing her face.

And then there was nothing.

“I’m telling you Riles, my Spidey-senses are tingling. And they’ve not yet lead me astray,” said Jack as he pulled his car into the familiar driveway.

“You mean your MacSpidey-senses? I swear Jack, you helicopter parent Mac even worse than you do me,” said Riley with a chuckle. “He’s a big boy.”

“He’s a big boy with a big brain and a small sense of self-preservation, miniscule, there’s the difference,” said Jack as he put his car in park and stepped out before he could even finish the sentence. “I called him and he didn’t pick up and I don’t like it one bit.”

“You need to relax Jack, it’s no point giving yourself a heart attack on Christmas getting all riled up over Mac probably being in the bathroom or getting preoccupied growing his own chemical Christmas tree or something Mac-ish like that.”

Jack didn’t wait for Riley to catch up. He was half way across the lawn, not even heeding Riley’s question about the presents in the backseat.

The house was dark when he approached, which didn’t help his apprehension one bit. He fumbled with the keys in his hand, singling out the familiar key for Mac’s house and stepped up to the stoop and almost immediately a dark, foreboding feeling came over him. He immediately signaled for Riley to stop in her tracks, which bless her, she did without question. It must have been something on his face or in his demeanor that spooked her.

Jack immediately reached for his gun, sliding the key into the lock at the same time. When the clicking sound of the mechanism unlocking reached his ear, he turned to Riley who was staring apprehensively at his back. “Call Matty and Cage and tell them to get their asses down here. Something doesn’t feel right,” he said and watched as Riley immediately rummaged for her phone.

He didn’t stick around to wait for her to make the call; he pushed the front door open and carefully stepped in.

The whole lower level was dark, only the light from the Christmas tree and the oven still heating up Bozer’s Crapmas pastrami – that crap was absolutely not natural – allowed Jack that bit of visibility.

“Mac?” he called out cautiously, looking around the room and peering around the bend before he entered. His hand reached for the light switch but it wasn’t working. The main must have shorted out, or in a much worse case scenario: someone messed with it. “Mac, you’re really stressin’ me out now, buddy,” he yelled out. “Okay, I believe in Santa Clause, ya’ happy now?” he added. “Mac, come on man.”

There were dark tracks on the floor that he could see even through the darkness and a scent in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn’t like it. He did not like it one tiny bit.

He had only maybe thirty percent visibility when he entered the hall leading towards the veranda and no real depth perception so when he kicked something that had been lying haphazardly on the floor he almost went stumbling to the ground.

He could only see a dark shadow when he turned to look at what he’d tripped on but somehow in his gut he just knew.

There were protocols for this type of situation: clear the perimeter, make sure the threat has been neutralized or really gone and wait for back up. But for Jack, when it came to Mac, protocols would always go flying out the window.

“Mac!” he yelled, rushing over, dropping to his knees; his momentum causing him to skid the last few inches. He could feel the wetness soaking into the knees of his pants the moment he crouched down beside the still figure. “Riley!” he yelled out immediately after. “Check the mains! I need light!”

He didn’t know whether she heard him, but not a minute later there was a loud click and brightness suddenly burst into the room.

Jack was blinded for half a second but when the whiteness cleared from his eyes, he almost wished he were blind, because in front of him was a sight he never ever wanted to see and a sight he knew he would never be able to forget.

Mac was lying in a pool of blood. His blood. He was unconscious on his side, blood spread around him like a sinister tapestry. His shirt and pants were soaked and it was still trickling down his side, rippling in the pooling liquid beneath him.

“Oh my god, Mac,” he yelled. His hands hovering over the still figure for a solid second because all of a sudden he didn’t know what to do. “Riley, call an ambulance! Riley!” he yelled. A part of him realized that calling Riley probably wasn’t the best course of action because hearing the desperation in his voice she surely was –

“Oh god!” came the voice as Riley appeared in sight, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Call an ambulance – call… call Matty – call someone!” said Jack, stuttering and lost, like he didn’t even know what to do in that moment. All his skill and experience had suddenly gone flying out the window along with the protocols because this was Mac and he had Mac’s blood all over his hands and staining his clothes and it was not a situation he ever wanted to find himself in.

Bless Riley, he thought in that moment. She rushed over, one hand fumbling with her phone calling… someone, Jack didn’t know who, and her other hand quickly reaching for the wound on Mac’s side, pushing up the material of his shirt and allowing them to see the extent of his injury.

“Jack! You need to put pressure on this!” she yelled. The sound of her voice and the desperation in it immediately shook Jack free of his dark thoughts. “Jack?”

Immediately the wall came down and he didn’t just focus on the most important person in his life lying there bleeding to death; he had to do something, he needed to stop the bleeding, stop the life from continuing to pour out of him without mercy.

“Jack!”

That was the last push he needed; he leapt to his knees and ran to the kitchen to grab the hand towels, bringing all he could find back and bundling them up against the wound (a bullet wound, most likely made by a 9mm, Glock if he had to care a guess, he made a mental note to himself) pressing down as hard as he could. Mac gasped the moment he did but didn’t wake up.

“How are we on the ambulance?” asked Jack.

“They’re two minutes out,” said Riley. She’d moved to Jack’s other side, reaching to find a pulse on the side of Mac’s neck. “He’s got a pulse, it’s weak, but it’s there.”

Jack exhaled loudly; he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Matty? Cage?”

Right on cue they heard the sound of cars pulling up into the driveway, the sound of rushing footsteps before a panting Cage appeared in sight.

“What happened?” she asked, dropping to her knees and reaching to grab Mac’s hand.

“I don’t know. I had a bad feeling when he didn’t answer his phone and I came back to find the whole house completely dark,” said Jack. His eyes moving from Cage to a flabbergasted Matty who suddenly appeared behind her and a handful of armed men shuffling by, disappearing deeper into the house.

“Do you know who did this?” she asked.

Jack cursed under his breath. “Do we even need to spare a guess?” he asked through gritted teeth.

The sound of Mac’s wet, painful cough immediately halted all conversation.

“Mac?” said Jack, turning to look at Mac as his eyes cracked open a fraction.

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

“Mac, do you know who did this?” asked Cage immediately, reaching over to place her hand on the side of his face, feeling the dried tracks of blood on his cheek under her finger tips.

Mac didn’t answer. His eyes were glassy and unfocused and his eyelids kept drooping.

“Hey, Mac, you stay with us, okay?” said Jack, forcing a smile onto his face. “Mac, you’re gonna be okay, man, ya’ hear? Who else in this world can succeed in getting arrested for domestics terrorism and get shot all on the same day? Just you, man,” he said.

A small smile tugged as Mac’s lips before it dropped and his eyes slipped close again.

“Mac? Mac, come one, stay with me,” pleaded Jack. “Where the hell is that ambulance!”

“Our medics are thirty-seconds out,” said Matty, returning to the room, her phone still plastered to her ear.

“We don’t have thirty-second, Matty!” yelled Jack. He could already feel the dampness pooling in his eyes when he looked at his boss but he couldn’t stop them from coming.

“It’s going to be okay Jack,” said Cage, reaching up to grasp him on the shoulder.

It wasn’t comfort that Jack needed though, it was help for Mac. Jack was going to go out and kill the person who did this, no two ways about it. But right then he couldn’t think of anything else besides keeping Mac alive and making sure he got the help he needed. That was the only thing that mattered. Mac was the only one who mattered.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mac,” said Jack, and he wasn’t sure if it was more reassurance for Mac or for himself.

The med team couldn’t have arrived sooner though Jack was hesitant to completely relinquish his hold on Mac. He stood hovering close as the Phoenix’s medical personnel worked diligently on Mac, trying to get his blood pressure stabilized and stop the bleeding. The bullet had ricochet when it hit and punctured his lung and Jack had to force himself not to turn away when the team was forced to intubate. It was the worst moment of his life from when he found Mac bloodied and unconscious on the floor, to the agonizing wait for the medical team and watching them working on Mac, keeping him alive by any means necessary and knowing that there was not a damn thing he was able to do to help them or to help Mac.

He’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.

Watching him so hurt and so absent; not at all like the lively, amazing young man he’d come to know and love was agonizing. He’d never seen Mac so injured; he never wanted to, and in that moment he couldn’t stop thinking that if he had been there, if he hadn’t left Mac alone after what he’d been through, if he hadn’t been so useless, then maybe Mac wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He’d take a bullet for the kid any day of the week forever. That was how much Mac meant to him.

The ride to one of the subsidiary hospitals that was part of the Phoenix foundation felt way to long. Jack was insistent on riding along with Mac and the medical team with Cage and Matty following in Cage’s car. Riley opted to stay behind to wait for Bozer to let him know what had happened.

Jack didn’t let go of Mac’s hand for even a second from the moment they got into the back of the ambulance. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mac’s too pale skin and the dried blood that shaped what looked like a handprint on the side of his face. Mac had always been a few shades too pale, but at that point his skin was almost translucent, the redness of the blood and the blue veins standing out almost in stark contrast to the rest of him. His chest rose and fell with every squeeze of the blue rubber ambu-bag by the med-guy but Jack tried not to focus on that. He forced himself to focus only on the positive things; Mac was young, and strong and he wouldn’t let a little bullet bring him down. He definitely wouldn’t leave Jack behind like that.

Jack told him, he wouldn’t be able to live with Mac’s death on his conscience. Mac knew that and he wouldn’t do that do Jack. He just wouldn’t.

Jack had to find comfort in that at least because Mac’s skin was too cold to the touch and his face was too pale and at that point he looked more dead than alive and it terrified the shit out of Jack.

“Hang in there,” he said. “You hang in there – I can’t lose you, not you too, Mac – I just can’t… so… please. Hang on.”

TBC

Next chapter →

I honestly couldn’t think of a plausible reason for Murdoc to shoot Mac without warning like that besides the fact that he’s a psycho. So there - that’s the reason *hides under a hill*

[theunexpectedhappened]

chapter 97

So first of all, isn't it great news we had last week. I wish them all the best. but I still hope it won't make you love this story any less.

Harry’s POV.

“Olivia, please.” I begged, taking her face in my hands. I’d tried to calm her down. But nothing seemed to work as she tried to catch her breath. I should have been there tonight during that dinner.

I’d called Tim, the doctor of the family and he’d heard the state she was in over the phone and would be here in less than ten minutes. I’d tried to get her to breath in a plastic bag we kept in our night stand, both of us having nightmares at times and needing it sometimes.

When the door to our room finally opened and the doc came in I breathed a sigh of relief. “how long has she been like this?” He asked, pulling his bag open. “15 minutes.” I shrugged my shoulders, holding her in my lap, rubbing her back and holding her hand in my other.  “I’m going to give her something to relax.” He said, getting a syringe out of his bag and pulling something up.

“Can you lift her shirt a bit?” he asked, nodding to her arm. Lifting the sleeve of the shirt I’d pulled over her only minutes ago, he put the syringe in her shoulder, she’d calmed down a little since the beginning but I didn’t want her to keep going like this, barely catching her breath.

“it should work in about a minute or two.” He said with a compassionate smile. “what brought this on?” he asked, sitting on the edge of our bed, feeling her pulse of her free hand.

“she met up with the team she was with in Africa, apparently one is writing a book and will publish it. she was fine when she came home, but then she started crying and.” I rambled, looking down at her as she started to calm down and rested her head in the crook of my neck.  

“I understand.” He nodded his head, still holding her wrist between his fingers. “Does she have any engagements in the following two days?” he asked. “tomorrow afternoon we’re supposed to meet with the invictus participants.” I replied, looking at the doctor.

“I really advice for her to rest in the next two days.” He said. “the drug I gave her will make her woozy for a day and she’ll be exhausted after a panic attack this severe, even her muscles are cramped.” He said, holding up her fingers which were still in a claw like form. She’d really had one of the worst panic attacks I’d ever seen. She’d had a couple, but this one was going on the first place.

I’d never seen her like this. “she won’t” I said full of conviction. She’d be resting tomorrow. You could be a bit tired after a panic attack, I knew from experience, but this one had been extreme and she’d been drugged to top it off.

“I’d recommend a friend or Kate or William watch her tomorrow while you’re gone. I wouldn’t be surprised she’ll have a couple of bad days after this, but I don’t have to explain how PTSD works.” He smiled sadly at me. “I know.” I nodded my head. “I’ll make sure she isn’t alone.” I told him.  

“I’m sorry.” Liv said, the first thing since the panic attack, as she started repeating it. “no, Merida. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I tried to assure her, rubbing her back. “I didn’t protect them; I didn’t do my job.” She said, shaking her head no as she started staring out in front of her.

“You want me to give her something to sleep?” Tim asked. “could you?” I asked, hoping she’d have a good night sleep, but I doubted that would be the case, I knew nightmare would keep us both awake, not that I minded, she’d sat up with me multiple times as well after a nightmare, but after such a panic attack I didn’t want her to have another one after a nightmare.

He gave her something in the other shoulder this time. “I’ll leave something here if she should wake up and have another panic attack.” The doctor said, placing something on my nightstand. “thanks.” I smiled when I felt she started relaxing in my arms.

“your welcome Harry.” He smiled. When he left I laid her down, pulling her against my chest, holding her through the night and every time she started getting restless, needless to say I didn’t get much sleep that night.

When the morning arrived, I got up and pulled out my phone, calling Will. I wouldn’t leave her until someone was here with her and I need to get Miguel and our team informed of what happened last night, and Jason would have to announce that Liv wasn’t joining me today.

“We’ll be there in a sec.” Will said, ending the call. A couple of minutes later Will and Kate came in our room. “how is she?” Kate asked, sitting down on the bed beside Liv, stroking her hair in a sisterly manner. Those two were really like sisters, it still surprised me how close they were.

“I think the medication the doctor gave her is still working.” I told her with a sad smile, before looking back at my wife. “what happened?” will asked, looking worriedly at Liv as I started explained what had happened.

“are you sure that’s such a good idea?” Will said. “That’s their choice Will. Liv said she won’t read it. that she can’t read it. I get it that they all need to process this differently and all, so I won’t stop Steven. And she won’t read it anyway” I explained, siding with my wife, if she wanted this for that team she’d been with I’d support her, but I didn’t know if I could see her go through that again.

The doctor arrived just before Will and I were heading to the office and after making sure she was alright he left something to help her sleep in the coming days and to help with possible further panic attacks.

***

“and she really isn’t able to join today’s activities?” Miguel asked, turning to tim, thank god we’d asked him to come along. “no Miguel she’s in no state to do any engagement. The chance at getting another panic attack is very big. She’ll be beyond exhausted. I’m giving her two days of prescribed rest.” Tim told Miguel.

“I’ll join Harry.” Will said, looking at Miguel. “you sure?” Miguel asked. “yea, I can’t join him in Los Angeles as far as I know, let me join him now.” Will smiled at me.

“alright.” He started, looking around our team. “Jason, make an announcement that Liv will not be doing any engagement and that William will join Harry today.” He started directing people as we started dealing with last night’s event.

Minutes after the announcement the Phone’s started ringing insanely crazy. The media with the question if the Duchess was pregnant with our first child and if that was the reason for her falling out.

“what did the announcement say?” I asked, looking at Jason. “The Duchess of Sussex won’t be joining The Duke of Sussex due to personal reasons.” Jason quoted. “you want me to announce the reason?” he asked. “no, she doesn’t have to deal with that, it’s fine as it is.” I told him. “I’m going to check up on my wife.” I announced, getting up.

when the calls on my phone started: “Is Liv pregnant?” Liliane, Liv’s gran asked. “No, Lilian. She’s not. Last night she had a horrible panic attack and she isn’t able to join me today.” I told her, when I saw a angry Liz approaching, I motioned for Will to explain as I started explaining over the phone. I assured her that I’d let her call when she woke up.

just as the call ended it was Mia’s turn. ‘this is going to be a great day.’ I thought to myself.

“Mia?” I answered with a smile. “don’t play dumb with me. Is my best friend pregnant and you didn’t tell me?” she asked in a tone I better not screw with, what was it with this bunch. They were incredible protective of each other. That was it.

“No she’s not.” I replied with a tired sigh. Having been awake almost all night, having to deal with it in the office and now the calls and I haven’t even gone to the engagement. With another sigh I started explaining what had happened. When liv woke up she’d kill me for not letting her join me today and for telling everyone.

She hated the fuss and she was definitely getting that. “We’re on our way.” She said, ending the call. “We?” I asked, looking at my phone. ‘thanks for letting me ask further questions.’ I thought to myself.  

if she wasn’t going to kill me before, she sure was about to kill me now.

***

Liv POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how sore I felt all over. Like I’d run a marathon, but all my muscles were in agony. The second thing I noticed was that Harry wasn’t with me in bed, I couldn’t feel his body heat next to mine.

And the third I noticed was a person breathing in the room, fluttering my eyes open, the light filtering through the window making me squeeze my eyes shut again. “Liv?” I heard a female voice say, opening my eyes again this times less of an annoyance, I noticed Kate sitting in the arm chair in the corner of our bedroom.  

“Kate?” I asked, surprised to see her sitting there, her legs pulled up, cup of tea in her hand as she looked at me. “hey, you’re awake?” she stated, like it was the best news of the day and then last night’s events came flooding back, my breathing increasing as I thought about it.

“hey, it’s okay.” Kate said, getting up and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “you remember what happened?” Kate asked. “yea.” I admitted in a sadly enough tone. “Where’s Harry?” I asked, pushing myself up and pulling my knees to my chest as if it could protect me from the state I found myself in, it had been so long since I had a panic attack, I was doing so well. And now this.

The memories of what happened in both Africa and back in Belgium for all those years as clear as if it happened yesterday.  

“he’s with Miguel and the team,” Kate said, placing her hand on my arm resting on my knees. “the doc has given you 2 days of mandatory rest for now. They are discussing what is supposed to happen this afternoon.” Kate explained. “I’m not joining him?” I said, more a statement, then a question.

And for once I was happy that the choice had been made in my place. I didn’t feel like meeting people like this, not in the way I felt, tormented by memories of the past, sore as hell from the panic attack and I was still on edge as the slightest sound made me jump.

“no, I’m guessing they will have made an announcement by now, they shouldn’t be long now.” Kate told me, squeezing my arm. I sat looking around the room, and I didn’t feel very comfortable, like the walls were closing in on me, Kate’s present on one hand comforting me, like it was the only anchor keeping me from another panic attack, but on the other hand I wanted her gone, cause I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up the façade.

The façade of being fine and not being on the verge of another freak out. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door to our room opened. “shhh.” Kate shushed, her hand squeezing my arm. Harry appeared through the door. “merida.” He said in the same tone Kate had taken earlier.

“Harry.” I whispered, glad to have him here with me, his presence soothing my fears more then I though was possible. Kate stood up, Harry replacing her, his hand carefully reaching for my arm. “how are you feeling?” he asked, as I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door closed, Kate leaving the room.

“horrible.” I admitted, sadly enough as I felt the tears sting at the back of my eyes. Looking down in shame at how weak I was being. “hey, come here.” He said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in his lap. “it’s okay. I’m here.” He said, his hand running up and down my back.

He started explaining what had been announced and the changed plans for the day. “great, now everyone is thinking I’m pregnant.” I muttered, hating that nothing in my life could stay private, I quite enjoyed being a Duchess, meeting people and bringing attention to causes close to my heart. But this, nothing could stay private, maybe if we hadn’t planned an engagement today this could have stayed under wraps.

But sadly enough, no. and no the rumours were going through the roof, my breathing quickening when I started panicking again at the thought of how this ‘day off’ would end, what the outfall would mean in rumours.

And then he told me my best friend was on the way and then did me in, I didn’t want to see anyone, not in the state I was. It had already been enough that our entire team and the Queen probably knew about my panic attack at how pathetic I was for just thinking about the past.  

“Merida, shh. It’s okay. I can tell them that, I won’t let anyone up here if you don’t want to.” He shushed, his head running over my back. When I didn’t calm down he reached for something on my nightstand and handed me a tablet. “here it’ll help you calm down.” He whispered, kissing the side of my head.

Normally I wouldn’t take medication, but it did seem very inviting as to avoid today and to avoid the worriedness of everyone. “why can’t I just forget everything?” I asked, after having swallowed the tablet. “it’s a process Merida, we both know that.” Harry said, both my hands in his free hand.  

“I doesn’t make me love you any less, Merida, you know that. I’ll always be here when it happens, just like you are always here for me. We’re in this together.” He assured me, his hand on my back circling in a soothing motion.

“I just want to forget.” I admitted a tear slipping down my cheek. “I know, I wish I could take it all away merida. I really do.” He whispered against the side of my head. His breath against the side of my face, the warmth of being cradled in his arms and his smoothening caress of my back on top of the tablet I’d just taken, making me feel sleepy.

My eyes dropping. “go to sleep, Merida. Kate will stay with you when we go away this afternoon, you won’t be alone.” He whispered, kissing the side of my head.

***

Harry’s pov.

Finally,. I thought to myself, liv’s breathing having evened out her one hand fisting my shirt as if she didn’t want me to go anywhere, her other hand intertwined with mine in her lap. “I love you.” I whispered against her head, kissing the top of her head as I got up and laid her down, pulling the sheets over her.

Giving her one final kiss I slipped out of the room, I knew Mia was on her way and I was still questioning the ‘we’ part. But liv had said that she didn’t want to see anyone and I’d send them back. Liv was the most important part of my life and it killed me to see her this hurt, having gone through the torment once wasn’t good enough.

I hated PTSD, both of us having that horrible diagnose, it was like our minds wanted to punish us even further and for what, having protected people, shouldn’t the opposite be done, our memories swiped away as thank you.

“her friends are here.” Will said as he brought me out of my train of thought as I rested against the wall outside of our bedroom. “great.” I muttered. “you want me to tell them to leave?” he asked, coming to stand next to me.

“I’ll do it. she’s asleep, I have her a tablet.” I whispered. “God I hate this; it hurts me to see her like that.” I admitted, turning my face towards Will. “I know.” He accepted, squeezing my shoulder. “but only you can relate to what she’s going through, you think it didn’t hurt me half the time to hear you screaming in the middle of the night when you came back from Afghanistan.” Will said, looking at me.

“she’ll be fine. It’s liv we’re talking about.” Will said a sympathetic smile on his face. “I know.” I whispered. “this is just a setback,” Will explained. “I know, but that doesn’t make it any better.” I argued. “No, it doesn’t.” he agreed. “Come, let’s go down.” Will said, squeezing my shoulder as I followed him, dragging my feet down, my ear tuned to anything that would be happening upstairs.

‘for crying out loud.’ I thought to myself when I entered my living room, seeing Mia, Glen, Daphne, Jens and Danny sitting on the couch. “how is she?” Mia asked, getting up. “she’s asleep again.” I told them, walking through to the kitchen. “Is she jumpy?” Kate whispered, handing me a cup of tea. “yea, I was hallway to calling Evans again.” I told her.

“can we see her?” Mia asked as everyone had followed me in the kitchen. “she doesn’t want to see anyone.” I told them, doing my duty as her husband, she’d asked me to keep everyone away, she didn’t want to see anyone, and I would protect her.

“come on.” Mia said, starting to object. “We’re worried; we just want to make sure she’s okay.” She added, not having slept very well and the stress of last night, having seen her panic attack, the worst one I had seen so far made me feel on edge, that together with the helplessness of seeing her in such a state, made me a bit less friendly.

“you think I can’t take care of my wife?” I asked her, an angry tone to my voice, I knew she didn’t mean it like that, but I couldn’t help it, I was angry at seeing her like that, angry at what had happened in Africa and Belgium, not having been able to help her.

And the fact that they were questioning my ability to take care of them, my own wife, the woman I loved more then life itself. “she didn’t mean it like that;” Jens defended. “we’re just worried about her.” He added. “yes, so am I, I can’t do anything to help her. You know how helpless I felt last night, not being able to calm her down. Having to call the family’s doctor to calm her down with medication. But with this I can help. She asked me not to see anyone and I’ll make sure I can do that for her.” I told them in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

“but.” Daphne said. “let’s just get herself together. I’m sure you want the best for your friend, just honour her wish” Will said in a directing tone. “Fine, but we’re not leaving,” Mia crossed her arms, stubbornly, her other friends soon following her.

“you’ll be going away, so.” Mia started, but Kate beat her to it, the four of us really were a team, we had to for what gran had in mind for us. and if liv was here in any of our places she’d be doing the exact same thing.

We had to be a team, the four of us alone were in the same boat, could only relate to what it was to live this life.  “I’ll be staying here taking care of her. I already did this morning when they were in a meeting.” She said, nodding her head at me and Will.

“so you’re going to kick us out?” Mia said in defiance, what was it with these women. “I’m just doing what Liv asked me to do.” I told them, looking each and every one in the eye, that’s when Ed came in. “Sir, I’m here to debrief you one our event of this afternoon.” He said, looking at me, acting very formal when he saw we were having company.

“Thanks Ed,” I smiled at him. “May I ask how her Royal Highness is feeling?” he asked, I raised my eyebrow at him, why he was acting so formal all of a sudden, but then again, he always did when they’re were strangers around.

“She’s sleeping at the moment. She just needs some time.” I told him with a smile, before turning to the Five musketeers and adding: “and space.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Sir. It’s the Duchess we’re talking about.” He smiled, he knew her well enough now as well, having seen our dynamic from close by from the moment we got engaged, nearly a year ago.

In the end I couldn’t get them to leave but I did manage to keep them downstairs, only Kate was allowed to go upstairs, for that I was happy, I wasn’t happy with the fact that I had to leave her behind, I’d rather have stayed by her side while she was this fragile, ‘if she heard me say that, I would definitely be a dead man’ I thought to myself.

But when I finally crawled into bed that night, pulling her close to me, apparently she’d taken another tablet this afternoon, wanting to avoid having to face anyone. I knew she was hiding with it. hiding in the fact that it could put her to sleep and avoid facing anyone.

This afternoon had been trying to say the least. ‘Are you expecting a baby?’ ‘is the Duchess pregnant?’ were the two questions on everybody’s mind and being directed at me. I hoped that tomorrow would be better, the two of us didn’t have any engagement for a week, her birthday was coming up in a week and I was planning on taking us to Honiley. Gran had called tonight as well, wanting to check up on Liv and suggested taking a ride as well, saying it might help her and the stables in Sandringham had horses anyway so.

***

the next morning after the doc had come in to check on Liv we’d left in the direction of Honiley, the fact that she wasn’t interested in driving the car, told me she was definitely not back to where she should be. Even Jim and Kenneth gave me a worrying look when she just shook her head as I had wanted to hand her the keys, on our way over to Honiley all she had done was stare out the window, it was like she had just come back from Africa.

But I could see her changing when the day started passing by. Her face wasn’t as pale, her cheeks getting their rosy colour back, her eyes had a bit more life in them, but she still kept quiet, settling herself in the library.

But my idea had worked day by day she was getting back to the Liv I knew, Tim had been right, a couple of bad days had he’d been right. But I was happy to see my wife returning to me and prove again that she wasn’t about to be knocked down by it all.

Her friends had stayed away on our request, just needing a bit of time to ourselves, but that didn’t mean that they stayed in touch, trying to cheer her up in their own way in making her crazy with her birthday surprise party of Friday.

***

Liv’s POV

the days leading up to my birthday had me nearly wringing someone’s neck, my best friends knew how to wind me up and they did exactly that, by sending strange text and so called tips. I had a couple of bad days, but the last two one’s had been great and I was estatic to be myself again. Spending time in the countryside really had helped me and had been exactly what I needed.

It was prove again that my husband did know me better than anyone else, prove that I had made the right decision in marrying him, marrying the man I loved more than life itself.

But Harry also knew how rile me up and enjoyed the fact that I hated being in for a surprise again,  enjoyed it even more, last year he’d shipped me to Africa and I’d come back engaged, he start to where I was now, I couldn’t believe that was a year ago that we’d gotten engaged. It seemed so much longer.

“really?” I asked, my head tilted to the side as Harry pulled out a blindfold as I descended the stairs. But I had to smirk a little, last time we’d used a blindfold he’d been tied to our bed. “no, don’t even go there.” He laughed, holding up his hands. “but, maybe I’ll have to tie you up when we get back, depends on how well you behave.” He threatened, swinging the blindfold in his hands.

“Who do I have to kill after today?” I asked, sarcastically. “Your four best friends.” He replied with a snort. “although the lads and Kate and Pip had something to do with it as well.” He added, holding out his hand for me to take.

“and where are we going?” I asked, really curious for it all. “we’re driving up north and then were coming back here.” Harry said, opening the front door of  Honiley. “all of them?” I asked, surprised to hear all of them were coming back here, although I didn’t really know who all of them were, but I could guess it were all of our close friends, around 30 people.

“yep. Those from the family will be staying at Sandringham. They’re coming back with a bus, we figured it would be safer to have non to be expecting to stay sober.” Harry snorted as he held out his hands for the keys. “What about us?” I asked, getting the keys from my purse. Handing them over reluctantly.

“Jim will drive us back here.” He said, looking at jim, climbing in the backseat along with Liam. “fine.” I muttered, getting in the passenger’s seat. “she’s letting me drive for once.” Harry laughed, earning him a soft slap on his thigh.

“like I have any choice.” I muttered under my breath. “come on they assured us you’d like this.” Harry pointed out, driving down the driveway. “so I do have to kill the four of them?” I concluded. “something like that, they are the initiators” Harry commented.

“I should have known.” I stated, looking out the window. An hour later Harry stopped by the side of the road and pulled the blindfold out. “come on, like I know where were going.” I objected. “do you trust me?” he asked, the same question I’d asked on his birthday surprise party. “you, yes. Them no.” I chuckled.

“I won’t let anything happen to you and I know you’ll enjoy it. please?” he asked, with a smile on his lips. “fine.” I said, leaning forward so he could tie the blindfold. “I love you;” he whispered against my lips.

What felt like a lifetime later he parked, I heard him get out of the car, talk to our RPO’s. before opening my side of the car. “you trust me?” he asked again, cupping my face. “yes.” I breathed out, I didn’t have to think about that. I loved him more than I could explain. And I trusted him with my life.

I took a hold of his hand as he started walking with me. “don’t let me fall.” I said. “I would never.” He stated, full of certainty. I heard a door being opened and I felt that we were inside. “I’m going to kill those four.” I stated when Harry announced and then I heard muffled laughter and I knew they were here and heard it.

“don’t let me stop you.” harry whispered in my ear as I felt him come and stand behind me. “Happy birthday Merida.” He whispered, before the blindfold was pushed from my eyes.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!” was yelled at me a second later. Spotting the four guiltiest one’s I stated with amusement in my voice. “Who wants to be killed first?”

the four of them threw their head back in laughter. “told you, she’d say that.” Mia pointed out, walking up to me. “So you’re volunteering.” I chuckled, giving her a hug. “Yea.” She replied in my ear.

I went around the room, greeting everyone and thanking them for coming, they led me to the next room, which was a bowling room where I saw wrapped gifts on the tables and drinks already waiting.

Taco’s and Pizzas were brought in as dinner while all of us laughed and started bowling, some of us waiting until the food ran out the other taking a bite between throwing a ball.

"How are you?” Mia asked, sitting on the chairs, eating our taco’s. “better, spending time in Honiley is exactly what I needed.” I smiled at her, knowing how Harry had respected my wish and kept them away, but that didn’t mean that Harry was in their good books apparently.

“Don’t be angry at Harry, he only did what I asked him to do.” I told her, tilting my head at her wish a begging look. “but.” She started. “I know what he said, Kate and he told me. But the fact is he hadn’t slept watching over me and worrying over me. I asked him to keep everyone away from me and you were doing the opposite, he’s sorry you know of how he handled things, but I think there were things said on both ends that wasn’t the very best.” I told her, leaving no room for discussion. I knew exactly what had been said.

Harry had told me he was feeling bad at how he’d handled things and he didn’t want them to be angry at them. but I also heard that they had questioned the fact if he could care about me and I wasn’t very happy with that. My husband could take care of me very well, when I gave him the chance.

Last week being proof of that, how he’d helped me through my bad days. “so Livvy, you joining us in the laser game?” Jens approached me, doing a little dance, I had done it several times, laser games. I had always enjoyed it and it was a lot of fun, but I hadn’t done it since Africa, fearing the sounds of gun shots would be a trigger.

Definitely after this week, one week of recovering of a massive panic attack was enough. “no you guys go, I’m good here.” I told him as I saw nearly all of our friends standing on the incline waiting for me.

“Ooh come on spoilsport.” Autumn yelled from the bunch, locking eyes with Harry in the bunch, I saw him realise what the problem was and he smiled at me sadly but nodded in sympathy as he took a step towards me, but I shook my head, he should go have fun without me. Kate was apparently staying here waiting for the next round.

“go on, I’ll be fine here.” I repeated again, looking at them and I saw that realisation covered all there faces as they saw Liz still sitting as well. “we’re sorry, we didn’t think.” Thomas started. “it’s fine. I just don’t need another trigger in two weeks’ time.” I told them, smiling sadly. “Go on, have fun.” I told them, not wanting them to feel guilty. The mood having turned around from the previous festivities.

They turned around leaving us three behind. “you both alright?” Kate asked in a motherly manner. “yea, we’re fine.” I smiled, Liz following as well.

Half an hour later they came back laughing and teasing one another. “you okay?” Harry asked, leaning on the backrest of our seats, his arm wrapped around me. “Yes,” I smiled, looking up at him, my head sneaking to the back of his neck. “I love you.” I whispered, pulling him closer to close the gap between our lips as we kissed upside down. “thank god.” He teased a smirk crossing his face.

“I love you to Merida.” He whispered, kissing my lips again. “spend an entire week in the countryside and still they can’t keep their hands of each other.” Skip teased, his girlfriend at his side, the first time we met her.

“haha.” Harry and I quipped in unison. “maybe a good thing you’re staying at Anmer then, who knows where it all happened at Honiley.” Harry teased, looking down at me with a wink “eew. Didn’t need to know that” skip said, covering his ears. “maybe you should chase one another naked again.” Thomas pointed out with a teasing smirk, raising laughter from those who were there that day.

"ooh come, we’re never living that down are we?” Skip said, throwing his hands up. “and by the way I wasn’t the one naked.” Skip said, crossing his arms.

“no that was ginger over there.” Thomas teased, nodding his head at Harry still standing behind me. “What happened?” Amanda, Skip’s girlfriend asked and there were several volunteers waiting to tell the story again, much to Harry’s dismay and the others amusement.

An hour later we were sitting in the Karaoke bar of the centre. “Will someone get of those cat’s tails” I smirked, looking at Autumn, Daphne, Mia and Jens who were singing piano man, motioning with their hand for me to join them.

“No way.” I yelled at them, laughing shaking my head no. “spoilsport.” Autumn yelled. “Come on.” Daphne said, leaving her place and pulling my arm. “no way.” I repeated, shaking my head in laughter, everyone clapped their hands when I finally gave up and joined them.  

“I so hate you guys.” I muttered, byt the mic was on and everyone started laughing as they heard my statement.

we were laughing and teasing all the way as everyone sang several songs, it was hilarious before we made our way to the roller-skates, thank god I didn’t go flat on my ass. Being able to ice skate definitely was a positive thing.

***

“god I feel horrible.” Daphne whined as she came down to the kitchen in her hangover look. “good morning to you to.” I muttered, making sure nothing burned on the fire. “here drink this” I said, pulling a green juice from the fridge and handing it to her as she sat down at the kitchen island.

“anyone else up yet?” she asked me, dripping her head to the counter of the kitchen island. “nope, not that I know off. I suspected you would be the last one to get up.” I admitted, looking at her.

“yea me too, I just needed to get up, the ceiling was turning.” She admitted, making me snort. “why aren’t your hangover?” she asked. Raising an eyebrow at her she added: “Like never.”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just good with alcohol and it’s not like I drank the amount you did.” I explained shrugging my shoulders. Sipping my own green juice, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Love;” I smiled, seeing a hangover Harry walk in, at least he wasn’t as bad as Daphne, what was it with these guys, you would think that Harry being nearly 35 would know how to hold his liquor or his boundaries.

“Merida.” He whispered, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around me, his nose on the crook of my neck. “How are you feeling?” he whispered, running his nose in a circle in the crook of his neck, his lips leaving a kiss.

“better day by day.”  Whispered, kissing the top of his head. “I love you.” he whispered, nipping the side of my neck. “Harry.” I warned, looking at Daphne still lying down with her head. “What?” he asked, innocently, his hand running up my legs.

“stop it.” I warned, stopping his hand at the rim of my jeans. “come on.” He objected. “we have company.” I told him, trying to step away from him. “Please I don’t need to see you making out in front of me.” Daphne stated, Harry jumping at my side. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.” he admitted sheepishly, his cheeks reddening.

“what are you doing up anyway?” Harry asked, shaking his head, his arm wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “the ceiling was apparently spinning.” I told him with a chuckle.

“maybe we should ask someone to look at it, that can’t be right.” He teased. “haha.” Daphne quipped, pulling a face at us.

“you want eggs or not?” I threatened, holding my spoon in her direction. “I don’t think I can eat anything.” She shook her head, her skin getting a bit greenish. “If you’re going to pull a Jens on me, please go to the bathroom.” I warned her. “do you have anything against nausea?” she asked, sipping the juice, apparently she could keep that in.

“let me have a look.” I said, unwrapping Harry’s arms and walking to the cabinet. “here” I handed her a leaf of tablets. “I’m going to try and get some more sleep.” She said, getting up and disappearing in the hallway. “Finally alone.” Harry growled, nipping my collar bone. “You’re insatiable.” I slapped his arm softly as he held me against the kitchen island, his chest to my back. “You do realise we have a house full of guests, right?” I asked, my body betraying as I tilted my head, giving him more access.

“we can’t.” I tried to stop him, him pulling my hips into his, making me feel exactly what he had in mind. “come on Merida, everyone’s still asleep.” He tried, his one hand leaving my waist and going to the rim of my jeans.

“Love, we can’t as much as I want it, we can’t.” I told him, stopping his hand, just as he was about to slip his hand in my jeans.

“tonight.” I said, turning in his arms. “I promise.” I promised, wrapping my arms around his neck. “but we’re going back to London this afternoon.” He whined, leaving butterfly kisses in between as he made a trail from, my neck up to my ear where he nipped my ear lobe.

“so.” I chuckled. “does that mean we can’t have sex in London?” I teased, leaning my head to the side. “no.” he chuckled, still on his mission to drive me crazy with his kisses. “and I don’t have sex with you, I make love to you.” he objected, squeezing my hip.

“ooh, really.” I chuckled, knowing that he did most times, but still sometimes he had this wild side, then there wasn’t love making in view.

“Good morning.” I heard Mia say behind us, both of us jumping up. “we need to get back alone.” Harry groaned, picking a piece of bacon up.

not long after the kitchen filled with the rest of the bunch staying at Honiley. And just after noon we left towards London, where a busy week of engagements waited on us, I was visiting another three organisations, the one’s becoming under my name. and then on Thursday evening we’d be welcoming the Royals of Sweden, Denmark and Norway and on Friday we left on our climate expedition, but first we were going to London.

Liz joined us as we drove towards Effingham, first going to visit my grandparents, they hadn’t seen me since I’d fled to the countryside dealing with the outfall of my ‘bad days.’ And I wanted to show them that I was doing alright and check in on them myself.

Nathan was already with them, knowing we’d be partying last night, sure my birthday had been two days ago, but had waited until Friday evening to celebrate.

So that was the chapter, I hope you liked it, please let me know what you think of the chapter. Those leaving behind a small comment can expect a small preview of the next chapter.

[iphoenixrising]

Anything Angsty with Tim please. Recommendations, a fic anything, just feeling angsty .... (P.S doctor!tim is everything I've ever needed and looking forward to AOB part 5! You're amazing! Good luck with your day)

Hi babe. I’m sorry I kept this for so long, but I am def aware how much you love your pain (lol) and I had this idea spinning for a while, so… Yeah. But ah, I started thinking about this what-if from the Fracture Verse and it got really long and intense really fast>.Destroyed. Basically, the Titans take on theinvaders and most the JL mentors take their sidekicks for some R&R exceptfor Red Robin, who goes back to the Tower to take care of himself and Batmanjust kind of lets him go.Well, What-If B just wasn’t having any of that? What if shit started getting so real there and just ALL THE KNOWLEDGE DROP HAPPENS THERE INSTEAD OF A YEAR LATER O_O  Like, Tim has only been back from his little torture vacay and then the mind fuckery of the Insurgents and just!

So…here it is.

**

All-in-all, invading aliens are douche canoes.

Seriously.

Kon, Cassie, Bart, Rave, Gar, and Miguel are allin agreement with him on this one; especially after they were all trapped in anendless of loop of their worst moment, worst losses, worst failures while stuckin the alien’s most powerful weapon: the Mind Trap.

Sure, it had been his brilliant, last-ditch ideato jump ball to the wall into the trap, giving him the access to their neuralnet he needed to break the hive mentality and shut them down from the inside.

It doesn’t make anything, any of it, anybetter.

While he’s reliving Kon’s final moments, Raven’snear insanity at the hand of Trigon, Gar’s out-of-control power ripping hisbody apart, Cassie’s nearly fatal injuries, Bart’s last wishes while hecoughs up blood and bile, Miguel watching his beloved slip in a coma to hoveron the edge of death—

While he’s doing all of that, Cassie is gettinghit with a two week span of time he was tortured as Tim Drake, Kon is getting aload of life with a ruptured spleen bleeding out, Bart is feeling the contagiontaking hold to kill Batman’s sidekick, Gar is feeling the pain when he, Damian,and Dick are fighting it out after the Robin tunic was given away without hisconsent, and Miguel is feeling a whole lot of owfuck from that time theRed Hood tried giving him a second smile to worry about.

But what matters in the end? With Raven’s help,he’s able to keep part of his mind partitioned off from the alien device so hecan live through the atrocities of his team and hack the invader’s tech at thesame time—enough to put in his carefully recalibrated virus to take them thefuck down.

The trap faded around them once the virus his jackpotand breaks the neural-net connection, essentially making the invaders as potentas five-year olds throwing temper tantrums.

The following beat-down is enjoyableenough to make up for the hour spent reliving their worst moments and fears, inhaving those moments share with the rest of the team.

Well, not really.

But still, it’s a pretty sweet revenge fight.

As per usual, the JL appears out of the sky overSan Fran once the main body of fighting is pretty much over and done with.They’ve already started on clean-up with the local authorities when Superman,Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Zatanna, the Flash, Martian Manhunter, GreenArrow, and the Batman show up to take a look around at the nice pile of former mayhem.

It’s a surprise when Superman goes straight forSuperboy, eyes wide with concern, gripping the teen’s arms and asking quietlyif he’s been hurt, is he okay? Does he need to go to the fortress for somehealing time?

Wonder Woman is similarly concerned upon seeingWonder Girl wavering with some bloody patches on her elbows and ribs, but it’sthe younger hero’s eyes that really bother her. Without a word to therest of the Justice League, she takes one of her protégé’s arms around hershoulders and takes to the sky, intent on going to Paradise Island for theyounger to recuperate.

The Flash pretty much catches KF in anall-encompassing hug, blurting out how bad ass the younger speedster didon such terrible bad guys, how proud he is of what KF did here today,how they need to check him over before he collapses, and just let me feedand care for you, little bro.

Zatanna feels the sharp, aching throb of paincoming directly from Raven, the power radiating in shards of agony. As a fellow magic user, she has no qualms going directly to the youngerwoman and talking gently, almost begging her to come to New York and the quietroom set-up to negate magic and allow for healing.

Martian Manhunter, who’s known Gar for years,sees the strain, the trembling, flinching muscle, and just pulls theunresisting Beast Boy up in his arms with something spoken softly against themop of green hair, and flies off with a nod to the Bat.

Red Robin, beaten and abused, bloody andlimping, is glad the JL came for his team; the aftermath of this, the rawnessof it, the pain, would be a real bitch for them to deal with. They would needthe support and the time to come back from the slideshow of horrors they allexperienced.

He turns away from the members of his team beingtaken away by their mentors and friends, going up to Cyborg with a copy of thevirus he created to take the Insurgents down, and gave the JL membersome of the deets about the who, what, when, where, and why since, you know,invading aliens are usually part of the JL’s extensive repertoire ofass-kicking.

He finally puts the bo away now that clean-upcrews are underway and the invaders are being detained by A.R.G.U.S.  Withthe job over and done with, he pulls a grapple in one bloody hand, fires it atthe convenient rooftop to take to flight. Their part is done and AmandaWaller’s people can figure out what the fuck to do with the aliens.

At least from here, he’s close enough to theTower to get half-way there without doing more damage to his ribs and theterrible concussion—

(V)

—Vash the Stampede, hitting the back of hisbrain pan. He needs antibiotics and first-aid to stop the bleeding as well aspossible other bad shit, like septic shock, from setting in (since,really, it’s ass) before he starts up adding this little sitch to theTitan’s records. Then he needs to get back on the hunt for those curiouslywell-funded labs getting Black Market equipment, and—

The slight paf of another zip line shakeshim a little in mid-air.

The shadow of the Bat is coming right up behindhim, dark cape flaring out behind the older vigilante so Red can plainly seeB’s arm already out to grab him around the middle and pretty much pull himright the hell off his own zip line.

“What the f—!?”

But they’re moving through the air, his wordslost to the rushing wind while B’s line attaches to the Batplane flyingoverhead, retracting to bring them closer to the dark silhouette in the sky.

With his back pressed up against the yellow ovaland symbol on B’s chest (and once upon a fucking time this meantsomething, didn’t it?), and that arm like iron around him, Red’s lip curls upin a sneer, shouting over the Batplane’s engine making his hurting jaw achejust that much more.

“What the hell do you need?” The unsaid can’tthis wait? Is right there.

B leans in to talk against his ear while they’restill in mid-air, probably not at all aware of the ringing so loudanyway, “I don’t need anything. Hold on.”

But through the lightheadedness, the strikes ofvertigo, the nausea rising up, Red still clenches his aching jaw and focuses onhow the hold around his gut hurting this much proves he’s pulledsomething probably important.

“Then I don’t want a ride to the Tower. I’ve gotit” Because he does. He’s had to have his own back for the better partof two years, before and after he brought B back from being lost in time andleft the Bats to figure their own shit out. He’s stayed away from their familywhen he’s in Gotham, stayed back because, well, Replacement, right?

Even if he and Jason are on better terms than ‘letme show you the pointy end of this knife,’ he’s still not even fucking goingthere.

The exit door to the Batplane slides open rightunder the cockpit. “I’m not giving you a ride to Titan’s Tower.” Is B’srumbling reply as they close in.

“Not all of us can jump from one crisis to thenext. Give me 48 hours and then you can email me with whatever intel you’reafter.” But he’s blinking behind the whiteouts, feeling sick and fuzzy, theinjuries that apparently aren’t going to just wait a minute.

“I don’t need any intel, Tim,” B snapsout, seemingly angry at something.

Red is too far into the pain game to really givea fuck about more of this little back-and-forth with his former partner.“Then what the hell do you want?” He snaps back, gripping the armaround him at the wrist, pulling his secondary grapple for, you know, justin case.

(Well, it’s not like they’re on good termsor anything—B has a Robin, so what’s this all about?)

“Stop it. You’re going to fall,” the arms getstighter with his meddling, and Red gasps out a pained noise when somethingtender is squeezed right along with it. His upper body flops over B’s arm in anattempt to curl up against the pain.

He barely realizes they’re up through the doorand into the cockpit while the plane glides smoothly on auto-pilot. The minuteB’s arm falls away, he can brace himself on the control panel and try tobreathe without puking.

Gloved hands turning him makes him jerk back astep as far as he can in the small space, pulling away.

“Just…just get me to the damn Tower,” ishoarse, blood on the Batplane’s floor now. Great, he’s going to probably get a rightbitching in his voicemail from Alfred explaining what a pain in the assbloodstains are to get out, Sir.

“I’m not taking you to the Tower,” Bgrowls back.

And there it is again, Batman is gripping hisbicep, pulling him closer, the whiteouts dipped down and the free hand rovingover the torn places in his suit.

“Then why the fuck am I in here, and—and stopthat. Shit!” His knees wobble, his move to pull back aborted when agloved hand presses along his left side. Bile rushes up into his throat,swallowed back down by sheer fucking willpower.

“The Titans just took on invading aliens,Tim. You need medical attention and time to recuperate. Your suit stood up tomost of it, but you’re bleeding.”

Again. There it is. B saidhis name more times in the last ten minutes than he has in the last year. What.The. Ever. Loving. Fuck. Is. Happening?

“Then—” he stutters out between panting breaths,fighting the dizziness and pending gray edges to his vision, “let me go to the fuckingTower so I can patch myself up.”

B seems to finally get that something isrotten in Denmark, and lets Red pull out of the hold. With his vision failingand go time eminent, Red fumbles back at the control panel in an attemptto slam the button that will open the door back for him to jump out of and firehis extra grapple. Then he’s going to be hitting the Medical floor in like, sixminutes tops because much longer and he’s going to be in oh shit landjust like when the Triad—

He misses on the first shot because B knocks hishand away and the exit stays closed.

“Wh-What the hell are you—?”

And sometimes, B is just that guy becausethe corresponding blow to his worst injury is such a fucking dickmove.

But it has the intended effect, showing how weakhe apparently is because his knees knock together and go out on him. He wouldhave ended up on the floor if B hadn’t swept him up like some fainting lily andkicked the co-pilot’s chair around with one foot to set him down in it.

“You’re in no shape to go back to the Tower,” Bmakes it statement punctuated with the last hit.

“…asshole…” he faintly gasps while the painmakes him clench his jaw against a noise.

“We’re going to talk when I’m not worried aboutinternal bleeding and broken bones. Since when have you been taking care ofinjuries this extensive on your own? I’m fairly sure a stipulation to joiningthe Titans was that you keep me updated when you get hurt.” B fills in, handspausing when he realizes the Red Robin’s suit design is…different. Verydifferent. The design has changed, along with the security traps (and hewonders when it happened. He should have the current designs of allhis sons’ suits, including armor schematics and the necessary details).

His Bat sense is going off about everything,more so than when Clark first picked him up from Gotham to inform him theTitans are in the fight of their lives because invading aliens managedto bypass the Watchtower’s systems.

He’d set the Batplane for follow them, alreadyworried about how Red Robin would be holding up while Clark sped them as fastas possible to San Francisco, meeting up with the other JL members on the way.

None of them had to say how worried they were,it was evident, even if you weren’t the so-called World’s GreatestDetective.

But the nagging something tugging at hisinner sense when Red shot his grapple without even a word to him isgetting stronger, is making him worry a hell of a lot more than he was even anhour ago.

He feels out the obvious injuries, even withRed’s hand weakly shoving his away.

“No internal bleeding, nothing broken. Thisconcussion is the bee’s knees thanks. A stop at the Tower to drop me offwould be just—” and yes, B, that was one of their agreements.Back when he was still Robin, when someone actually gave a fuck. Healmost comes out with that, but stutters to a halt because Batman gives nofucks about anything but flicking out a razor-sharp batarang and cuttingthe tunic right up the center, pulling away the dented, broken armor to get tothe body suit and main bleeders underneath.

“Tim, I said I’m not taking you there. No one isgoing back for the moment, and you need medical treatment, these look serious.”B already has the gloves and gauntlets off, “Batcomputer,” he turns slightlyand gets the acknowledging boop, “full body scan of Red Robin. Send results toAgent A.”

“N-No, no, not—” but his arms flop uselessly andthe six-minute window has already passed him up. It’s fail timeapparently.

Behind the whiteouts, B’s eyes narrow with thisconsistent fight. There’s something very wrong here, something wrong when hisformer Robin is fighting him tooth and nail when he’s half-loopy on blood lossand exertion. “Yes. There is no way in hell I’m leaving you in the Towerby yourself like this. Not going to happen, Tim. I am not goingto let you bleed out all over your computers.”

And B shoves his cowl back to show thoseelectric blue eyes, narrowed stubbornly when there’s my way or no waygoing down.

“Why,” he stutters when black replaces gray andhis brain fuzzes more, starts shutting down because of the impending owfuck,“the hell does it matter? I’m not your fucking responsibility anymore, right?”

He tries to sneer, tries to move, tries to snarland snap about why not a little bit of fuck-off for your day, butnothing is responding to command. Before he blacks out, though, he gets to see thelook of utter shock on Batman’s face, and well, the small surge of satisfactionat getting the drop on the Dark Knight leads him to the way—

Out

**

“Septic shock?” Dick gasps, utterly dumbfounded.

“Yes, Master Dick,” Alfred carefully works,aproned and gloved, cleaning the last of the ragged, raw injuries before hewould need to wrap them. The boy on the bed isn’t moving except for his chestrising and falling with slow, even breaths.

He does, however, press a button on the touchpadabove the bed in the Cave’s medical area to show the outline of a human bodywith a glaring red circle.

“It seems Master Timothy is no longer inpossession of the viscera necessary for fighting off infections.”

Bruce in only the body suit, Dick in sweats andt-shirt, and Damian without the domino all turn to Alfred.

And stare.

“You are saying he no longer has a spleen?” Damiverified, “and is thus more prone to illness?”

“That is precisely what the scans are showing,Master Damian, and I ran them several times to verify.”

The youngest Bat blinks once, blinks twice, andturns back to the unconscious form of Tim Drake lying still and silent. It wasbad enough the four of them received a nasty shock while peeling the RedRobin body suit off to reveal a mass of still-healing welts, burns, and brokenskin marring the span of Tim’s back (what the hell happened?) andthe other injuries in the process of healing, injuries that look suspiciouslylike torture on his upper body, arms, and hands; not to mention howAlfred huffs angrily at the visible curve of ribs standing out against paleskin, but finding out he also lost, you know, a semi-crucial body part sometimesince his last Bat-physical (hearing the date is the next shocker of thenight) is pretty much the last straw.

“I’m going to do some research. Let me know ifhe comes to, Alfred.” B turns away with a snarl, the muscles in his back andshoulders tight.

“I shall, Master Bruce. However, I have nointention of tying him down to the bed frame. Should I be detained with dinner,please refrain from using cuffs.”

“I’m not making any promises,” Bruce snaps back,already in his chair at the Batcomputer to start digging into the last sixmonths of Red Robin’s vigilante career and Tim Drake’s personal life.

Gingerly, Dick ruffles Damian’s hair and movesto sit on the medical bed by Tim’s hip, staring up at the closed eyes and slackfeatures. He doesn’t process Alfred taping gauze down on the current injuries,but picks up a bruised and battered hand to hold in both of his while lookingat a very obvious scar now that he knows some of what’s been going on inthe time since Tim has been back to the Manor after the Robin mantle went toDami.

(And Dick feels like a right bastardbecause he remembers coming up the stairs, thinking Tim might have been in hisold room after their thing with Ra’s people before B had been found—whenhe thought Tim might have come to his senses and come home to be RedRobin here with them…and found Tim’s room empty. His things moved out, theshelves missing his usual array of books and video games, no clothes in theclosets, no extra suits in the hidey holes, no shampoo in the shower ortoothpaste on the sink. The Flash shower curtain is gone, replaced by a genericone in most of the other guest rooms. And just turning in circles, the hardweight in his chest, the utter pain when he realized Tim never meant to comeback. He was already gone from the Cave where Alfred had patched him up,where Tim had told Dick specifically, “You’re my brother. I knew you’dcatch me.”)

He sighs, shoulders rising with the move. Hedoesn’t say anything as Alfred continues to dress the injuries and Tim sleepson.

It’s not very long before a sharp intake ofbreath from the computer draws their eyes, and B is typing furiously to getmore information. Hacking into the Tower’s mainframe is child’s play,especially when he has Vic doing the hard work.

Tim’s ghost drive, however, is yielding moreresults than he anticipated.

The video file labeled Triad makes hisstomach churn.

Dick leaves Tim to sleep off the drugs andantibiotics, for his fever to slowly come down under their ministrations. Hegrins a little at Damian asleep in the chair next to the medical bed and stepsover to the computer where Bruce is looking grim, fists clenched tight on thecontrol panel.

Dick almost asks, almost, until hecatches the video playing—

And watches Tim Drake take a whip to the backwhile their former Robin is screaming.

“Oh…Oh my God,” he blinks, chest tight,nausea rising up when the footage skips and the next scene is Tim being helddown by the arms and shoulders, the remains of his business suit ripped to givea span of bloody skin for the glowing hot iron bar to be set down.

He doesn’t know when he moved or when B got tohis feet while the two of them try very hard not to be sick as Tim screamedover and over on the security footage.

They stand together, silenced by horror as theslideshow continues, as Tim is tortured over and over, as one of their ownattempt to escape, gets to the control room and tries to get a communicationout to the outside world.

By the time they have the full picture of howthose marks got there and what Tim Drake had to go through, Bruce is deep inthe Bat, anger radiating from every pore.

Tim was abducted outside Wayne Enterprises ashis daytime persona, as Tim Drake, CEO, and none of them had known a damn thingabout it.

**

It’s almost forty-eight hours later.

The Bats are in from patrol and upstairs to dohuman things, like sleep and eat and bathe (because the sewers of Gotham are nastyno matter how many times you’ve been down there—the sitch never gets any better).B has scrubbed down and changed in the Cave, making sure he was free ofcontaminants before coming over to check on his still-sleeping Robin. Handsaccustomed to delivering pain are absurdly gentle when he lays a palm on theback of Tim’s neck, glad to see his temperature is finally getting back tonormal, and checking the IVs as well as the bandages on Tim’s healing back andnewer injuries on his side and knee. He ruffles the too-long hair gently beforegoing up to check quickly on Alfred and the boys before planning on coming backdown to stay close to Tim, hoping he might be stable enough to wake up and talkto them.

So the Cave is empty for the moment when themachines attached to the sensor clamped on Tim’s finger and the little stickypads on his chest start to pick up slightly. Not enough to trigger analert, just enough for him to blink open his bleary eyes riding the dredges ofpainkillers and sedatives.

It’s the Bat-cocktail of owfuck.

Really, he should have known better.

The fog is clearing out while his head flops onone side to look around and see where he’s—and what’s happ—how did—?

His head flops to the other side, eyes wideningwhen he realizes the big car is parked a little past the curtain, and on theother side of him, the Batcomputer looks the same, but there’s a few morethings on the control panel.

He gets the urge to violently hurl oncethe screeching overhead signals where he’s at just in case, you know, theremight be any doubt.

The air in his chest chokes off, leaving himcoughing hard for a few seconds, enough that the pulsox beeps once in warningand he struggles to get himself under control.

The haze of painkillers is still there, but nothingshort of death is going to stop him. Instead, he uses the lead to pull thelittle machine close to him and manages to pop the casing off. A few wires and boom,he takes the sensor off his finger and the monitor keeps going. It takesmaneuvering for him to sit up enough to reach the heart monitor and do prettymuch the same.

There’s cameras everywhere, but he’s sure no onewould be watching (because why would they?) as he stands on stiff,aching legs, manages to stumble a little before righting himself.

The knee isn’t going to get better anytime soon,so he’s good to be limping around because at least that means he’s onhis feet.

The Red Robin suit they must have taken off ofhim is folded neatly on a workstation table, easy to pick up.

He feels immensely better with the body suit on(even if the pressure on still-healing injuries is about a bitch, damn);boots, gloves and gauntlets, harness and utility belt. It’s enough to rock.

A domino goes on while he nabs his somewhatstitched back together cape, but the armored tunic is totes a lost cause.

Bummer.

With the machines beeping steadily behind him,Tim leaves the tunic, makes his way further down into the Cave, favoring theleg, moves as straight-backed as possible to keep the marks on his back frompulling and getting sore all over again, as been the pattern in the last monthsince he’s been back from a certain little vacay.

(And it’s fucked how B probably saw thosemarks isn’t it? Just another check in the who gives a shit category…but,the old memorial case with Jason’s Robin suit is still there where it’s alwaysbeen—and a double-take confirms it. His first Robin suit is in a new case nextto it. Mother. Fucker does it makes his chest hurt.)

The line of just in case vehicles is inthe same place it always was. A crappy beater for Matches Malone, a van forpick-ups, an Ambulance in case shit gets real. A covered car in the backcorner that is terribly, achingly familiar, and his eyes skitter away from it,just like he did with the memorial cases.

Instead, he goes to one of the four Ducati’sserviced and ready to rock, lifts up the seat while balancing on his good leg.Keys fall into his palm, so score.

His hip only hitches slightly when he throws thebad leg over the bike so the good one can steady it, and the bruises tomorroware going to be fucking beautiful.

But for the moment, all good. He’ssitting down at least, and flips the bike on, raises the bad leg to start theengine—

When Dami drops down from the ceiling vent andlands a few feet in front of him at a crouch.

No suit, no domino, but the pose is all Robin.

A Robin in his pjs, but then, well, there’sschool and shit in the morning isn’t there?

“Drake,” a low, almost-question.

“Nice to see you too,” he smirks with oldbitterness, just waiting for it.

Dami’s eyes go from the whiteouts to the bikeand back up. “This…is not a favorable course of action,” is said morecarefully than he can remember the Demon ever being.

“What now?” Because seriously, what now?

“You have been recovering from septic shock,”the youngest informs him, still in that crazy careful tone. “Among otherinjuries. It would be best if you stayed where you could be monitored shouldyou relapse.”

Now he thinks he might be more loopy on the I’mfucked up cocktail than initially assessed. Things just aren’t…aren’tmaking sense here.

“I’m in a multiverse aren’t I?” Is a stupid butkind of valid question.

Damian, however, is not amused.

“You are a fool. This is not surprising. However,as I have been informed, your team stopped an alien invasion. That if nothingelse would merit time, Drake.”

“Telepaths that want to take over our world are assholes.Haven’t you figured that out yet?” He comes back easily, “and I have a place torecoup. It would be nice to be on my way there right about now.”

The bad leg comes down, shooting a thrill ofpain up, but fuck it. Really. He needs to get out of here before JasonTodd comes around to give him a bro fist or something else just ascrazy.

The engine purrs to life against his thighs.

Again, it’s opposite day because thatlittle brat is leaning against the handlebars, scowling and talking over theengine instead of doing things like, you know, moving.

“I would not do this if I were you.”

He blinks behind the whiteouts. “I don’t knowwhat the fuck is going on here, but this is getting to creep-tasticsproportions.” He leans over the handlebars as much as he can without someserious owfuck hitting, “you wanted me gone, Demon. Riff raff,remember? That cut zip line? You think I need a written invitation toget the fuck out?”

Dami’s eye widen a fraction before narrowing,the little asshole leaning in as well like they’re going to fight it out forsome crazy reason because this is what they all wanted butwere too chicken-shit to tell him.

“Dick’s too nice to say it, but you think hereally has to after all this time?”

“Grayson—” Dami starts, voice raised to be heardover the purring engine.

“Never wanted me either. I guess you and JasonTodd were right all along. Want to gloat about it? How about you do it overSkype so I can get back to my life?”

Dami growls, baring his teeth in a snarl, “no,you fool. Grayson has missed you unbearably in the last twoyears. He has attempted to keep track of you while you searched for Father andthen later when you re-joined the Titans. He is the one that built the case foryour Robin suit.”

And just…what the ever-loving fuck?

“I am aware of how things were left whenI began my own time as Robin, Drake. I am aware of—”

“Get off.” Because now he’s blinking behind thewhiteout, his eyes getting hot and wet fast. “Get the fuck off.”

“No!” Damian snarls back, gripping thehandlebars tighter, like he has every intention of holding on. “I refuseto let you leave like this!”

And so, apparently it’s time to spell it out.“No one gives a shit if I’m here or not.” He shoves himselfstanding, old, buried pain rearing up from the terrible place in his brain panwhere he’d buried it all just so he could keep moving. “They let meinherit the cape because I was an asshole kid and found out theirsecret. They let me keep it because I did an alright job at keeping Bfrom fucking himself up like Robin is supposed to do. And he took me inbecause my fucking father was murdered when my identity was compromised.It’s ‘adopt an orphan syndrome,’ Damian. That’s it. I fucking Get.It. Now.”

Those eyes narrow, color rising to the youngervigilante’s face. But Tim leans down, blinking rapidly behind the whiteoutbecause he’s not going to give him or any of them that fuckingsatisfaction.

His voice is low, almost angry if it didn’tcrack, giving away more than he wants, especially to Damian. “Besides,why would they want the replacement when they’ve got the real son in thecape anyway, right? You said that, and you were right, weren’t you?”

“N-none of that—Drake…Timothy, youdon’t honestly,” and the twelve year old almost looks his age for once, “youdon’t honestly believe that.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a veryunfunny smirk, “I’m a detective, Damian. I don’t believe anything until I haveevidence.”

The younger Bat sputters a moment, looking oddlyshell-shocked, but he doesn’t let go, refuses to give up, “evidence? Openyour eyes, Drake. Father ordered the Justice League to attend your battleas soon as he knew, made Kent come to pick him up as he knew it would be thefastest way to get to you.”

“What part of aliens wasn’t clear? Thatis usually JL territory, we just happened to call dibs.”

Dami’s fists tighten around the handlebars, “Ihave been Robin for three years. Three years, Drake. If there isanything I have learned in that time, it is how Father would not leave any ofhis Robins behind. Not even you.”

Welp, that’s going to be a very hardeventual realization for the kid. But really, it isn’t any of his businessanymore. None of this is.

He sinks back down slowly, painfully becauseit’s time to go. “Get out of the way.”

The hair on the back of his neck, however, cutshim off, makes his straighten up again on the bike and rev up the engine. Damiisn’t moving, but is just staring at him looking like he might pull out thatwicked katanna for a little sliced n’ diced vigilante rather than dealwith his shenanigans. Not like it’s nothing new.

But the ghost sensation has drawn the brat’sattention as well, those eyes drawn over Tim’s left shoulder.

Without turning to look, he gives the standard,“thanks for the pick-up. Let me know when you need the next batch of intel.We’ll have a crime-fighting party with confetti and everything.”

The hand on his bicep is something he hadn’tanticipated, startling him to look up at Bruce’s bare face and angry eyes.

Oh shit. Batman’s not a happy camper. Time tohit the dirt.

From his other side, Dick comes out of nowhereand reaches around him to turn the bike off and take the key out of the ignition.

Oh, so that’s how it is? After all theyears he put into maintaining the bikes and cars just like everyone else—

“Like I said,” he deadpans, trying very, veryhard not to get pissed off at the snub, “thanks for the pick-up. I’ll gettogether whatever data you’re looking for when—”

“Get off the bike, Tim,” Bruce emphasizes theorder with a tug to his arm.

“Seriously?” Well, there goes the best ofintentions, “I’ll bring it back if this is a problem.”

“Not the point. Get the hell off the bike.”

He shoves himself to his feet, already planningon hitting up Kon in a quick text just to get a ride out of here as fast asfucking possible, itching to jerk his arm out of B’s hold (and dammit,he hates to do that now that Clark isn’t being an asshat extraordinaire). So helets it ride for the moment since, well, he pretty much shouldn’t be hereanyway, so the lecture is probably going to be fucking spectacular.

His hip hitches again when he swings his legback over the bike, but it’s only slightly painful this time around. Nope,there’s more pain elsewhere that has nothing to do with skin and soft,fleshy bits.

He in no way is prepared for Bruce pulling hisarm up and around those massive shoulders, bending down enough to be aboutTim’s height. The limp isn’t as bad with B supporting him with an arm aroundhis waist (under the worst of the older marks) and gripping the wrist, walkinghim right the fuck back into the depths of the Cave where Alfred is waitingwith hands properly folded behind him.

“Ah, the patient is awake,” Alfred is calm,cool, and collected as per usual. “Perhaps a stronger dose of painkillersshould have been in order.”

“Not necessary,” he fills in shortly, pullingaway from Bruce as soon as possible, a passing glance off the machines he’dreconfigured. “Thanks for patching me up, Alfred.”

The butler sighs through his nose and it’s sopainfully familiar. “Of course, Master Tim. If you would be sokind as to change clothing, the bandages will need to be checked again.”

He holds up a hand, “again, not necessary. I’mon my way out—”

Dick shoves sweats and a t-shirt in his chest,jaw clenched tight enough that a muscle is jumping there, and it’s fine,he gets it. Dick doesn’t want him there. He really doesn’t need this—

“I’m trying to be out of your hair,” hegrowls back at the former Batman and current Nightwing. “I didn’t ask tocome here. Not my bad.”

If anything, Dick’s expression gets even angrier.Angry enough that the hands holding the clothes are trembling finely until Timtakes them just to get the older vigilante to step back.

“Drake,” and it’s really saying something when Damianis the one stepping between them, trying to keep, well, whatever peacedistance can realistically bring. “This is difficult to believe, but there is agrave misunderstanding happening here.”

His eyebrows draw together, head tilted down tothe youngest, but he wisely remains silent because there’s volumes hecould say about that.

“Do you need assistance, Master Tim?” Alfredcuts in, trying to divert the brewing storm raging in Dick and Bruce’sexpressions, “I should say some of your injuries must be rather painful at thisjuncture. Your back, for example—”

“I’ve got it. Thank-you.”

“Very good, Sir. Once you have changed, I have adelightful pot of coffee and breakfast—”

But those words make his head snaparound, “coffee?”

Because yes. The answer is always yes.

Alfred hums knowingly, “indeed. I believe it isthe Sumatra brand you seem to favor?”

And dammit. Just, dammit Alfred.

In reply, he limps back to pull the curtainclosed in the sectioned-off medical area, flopping the sweats and t-shirt downon the gurney. Deep, cleansing breath, and he reverses order, taking off glovesand gauntlets, boots, utility belt and harness, cape and dom, leaving the bodysuit for last (since there’s the most owfuck of the day).

“Tim? You okay?” B’s voice is softer, floatingover the partition, his silhouette against the curtain.

“I’m fine,” he taps on his wrist computer withone arm through the t-shirt. Getting the sweats on is painful but it’s whateverreally, the knee isn’t going to get any better so no use whining about it.

Instead, he puts the wrist computer back on hisforearm and comes out a la civvies, his too-long hair probably wrecked,but with a KO of approximately two days?

He shoves the curtain back, cracking his neck,and starting to move to intercept Alfred’s approach. “Bandages are clean, soI’m good. Thanks.”

The butler tisks and gently simply steers MasterTim back to the gurney, “I will need to check your levels as well as theinjuries you are unable to see, Master Tim. You certainly cannot assessyour back unless you’ve taken to perform feats of magic?”

The others approach, watching with grave facesas the butler allows a cup and saucer inside the medical area, an excuse tokeep Tim’s hands busy so work can be done.

“My levels are f—” The smell hits like anaphrodisiac and his eyes fall half-mast just because coffee.

“Do not say ‘fine.’ For a young man without thenecessary organ to build up proper immunities, then I would dare to say yes.However, for a crime-fighting vigilante, your white cell count is woefully deficient.”

Oh. So that’s whatthis is about?

Shit.

“I’ve had enough time to adjust.” Is all hebites out as the butler gloves up, winds a stethoscope around his neck.

When B’s hands plant on his hips like he iswinding up for the mother of all lectures, and Damian puts a hand toDick’s forearm to stop him from saying whatever might be ready to comeout of his mouth, Tim realizes how much of a thing this might be.

The butler, however, just frowns, “then I willpose the obvious question, Master Tim. How many episodes of septic shock haveyou experienced before now?”

His jaw clenches, eyes close briefly becausewhen he got off that fucking ship—

The pinch to his inner elbow jars him out of it(luckily) or he might still be smelling stagnant water and imagine the worldrocking under his feet.

“Twice,” and he leaves it at that, going morepale at the bits flashing through his brain pan.

Alfred removes the syringe, tapes a cotton ballto the small wound. “Twice, Sir?” is quiet, neutral.

Tim swallows, looking at the span of wallinstead of any of them, “yeah.”

“Once recently I’m afraid?” And Alfred sets theblood sample aside, easily moves a gloved hand to be under Master Tim’s stillholding the delicate saucer. The minute clattering stops when he does.

“Yeah,” hoarse, but fuck yes.

“Your back, Tim?” now Alfred’s tone is movinginto soothing, someone that can (used to be) be trusted.

Still staring at the wall, keeping himselftogether, Tim gives a short, pointed nod.

“What—” Dick steps a little closer to his side,not enough to set him off, but enough to reach out, slowly, easy, “who did thatto you, Timmy?”

His shoulders tense with the contact, and heblinks hard, shaking himself out of it, shaking himself the fuck back tothe present. He lifts the cup and takes a drink of utter heaven.

It helps to steady him, to keep his head outof the two weeks he spent being tortured as Tim Drake, CEO, and the more recentfight with dick bag aliens.

“I took care of it.”

“That doesn’t tell us anything,” Dick counters.“Timmy…you were tortured.”

And well, yes. Yes, he was.

“Yup,” is his soft admission, staring down intothe depths of his coffee while Alfred moves around behind him and the shirtinches up his spine, making his hackles rise just slightly. “I was.”

And he knows, he knows, Alfred was tryingto be careful, wasn’t trying to do anything, but the wounds, the memories, allof it was still so new and raw, that when the touch hits the wrong spot,reminds him of a burning iron bar pressed against his shoulders, he chokes andmoves without thinking.

The cup and saucer crash to the floor, and he isup, moving away, spinning in mid-air, landing at a crouch with his legand back screaming, his eyes wide, hand automatically poised in a nerve strike.And he can fight, he can fight, and he can win. He can save them thistime, save them all, and he can—

He can, he will.

Whizzing and moving, focused on not throwing up,focused on not stopping.

Bruce is gripping his face between those massivepalms from one blink to the next, and Tim realizes he must have been movingagain because they aren’t standing by the medical area anymore.

Instead, he’s pinned down on one of the big matsused for practice and training half-way across the Cave, the vinyl soft andworn-in under the arm Bruce has pinned at the wrist. His back is fucking agonybecause he’s laying down on the healing injuries. Worse, he’s shaking likefuck, the coffee in his stomach rolling with it.

“Tim! You need to stop. Just. Stop.”

But it’s just as bad because he can’t be helddown.

That…he’s not good with that, and hiships take over regardless of owfuck, bucking up enough to get Bruce offhim so he can turn over, land on all fours and gag.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck…”

He gets a million vigilante points for notthrowing up his coffee.

A. Million.

Plopping down on his ass to try getting air backinto his lungs, however, is seriously the best idea for the moment even if he’sshaky as fuck and probably embarrassed the shit out of himself.

(Regretting letting him back in now,aren’t you?)

Dick kneels in plain sight, ducking down tocatch Tim’s rapidly blinking eyes. “Hey, just me,” is meant to be soft andsoothing.

It’s not.

Instead, Tim closes his eyes again it and triesto calm himself but his brain is too fuzzy, still half-stuck on the ship, inthe mind trap, in his team’s memories—

“…something for me, Tim. Let me know you’rewith us.”

He doesn’t open his eyes so he can’t see whateverexpression is on those faces.

“Should have just…dropped me at the goddamnedTower,” he manages hoarsely, bringing his knees up to hold his heavy head.

Bruce, refusing to be diverted, gets closeenough to wrap his long fingers around Tim’s ankle slowly, carefully. “No,” heclaims slowly, mind working furiously at the flow of new and disturbinginformation, “no, Tim. I’m glad, very glad, I brought you home.”

The laugh coming out of Tim’s bent head ishalf-way to a sob (home? There hasn’t been a home in a while actually),and Bruce’s hand moves up to grip into a calf instead, sliding subtly closer onhis knees.

Dick paces right beside him, being absurdlycareful, recognizing the reactions, the instincts Bruce bred into all hisRobins to fight when you’re out of all other options. It’s knee-jerkreaction to any situation.

“You blanked out for a few minutes there, Timmy.It looked like,” he hesitates slightly from saying it even if he has plentyof experience dealing with this kind of thing, “you were having a flashback.”

“I don’t talk about it,” is the hoarse reply,the horrible panting sounds finally easing down.

“I think we’re going to try checking over yourinjuries again,” Dick gingerly touches a few fingers to Tim’s limp hand,“without trying to set you off, okay? We’ll…Timmy, we’ll be right here withyou.” His finger firm a little, squeeze Tim’s fingers before the hand jerks outof his hold, the leg moving away from Bruce.

Tim scrambles backwards on the mat, shoves tohis feet because ignoring pain is something he does like a boss, but pity?Oh, he gets all kinds of pissed off about it.

Just ask Kon. The impressive choke hold issomething the super is probably never going to forget.

“I don’t need checked over. I don’t needanything other than a way to get back to my damn Tower—” and the fuckaway from here is implied.

Because really. They can stop this moundof variable bullshit anytime now.

“I don’t need whatever in the hell this,” andhis hands flutter around for a second, “this shit is all of a sudden. I lead mydamn team, and it doesn’t effect how I work. How I’ve workedfor the last few years. I’m. Fucking. Good.”

Bruce’s mouth flattens into a grim line, staringat his third Robin, the son that took his name without qualm, the son he’d letget too far the fuck away because he felt like he didn’t belong in hisown home. And Dick might share the burden of that, the younger vigilantenearly radiating beside him facing Tim down, ready to stop him if he tries tobolt.

And Bruce doesn’t feel bad about Damian andAlfred slowly coming up behind Tim to box him in, takes a moment to beratehimself for thinking he was doing the right thing in giving Tim the spacehe thought the former Robin needed to heal. The same space Dick needed when hehad to move on from the Robin mantle.

But he’d inadvertently caused both hisformer Robins nothing but pain by giving them the space to throw their bodiesinto the Mission to try and escape the devastation, the loss.

It’s another black mark under his name, but ifanything, Bruce, the Bat, has no qualms rectifying his mistakes.

And he’s perfectly fine starting now.

“Tim,” interrupts the snarling commentary on howRed Robin isn’t fucking anything up (which is unnecessary because Brucealready knows it), and makes the injured bird abruptly pause. “Let meget this straight.”

The third Robin stops, seems to mentally re-set,like when they started up a new case and the personal lives had to be left inthe Cave before they got into the big car for the upcoming night. It’s enoughof the old Tim that Bruce takes a few cautions steps, holding up fingersto tick off so he’s got Tim’s attention on the visual.

“You were kidnapped as your daytime persona, asTim Drake, not Red Robin—”

Oh shit. Well, World’s GreatestDetective. Of course he’d find out. It happened in his city.

“—they tortured you on a ship in the middle ofthe ocean. You escaped, brought them down, and turned them in to severalbranches of authorities. Four days ago, you showed up as Red Robin when theInsurgents hit Earth’s atmosphere. You went into a fight with your team againsta psychic horde without calling for back-up. And you won. Allright so far?”

“Sounds…about right.”

Bruce hums, nods, “and…why do you thinkI would questioning how effective you are as a vigilante?”

Wait.

Tim’s mouth works but nothing comes out because,well, point.

“I have no idea why you’re trying to convince mewhen I’m already well aware how incredible you are in the field. I don’tneed any other justifications. What I need to know,” and Bruce unfoldshis arms, hands loose at his sides, trying to look less intimidating so Tim’shackles won’t rise again, “is when your spleen was removed and what criminalcaused it. What I want to know is if you’ve seen anyone to help youthrough the trauma you went through on that ship. What I want to know is whyyou keep telling me you’re fine and you handle it when you are obviously notfine. No one, Tim, no one could be after all that.”

And the younger vigilante stares up at him,taller than the last time Bruce had a chance to really see him, withnarrow eyes that are already calculating his next moves. B knows it because hesees Tim’s eyes slide to Alfred and Damian, slide over to Dick before comingback to him. It’s saying something when the Bat is hovering at the fore of hismind, ready for another mad attack if Tim flips back into those flashbacks andstarts fighting by instinct.

“What I need to know is,” B counterssoftly, “why you didn’t come home when you needed to.”

When Tim stays silent, when his beaten, batteredbody gets as straight as it can, Bruce sees enough, knows enough.

He nods slowly, like he gets it, whateversilent message Tim is putting out, and returns that intense look, sees so muchhidden under the exterior that he should have picked up long before this verymoment.

“You three go upstairs. Have some downtime,” hewaves a shooing hand at Dick, Damian, and Alfred, “Tim didn’t get his coffee,and I honestly don’t need any more caffeine induced contingencies on my hands.”

“Bruce—” is Dick’s desperate attempt tostay because now he knows how much of this, how much of it isright on his head.

“Dick. Go have some downtime.”

Dami isn’t happy, is looking with his headtilted up, those dark eyes all for the scowl on Tim’s face, the sneer.

Alfred, however, steps between them, MasterTimothy and Master Bruce to break the stare down and lift a fresh cup andsaucer into the younger vigilante’s hand. It breaks the oldest man’s heart whenMaster Tim…hesitates.

But the hands are steady when the coffee istaken, and the young Master is looking carefully away from the butler, a musclein his jaw flickering.

“Thank-you,” is said softer than the rest.

“What else could I do, Master Tim? My life isdedicated to caring for my family, and that includes you.” A small pat to theyounger man’s head while the angry, defensive expression falls to wide-eyed andslack, like the younger Master is genuinely surprised. The saucer isheld tighter in busted fingers when Timothy’s spine snaps straighter and heblinks rapidly, trying to harden himself, pull his strength around him like acloak so none of them can see what abject pain he is in—how he obviouslywas very certain he no longer belonged here, with them all.

“Oh Tim,” the butler sighs sadly, gently, “thismay be untoward, so forgive me, but it is so nice to see you. As much as wehave missed, as much as you have suffered and succeeded, I am still so happy tohave you home.”

The reaction is those wide eyes, the true tellto Master Timothy’s thoughts returning to his face and immediately seeking outany deception on the butler’s part, any lies or placations, any shred ofevidence to support his previous theories.

Alfred smiles, just a small curve of his lowerlip, when the younger man’s shoulders lose a small bit of tension, just enoughto prove he found no lies here. When he can have just a hint of belief. It’sjust enough for Alfred to fit a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and squeezewith infinite gentleness before he’s herding two of his other charges up into theManor, casting a glance back at the long line of Master Bruce’s tense backbefore he and Master Dick exchange a very concerned look.

**

And they leave Tim and Bruce in the Cave withthe fluttering of bats, the gentle hum of working equipment, with damagedsuits, and healing bodies, with injuries and trauma.

It’s such a painful thing for Bruce, staring atTim and remembering a younger kid standing in the same place with the Rover his heart, the suit of his Robin and that crazy, wide grin in anticipationfor nightfall when they could move together.

When Tim’s team was Batman and Robin.

“None of this is necessary,” and it’s RedRobin’s voice, unshakeable and reliable. A leader. A vigilante.

And not the person Bruce wants to talk toright at this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce cuts off that train ofthought, seeing past the denials and old pain, seeing past everythingTim is spitting out, the abject hurt, the theory that maybe, maybethey’d just been-been using him all this time. That he was just a kid ina cape or something just as ridiculous. “I’m sorry it got this far. I’m sorrynone of us, me or Dick or Alfred jumped in to remind you that you will alwayshave a home here, no matter what.  There’s no excuse for it, Tim,absolutely none.”

The younger vigilante frowns harder, his thoughtprocesses obvious to the World’s Greatest Detective.

“Once Damian and I could realistically worktogether, Dick left out of Gotham to trail the Titans and see if he could atleast talk to you, but the team was moving fast, so he wanted to waituntil you were in town again. But, regardless, we let this go on for toolong, letting you get further and further away without checking in, withoutcoming back.”

“I didn’t need to.” Tim interjects, firming hisjaw, still staying as far inside the mask as he possibly can, trying to protecthimself.

And Bruce finally sees it.

“And you don’t have to do this,” the youngervigilante puts the cup and saucer down immediately, eyes never losing that hardedge, “at all. It’s not necessary at this point. I’m still going to be theintel guy, the IT solution. I’ll still come when you call just like I’ve alwaysdone.”

“That’s not good enough.” Bruce insistsback, arms loose by his sides, “it was never supposed to be needed over wanted,and it isn’t like that. You won’t believe me until you have evidence, I knowalready, but Tim,” and Bruce comes up on him, not the stalk of the Bat or thestride of the daytime persona, it’s all Bruce Wayne—

Dad.

He’s careful but firm, hands tilting his son’sface up a little, taking in the widening eyes of surprise, “Tim, you arealways, will always be one of my sons. Just like Dick and Jasonand Damian. That’s what you agreed to when you took on the mask. You becamemine and the Batman’s, our Robin, our partner, our son, and yes,yes this is necessary. It’s completely and totally necessary becausealong the way the important things got pushed to the wayside, and it’s so farfrom fine that I can’t even begin to list the problems here.”

And the younger vigilante has the most probablereaction Bruce can predict.

He fights.

“Bullshit,” is hoarse, angry when Tim shovesaway, steps back, “and I don’t need bullshit, Bruce. You think Idon’t get it? I was the kid that figured out your secret, you hadto keep me, to keep me quiet about it. So of fucking course you’d let mewear the R. What would I have done if you hadn’t? Just because I got goodat it doesn’t mean I don’t fucking recognize how it never should have been me.It should have been Jason and then Damian. It should have been blood,not some fucking kid you never wanted.”

And God it hurts, these things tearingout him like fucking poison, like rancid bile he can finally vomit up, to get outof him.

“And you did good. You did great, Bruce,dealing with me. You really did. You did the best you could under thecircumstances,” and fuck, yes, he means it because Bruce was there forhim when he was Robin, when Dad died, when his world was going to shittime and time again. Bruce put up with his crap more than anyone in his entire life—evenhis real Dad. “I appreciate it, all the shit from back then. You don’t—” andhis chest hitches, but he grinds his teeth, straightens his back for it, “youdon’t even know how much I needed you. How much I respect you, how muchI wanted to be your partner and friend, and you gave me that, Bruce. You didthat for me, but…but your real son has the cape now, just like italways should have been, and I understand that. This,” and his handswaffle back-and-forth while he looks away, tries to choke down the bitternessall these realizations still leave behind, “this is the way it should havehappened. This is—” not okay, never fine, not really, “how itshould be.”

But when he looks back, chances a glance, hejerks a little because Bruce’s expression is—

(Is there some fear toxin somewhere? What thehell?)

The hands at Bruce’s sides are clenching intotight fists, his forearms cording, muscles getting tight.

“How long have you felt like this?” Theoldest vigilante demands in a low, dangerous voice, “how long do youthink I’ve just been tolerating you? How could you even— Jesus,Tim.”

But really, he’s the detective, right? “Iforced my way in,” he deadpans, “you never chose me, Bruce.”

And even though he’s come a long way from thatRobin to now, he’s still not fast enough to dodge Batman.

Nope. That’s not happening.

Because Bruce is across the span separating themin a skiff of shadows, literally picking him up off his feet with an arm aroundhis waist below the healing whip marks, the other hand buried in the hair atthe back of his head, pushing his face into Bruce’s neck and shoulder (and he’sshaking, Bruce, Batman, the unstoppable, the indomitable, is shaking).

The move is so out of what he expected,so unpredictable, Tim’s eyes are wide, just blinking wetly, hands up toautomatically brace himself on Bruce’s biceps.

“In…in the beginning, I was terrifiedof you,” Bruce blinks back his own wet eyes against the side of Tim’s too-longhair, “I was so scared of getting another innocent kid hurt, and you were…youwere so smart and so brave. You were fearless, Tim. You were perfect forthe job, but if I got you hurt, if I got you killed, if this world losteverything you are because of me and my Mission… then there would be noredemption. And I—” and Bruce grips him tighter, breathes in slowly,presses the side of his face into Tim’s hair harder, “I couldn’t lose you too.I couldn’t lose you, Tim.”

And that. To hear that it wasn’t becauseof Jason Todd, to hear that he was valued back then for himself, has Tim’sheart give a painful throb in his chest, makes him hold on to Bruce like he wasstill that Robin.

“In the beginning, I didn’t want anotherkid in danger. I didn’t want another person’s life in my hands, I didn’twant anyone else to suffer because of my choice to do this, to be Batman, to bethe crime fighter Gotham needed. So…so you-you were partially right. Backthen, I didn’t want you involved. When you helped solve Dick’s caseand-and you gave me no choice, Tim. You proved to me you were everything Ineeded Robin to be, everything Dick was, everything Jason was, everythingDamian is learning to be. There was no way I could let you go.”

And God, to hear that, just to hearthat from Bruce.

It’s more than he ever expected.

“You’re more than just a kid in a cape.You always were. You were always the kid I needed, the kid that groundedme, the kid that was so much like me that you should have been a Waynefrom the get-go. Just like Dick and Jason. You taught me just as much as Itaught you, and even though I never wanted to overstep my boundaries, I neverwanted to try and take your Dad away from you because—” and Bruce has to pause,has to let his eyes spill over because back then? Back then when Jack was anass, was a damn terrible father, Bruce still couldn’t fight him because, “—becauseif mine had lived, even if he couldn’t understand me and what I grew into…Istill would have at least had him.”

And Tim bites down on his lip hard enough todraw blood, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from spilling over too, from his armsmoving to wrap around Bruce’s shoulders and hold the fuck on.

“But,” Bruce breathes in, rolls his eyes upwardto try and calm down, “but when you still lost him, I…There was no question,Tim. There never was. You were my son just as much as his, and there was nevera question as to where you belonged, that you have a home here. Not-nota room, not a cot in the Cave, not a locker for your gear. Your home,Tim. And I…I thought I was helping, letting you be the vigilante you needed tobe. When you brought me back and it was Damian in the R, I… I understood why,but I still missed you. I was still…upset with Dick, doing thatwithout telling you, without giving you an opportunity to have your say. I wastrying to give you time to stop hurting, to grow from it. I was trying not topush you too hard, to make it hurt worse.”

Gentle movement, Bruce walking carefully towardthe medical gurney still carrying Tim without even straining, still holding himclose, still so painfully angry at himself for how long these thingsmust have been buried in Tim’s psyche, how all of it must have pushed thisyoung man to his breaking point.

“And I…” Bruce closes his eyes briefly as ithitches, “and I failed you, Tim. I’m so sorry that I failed you as your Dad.I’m sorry you ever thought I only wanted to keep you from telling mysecret because it was never about that.”

But Tim, hanging there, limply, pain a dull redthrob in his brain pain, gripping Bruce around the shoulders tight,hides his face away from the realizations, from the things he never imagined.

Bruce folds himself down and rocks justslightly, comforting them both a little with the motion, “and you’re not goingto believe all this. Not for a while. I know you, young man, and you’regoing to need time to believe in me again, to believe in the family, andthat’s-that’s okay. That’s completely understandable. I’ll give you as muchtime as you need, but goddammit, Tim, I’m not letting you getthat far out of my sight again. I’m not ever going to let you go. Whether youlike it or not, you’re stuck with us, kid.”

He doesn’t laugh or chuckle, still in a state ofshock since he really didn’t imagine this in his future, or well ever.

After all this time, all the bad guys andterrible night, all the sacrifices and job well dones, he’d pretty much figuredit was really…over.

This is a whole lot of unexpected that his brainpan can’t handle all at once. He needs time to think about it, to review theevidence.

“Give me a chance, Tim,” is breathed gently againsthis ear, “don’t give up on me yet. Please, don’t give up on me.”

“You’re an idiot,” he finds himself saying backwith a scratchy throat, “I didn’t give up on you when the world thought youwere dead. Like I’m going to start now?”

And Bruce, B, the Batman, just breathesout in the quiet dim of the Cave, holds this almost nineteen-year-old on hislap like he used to do to Dick when the kid was on overload or he’s finallygotten Damian to just deal with it.

“When I really believe you mean that, I’ll let yougo back to Titan’s Tower.”

That does earn a snickerbecause really, Bruce?

“Can you just—” and the World’s GreatestDetective hesitates for a second, not sure how hard he wants to push whenthere’s been some progress made tonight.

“…you want to know about the spleen thing,don’t you?”

Bruce pats the uninjured leg a little and nodswith Tim’s head tucked under his chin.

Closing his eyes, Tim sighs out through hisnose. But, well, to start gathering evidence, this might just be the way tostart.

[thefilmsnob]

Tomb Raider: ** out of 5

The first Tomb Raider video game released in 1996 was considered a ground-breaking title. The graphics and gameplay were stellar for the era and it featured a tough, adventurous female protagonist, something quite unique at the time. It was also released when 2D side-scrollers had been dominating the industry for more than a decade, so having a lush, sprawling 3D environment full of imposing caverns, mysterious tombs and underground cities to explore with the help of a beautiful, young lady was revolutionary, the sense of adventure unparalleled.

Adapting this game into a movie, in theory, is a no-brainer. But, this task almost always leads to failure. Michael Fassbender tried to change this in 2016 as the star of Assassin’s Creed, another movie based on an acclaimed video game, and his wife Alicia Vikander is out to do the same as Lara Croft in the rebooted Tomb Raider. But, although the couple has every right to brag about their exceptional acting skills at the dinner table, neither can claim to have saved the video game movie.

And it all comes back to that sense of discovery and adventure, something this movie lacks. What we get with this reboot is a generic action film with a paint-by-numbers plot, one that leads our heroin to the mysterious island of Yamatai in the Devil’s Sea, the supposed resting place of a mythical queen called Himiko who’s said to command the power over life and death. Such a setup has limitless potential and conjures up images of the aforementioned caves, tombs and lost cities; primitive tribes; perilous jungle; hidden treasure; rope bridges; dangerous flora and fauna; and loads of opportunities for exploration. But director Roar Uthaug and his team of writers squander these possibilities, instead giving us a bland island that’s barely explored save for the final sequence.

Say what you will about Lost’s confusing plot, but the writers on that show knew how to take full advantage of their setting. That island was brimming with wonders; characters couldn’t walk two feet without finding another secret hatch or smoke monster (ya, that’s right). The island was so thoroughly explored and detailed that it became another character itself. Of course, the film makers here have much less time to work with, but even a slightly more capable team could’ve breathed at least some life into this place.  

Before we get to the island, though, we’re introduced to Lara as a bike courier of all things. After taking part in a weird bike race through London, for some reason, she’s arrested. Her father’s business partner, Ana Miller (Kristin Scott Thomas), posts her bail and convinces Lara to claim her inheritance from her father, Richard (Dominic West), who’s gone missing and is presumed dead. She gains access to Croft Manor as well as Richard’s hidden office where she finds his research on Himiko and a recording with instructions to destroy said research. But, there wouldn’t be a movie if she did, so she’s off to Yamatai, but not before a pit stop in Hong Kong where she hires Lu Ren (Daniel Wu) to sail his ship Endurance through the treacherous Devil’s Sea that proves too violent for the vessel as it capsizes and leaves Lara washed ashore on the island with Lu nowhere to be found.

The point when Lara wakes up would be a great opportunity to introduce us to the island, but, instead, she and the audience are immediately introduced to the villain followed by the obligatory hired goons in a most anticlimactic fashion. Mathias Vogel (Walton Goggins) is her shady wake-up call and he’s neither menacing nor interesting. For that matter, Lu Ren isn’t much of a character at all but merely a plot device, a means of transportation and the writers’ lazy way to get Lara out of jams. Vogel works for the shadowy organization Trinity who wants to weaponize Himiko’s power and this forms the core of the frustratingly straightforward and lifeless narrative.

After Lara’s story on the island commences, it just doesn’t let up; there’s one crisis after another with no time for her or us to catch our breath or learn more about these characters that are constantly running, jumping and hanging on for dear life. Considering this, you could say the film’s at once overwritten and underwritten.

The latter trait is most frustrating with regards to Lara herself. Vikander is a great actress as evidenced by her work in Ex Machina and The Danish Girl, for which she earned an Oscar, but the writers let her down. We know what Lara’s capable of physically—although we don’t really know how—and some flashbacks do an adequate job at building the father-daughter bond, but we never know exactly who this character is, so consequently don’t really care what she does. To be honest, the 2013 video game reboot does a better job at fleshing out the character. Vikander, though, is as tough and charismatic as she can be with this material. She’s especially effective after tumbling down a hill or, you know, being impaled. Her screams of agony are never less than utterly convincing.

And the movie gives her plenty of opportunities for this kind of acting. In fact, all the action in the first half consists of three uninspired chases. The first is the aforementioned bike chase that feels like the worst kind of filler, the second takes place in a Hong Kong harbour with loads of wasted potential and the third forms one of the most ill-advised getaways in the history of getaways; some of the decisions in this film you wouldn’t even make in a video game with unlimited continues. The seizure-inducing edits don’t help either. Admittedly, there’s a fairly thrilling set piece at the end of chase three involving a crashed airplane perched atop a waterfall. The green screen is very obvious, but at least there’s an ounce of suspense. Cheers to the film makers, too, for at least trying to incorporate classic Tomb Raider puzzle solving even if the one sequence feels like a poor man’s version of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

It’s hard to pinpoint why it’s so difficult to make a great video game movie, but Tomb Raider is not it, even though its pixelated counterpart seems like a cinematic goldmine. Halfway through writing this review, I was completely shocked to learn that, to date, this is, in fact, the best reviewed live-action video game movie of all time. Considering that the ‘best film’ of its kind feels like a completely unnecessary and generic product, it might be time for studios to change a little more than the actress and her wardrobe.  

[what-lovely-scales-fandom]

I THINK I CRACKED THE CODE

The big Gabe and Jack retcon from about a month ago basically completely rewrote the history of both characters, and I thought for a while it made everything make basically no sense. Like we had one confirmed and two theoretical catalysts for the hatred these two feel for each other: in order, Jack taking the job that by rights should have gone to Gabe, Gabe leaking the Blackwatch files to implicate Overwatch, and Jack throwing all of Blackwatch under the bus to try and save Overwatch's reputation. This retcon eliminated ALL of these things without changing their current blood feud.

But it DID implicate a certain third party.

No no, the other third party.

Or, well, to be more accurate, their superiors in the UN. See, Gabe's feelings about being passed over for their white golden boy have been totally rewritten. THE ACTUAL PASSING OVER HAS NOT. Which means that although the grudge between GABE AND JACK is no longer connected to that incident, a grudge between GABE AND HIS UN SUPERIORS is as plausible as it ever has been. Even if Gabe didn't mind taking the job in Blackwatch, the fact that he was passed over for racist reasons A) still has to rankle and B) is probably a symptom of larger problems between Gabe and his UN bosses. And if Moira really was hired by Gabe acting independantly, especially with him most likely putting McCree on the ground in Uprising against orders as well, that implies a possible history of Gabe telling his racist bosses to stuff it, something that they DEFINITELY would not take too well. And whenever that happened, who do we have as Gabe's newly-retconned stalwart companion to go to bat for him?

Jack Morrison.

The UN's own specially-chosen golden (white) boy.

They would have been PISSED.

And then things get eighty-five times worse. The Blackwatch files are leaked, and suddenly Gabe and his entire crew is a gigantic PR liability. Except Jack is STILL FREAKING DEFENDING HIM, and this time not just to the UN but to the GENERAL PUBLIC. Which is making Overwatch, and by extension the UN, look increasingly complicit in Blackwatch's dirty work.

(Which they ARE, but the UN doesn't want to admit that.)

And they can't just sack Jack; he's their golden boy, the face of Overwatch, specially appointed by them, which means A) it would kick up a huge fuss both in Overwatch itself and among the general public, and B) it would accomplish virtually nothing because even after being fired, Jack is still going to be the face of Overwatch to most of the world. If he's still defending Gabe, whether as a legal member of Overwatch or as an unattached citizen, then Overwatch and the UN are still going to look complicit to far too many people.

A couple months later, Gabe and Jack both meet up in an Overwatch base that explodes rather spectacularly.

You see where I'm going with this. The UN (and to quickly clarify this doesn't have to be the whole UN; even a few rotten apples here could spoil the whole bunch) used their contacts to bring Gabe and Jack together to a target that could be remotely detonated. Two birds, one stone. Before the retcon, this theory would have had some holes; Gabe might have been a liability, but Jack was Overwatch's golden boy. He was talking down Gabe and his work as not reflecting on Overwatch's principles, calling Blackwatch a crew of rogue agents, putting his popular face to the claim that Overwatch was a good thing, and generally doing everything the UN wanted him to do. Risking Jack's life, even to get rid of Gabe, would have been a rough pill to swallow.

Now they're BOTH liabilities to Overwatch and the UN.

It can even explain the sudden animosity between the two men; the UN had resources, and connections in both Overwatch and (assuming a popular theory) Talon. They could have gone to great lengths to make sure the two were certain that it was actually their counterpart contacting them to ask for a meeting. They would have HAD to; after Gerard was murdered by his own wife, security would have been at an all-time high and the two LEADERS would have ESPECIALLY been looking for signs of betrayal or a setup. If Gabe and Jack were both absolutely CONVINCED that they were being called up by the other, though, the one person they were SURE they could trust, they would be certain to head over straight away to where the UN's trap was laid.

And if they were absolutely CONVINCED they were being called up by each other, when they were suddenly interrupted by a bomb -- possibly before even meeting up with each other -- the logical conclusion would be that they were betrayed by that same person. That the UN members whispering to Jack had been right all along, Gabe was bad news and couldn't be trusted, that he really WAS after Jack's position and his spotlight. And that Jack had been listening to the people who didn't like Gabe more closely than Gabe would ever have guessed, that he really was willing to team up with the other UN members and put a PR liability like Gabe in the ground, that Jack really was just like so many other white men Gabe had dealt with in his life: selfish and cruel pretending otherwise. Gabe and Jack trusted each other implicitly, but that doesn't mean that the stress of running Overwatch and Blackwatch during the media circus everything turned into wouldn't have put a strain on their relationship; this one moment could confirm all the darkest fears both men didn't want to admit they'd had about each other.

And then Jack turned up again under his old supersoldier ID, Soldier: 76, having survived the blast with only some minor scars, having turned into a violent, dangerous criminal in the aftermath of Overwatch's fall. "Soldier: 76." It couldn't be anyone else. And if even JACK would betray him so heartlessly, if even JACK could be violent and cruel and selfish, who else in this whole goddamn world could be trusted? In agony from his new spliced genes malfunctioning and turning against him, transformed into some sort of monster, betrayed by the people he trusted most, marked for death by the organization he gave his life to, Gabe turns to Talon because they're the only ones left who might take him in. The people in the UN and Overwatch both became heroes off of his and Blackwatch's dirty work, then tried to sell them down the river as soon as it started making them look bad. The person among them he thought he could trust more than anyone turned out to be the worst traitor of them all. If Talon wants Overwatch dead, Gabe is happy to offer his services.

And he reunites with Moira and what's left of Amélie. He meets Sombra. They give him something to live for, almost. It's nice for a man who wants more than anything to die.

(His anger at Jack stemming from one sudden betrayal rather than steady rejection and coldness also makes Gabe's difficulty following through against Jack a lot easier to explain. He hates Jack, but he also loves Jack, and most of his memories of Jack are positive. Coming face-to-face with Jack probably sends his emotions haywire.)

(As for why he keeps throwing his fights against Winston, I've got nothing. Maybe he just REALLY loved the zoo gorillas as a kid? Possibly he thinks that as a scientist Winston's got better odds than most of finding a way to kill him. Plus the fight over Doomfist's gauntlet wasn't really one Gabe would've wanted to win anyway, Doomfist's ideals not meshing with Gabe's at all. The fight in Winston's lab at least gave Gabe intel on Overwatch agents to kill.)

(Of course it's possible Gabe just hates Talon more than Overwatch and figured sparing Winston, the new leader of Overwatch and the current biggest thorn in Talon's side, would do more good in the long run. Overwatch can always be destroyed once Talon is stopped, but if Talon starts a new omnic crisis that'll be a hell of a lot harder to put down.)

Meanwhile Jack is hunting for Overwatch files, anywhere he can find them, any information he can find, because he HAS to know how deep this rabbit hole goes. Maybe it's just his own sentimentality, but he CAN'T believe that Gabe has just been evil this whole time. Someone must have pushed him. Someone must have made him go bad.

Then he starts finding evidence of UN ties to Talon. And then Gabe shows up, WORKING for Talon. Which basically confirms all his worst fears: the UN was dirty, Gabe was dirty, they were all working for a terrorist organization. And Jack had been too, without ever realizing it. Which goes a hell of a long way in crushing a man's belief in A) his own status as a hero (if he ever even was), B) Overwatch as a whole ("Bring back Overwatch... what's the point [if they're just going to be subverted by corruption and ties to terrorist organizations again]."), C) the powers that be and the laws they create (hence "I don't play by the rules anymore"), D) idealism in general (as his idealism just made it easier for him to be manipulated by the friends he trusted and the organization he believed in), and E) most of all, a world worth saving. Whether Gabe was always a Talon agent, whether he was turned at some point after becoming the commander of Blackwatch, whether he was recruited right before the bomb went off... does it make any difference anymore? Gabe was the best this world could ever have to offer. He was everything Jack thought was worth saving. And he's a bad guy. If Gabe can be bad, what even qualifies as good? What even matters anymore? Because it's not anything Jack could name.

(My section on Gabe's aftermath is so much longer than Jack's haha even if I don't hate Jack nearly as much as I did before you can def tell who my favorite of the pair is.)

(This also manages to fit with the retcon and raise the possibility of Gabe and Jack eventually reconciling WITHOUT requiring literally EVERYTHING Gabe does and says to be an act to fool Talon. Always a plus.)

[emunenen]

Makao Bora

New Post has been published on http://wp.me/p7TRim-2wu

You do not have to be rich to join property market big boys club

“Earth is the best investment on earth.”

Real estate has proved to be an avenue for creating wealth. Whether it is building your retirement home or buying plots as a group, many of us have dreamt of investing in property at a certain point in our lives.

Below are 10 tips that will help you get started in real estate and turn investing in property into a lifelong pursuit to secure your financial future.

START SMALL, START NOW

A common truism in property circles is that, with real estate, you don’t wait to buy, you buy and wait.

 “Many people lose out on making a fortune because they think the money they have is too insignificant to get them into the real estate business.

They don’t know that there are investment packages and opportunities they can exploit if they seek guidance from a real estate agent,” Mr Cheboror offers.

To drive the point home, Mr Kibire gives the scenario of two individuals with Sh100,000 each, and who both want to own a home in 10 years.

While individual A might think it is better to save until he can raise the capital required to build a home, individual B, who gets into a joint land-buying venture with his Sh100,000, will be better off as his stake in

the venture will have risen over the years since the value of land always appreciates.

“There are many financing options available to people with an interest in the real estate, ranging from bank loans to mortgages and micro-finance savings packages. Just make sure the income or appreciation

value of your property surpasses the interest on the loan to avoid burning your fingers,” advises Mr Kibire

You don’t need to buy an apartment complex right out of the gate. It is okay to start small, even if it is with REITs or partnerships. Just start.

REAL ESTATE IS NOT A GET-RICH-QUICK SCHEME

Most people find the allure of buying property today and selling it after a short time hard to resist. However, the two professionals caution against getting into real estate with such an attitude because, like any

other investment, there is always an element of risk involved.

“One virtue that will prove very vital in this business is patience, which goes hand in hand with the principle of delayed gratification.

A person seeking to make a fortune in the real estate sector should be prepared to work hard and learn over a long time to understand how the market works,” Mr Kibire says.

DO NOT QUIT YOUR REGULAR JOB JUST YET

If you are looking to  getting started in the property sector, quitting your regular job might not be a very sound move, especially if it is the job that provided the initial capital for your investment.

According to Mr Cheboror, people who quit their jobs to concentrate on real estate are oblivious of the fact that they can get professionals to handle the management part of their investments.

“Property agents and land economists have obviously been in the industry much longer, and are thus more experienced in competently managing your investments,” he says.

 Relying on professionals saves you time as it only requires you to play a supervisory role.

DO NOT UNDERSTATE THE IMPORTANCE OF DUE DILIGENCE

The average Kenyan looking to get into real estate is always paranoid. This is because cases of people buying land whose title deeds are later revoked are rampant in many parts of the country.

“We have had people asking us to do a title deed verification when their investments have already gone up in smoke.

By then it is too late, and there is little we can do. To avoid being sucked into such unscrupulous deals, we advise land buyers to consult  professionals , who will carry out due diligence to verify the legitimacy

of the property in question,” says Mr Kibire.

Even when buying property from a family member, a friend or a person you think you know very well, resist the temptation to skip carrying out due diligence as unforeseen circumstances  could later lead to

life-long scarring.

“We know of people who spend the rest of their lives servicing loans for properties that turned out to be phony,” Mr Cheboror offers.

Given the kind of emotions land  issues raise, it is certainly better to be safe than sorry.

SURROUND YOURSELF WITH THE RIGHT TEAM

When getting started, it is advisable to build a team of professionals  you can easily consult before making any move, especially one that involves high financial expenditure.

A property valuer, a conveyancer, an accredited contractor and a loan adviser are a few of the professionals whose advice you cannot afford to shrug off.

While adding the professionals to your payroll might seem costly at a glance, a closer look will reveal that it actually saves you money.

Mr Kibire, the CEO, cites the case of a client who wanted to buy a house in Nairobi valued at Sh10 million, a week before the interview.

Before he could seal the deal, however, the prospective buyer decided to call  the valuation firm for advice.

“Our team visited the property and advised the client not to pay a cent more than Sh7 million for the property. He later sealed the deal for Sh6.5 million. While we only charged him 0.25 per cent of the property

price for our services, he ended up saving a huge sum,” Mr Kibire  says.

BUY THE WORST HOUSE IN THE BEST NEIGHBOURHOOD

“The importance of location in any real estate investment cannot be overemphasised.

This is because property in prime locations is measured not so much by the cost of construction, but by the value and high appreciation rate of the land on which the property sits,” Mr Cheboror says.

Investing in a simple establishment in a high-end neighbourhood always pays handsomely.

However, the reverse can be the worst mistake an investor could ever make. Buying the best house in the worst neighbourhood, he warns, will always turn out to be disastrous as the value of the land

underneath hardly appreciates, and future buyers will most likely shun the property because of the neighbourhood.

BEAR IN MIND  THE 1 PER CENT RULE

When putting up commercial or residential property to let, seek advice from your agent and do your calculation in such a way that, when the property is finally ready for occupation, the money collected

as  monthly rent is always more than 1 per cent of the total investment cost. This is what Mr Kabire refers to as the 1 per cent rule.

“Say you put up rental apartments at a cost of Sh1 million. The total monthly rent collected from an apartment should always be at least Sh10,000.

This will enable you to recoup your investment in less than 10 years,” Mr Kibire says.

However, the 1 per cent rule is not cast in stone.

“Some investors recoup the principal investment in a shorter time, even four to six years. But those whose buildings on prime land in places such as Westlands and Kilimani take as long as 30 years.

These investors rest easy knowing that the land on which their buildings sit is gaining value at a much higher rate than the rents,” he adds.

GOOD BOOK-KEEPING WILL SAVE YOU A FORTUNE

Mr Cheboror points out that many small-scale constructors do not appreciate the value of accounting for every shilling spent while constructing.

They thus end up getting duped by unscrupulous foremen and contractors, so building a house ends up feeling like pouring money into a bottomless pit.

He advises that investors get into the habit of keeping all the financial records pertaining to the construction.

This, he explains, is useful in determining the amount of rent to be charged, or the price of the building, were it to be put up for sale.

Keeping records can also save you money when the time comes to file your tax returns with the Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA). The financial records put you in a good position to enjoy tax exemptions.

DO NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH THE PROPERTY

When buying property for resale, you are better off checking your emotions at the door. “There are buildings put up for sale that are over-designed and over-decorated.

These buildings have great curb-appeal, that is, they look appealing at a glance. People tend to fall in love with such buildings and hence end up paying inflated prices, only for them to get shocked when they

later cannot sell the building at a profit,” Mr Kibire says.

“We always advise our clients that real estate is not a sentimental business. One should always be on the lookout for profits and not let the visual appeal of a property cloud their judgment,” he adds.

However, when buying your own home, you can go ahead and fork top dollar for a property with great curb appeal.

AVOID THE PATH OF LEAST RESISTANCE

The temptation to cut corners to save some money will certainly arise at some point. The agents agree that taking shortcuts is rarely ever worth it; if anything, it usually results in the loss of entire investments,

and sometimes even lives. Going by the book might seem expensive, but it saves you a lot of mental agony and is actually cheaper.

“Hire only contractors accredited and licensed by the National Construction Authority,” advises Mr Kibire.

“Take note of the national construction regulations and county by-laws to avoid the possibility of your property being demolished in future.

Conduct surveys to avoid encroaching on public land, and use only genuine materials while constructing. I have seen entire buildings being marked as unfit just because the owners did not see the need to

conduct the necessary inspections at the foundation stage.”

When it comes to contracting services such as borehole digging and hiring heavy machinery, deal only with reputable companies  to avoid getting into trouble with the KRA.

Source: Daily Nation