#know that I will crawl through your monitor in a form that will make Travis Willingham question why he was ever afraid of the Ring | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zigtheeortega · 4 years ago

Text

out of time

✿ pairing: sienna x danny

✿ word count: 3354

✿ warnings: death, loss

✿ author’s note: well, i thought i’d just flesh out what we didn’t get to see, since i highly doubt they’ll expand on it since it’s off screen. it’s not my best work, but it was written out of spite so hopefully that makes up for the lack of quality LMAO. anyways, i tagged everybody who liked this post and added it to the end since there were quite a few! [sidenote: i wrote this post after i’d started this fic so if you see similarities, that’s why] i really hope you like it and that i did both sienna and danny justice!

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

She sprinted down the hallway, pager still beeping erratically on her hip, the weight of the numbers enough to make her feel like she was slugging through wet concrete.

No, no, not him, please, not him, she chanted to herself, vision blurring with tears before she had the chance to let the negative possibilities set in.

He’s gonna be okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.

Thankfully she was only one floor away, taking the steps two at a time, shoes squeaking against the waxy floor. Sweat formed on her brow as she shoved through the stair’s exit door, pushing past every intern in her way.

Normally she’d stop to apologize, but not today. She didn’t know how much time she had. It could be minutes, and she wasn’t going to waste even a second apologizing when someone’s life was on the line.

She saw the small crowd forming outside of the room and barrelled towards them without a second thought, tearing her way to the front.

When she saw Spencer’s terrorized gaze, her chest tightened involuntarily. Her body covered the entrance to the room, so she could barely see into the room, but she did catch a glimpse of something that made her blood run cold.

A purple pant leg strewn across the floor, ankle relaxed, unmoving, peeking out behind Spencer’s side.

“Sienna, stop. You can’t go any further,” Ethan murmured, gently holding her in place with his arm.

“But I have to – Danny – he’s –” she struggled against his grip, lip wobbling.

“Please,” he said, more of a statement than a question, like he was holding back, too, the strain in his voice enough to stop her in her tracks.

She watched, helpless, as Spencer and Rafael scrambled to seal the room, Bobby convulsing on the ground, Travis passed out, and Danny getting weaker and weaker by the second.

It was like turning on the news and seeing tragedy after tragedy – she always felt absolutely helpless. Her empathy always felt like a curse in those moments. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling everything, whether she wanted to or not.

She wrapped her arms around herself, digging her fingernails into her side, rocking from foot to foot. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Danny’s frail form on the ground.

“Hey, I came here as fast as I could,” a voice huffed at her side. She turned, met with Jackie’s concerned gaze, hands on her hips as she panted, tiny sweat stains dotting her teal scrubs.

“It’s… All of them, Jackie, –” she couldn’t find the words to quite describe the soul crushing weight of the situation.

Bobby, Rafael, Spencer, and Danny… people that had been her emotional rocks through the lowest points of her life.

Bobby was her unsung hero. He’d keep guard while she cried in the supply closet so she wasn’t disturbed, in return for a dozen of her chocolate chip cookies. After the first few times, she brought him baked goods weekly regardless of whether she had a breakdown or not.

Rafael was her empath twin, as weird as it sounded. She’d branded them that as a joke, between giggles, on her late night break at the cafeteria. Despite it being stated jokingly, it was true – they found themselves confiding in each other each time they faced a difficult situation, bonding over the fact that their jobs took a lot more out of them than the normal person.

Spencer was her late night confidante, the person who she’d crawl into bed with at 3 a.m. after having another detailed nightmare where she was cursed with endless terminal patients. There weren’t that many people she’d platonically cuddle and sob until she was a snotting mess next to.

And Danny… he was the future. He was a vision of what she’d always wanted.

It took her too long to break away from Wayne’s hold. She knew he was toxic, but she didn’t want to admit it – how was she supposed to admit that she’d been wrong for that long?

With Danny, she was comfortable. He got her in a way no one else did. He had the potential to be every single role that her friends played simultaneously.

God, and she’d told him she needed time. She hadn’t properly healed from Wayne so she needed some time before she moved on and –

Now it’s too late, she thought to herself as she watched them wheel out Travis and Danny in glass cases.

And Bobby in a body bag.

“Holy shit,” Jackie breathed, eyes widening. “Fuck – Oh my god, Sienna –”

The tears were already flowing as she slammed her face into Jackie’s chest, body wracked with inconsolable sobs.

She’d never hugged Jackie like this before, as she hated physical affection unless it was… PG-13.

Jackie stiffened, but wrapped her arms around Sienna’s shoulders, patting her back, slowly melting into the embrace.

“We’ll visit him as soon as we can,” she said in her ear, holding Sienna up as she nearly crumbled.

––––

Danny’s body was still, the only movement his heaving chest as he took shallow, labored breaths, his normally warm skin tone muted, drained of color.

“Hey, it’s me,” she called as she closed the door behind her, voice shaky, tote bag at her side. “I hope you can hear me.”

No response.

“Uh… I brought some of our favs. Secret of Ninradell and some music to play so hopefully it makes your dreams a little sweeter – ” she forced a laugh, trying to keep her brave face. “I brought some cookies that I baked last night – uh, I’m sorry they’re not fresh – I –”

Her voice cracked, and she rolled her lips together to keep her chin from trembling. She dragged a nearby chair closer to the glass box, sliding into it, never taking her eyes from his face.

God, why did it have to be you? She thought to herself, covering her mouth with her hands as she cried, her soft sobs muted by the loud machines monitoring his vitals.

She popped open the cover of the hardback, highlighter in hand. “I’m gonna read this to you, if that’s okay? I’m highlighting passages that remind me of you,” she smiled sadly, watching his eyes roll underneath their lids. He was dreaming.

“I know you hate when I mark up books. That’s the librarian speaking, huh?” She giggled, remembering the time he told her about his job in the campus library, and his deep hatred for the Dewey decimal system.

She began reading, trying her best at different accents, failing miserably, but it distracted her from reality if just momentarily.

Her year had been full of blow after crushing blow, both professionally and personally. Losing Wayne, breaking the news to terminal patients, dealing with the toll it took on her mental health, as well as dealing with an intern that was using her – she wasn’t stupid. She just would rather suck it up than have someone upset with her that was supposed to look up to her. Stupid, but she couldn’t handle the thought of disappointing another person.

Hours later, voice hoarse, pages and pages marked up, her hands stained with neon yellow ink, she was drifting off to sleep where she sat – but a groan startled her awake.

“Uhhhhhh,” he moaned, visibly in pain, writhing uncomfortably.

“Danny? Hey, I’m here,” she rushed forward to the box, pressing her hand up against the side, hoping he could feel the warmth of her hand through the glass.

“Sienna…?” He asked, eyes fluttering open and closed. He couldn’t focus on her face.

“I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

“Good,” he croaked, weakly flopping his hand to touch the glass.

He didn’t know it, but those two words were enough to strengthen her withering resolve. She fell asleep cradling the glass, arm slung over the top.

–––

She was ripped from her sleep by intense beeping from the machines surrounding Danny, and she glanced down, peering through the glass at Danny’s quivering form, switching between violent shakes and gentle shivers.

She slammed the emergency button and quickly went to work trying to find the source of the issue, waiting for the nurses to come as back up.

“Danny. Danny, stay with me. Listen to my voice. Hold on, alright? Nurses are heading here now, and we’re going to take care of you,” she said calmly, betraying her shaking hands.

They set to work immediately, trying to keep him from slipping into unconsciousness, all four nurses working swiftly, nimble fingers and precise movements, never getting into each others’ way.

Sienna watched from outside as they worked, glass box open, desperately wishing she had a hazmat suit. Ethan and Jackie observed, giving calm commands.

“Sienna!”

She turned, eyes red rimmed from crying and lack of sleep, startling Elijah as he rolled to a stop next to her.

“Jackie asked me to send an intern up to bring you a hazmat suit… but I thought I’d bring it myself, to check on you,” he said, eyebrows furrowed, handing the folded hazmat suit from his lap to her arms.

“Don’t feel like you need to talk to me right now, alright? I’ll wait out here, if you need me.” He gave her a sympathetic smile as he patted her arm.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, hastily throwing on the hazmat suit and ripping at the zipper, growing more and more frustrated as it caught on her clothes. “Come on. Come on, come on –”

“Here, let me help,” Elijah offered. “Bend down and I’ll zip it up.”

She followed his instruction and squatted as Elijah glided the zipper upwards, patting her back softly when he was done.

And like before, she had no time to thank him. She didn’t want to miss one second with Danny.

She burst into the room, not disturbing the hive-like efficiency of the nurses.

She watched as they poked and prodded and worked tirelessly to keep him conscious. There was an undeniable tension in the air, stretched so thin it could snap at any moment.

The strained atmosphere of the room didn’t come from the doctors – it came from the nurses. Sienna knew how much Danny meant to his coworkers. He was always the first to resolve conflict and make people feel at ease.

They were tight knit; losing Danny would be a crushing blow.

“Please, Jackie, tell me what’s happening,” she said between panicky breaths, unable to contain her anxiety. “I need to know.”

“We’re trying to stabilize him… but we’re not sure what’s causing him to go into shock in the first place,” Jackie said, brows furrowed.

Three long, painful minutes later, his heart rate returned to normal, his whole body in a feverish sweat.

“That took a lot out of him,” Sienna whispered, watching a nurse press a damp, cool cloth to his forehead and neck.

“You know we have to get rid of your bag, right? It’s contaminated,” Jackie grimaced, motioning to the nurse that was zipping it into a sealed bag, about to throw it away.

“No, you can’t – I didn’t even get to finish reading Ninradell to him last night,” Sienna pleaded, rushing forward to the nurse.

“You can’t take it out of this room,” Ethan shook his head, his statement dismissive, but his tone of voice sympathetic.

“Can I at least finish reading it to him? I promise I’ll dispose of it properly. I just… I need some more time with him.”

“I don’t think –” “I’ll stay with her,” Jackie nodded, holding Ethan’s gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll page you if anything happens.”

With one firm tilt of his chin, he left the room, presumably towards Spencer and Rafael.

“We think he can hear what’s going on around him, so it’s actually a great idea to read to him,” Jackie said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It might help pull him through this.”

Jackie grabbed the bag from the nurse wordlessly, handing it back to Sienna. “You can take a break,” she said to the group of nurses anxiously huddled next to Danny. “We’ll watch over him.”

One of them started sealing the box, but Sienna stopped them with a frantic “Wait.”

“Keep it open. I’ll seal it later,” Jackie ordered gently.

She slipped into the seat next to him, holding firmly onto the edge of the glass.

Jackie must’ve noticed she was debating whether or not she should touch him, so she confirmed it for her. “You can touch him. Don’t be afraid.”

“But I am,” she said, voice cracking, tears threatening to spill. It was tiresome how much she’d cried over the past twelve hours.

She was thankful he’d held on for that long, but she had no idea when it was coming. From his steadily declining health as well as appearance, it was inevitable.

“I’m so scared,” Sienna whispered, refusing to look at her, eyes trained on the rise and fall of his chest.

“You have every right to be, babe. I’m so sorry,” Jackie said, striding over to rest an arm around her shoulders.

“I… told him I needed more time to be me, you know? I needed to figure out more about me because with Wayne and with surviving last year and the stuff with Spencer and Mrs. Martinez and – and –” she cut herself off, trying to regain her composure.

“You lost sight of who you were.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. Everything I thought I knew was thrown out the window and it’s like I haven’t even had time to recover,” she said, her voice still wavering.

“I did the same thing last year. But you can’t beat yourself up about it. You never in a million years would’ve guessed that this could happen.”

Sienna took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to unravel the tight coil in her chest. “But he was the only thing making coming to work worth it. I like him a lot and I just… told him to wait.”

“If he had a problem with that, he would’ve moved on.”

She glanced up, met with Jackie’s soft expression, sympathetic and kind – so much different than the tough exterior she was used to. “Don’t blame yourself, Sienna. It’ll break you.”

She knew she was right, but the nagging voice at the back of her mind wouldn’t allow her to let it go.

She cracked the book open, flipping to the last page she’d read from, about two-thirds into it. But before she could start reading, Danny stirred.

His hand twitched, his fingers flexing like he was grabbing for something. Without a second thought she grasped his hand between her glove-clad palms, the book clamoring onto the ground.

“Sienna…” he whispered, trying to open his eyes, but they fluttered shut, like a weight pulling at his lashes.

She wanted desperately to see his bright eyes again, to hear him to reassure her that it’d all work out. That she’d be okay. That he’d be okay.

“Hey, I’m here,” she said, lightly squeezing her hand.

He moaned, presumably in pain, wiggling like he couldn’t stay still.

“How bad is your pain on a scale 1-10? I’m gonna count up and you squeeze my hand to stop me, alright?”

He gave a weak tilt of his chin, a single nod the only thing he could muster.

She began counting. “One… two… three…”

Nothing.

She kept counting, feeling a weak squeeze when she said “Nine.”

“I’ve never felt this bad before,” he whispered, Sienna having to lean in to hear him.

“Danny, if it’s a ten, you need to tell me,” she chewed the inside of her lip, already racking her brain for the best pain medicine that wouldn’t react with the mystery poison.

“It’s not at a ten…” He stirred, wincing, managing a weak smile. “Because you’re here with me.”

He sighed, like it took a lot out of him to say two sentences.

“That was so sweet,” she said, glancing up at Jackie, knowing her haunted expression would ruin the moment if she let him see it.

Jackie looked equally as upset, her jaw set, fists clenched at her side.

“Stop it, Dr. Varma… you’ve done –” he took another deep, shuddering breath. “You’ve done so much for me already.”

“So have you. You’re a trooper,” Jackie nodded, looking up at the ceiling. Sienna couldn’t tell if she was trying to hold back tears or keep herself from thinking about it. “Thanks for holding out for us, Danny.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can, though,” he said, gripping Sienna’s hand, opening his eyes unexpectedly.

She shook her head, holding his hand to her chest. “No, don’t think like that. You can hold on for a while longer. I believe in you.”

“Sienna… You’re my favorite person,” he breathed, looking up at her with a spark of life in his eyes, a contrast from the gaunt look of his face. His dark circles gave the allusion that his eyes were sunken in, a skeleton of who he was less than 24 hours ago.

It scared the hell out of her how quickly he changed – and how content he looked with slipping away.

“You have to let them test on me,” he squeezed her hand. “It’ll help.”

“No, you’re gonna be fine –”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her, a soft smile adorning his lips, pale and cracked. “You’ll be okay.”

He craned his neck, trying to hold his head up. Sienna slipped her hand underneath the nape of his neck, supporting him. He tilted his head forward, lightly pressing his damp forehead against her hazmat suit.

She leaned forward, pressing hers against the loose protective fabric, feeling the warmth of his skin through it.

“You can’t go, I – your family hasn’t even gotten to visit you –” She choked, the warm tears dotting the thick plastic screen, streaking down to fall farther into her suit.

“They couldn’t get here in time,” he said, matter-of-factly.

They sat there like that for a while. Her concept of time was thrown out the window as soon as she got the initial page, so it could’ve been ten seconds or ten minutes.

“Thank you for reading to me.”

She laughed, sniffling. “We spent all night talking about Ninradell, so it was only fitting I stayed up all night to read it to you.”

Another little while passed. Talking took so much out of him, that he had to take a few breaks between his speech so he wouldn’t pass out from exhaustion. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said, cutting through the silence. “You couldn’t have stopped this.”

She stared at her hands, clasped around his own, drained of color. He’d closed his eyes, so thankfully he couldn’t see her pained expression.

“I know. I can’t help but feel responsible for everything, even when it’s out of my control… I’m so sorry,” she said, voice breaking for the millionth time. She could barely form words without choking on them.

She cursed herself for not being stronger. Overwhelming emotion was enough to render her speechless, meanwhile Danny was pushing through searing pain in order to leave her with words she’d carry with her forever.

He’d mustered his last bit of energy to tell her to be kind to herself.

The machine behind him beeped. His heart rate had slowed to a crawl, and he was gone before Jackie could spring to action.

And when his hand went limp in between her palms, she let out an inhuman wail that no one, not even Spencer, had heard before.

––––

tags: @saintniceguy ; @part-of-the-circus ; @vandalasal ; @dudebro-lahela ; @averysheart-raleighsdick ; @cptnvers ; @bringing-back-socks-with-sandals ; @la-huerta ; @ironysyndrome ; @anotordinarygoldfish ; @pumpkinbutt ; @browneyedmissy ; @soo-empty ; @anonymous2094 ; @lumpyspaceprincessismybitch ; @lady-stirling ; @papinaveensbitch ; @writinghereandthere ; @unusualvisionsblog ; @beccadavenport ; @messofakind ; @violinet ; @serafinedupont ; @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy ; @pixelsandkink ; @altairadtaz

#open heart #sienna trinh #danny cardinal #sienna x danny #danny x sienna #my fic #jade writes choices fics #sorry if i normally tag u and forgot !!!#prob need to make a taglist but i am SO inconsistent im sorry #also im sorry if this isn't great LMAO again i wrote this out of rage and pure spite so #like i said hopefully that makes up for it !!!#very nervous ab this one !!!!#tw death #tw loss

82 notes · View notes

kohakuhime · 7 years ago

Text

The Reluctant Guardian, ch. 23

Thank you guys for your patience. This update is longer than most to make up for the prolonged absence.

Disclaimer: this takes place post canon, and this refers to events that take place in an alternate verse. YGO and its associated characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi, I own Risa and Rowen (who’s mentioned here) and @mpuzzlegirl owns Isabel, Mikomi, and Travis.

Mikomi had been entering the Kaiba Corporation building to join her family, Travis escorting her, when the sky overhead had lit up.

She’d heard Travis stop behind her, a sharp swear leaving him, and she turned to see him gazing up into the sky above them as the lights wove their way across. Her eyes followed his.

When the screams started, shrill and warbled and distorted, she found herself wishing for the very first time that her powers didn’t work as well as they did.

Mikomi gasped, the noise as knives in her ears. She sank to her knees, pain lighting behind her eyes and her hands traveling to her ears to block the noise. “Stop! STOP!” she begged, eyes screwing shut. There was a hand on her shoulder, Travis’s voice urgent and frantic as he called for her.

The noise only grew in volume and she felt herself falling away, falling—

—and the dark was cold and dense, she couldn’t see, she could barely hear, and the cold shot through her bones. Whispers around her, voices and eyes that she could not see in the darkness around her. This was what people were afraid of. This was the darkness people feared. She had never been afraid of the shadows before, but this was not a natural darkness and she was only falling deeper and deeper into it.

The abyss was cold, empty, and suffocating; here, the girl could understand why other were petrified of the dark, and this dread only added to her unease of how and why she was here.

Someone help! Someone get me out! Help me! Where am I going?

The darkness was pierced by green light. Poisonous, pitiless, and even colder than the air around her, the light formed a path and she fell onto it. It illuminated her hands and feet, and Mikomi stumbled on it, desperate to find her way out of this place.

Images flew past, fragmented and confused and blurring together—

—she’s in the charity headquarters, and there’s Uncle Alister and Auntie Carmon—they’re alive, they’re here…!—and then the men in the suits shove them toward her. She reaches out, but they phase through her and then there’s an explosion—

—the fires from the explosion are consuming the apartment, the glass cracking in the picture frames and sweeping through the room. It devours everything, but in the flames she sees Uncle Valon struggling in the grip of four men as they try to pin him down, and she screams as the fire starts climbing, stumbling for the exit—

—the flying sparks suddenly reform, cold water falling in sheets as the rain pelts her skin, and. She frantically looks around, the sky above her still black, with the rain only being illuminated by the green light. There’s something hurtling toward her down the hill, and she turns in time to see the car. She dodges it, realizing too late whose it is and she shrieks, reaching out for it. A roll of thunder rumbles, and then green lightning strikes to block her path, erasing the scene before her.

Voices that had been whispers rose into agonized screams. Mikomi had to cover her ears and squeeze her eyes shut for the noise was unbearable, tears running down her face. Her breathing grew heavy as she began to sob, wishing someone would come and help her.

In a brief moment where Mikomi opened her eyes, she let out a scream as she saw bodies of men with long and twisted faces float above her, their eyes hollow and their mouths stretched impossibly long. What made it worse was that the light was gone now, and she now knew the source of the voices.

Souls. Souls trapped in the dark. What was this?

Mikomi…?

Her heart jumped and she frantically began to look around. She knew that voice. It had been months, but she knew that voice! Where—where in this darkness was—?

Mikomi?

Another voice she knew, another precious voice. Where?!

…Mikomi! Mi—

“—komi! Mikomi!” Someone was shaking her shoulders, voice full of fear. “Baby, wake up!”

Mikomi’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, shooting upright and her arms reaching out instinctively for her mother. Familiar arms wrapped around her comfortingly as Mikomi sobbed. There was so much to begin to process, the nightmare so vivid, and it was all too much to take.

“I couldn’t get out—I couldn’t—! I—I kept calling—they were there too—!” She tried remembering the nightmare, trying to remember because there had been something important about those voices she’d heard…something important in that inky darkness that she’d seen…but now, outside of that terrible encompassing darkness, the details slipping away.

“You’re safe,” Isabel murmured, her hand gently brushing Mikomi’s hair out of her face. “You’re safe, sweetie.”

There had been someone with her in the nightmare…no, outside the building. Travis. He’d been with her before she had collapsed. Where was he? She couldn’t remember if anything had happened to him.

“T-Travis—?” she gasped out between sobs.

“In the other room with Kazuo and Risa,” Isabel said softly. “We’re in the infirmary. Travis brought you here.”

Mikomi leaned back, looking up. Her mother’s features were drawn and pale. Behind her, Mikomi could see Risa’s parents; Joey was holding Mai and murmuring something in her ear, as Mai clutched at him desperately. They were partially hidden behind a screen and Mikomi felt like she was intruding, so her gaze wandered.

Her eyes landed on a bed directly next to them, where she caught a snatch of green. “Papa!” she gasped, straightening and starting to scramble out of the bed. He was sleeping in the infirmary? Why?

Her mother stopped her from hugging him. “Papa had a bad episode,” she said quietly. There was no hiding the worry in her voice as she looked at her husband. “I don’t normally tell you this, but this time don’t touch him. Not yet.”

Mikomi understood. Papa wasn’t sleeping, he was unconscious. He did not look peaceful, either—he was hurting. There was a cold washcloth over his eyes, but it did not fully hide the deep frown and how much pain he was in. Soft whimpered huffs left his throat every few moments.

“What happened to him?” Mikomi asked quietly. She slowly rose to her feet, her mother allowing her to stand.

Isabel watched her daughter gingerly ease herself onto the edge of the bed, her hands clasping one of her father’s with delicate care. “I think, Mikomi, you and I know what’s wrong,” she said.

There was an angry edge in her voice. When Mikomi next turned, it was to see her mother facing the windows. Her gaze followed, looking out the window and seeing the lights dancing in the skies. She sucked in a breath.

It was all Mikomi needed to confirm her nightmare was more than a dream.

++++++++++++++

He was cold, soaking wet, sore, and the light being shone in his face was making his eyes ache. They’d left the strait-jacket on him and as an added measure had tied him to the chair. Harder to fight when he couldn’t see, either—his eyes were sensitive to the light after being in the dark for so long. All the same he was spoiling for a fight and the only reason he hadn’t had a go yet was because he physically couldn’t move.

The tossers had soaked him earlier before marching him to this office—said he had to be “prim and tidy” for some reason. They weren’t stupid enough to take off the strait jacket for a proper shower, so they’d simply upended a few buckets of cold water over his head and roughly scrubbed his face with a cloth. At the time, he hadn’t been even able to properly fight back. He’d been too disoriented after being trapped in the dark, and it hadn’t helped that they had drugged him either.

Valon shivered. He didn’t want to go back to the Room. It was too small and the shadows moved. He swore there were eyes in that darkness that watched him; whether it had been a result of the sedatives or his own fears, he did not know, but he’d barely slept in that tiny cramped space. Valon wasn’t sure if he could handle the shadow beasties again. The whispers alone had nearly broken him.

The tape over his mouth was ripped off. “Look at the screen,” said one man gruffly.

Valon snorted. “Can’ even see it,” he said hoarsely, though there was fire in his words. He couldn’t talk very well. The yelling and snarling—the screaming—while in the Room had robbed him of his voice.

Someone’s hand roughly grabbed his jaw and forced his head in the direction of where the screen was. Valon snarled, trying to tug his head loose. He almost bit the hand holding his jaw but couldn’t get a good angle on it.

“Ah, Valon, you can’t see but you can hear. Do try not to behave like a rabid animal, hm?”

Valon stiffened. He didn’t need his vision to focus to know who was talking to him. “Oh ‘ow nice,” he muttered. He scowled at the monitor. “Do me a solid, yeah? Go crawl into the nearest and nastiest pile of shi—“

“Language.” Belmont sounded amused, not angry. “How has your week been? I trust your room is to your liking?”

“Oh yeah. Feels like ‘ome,” he retorted. “I could go back ‘n’ live there.”

There was a lie and a tremor in his reply. He hated that he could hear the smile in Belmont’s voice as he spoke. “Oh could you really?”

“Wha’ do you want, git?” Valon said. He hoped that the change in topic would divert from being put back into the Room too soon. He squinted at the screen, wishing his vision would focus.

“Answers, just like the last time. Raphael and Carmon have been most cooperative—“

Valon laughed, enough to make his throat ache and burn. “Oh please. ‘m not tha’ educated, yeah, but I’m no drongo. ‘m not tellin’ you nothin’, not even if you lock me up again.”

“Your refusal to tell me anything is for naught. Raphael told me how to help my men use the Orichalcos.”

“Did ‘e, now?” Valon didn’t believe Belmont for one second. He knew Raphael. Raphael wouldn’t tell Belmont anything he could use.

It was at this moment that his vision chose to focus, and Belmont’s blurred face started coming more into detail. He only needed one look before he doubled over and started laughing, ignoring the pain in his throat. He could barely laugh and he sounded like a tired squeaky toy, and he knew it would put him back in the Room, but he just couldn’t help it.

“And what is so funny?” Belmont asked, his voice testy.

Belmont’s previously square cut beard had been styled into…no, honestly, Valon had no idea what he was looking at, but it looked ridiculous as hell and he couldn’t contain the laughter. “Who did your beard, the gardener?” he gasped out at last. “You need a weedwhacker t’ tame tha’ thing! Call up your lawn service, ‘cause you can give those animal bushes a run f’r their money with that!”

Belmont looked cross, which only served to make Valon laugh even louder. “I understand that modern chic is a concept hard for your uncultured mind to grasp,” he said stiffly. One hand rose unconsciously to stroke the curved, almost tribal pattern now etched into his beard.

Valon grinned. He knew he’d gotten under Belmont’s skin—usually Alister took a tone similar to that right before they bickered. “If modern chic looks like beer bottle openers being etched into your face, all the power t’ you.”

Valon tipped his head towards Belmont. “’n’ like I said earlier, I don’ need education t’ see you’re hidin’ quite the scratch there. You ticked off Carmon, didn’ you?” he asked pleasantly, eyes locked on the makeup hiding the marred skin. “I recognize Carmon’s work anywhere, fella.”

“Alister paid the price for this.”

Valon’s laughter stopped, smile vanishing into a suddenly too cold mask. The transition was jarring enough to make the nearest man step back. “You ‘urt him and I promise I’m breakin’ every bone in your body,” he said. “Every last one.”

“That would require you escaping and actually getting to me. Which, of course, brings me to the next topic of this conversation. I would be there in person, but unfortunately I’ve had unavoidable situations occur and I can’t be there for this. Bring her in.”

Her?

Her.

Valon’s heart stopped as the door behind him opened and he heard someone struggling. He didn’t even need to see the familiar flash of auburn hair to know who had come in.

“Let go of her!” he snarled instantly, fighting and straining against his bonds. “Belmont, don’ you touch her!”

“Oh I’m not there to—“

“You know exactly what I mean! Don’ you do anythin’ to ‘er!” he snapped, but fear was thundering in his chest now.

Not her. Don’t do what you did to Ells. Not to my Ren.

Serenity tugged against her captors, trying to pull free as best as she could. One of them had a bloody nose, rapidly swelling. Serenity had managed at least one punch and from the look of it she’d broken a nose.

“I heard about your little jaunt in the building, sweet girl,” Belmont said, his voice a near purr. “How terribly naughty of you to go for the phones.”

Phone? Had Serenity managed to make a call? Valon tried to gauge a reaction, but all he could see was his wife’s defiant tilt of her jaw and her head lifting. “Maybe you should hire some new guards?” she suggested, and though her voice was smooth and calm there was an edge in it. “They allowed me to get to the phone.”

“You are lucky you never managed to complete the call. If you had I promise it would have meant your husband’s life.”

“Don’ you worry none about me, love,” Valon called over to her, noticing the way her eyes darted to him. He winked, and in spite of the situation Serenity’s scared expression softened. “I say you made the right call.”

“Shut him up.”

Valon tried tugging his head backward and away, but he couldn’t dodge the tape being slapped over his mouth. Serenity tried to move to him, but she was yanked away hard enough to make her yelp in pain. Valon snarled behind the tape, still fighting.

“The problem I see here is that I’ve been too kind to you two. I ignored one, and the other I took too much pity on. I feel another reminder about who is in control is needed.” Belmont nodded to someone behind them, and Valon craned his neck to try and see what was happening.

The man passed him, a pendant dangling from his fingertips.

His blood froze.

“I think it’s time dear Alister and Ellie have a friend join them,” said Belmont smoothly, eyes glittering in malice. Serenity paled as the man approached her, trying to pull away as he got closer. Valon’s struggles renewed, horror meshing with fury—it’s happenin’ again, I can’ protect her, I’m failin’ one more person, don’ touch her—!

“Valon.” Serenity’s voice held tears as the man stepped behind her, looping the pendant over her head. She offered a watery smile. “Don’t stop fighting.”

And then the stone settled around her neck, electricity crackling along her collar as she wailed in pain and the room lit with green, poisonous green light.

Valon screamed.

++++++++++++++

Brock Turner was having possibly the worst case of Mondays imaginable.

First, the issue with the intruder. There was no explanation for exactly how one man had climbed roughly fifty stories without anyone seeing him, no cameras catching him, and then said man completely disappearing into thin air. No rhyme or reason in that, and Turner was hard pressed to figure out how the breach had even occurred. Maybe Belmont knew something, but in either event Turner would get an earful about “woeful lack of preparation.”

Right. Because he was supposed to be able to prevent people magically entering the building. Sure. Sounded about right. He had miracles in his repertoire, he just had not used them yet.

Second, Ratt had completely vanished. Just like the intruder, the guy had pulled a fast one. The building was on lock down until they found the miserable little man, but again he was stumped as to how one man could literally vanish into thin air. Hell, he’d even left a blood trail down the hall and there was still no clear idea as to where he had gone! How did that work?

And then there was this asshole.

Turner wiped the blood out of the corner of his mouth, straightening the tie that had come loose in the struggle. “Is he down?” he asked irritably.

A long pause followed. Then, with a nervous shuffle, one man stepped forward and gingerly nudged an unconscious Raphael’s shoulder with his foot. When Raphael did not move, the other men in the room relaxed. “Yeah, he’s down.”

Turner wasn’t as delicate as the other man. He kicked Raphael in the ribs, hard enough to bruise, and then he straightened. “All right boys: how are we doing?”

Belmont’s orders had been clear: dispatch of Ratt, then move Raphael to a different location. In light of Dartz’s recent activity, the intruder, and now Ratt’s clear involvement, Belmont had been antsy about leaving Raphael in the same location. It had fallen to Turner to move him, and he hadn’t anticipated any fight out of the burly man. They had thought him beaten and his spirit broken.

They thought wrong. Raphael had decided his streak of good behavior had ended.

It had taken five men—five—to even enter the room to attempt to subdue Raphael. The room was small and Raphael had used it as a way to funnel his antagonists through, beating each one soundly every time they had tried to grab him. Turner hadn’t realized just how quick and how strong the other man was until he was on the receiving end of a jaw-cracking punch.

What had finally brought Raphael down was a tranquilizing dart in combination with the stun gun. But by the time they’d even managed that feat the collateral damage was…well, decidedly not good.

Turner took stock of the other men. He himself could tell a tooth had been cracked—a molar, from the feel of it—and he could feel his eye starting to swell closed. Two had broken noses, a third was limping and cradling his stomach, and there was a fourth cradling his arm and looking close to tears. “Please tell me that’s not broken,” he said, exasperation in his voice.

The other man held it out, his breath a pained hiss, and Turner saw the way it was twisted in place at the elbow. “What is it with this guy and breaking arms?” he muttered. “That’s twice in two weeks. Go to the infirmary and get patched up. Send me some new hands to get this lug downstairs to the van.”

As those who were relatively unscathed began restraining Raphael, his phone began ringing. Turner didn’t have to even look at the caller ID before answering. Only one person had this number. “Yes sir.”

“I am on my way back. I’ve decided not to go to California after all—it seems my attention and focus is better spent here. I want Raphael moved to our primary location, and he’s not to leave his new quarters for any reason.”

“Yes sir. I will add he gave us quite the fight. He’s injured four people, and of them two are possibly not going to be able to continue working.”

“Remind me again, Turner. Those two added to the total number of employees Raphael alone has physically rendered unfit to continue working to…how many, precisely?”

Turner grimaced at the displeasure radiating over the phone. “Over the course of two months, the total number of those employees is twenty-five. That’s not counting any who’ve lost their souls, but you told us to discount that number.”

“Why exactly is it that high? How hard is it to restrain one man? Why do I rely on your services if you cannot even capture children or keep just one man under control? For that matter, Carmon was able to injure me and draw blood. That is unacceptable. Your men’s competence is slipping, as is my faith in your capabilities.”

Turner bit back the angry retort. “I apologize, sir. I will strive to do better,” he said.

“Good. Now, the matter about Ratt.”

Turner hesitated and then sighed. Belmont’s mad at me anyways, let’s just get it over with. “Sir, Ratt’s nowhere to be found. I shot him and wounded him, and he made it to a stairwell…but he’s disappeared. I thought at first he was hiding, but he stepped through the door and instantly vanished. I’ve only seen that once before.”

A sharp inhalation on the other end of the phone. “So have I, and for once this isn’t your fault. I want all the information on Ratt’s employee record pulled up, and I want it now. Disable all of his access to our system—I want it done within the hour. Once that’s done, alert all posts to watch for Dartz. I’ve no doubts he’s up to something.”

“Yes sir.” Turner snapped his fingers at one of the men who was not moving Raphael out. As he approached he relayed Belmont’s orders in a low whisper. “We’re already on it.”

“I will meet you at our primary headquarters later this evening. Make sure all evidence is disposed of. Oh, and Turner?”

Belmont’s voice held ice. “No more screw ups, or you can consider yourself terminated.”

++++++++++++++

Dartz glanced at the clock in the empty room and then rose stiffly. Waiting idly for hours had taken its toll on his body and he could feel the faint thrum of pain at his injured side. He wished there had been a way to speed up time so he would not have to wait as long as he did, but there was no way to globally advance time and if there were he didn’t have the magic for it. Patience had its virtues, though, and he had been rewarded for waiting.

He’d used his access as Ratt to gain entry into the building, donning the disguise one last time; he knew it would lose its efficacy once word about Ratt’s dubious identity reached this building. From there he had stepped into the nearest empty room to wait until nightfall, locking the door behind him. Here in California, it would not be that long—and he needed the cover of night for his plan.

Dartz straightened. “Let darkness fall,” he said quietly, steel in his voice.

The sliver of light visible around the doorframe disappeared as the building’s power was cut. Dartz knew his spell had reached even the backup generators. It would be at least twenty minutes before the power came back on.

More than enough time.

Dartz stepped out into the windowless hallway, eyes narrowed. “Find him,” he murmured, and his vision sharpened.

Visible only to Dartz’s eyes, a faint blue trail lit along the floor. He began to follow it, calmly sidestepping the men who shouted and fumbled in the pitch black. They didn’t have flashlights yet and he was taking full advantage of the situation.

The light led him further up, towards the stairs. Dartz impatiently opened the door and crossed his threshold spell, and when he stepped through he felt the familiar tug around his waist as he was transported through the building. He caught a glimpse of a higher floor number. Not the top floor by any stretch, but definitely close.

The blue light was flaring now on the floor, and Dartz moved cautiously after it. Unlike the lower levels, there were windows lining one side of the hall; moonlight was filtering in and his silhouette would be plainly visible.

The light guiding him on the floor led him deeper, away from the windows. Soon it vanished, just outside of a janitor’s closet. There was a heavy padlock on the outside of the door holding it shut and Dartz’s eyes narrowed. Anger blazed to life.

They’d locked him in a closet. They had locked Valon—who was claustrophobic—inside a closet.

“Open,” he snapped, and the lock dropped away as if it had been eaten by acid. He opened the door and stepped inside.

It was not as small as he thought, in that he could walk in. But it was still wretchedly cramped even without the cleaning supplies and—

There was a muffled snarl and a thump. Dartz’s eyes searched the darkness until he caught the all too familiar outline of Valon’s hair in the dim light.

His youngest Swordsman had been tied to the shelves, legs bound and his torso tied to the lower shelves; the strait jacket was double insurance to keep him in line. He’d been gagged, blindfolded and there a headset over his ears—sound-cancelling headphones. Effectively, it was isolating him in this darkness.

Valon was fighting as much as he could, but with as much restraint as he was contending with he couldn’t break free. Panicked huffs were audible behind the tape, and he could see tear-tracks even in the little light he had. Dartz felt horror and anger rising together, but he clamped on his emotions. Valon needed him now.

He bent down and pulled the headset off first. Valon’s struggles intensified, but he stopped when Dartz spoke. “Hold still.”

++++++++++++++

Long ago he had been locked in a spot just like this. It wasn’t the strait jacket that had him so scared back then. It wasn’t even the small space, the walls that closed in.

It was the dark. It was the quiet. It was the shadows in the corners that, if not watched, moved and stared at him unblinkingly with eerie eyes. It was the whispers in the room, whether in his own mind or actually there. With the soundproof headphones, he couldn’t tell. At least the blindfold helped this time—he couldn’t see the shadows moving.

He didn’t know how long it had been since they had first put him in here. It could have been hours, days, even a week or more…he just couldn’t tell. They’d barely fed him and whatever they gave was drugged. It didn’t help him, as some part of him was convinced the shadow beasties were a part of the drug cocktail keeping him sedated.

The days had blurred in here. They were spent in frantically kicking the wall in front of him, fighting to free himself, and internally begging the shadow monsters to stay away as the time had passed until he collapsed from stress and exhaustion. It was a vicious cycle of fear and anger and exhaustion and I want out, get me out, someone get me out, HELP ME!

Today had been the first day he had been out of this room. He’d never been so happy to leave, even as he knew that he would probably be put back in here. But he’d never imagined…

His arms pulled inside the jacket, trying to tug the seams loose again. The tape and the rope around his neck made it hard for him to yell, though it would not have done much good—his voice was gone from all the cursing and screaming he’d done. His hair was still damp, bangs plastered to his forehead, and his shirt was still unbearably damp.

His shoulders ached and were sore from ramming them into the door. He’d resorted to kicking, at least until they’d come in and tied his legs together. That was fine—he had wiggled over to the door and had kept up the constant kicking until his thighs burned and he couldn’t feel his feet. They had come in one more time after that, only to tie him to the shelves. Then they had left him alone.

When he had been tied up this time, it had been with full intention to prevent him from seeing, hearing, or calling out for help in the darkness. He couldn’t move to face the door. But he could feel vibrations, and it was how Valon knew someone had come in.

He snarled, and even as tired and aching as he was he still fought to free himself as he felt the footsteps get closer. He felt rather than saw the person behind him and he tensed in place, ready to spring into action the moment the chance presented itself.

What he wasn’t prepared for was someone kneeling next to him, pulling the headset off, and then speaking to him. “Hold still. You’ll be free in a moment.”

Valon stiffened. That was an uncomfortably familiar voice.

The blindfold was next to go. Then it was the tape, followed by the strait jacket and ropes binding him to the shelves. He blinked rapidly as he was helped to his feet, trying to get his bearings in the darkness. He opened and closed his hands, rolling his shoulders to get the circulation going again. He also wiped his eyes in a gesture of nonchalance to disguise the tear tracks.

The door was open behind the man facing him, offering at least a little light into the room, and it was all he needed to fully identify who had rescued him: it was Dartz after all. He’d survived when Paradius had fallen, then.

They stared at each other in the darkness, neither side moving or speaking.

And then Valon punched Dartz in the jaw as hard as he could manage.

Dartz had likely seen it coming. He had plenty of time to dodge the blow, Valon had been so shaky after being restrained for so long and he’d telegraphed the punch. Even so, the blow still landed. Dartz landed heavily on his right side and his face blanched, his body curling on reflex.

The corner of Valon’s mouth turned down. “Tha’s for before. For all the crap you pulled,” he said flatly, and then he stepped forward and helped Dartz to his feet. He took extra care on the right side. “Now, let’s go find Ren.”

Dartz blinked at him as Valon roughly pushed out of the room. “That’s all you have to say?”

Valon looked over his shoulder. “You took tha’ punch head on, Dartz. You didn’ flinch away from it, didn’t back out, didn’ try to convince me not t’ hit you. Tha’s all that needs to be said, for me.”

Dartz’s expression was unreadable, just as it had always been, but he followed after Valon. “We do not have much time before the power comes on again. Do you know where Serenity is?”

He didn’t bother asking how Dartz knew about Serenity. Dartz always seemed to know everything, so Valon had never particularly questioned his information sources. Besides, asking wasted time—and Valon was spoiling for a fight.

“I know.” Valon’s expression was feral, eyes lit with fire. “I know exactly where my wife is.”

Previous | Master Post | Next

#kohaku writes #au: reluctant guardian

5 notes · View notes