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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

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Could you do a story where the villain tries to break into the hero’s house but finds them barely conscious (broken ribs maybe) and they decide to help them? Idk if you’ve done smtg similar, sorry

Ooh, this is a fun one! There’s more story here than real caretaking, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you so much for the prompt!

CW//Strong language, implied violence against children, injuries

When that week had begun, Villain would have been lying if they had said that kidnapping a hero was on the very top of their to-do list. In fact, it was so low on their list of priorities that was little more than a contingency plan. A vague idea. There were far more useful things they could do than stooping to the level of their adversaries and taking captives.

That had been at the start of the week, however. When Villain’s life wasn’t a complete disaster. They’d started their Monday morning with a cup of coffee and a pile of plans to carry out.

None of them had included staking out in the bushes outside the home of a particular Hero. But, here they were, stalking through undergrowth, picking up burrs on their clothes all the way.

Now, those plans had been tossed in the nearest wastepaper bin. This was of a far greater importance.

The heroes were cruel. No villain in the city would dispute that point. There was no level to which they would hesitate to stoop, from kidnapping to bioweaponry to manipulation.

But a child? A child should have been off limits. A child was innocent, far too young to be involved in the waged conflicts surrounding them. It was why Villain had never wanted a Sidekick in the first place. When the kid approached them, though, they knew that refusal wasn’t an option. The poor thing was washed up, on the brink of falling into a far worse world. In desperate need of a wing to be taken under.

Sidekick was just a kid. Villain was mentoring them, training them, nothing more. They could hardly fight, much less win any conflict they found themself thrown into. They were far more of a civilian than they were any sort of threat.

And the heroes had taken them. Driven up alongside them and tossed them into the back of a van. A kid, Villain’s kid, now sat in a cell somewhere, in hero custody. A child turned into a bargaining chip.

The only problem with that? Villain had nothing to offer in return. The heroes knew that full well. That was why they’d taken the kid in the damn first place.

They wanted Villain. Sidekick’s release in exchange for their imprisonment.

It was a deal that was simply untenable. As much as the idea of their own captivity horrified them, it would bring along with it another consequence: Sidekick would have no one to go to.

They simply couldn’t go along with it. They needed their own bargaining chip, their own cash in the pile.

Hero was going to be that chip.

In a way, to them, it was revenge as much as it was strategy. Hero was the only one of the heroes that Villain had ever truly interacted with. They were young as well, only a new inductee into the ranks of the protectors of the city. That meant, too, that they were weak.

It had been easier than Villain had expected, to find the home address of one of the city’s heroes. But, so it turned out, just about information could be bought and sold from any number of unscrupulous street characters-- for the right price, of course.

And, here they were. With heavy, clomping steps, they approached the back of Hero’s home. Their uniform and mask covered nearly every inch of their expression, blending them into the shadows and grass they moved through.

A few hours prior, they’d scouted out the building, making note of a second-story window that never seemed to lock quite right. Of course, most of the time, this wouldn’t be an issue-- no criminal would be bold enough to hook a ladder all the way up there.

But Villain didn’t need a ladder.

With a hop, skip, and a jump, solid ground disappeared from beneath them. It wasn’t flight, per se, but diving deeper into the logistics of levitation bored most. What mattered was that, to Villain, gravity was no deterrent.

Now at the height of the window, they hooked their fingers under it. They cringed as the frame let out a terrible screeching noise, their heart lunging between their lungs. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

But, from within the bedroom, there was no reaction; aside from a low, exhausted groan. Was Hero asleep? It certainly sounded like it. They supposed that that was why they had decided to make their attack in the middle of the night.

Gritting their teeth, Villain pushed the window open the rest of the way, siddling their body through and collapsing upon the crumbling carpet below.

Another groan.

“Mom?”

Villain stiffened as they scrambled to first their knees, then their feet. The bedroom was standard, in most ways. A bed, a dresser, a closet with a single broken, dangling from a single nail.

And a hero. Hero laid upon the bed, covers tossed off of their body and to the floor. One of their arms was folded so as to cover their eyes, all while yet another groan escaped their body.

As the villain approached the edge of the footrest, they could not help but taste the choking sensation of a trap. Had their accomplice sold them out? Had Hero seen them during their scouting mission? There was no way they had slept through all this!

But, this wasn’t sleep. No. Sleeping people did not twitch painfully in their unconsciousness.

They dared take a step closer, examining their incapacitated target. Their shirt had been pulled up, nearly to their chest, as though they had been desperately trying to cool themself down. Or... Or to relieve the pain of an injury.

From their naval to their chest, and likely beyond, though it was covered by their shirt, their skin had turned a deep, flushed, blue color. The edges of the bruises, in certain places, had even begun to turn sickly green and purple colors.

Villain knew broken ribs when they saw them. They knew for a fact that they were not the one to have inflicted these wounds. Hell, they hadn’t faced the hero in battle in nearly a month!

So who had?

When they had entered the home, they had had no thoughts in their mind besides those of their child. The hostage video the heroes had sent them, in which Sidekick shivered in a lonely, cold cell.

Now- Now they had two people to worry about. Certainly the heroes had their own doctors, didn’t they? No doctor worth their salt would leave a patient in this condition, especially not alone!

“Hey.” Villain’s stomped their foot. “Get up, you deft ass. I’m trying to kidnap you.”

Hero’s arm lazily flopped onto the bed as their eyes fluttered open.

Every muscle in their body tensed, making the bruises on their exposed stomach twist and flex.

“What the absolute- Villain?” They shifted, as though they were about to sit up-- but they did not. Instead, they lay only groaning on the bed. “Get out of my house, you piece of shit! Get out! You shouldn’t be here in the first place!”

Villain knew that voice like a ringtone. That undertone of terror, masked by layers and layers of fury, like a canine’s medication hidden in peanut butter.

“You’re beat up halfway to hell.”

��And you’re going to be if you don’t leave my house!”

The villain raised a brow, dropping their hands to the side.

“Go for it. I’ll give you a free shot, even.”

Hero narrowed their eyes, twitching once more on the bed, but moving no more than that.

“I said, hit me, you damn do-gooder.”

“I’m not stooping to your level.” Hero defended hastily.

“It seems more to me.” Villain placed one threatening hand upon the bed-- not touching their foe, but close enough. “Like you’re a bit stuck. Like your abdomen is so fucked that you can’t so much as sit yourself up.”

“More like I’m not wasting my energy one someone as low as you.”

“Isn’t that your whole job?”

Hero gritted their teeth.

“What in the hell do you want?”

“Unimportant, at least for now.” A shark encircling its prey, Villain moved to the side of Hero’s bed, forcing them to turn their head at an awkward side angle in order to see their attacker. “I think the most important thing, right about now, is getting you to the nearest medic.”

“I don’t need an ambulance.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

And, like that, the Hero was hoisted up into their enemy’s arms. Their injuries minimized their thrashing, leaving them as a rather compliant captive.

“I have some medic friends who would just love to know what in the hell happened to you.” Villain turned, beginning to head out the door. Their vehicle was parked at only a few block’s distance. “They don’t treat heroes often, but, right about now, you don’t look like too much of a hero to me.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I was just getting there, wasn’t I? We’re getting my damn kid back.”

“We?”

“Did I stutter?”

#hero whumpee #villain caretaker #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #hero villain whump #hero x villain #hero villain prompt #hero villain scenario

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rainy-day-gracie · 5 years ago

Text

To Lose a Bet

HELLO !!

This was a request for Spencer and Reader to be dating and have a bet going on who out of the team has figured it out.

FILLED with fluff, and implied smut :) thank you for requesting, I had so much fun writing !!

MASTERLIST

“I’m sure Hotch has already figured it out,” I joked to Spencer in the elevator. “He can see things through walls, everyone knows that.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t even know if Hotch really even cares if he does know… Who else do you think knows?”

“JJ knows something’s up, but she doesn’t think that we’re-” The elevator opened, making us in earshot of Garcia and Morgan who were deep in a compliment battle. I nodded my head, as if we were in the midst of a professional conversation. “So, yeah… I’ll let you know about those reports-”

Spencer huffed, playing along. “Yes, I’ll review them and get back to you… whenever.”

I tried to suppress a giggle as I heard Morgan pull Spencer aside by the elevator. “Man, do you know if YLN is single? Because a woman like that… there’s no way she’s single… is there?”

Garcia jumped in, adding to the conversation as I walked away. “I saw a hickey on her neck the other day, she tried to hide it but there’s only so much powder can do.”

I stopped by the water fountain, laughing into the faucet as I heard Spencer’s reply. “Um, I don’t know… I don’t know, if she’s single I mean, or about the hickey. Um, I’m getting coffee, you guys want any?”

Once in my office and my laughing fit had passed, I texted Spencer.

You are one smooth dude

His reply made me laugh even harder.

Don’t I know it? :)

Spencer dropped a stack of files in my office, a sticky note stuck on top. He put the files on my desk and left, a hint of a smile across his face. The sticky note was covered in Spencer’s chicken scratch handwriting.

$200 to whoever is the closest My bet: Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss know Garcia, JJ, Morgan don’t know

Later that day, I was briefing the team on a new case in Seattle and slipped a note in his pants pocket as we left to board the jet.

My bet: Hotch, Rossi, Garcia know Morgan, JJ, Prentiss don’t know You’re on pretty boy :)

Spencer was determined to embarrass me on the jet. I could see it in his face, the twinkle in his eye.

“Hey YLN, what were you saying about the new guy you’re seeing?” Spencer asked out of the blue while reviewing the case.

The team was suddenly extremely uninterested in the case, paying close attention to the question Spencer had asked me.

“Do you have a new man?” Prentiss asked, eyeing me closely.

A smile came to my face, and I hit Spencer lightly on the arm beside me. “Reid, I told you that in a private conversation.”

Spencer just shrugged innocently. “Oops, forgot that part.”

“I knew you were seeing someone!” JJ said with a grin. “No single person smiles as much as you have in the last few months.”

I tried to hide the blush on my face by looking down at my files, thankfully saved by Garcia’s video call.

“Why is everyone smiling?” She asked, examining the faces of everyone on the jet.

“YLN is just getting a little lovin’, that’s all.” Morgan replied, a smirk coming to his face.

Garcia gasped, then furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity. “Who is he?”

Spencer looked over at me with a sly grin. “Yeah, who is he, YLN?”

I made a mental note to slap him when we were in private. “He is going to be a mystery man for now.”

The jet groaned in disappointment, and Spencer winked at me when no one was looking.

I slipped him a note while Hotch was giving assignments.

Prentiss didn’t know, Hotch and Rossi didn’t even blink Hope you have $200 to spare, genius

After solving the case in two days, Hotch agreed to let us have the night off and enjoy the city of Seattle.

Spencer shot me a text as the team started to leave the police station.

I think your stomach hurts.

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking at him from across the room. He quickly explained, sending another text.

I think your stomach hurts and you need me to drive you back to the hotel.

I tried not to laugh, faking a grimace as JJ walked past me. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah... my stomach just hurts really bad, probably something I ate.” I held my gut like it was hurting, and I saw Spencer coming up beside JJ.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go out drinking with the team, we don’t want you do be sick,” JJ put a comforting hand on my shoulder, and Spencer spoke up.

“I can drive you to the hotel, I didn’t really want to go out tonight anyway,” Spencer said, looking to me then back to JJ. I tried not to laugh at our stupid lie, JJ rubbing my shoulder like the mom she is.

In no time at all, Spencer and I were in the SUV driving back to the hotel.

We piled up in the room I was sharing with Prentiss, watching a stupid soap opera and drinking out of the mini bar.

Two characters on the screen started having sex, their butts and boobs concealed by carefully placed furniture.

“Do you wanna do that?” Spencer whispered in my ear, his arm resting across my shoulder.

I laughed at his question. “Wow... that was so smooth, Spencer.”

“So... is that a no?”

I swung my leg over his lap, straddling his hips. “When did I say that?”

Spencer laced his hands roughly in my hair, crashing my lips onto his. Drunk hookups were rarely any fun, but buzzed hookups were where it was at.

His tongue pressed gently against mine at first, and he suddenly flipped us over to where his heart beat over mine on the bed.

“We do have some time to kill before the team comes back,” Spencer murmured, his lips attaching to my neck. __

“What the hell?” A voice yelled, light from the hotel hallway illuminating the dark room.

“Oh shit,” I murmured sleepily against Spencer’s bare chest, turning my head towards the voice. “Prentiss, you’re back?”

“You’re asking me the questions? Do either of you even have underwear on?” Prentiss stared at us tangled up in bed like she had we’d grown a third eye.

“Nope,” Spencer answered before I could stop him. “We were both tired after... you know, so we just went to sleep.”

Prentiss just opened and closed her mouth, and JJ at that moment chose to join her in the doorway.

“Oh my God, Garcia was right.” JJ said with raised eyebrows.

I tried to understand what she had said in my sleepy brain. “Garcia was right about what?”

“That you two were dating, we had a bet going. Prentiss just thought you guys would drunkenly hook up, I thought you were just friends, and Garcia was totally convinced you were dating,” JJ said flatly. “Guess Garcia wins, since neither of you guys are drunk.”

I turned back to Spencer, who was staring at Prentiss and JJ with wide eyes. “I told you, pretty boy! I am so getting at 200 bucks!” __

Breakfast the next morning was... awkward to say the least. The team all sat around a table, eating the hotel breakfast in silence. Finally Morgan couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s going on? It can’t be just me getting weird vibes.”

Prentiss looked to Spencer and I across the table and smirked. “I found an... interesting view when I got back to my room last night.”

Morgan furrowed his eyebrows. “What was it?”

“Reid and YLN are dating, and they lost track of time last night, as you might say.”

Morgan was completely dumbfounded, looking from me to Spencer then back to me.

“Close your mouth Morgan, you look like a fish. Those two have been dating since April.” Rossi said casually, taking a sip of his coffee.

Hotch nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, but they’ve only been sleeping together since late June.”

I laughed hysterically at their comments, gaining the attention of the people around us. “How... did you... know that?”

Rossi and Hotch just shrugged. “Profiling.”

I giggled, patting Spencer on the back next to me. “Oh wow... you officially owe me $200, genius.”

Spencer just down at his coffee with a blank expression. “This is the first time in my life I’ve ever lost a bet.”

TAG LIST :

@squirrellover1967 @yomama-umbridge @vixengustin88 @tiktokslut @ sknnymnne

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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I’m still laughing my ass off over that one post that was going around a week ago with the fanon depictions of the Batboys vs more canon-accurate depictions, and the various ‘defenses’ people leaped to for why fanon is so much better, and its just like....yawn.

See, its not like fanon can’t be better, and isn’t better with some characters, its not that it can’t ADD nuance.

None of that’s the problem.

The problem is when people ONLY use it to DETRACT nuance and then are like ‘wow, whats the problem, whats the issue.’

Let’s take for instance the infamous matter of Dick’s alleged asshole behavior to Jason back when the latter was Robin, because of Dick’s issues with Bruce at the time.

Here’s the thing - even though that’s not what happened, it IS a fairly plausible examination of what could have happened, so its not like there’s no reasoning or justification whatsoever in exploring it. Its that....its not ever explored. Its just used to one-side a situation and render Dick unsympathetic while Jason’s propped up as having been victimized by him and Bruce is largely kept off-stage entirely.

But because quite frankly we just didn’t see much of their interactions back then, period, theoretically, adding more conflict in this vein still COULD have fleshed out that time period and added nuance every bit as much as my preferred additions of more positive interactions between them.

But people don’t add in these conflicts simply to add nuance, they add them in just to add BLAME.

The fanon isn’t the problem there. What you do with the fanon and why is the problem.

Its like my issues with the Jason-Kori-Roy friendship. It’d be one thing if Roy and Kori’s presence in Jason’s life was used to PUSH BACK against Jason’s belief that Dick hated him or didn’t mourn him or even just to provide more understanding or context about Dick’s position or side of things at the time to Jason when he gripes about him, so he’s a little more inclined to be understanding of what that was like for his brother thanks to the viewpoints of people whose POV he values and who in turn have always valued Dick’s POV and position in things.

But instead everything about the years of sympathy and understanding and insight Roy and Kori have always had for and in regards to Dick are flushed down the drain in order to have them join in with Jason when it comes to bashing and griping about that asshole Dick Grayson. Once again....perfect opportunity to add more nuance and complexity to a situation and a character dynamic, with it almost universally being pounced on to provide the reverse...to TAKE AWAY even MORE nuance and complexity from a situation by erasing anything and everything Roy and Kori might actually feel about what’s being said or believed of this other person they have a history of valuing a great deal.

Or like I was just saying earlier today about how its almost completely forgotten or erased that Dick was shot in the head upon Bruce’s return from the timestream, and was in an eminently sympathetic/hurt position for Bruce and Tim and others to come together around and put aside their own invididual resentments at least for the time being, in order to support Dick throughout an extremely dangerous and debilitating wound and recovery period. The issue with erasing, ignoring or invalidating Dick’s many traumas isn’t that ‘oh we just don’t like all the characters angsting 24/7, sometimes its too much, we like fanon happy-go-lucky Dick because he’s different,’ its like.....lol no, because if you’re still capable of and looking to rip into that depiction of Dick for....get this....not being able to get/grasp/empathize with the kinds of and degrees of trauma you still uphold for all the others, you’re really just looking to make him look unsympathetic in comparison, and shift focus away from their LACK of support and understanding for him when he really justifiably needs it in order to keep that focus instead on their contempt or bitterness for him no matter what else SHOULD have been taking place for him at the same time.

For example....going back to the Dick and Jason’s early years scenario.....I talk all the time about the Brother Blood situation, but guess what else that situation has? A time frame that’s pretty directly applicable to this Dick and Jason enmity scenario so many of you posit, given that the first two times the Church of Blood had Dick captive and were literally said to have released him back into the world secretly under their control....he was still Robin! And the third time, when he finally broke free thanks to the others (and Jason) rescuing him, it was only then that he was Nightwing. Meaning all of that is PERFECTLY positioned to be a fantastic and compelling additional underlying cause of Dick’s alleged early issuers/grievances with Jason.....the same mental turmoil that led to him lashing out against the other Titans like Donna in that infamous fight, could just as easily be said to have contributed or even been entirely behind any shitty interactions with Jason you want to posit happening back in the day.

And look at how tragically dysfunctional that makes all of that instead then....Jason resents Dick for something that ultimately, isn’t actually his fault since he was never lashing out while in sound mind but as an unknowing reaction to a mental battle against conditioning he didn’t even know was there at the time.....and this being a surprise revelation to Jason years later making him mentally reframe all their history, because Dick never said anything about this earlier because due to his guilt complex he felt it would have just been him making excuses or trying to let himself off the hook instead of a valid and understandable added layer of context.

That’s SO much more compelling and interesting than just a one-sided ‘one brother is an ass to the other for no real reason whatsoever, at leat not one we’re willing to acknowledge as being anymore relevant than a random footnote’.....but the problem isn’t that people go off fanon vs canon, the problem is REGARDLESS of whether people are using fanon or canon, people just don’t WANT Dick’s position in any of these times to be sympathetic or understandable, they want him JUDGED for it, condemned. They’re not TRYING to craft interesting, compelling dynamics or situations, they’re trying to make him the bad guy, always the bad guy, and the other person just unilaterally his unfortunate victim.

Just like with Tim and Red Robin, for all that even when people are like ‘nobody was really at fault/its not like Dick had another option with Damian, etc’ in PRACTICE there’s literally no distinguishing between this take and ones where Dick is just wholly irredeemable for his unforgivable choice, because despite even lip service paid to the idea that Dick had his reasons for what he did, there’s no actual PAY-OUT ever given to the idea that he’s anything less than terrible a brother to Tim for it...like, fanon is never the issue here, its just straight up canon....being willfully picked apart and reframed to make the issue entirely one-sided.

People pile on all the additional reasons Dick’s terrible for not taking into account Tim’s headspace at the time, like all the other people he’s lost in the last couple years comic book time, but again, at most there’s lip service about how Dick was going through a lot to, but its never added in to any degree that MATTERS or lessens the characters’ or readers’ vilification of him....while at the same time, there’s a willful disregard of and refusal to engage with all the other things and people Dick had lost in the same time frame, comic book time, like oh.....every single thing that happened in Bludhaven with Blockbuster, Tarantula and Deathstroke, given that the former was literally concurrent with Stephanie’s death and the latter right after Jack Drake’s death.

There’s never allowed any resentment from Dick towards Tim for not giving a single shit about what he was going through at the time, or for assuming he had no idea how to relate to the depth of Tim’s grief as though Dick hadn’t literally gotten a front row seat to his entire city being nuked by Chemo in that exact same time frame, with it still being touted that Dick just didn’t have any understanding or empathy for Tim’s many losses of the time. There’s never any frustration allowed from Dick about how much Tim resents him for making him give up Robin when at the same time, it was Tim and mostly Tim alone who pushed Dick to give up being Nightwing and assume the Batman mantle when even Bruce’s will had expressed to Dick that this was not what he wanted for him.

Again, never even time or focus given to Dick being shot in the head on Bruce’s return before using that to call in Bruce as reinforcements for Tim yelling ‘how could you do this to me,’ let alone any acknowledgment of the fact that Dr. Hurt, the very same villain that shot Dick in the head there, is the very same villain who had Dick locked up, straitjacketed, drugged up and on the verge of a lobotomy in Arkham for a week just BEFORE Bruce’s assumed death.....because lolol, it’d make people look pretty silly for taking Dick’s one comment about asking if Tim maybe needed to take a break and look after his mental health in Arkham to the extremes they did, if forced to acknowledge that at the time, Arkham was a TOTALLY different proposition due to how extensively Dick was invested in its rebuilding and overseeing its running thanks entirely TO that time, just before Arkham blew up and needed rebuilding from the ground up in Battle for the Cowl....because of the fact that Dick himself had just spent a week locked up and straitjacketed and drugged to the gills and on the verge of a lobotomy thanks to the oh so tender mercies of Dr. Hurt’s accomplices having the run of the place.

Because end of the day, the problem with this fandom and Dick Grayson is not fanon, and its not canon, its fandom. Its the willful DESIRE to not have any minimizing or mitigating context on display ever, so as to only keep the worst possible interpretation of Dick’s actions - either drawn from canon or fanon, whichever is most handy for a particular scenario - front and center.

So yeah, the idea that fanon adds nuance or context to Dick’s dynamics with any of his family is hilarious, not because it CAN’T, but because too many people are just entirely too unwilling and uninterested in allowing it to, just as they’re uninterested in any interpretation of actual canon that provides Dick with a smidgen of empathy or understanding for his positions or choices.

Like, that’s the POINT of most of your fanon for him. To strip AWAY nuance. So how are you going to be out here acting like you’re really contributing something to his character that canon doesn’t provide, when really, its all the same to you across the board: Dick Grayson is never justified let alone sympathetic ever?

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vostara · 5 years ago

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Hypnophobia - 04

vier — vows are spoken, to be broken

pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)

blurb: “We all have secrets.”

word count: 2.1k+

title inspiration: enjoy the silence (reinterpreted) - depeche mode, mike shinoda

Sorry for the long wait! Life got in the way and I’ve been on/off sick for the past month ;; Right now, I’m actually typing this up while battling a migraine oof. This chapter was also edited while suffering from a horrible migraine, so I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed.

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

… | 03 | 04 | 05 | … series masterlist

When Beatrix opens the passenger side door, she is greeted by the familiar face of Ares.

With a small wave from the woman’s fingers and an upward quirk in the corner of her lips, Ares pulls a black cellphone out of her pocket. After pressing a few buttons on the screen, she holds the phone out towards Beatrix.

The assassin pauses to glance back over her shoulder.

Angelo’s men are probably in the apartment by now. They would be sweeping the space, calling out for Angelo and checking each room for his body. And when they discover him dead and drenched in his own blood, they will search every nook and cranny to find her, to find evidence of her. It wouldn’t be long before they burst through the back door, following her trail, ready to slaughter her in retaliation.

The woman releases her hold on the knife in her pocket and slips herself into the car.

Her fingers wrap around the cellphone. And she holds it up to her ear, just as the shrill of the ringing cuts off.

A man’s voice greets her. “It appears that you’ve completed the task,” he says.

Ares switches on the ignition of the car. She pulls away from the side of the curb and drives away from Angelo’s apartment. Glancing at the review mirror, Beatrix watches as his men slam open the back door and sprint down the wooden stairs.

“Were you doubting me, Mr. D’Antonio?” She says.

He ignores her response. “Were there any witnesses?”

“I left a specific trail for them to follow. No one will jump to accuse you of any wrongdoing. For this situation, at least.”

Santino releases a quiet hum in response. “You pinned the blame on someone else.”

“It wasn’t difficult.” Her gaze shifts to Ares, whose eyes are focused on the road in front of her. Was she taking her somewhere specific? Or just away from the scene of the crime? “Angelo wasn’t a very popular man.”

“And which of his enemies did you pick?”

Beatrix smirks. “I’m sure you are able to keep many things secret, but it’s best that you remain blissfully unaware of these details.”

Santino sighs. He’s annoyed.

“I did as requested,” she continues. “For now, that’s all you need to know.”

After a long pause, the man says, “I need you to come meet me in New York.”

“Oh?” Beatrix perks up. “Another problem you need me to take care of?”

“It’s an issue that requires,” he contemplates his next words, “a different type of solution.”

“You’re not hiring me for a hit.”

“No,” he confirms. “I want to make use of your other skill sets.”

Beatrix pauses to stare out of the car window, to examine the empty sidewalks of the frozen streets. “When do you want to meet?”

“In two days.”

“Of course,” Beatrix says. “I’ll see you then.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Amsler.”

The line goes dead.

Beatrix holds the phone back out to Ares, who slips it back inside of her pocket.

“Did anyone see you parked outside of Angelo’s place?” She asks, turning her head towards the other woman.

Ares rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She pulls the car aside, parking it in an empty spot next to the curb.

“Of course not,” Beatrix says. She reaches to pull open the handle of the door. “I need to get out of here, before someone sees us together.”

Ares leans across the car the wraps her fingers around the woman’s wrist. She pulls Beatrix’s hand away from the door and tugs it towards her. With the fingertips of her right hand, Ares places them underneath the assassin’s chin and urges the woman to face her. When their eyes meet, Ares releases her grip and pulls her hands away from Beatrix.

She brings them in front of her. And when Beatrix realizes that Ares is trying to communicate with her through the motions of her fingers, she glances down at the woman’s hands.

You’re bleeding, she signs. Ares lifts a finger to point at the woman’s head, at the spot where Angelo had slammed Beatrix against the bathroom mirror.

Confused, Beatrix lifts a hand to touch her forehead. She jerks away when she feels a burning sting of pain at the contact. Lowering her hand, she glances at the blood coating her fingertips. “Oh,” she whispers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Ares opens the glove compartment and pulls out a long piece of gauze. She then presses it onto the wound on the forehead, causing Beatrix to flinch and pull away from the material. But Ares places her free hand upon the woman’s neck, forcing the woman to remain still.

Beatrix relaxes. She lifts her hand up to her forehead, placing it on top of the other woman’s. “Thank you,” she says.

Carefully, Ares begins to pull her hands away. She pauses, allowing Beatrix to adjust her grip on the gauze, before removing herself completely.

You knew him, she says.

“Angelo?”

Ares nods her head.

Beatrix leans back into the cushion of her seat. “How do you know that?”

I saw the way he looked at you. Ares reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She pulls up a photograph and turns the screen towards Beatrix.

On display is a photograph of her and Angelo, sitting together in the booth at the bar.

“You were in the bar?”

She shakes her head. Someone else.

“You’ve been observing me,” Beatrix says.

Ares shrugs. Just keeping tabs.

Beatrix raises her left hand to press against the gauze. With her right hand now freed, she raises it in front of her. Lie, she signs.

A playful spark appears in Ares’ eyes and she smiles at the woman. We all have secrets.

“Did you share this information with Santino?” Beatrix lowers her hand.

No.

“Why haven’t you?”

Ares locks her eyes with Beatrix. She examines her, searching for any hints of weakness and deception. She can sense that the woman in front of her is an act, a shroud to conceal an endless well of secrets. She just needs to find a crack in her exterior.

Who was he to you? Ares questions.

The woman ponders her response. “An old assignment,” she says. “One of the first that I received from Lilith.”

You failed.

“I suppose that from her perspective, yes.” Beatrix blinks. “My priority was the extraction of information. I retrieved what she wanted, but not without complications.”

He found out.

“Angelo was much more intelligent than I believed him to be. He knew for quite some time that I was using him. He was biding his time, waiting for me to slip up and reveal what I was doing with the information.” Beatrix sighs. “But his boss was impatient and ordered Angelo to kill me. The next time I went to see him, he shot a bullet straight into my stomach.”

Ares raises an eyebrow. Why try to hide this?

“I didn’t think it was relevant information.”

Now you are the liar.

Beatrix laughs and shakes her head. “You’re worried that I used this as an opportunity to get my revenge and place the blame on Santino.”

Did you?

“No,” she says. “I am not one to chase a petty quest of vengeance. My instincts are more inclined for acts of survival, not pursuit. I grasp onto opportunities that keep me alive for just a day longer than before.”

Ares pauses, analyzing the woman’s response.

“I’m not interested in shortening my lifespan by framing Santino.”

Stay in the car, Ares says. I will give you a lift.

~ ~ ~

The moment Beatrix unlocks the door of her hotel room, she regrets it. Even with the lights switched off and the door opened just an inch, she can feel Eli’s presence permeating the room. When she steps inside, she sees him. He is sitting on the edge of her bed, twisting a butterfly knife between his long fingers.

“You’re back,” he says. He sounds bored, but Beatrix can hear the annoyance that is bubbling beneath the surface of his calm demeanor.

She shuts the door behind her and takes a cautious step further into the room.

“You’ve been gone awhile.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve been sitting here for a few hours now.”

The woman keeps her mouth shut. She knows that if she opens it now, if she makes the tiniest peep of noise, Eli will lose his temper.

“Got a call while you were gone,” he continues. “Any guesses on what the call was about?”

Beatrix inhales a shallow, nervous breath of air. “I wouldn’t know.”

“They said that my girl, my darling Beatrix, was hooking up with Angelo Ricci. Is that true?” Eli glances up towards her.

Upon seeing her face, the twirling knife freezes in his hand.

He stands up from the bed and approaches her. His eyes trail over her open wounds, the bruises beginning to surface, and the lingering traces of blood on her skin. “What happened?” Eli demands.

“I got into a bit of an argument with Angelo.” Beatrix says.

The man sighs. “You killed him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For business,” the woman responds. “I can’t just waltz up to Santino D’Antonio and stab him to death. I won’t be able to kill him until I know for certain that I will be able to shoot before getting shot first.”

The man clenches his jaw.

“If you want me to kill Santino, I need to do a few favors for him.”

Eli narrows his eyes. “And what did you gain from killing Angelo?"

“Opportunities,” Beatrix says. “He promised me further employment, so I pulled the trigger.”

He raises his knife towards Beatrix and uses it to lift a few strands of hair away from her face. “And by wearing those earrings, you’ve effectively framed me for the hit.”

Beatrix stands up straight, a subtle challenge to Eli’s control over the situation. “I told Santino that the blame wouldn’t fall in his lap. I needed a scapegoat.”

“I suppose I am the most believable option,” he lowers the knife. “No one would question the motive of a man who openly hates him.”

Eli tucks the knife into his back pocket.

“But that doesn’t explain why you left without telling me,” he says. “Why you haven’t shared any of your plans with me. You’re supposed to keep me in the loop, right?”

Beatrix doesn’t respond.

“It’s one of the rules. You tell me everything. Your ideas, your plans, and your destinations. And I tell you what you need to do, who you need to meet, and where you need to be.” He leans down towards Beatrix, brushing his lips against the edges of her ear. “But lately, you’ve decided to do whatever the fuck you want to do. Where’s the communication, Bee? Where’s my little obedient pet?”

“It won’t happen again,” she says.

“Good,” he pulls away from her. “I would hate to kill you if you slip up again.”

~ ~ ~

The hot water of her shower did wonders to soothe the aches and bruises emerging on her body. And once she has washed away all of the blood and the lingering traces of Eli’s touch, she sits in the middle of her bed and dials a familiar number.

The call is answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice. The word is muffled and she sounds groggy.

“Hey, Veronika,” Beatrix greets. “Did I wake you?”

The woman sighs. “If it wasn’t going to be you, it definitely would have been the baby.”

“How is she doing?”

“She screams and shits, typical baby stuff.” Veronika groans. “God, what time is it?”

Beatrix pulls the phone away from her face and glances at the clock. “It’s nearing 4a.m. for you,” she says.

A pause follows the response.

“How bad was it tonight?” Veronika says.

“I’ve had worse.”

“You sure? Cause you sound absolutely terrible, exhausted.”

“Thanks,” Beatrix releases a soft chuckle. “Don’t hold back.”

“Hey,” Veronika hesitates for a moment, before continuing her words. “I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen you in months and you barely respond to my calls or texts. I just want to know that my sister is alive and okay.”

“I’m fine.”

It’s a response that won’t satisfy her sister, but it will have to do for now.

“Really?”

“Listen,” Beatrix says. “I’m coming back to New York.”

The statement distracts Veronika. “You are?”

“Yeah, I got a new client.”

“Is that why you called?”

The assassin takes a moment to respond. “I just wanted to hear your voice. And tell you through a phone call, not a text.”

“How thoughtful.”

“Go back to sleep,” Beatrix says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Let me know when you’re back, okay?”

“I will. Sleep well.”

Before Veronika is able to respond, Beatrix ends the call.

The woman slides off of the bed and scoots an armchair towards the large window. She settles herself into the seat and watches as Chicago is painted with a fresh coat of snow.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! if you liked what you read, please considering reblogging this chapter. every reblog truly does help a small author like me!

but any likes, comments, or other indications that you enjoy this story is also appreciated!

if you’re interested, you can also follow me for more updates on twitter @ VostaraFics

#john wick fic #ares john wick #ares john wick fic #ares fic #ares x reader #ares x original character #ares x original female character #ruby rose fic #ruby rose x reader #ruby rose x original character #ruby rose x original female character #ruby rose fanfic #john wick #v.writing #vostara #fic: hypnophobia #series: she drowns in liquid gold #emersonsfam

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 57 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 57 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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“For me, I owe him my life. Many of us onboard owe him life or at the least a last and fair chance at it. We have been despised as the scupper scrapings of the fleet, with some truth. But there’s often two sides to events. My case may illustrate.

“A number of Gatherings ago, I was on the Grinna. I was put off the ship, accused of seduction in violation of the Marriage Laws. There was a trial logged and the log entry was put into fleet records. The Captain and three other officers, including the Captain’s nephew were my accusers and they blackened my name sufficiently that no ship would take me on.

“I was due to drown when the rafts were stowed back on the bottom after the Gathering. Barad actually looked into the matter and tried to bring irregularities in the record up before the Council. They would not hear him, so he gave me a berth here. I have become the lead helmsman and hold the title and job of Battle Commanding.”

As Kurin listened, she began work on the upper half of the shell, cutting parts and testing their fit. She fitted the upper half of the shell and made edges that interlocked over the lower part. She added straps and the buckles to hold the whole thing together.

When Darkistry finished her account, Kurin asked, “Where is the injustice? You had your rights. Your trial was logged.”

“That trial was never held. I was discredited before the fleet to keep the truth of a gang rape involving those four officers from coming out. While they were raping me they told me that it was my fault for looking too good.

“They got away with it because Macom, the Grinna’s Captain was head of the Council that Gathering.

“Ask Doctor Corin how much work he had to do to repair the damage that those four did to me.” Bitterly she added, “Because of them, I will never have a child of my own.”

“I see,” said Kurin thoughtfully. “I need to ask you something totally different, though. How can I trust anything that I hear from the people on this ship?”

“That’s a hard one to answer. We have been ordered to tell you whatever you ask, as completely and truthfully as possible. Truth is our only hope for justice. Nothing is to be hidden from you. Every record on this ship, every person on this ship and every thing however trivial, is there for you to ask or see.”

“What is the title of Battle Commanding?”

“It means that I make all tactical decisions and both steer the ship and direct the crew during combat.”

“Why you and not Barad or Tanlin?”

“We ran tests after reading Captain Sula’s book on strategy and tactics. I was best. When we had to ram the Fauline to get Barad and Tanlin back safe, I was at the helm.”

“You sank the Fauline?” Kurin asked, horrified.

“No. I hit her a glancing blow with a bowsprit hook-out to disable her. I only took out her starboard standing and running rigging to the mainmast. I was lining up for a kill run when they finally let Captain Barad and Lady Tanlin go. We repaired the damage that we did and left before the big storm hit.”

“You wrecked her and then repaired her? Why?”

“We got back what we needed, our Captain and our Lady . We couldn’t just leave the Fauline to die in the storm, even if they did betray us.”

Kurin was lost in thought as she left the sickbay. While she had been fixing the shell for Darkistry’s leg, Doctor Corin had stitched and bound Darkistry’s arm. After that, he had seen to his daughter, Gemma. She only had a mild concussion and a cut on her scalp that had bled in the alarming but not dangerous way of head wounds. Kurin felt a light pluck at her sleeve.

A worried Arnat asked her, “Why doesn’t Mommy get up? The doctor is all done with her.”

Kurin knelt to put her eyes at his level. “Arnat, your mother is very seriously hurt. The doctor gave her a medicine to make her sleep and stay really still while she gets better.”

“Will she get better? Everyone is so worried and I can hear a whale singing.

“The last time that I heard an Orca sing, Kurti died — — I liked her, too.” He began to sniffle and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

Kurin, who was all to familiar with loss, answered, “I will be honest with you, Arnat. I don’t know. All that we can do now is wait. Remember, when Kurti died, Tanlin woke up to the same Whale Song.

“Cat taught me that the whales sing to honor people that they like and not even the Great Dragons can say why or for whom there will be an Orca song.”

Kurin smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “I need a guide to show me about the ship. Will you help me?” I hope that I can keep him from too much hurt.

“Sure, Kurin, if we can come and see my Mommy sometimes,” Arnat replied, plainly worried.

“Count on it. Now, I need to find Captain Tanlin. Lead the way.” They found Captain Tanlin on the quarterdeck, near the steering tackle. Kurin examined the way that it was rigged with interest as they approached. This arrangement was unique to the Grandalor, so far as she knew.

Tanlin’s back was to them, and Kurin realized that her complex braid was different than the one that she had worn when they first met. She had a basket, now nearly empty of fish, and was giving one to Skye, who was perched on her shoulder.

Thunderhead was circling down slowly until Skye took off with her fish, flapping her big wings in powerful strokes as she headed up to the nest. Thunderhead fell in a dive that he braked with booming wings and widespread tail, settling gently onto Tanlin’s shoulder where Skye had been moments before.

Kurin watched in awe as Tanlin casually gave the last fish to Thunderhead and scratched him under a slightly raised wing. The bird soaked up a few minutes of scratching and then took off to feed his hungry family. Tanlin laughed in unguarded joy watching him fly.

As she turned about and saw Kurin, she sobered. “Oi’m off wotch just now. Oi take ‘t t’at ye wont t’ talk t’ m’? Nae time like t’e present. Do ye wont t’ talk ‘ere or in our cabin, w’ere tis more comfortable?”

“Comfort is good. I’ve been standing or in small boats all day. I would like to sit for a while. When do you eat dinner? I’m famished.” Kurin sucked in her stomach and mocked starvation.

Tanlin looked mortified. “Oi’ve brought ye all t’is way an’ set ye t’ work an’ never even offered a snack. W’ere are m’ manners?” She made a pantomime of looking in the fish basket and said, “T’at rascal T’under’ead must ‘ave made off wit’ t’em. Oi ‘ad t’em right in ‘ere wit’ t’e fish.”

Kurin actually laughed at Tanlin’s comic behavior. As they descended the companion-ladder Tanlin called to the cabin-boy waiting by her door, “Tahm! Go t’ t’e galley an’ bring us woter an’ food. Kurin ha’nae eaten since breakfast!” He left at once. Tanlin slid aside a door for Kurin and ushered her into the Captain’s cabin.

Kurin took a comfortable chair and without further ceremony said, “Darkistry told me some terrible things about her past and about ramming the Fauline.” She shook her head sadly and asked what was foremost in her mind. “What do you know about my being poisoned?”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 57 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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bonesingerofyme-loc · 6 years ago

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Shattered Legions I

Examining in narrative form the characters that make up my Shattered Legions killteam.

Personae Raven Guard Captain Leucas Kypto, XIX Brother Ides Conom, XIX Brother Macito Orn, XIX Iron Hands Brother Mordecai Castron, X Sons of Horus Luna Wolves Brother Aviko Barradon, XVI World Eaters Sergeant Khord, XII Death Guard Brother Varecht Poole, XIV Thousand Sons Codicier Noltak Vaal, Raptora, XV

‘I am Alpharius.’ Across the arming room, Aviko glances up at him while Leucas and Khord continue stripping down their bolters. All were present, save Vaal, some stripped to bodysuits, others in partially dismantled battle plate. His words only seem to register with Ides, who slowly rises to his feet, putting aside his jump-pack. Before the Raven Guard can speak, Macito goes on:

‘That’s what they always say. The Alpha Legion, I mean. Has anyone else fought alongside them?’

‘I had more than enough experience on Isstvan,’ Ides spat, voice rough, an octave higher and coarse from a slash across his neck, courtesy of an Emperor’s Child. Macito nods and can’t push aside the clench of guilt around his two hearts.

‘We all did. I meant before.’ Ides returns to his seat, but doesn’t break the acid glare he’s sending.

‘There is no before. There’s Isstvan, and there’s now.’ Leucas sighs.

‘Ides. Brother. Center yourself. Brother Macito, get to the point.’ It’s a name that by now feels almost more natural than the one he was born with, the one that slides a little farther away every day.

‘I’m saying they had strength of purpose. The Alpha Legion. I was thinking about the Legions that – the ones that betrayed us. Some of them…don’t feel surprising. Word Bearers. Night Lords. Even the Iron Warriors, I can consider and find reason.’

Sul’in’s voice rumbles through the arming chamber from his corner, deep in the shadow. Macito can only make out the shadowed shape of the marine, hulking and huge as he works on a long, serrated blade. The Salamander’s eyes burn in the darkness and he claims bright light irritates his rad-burns.

‘Curze’s bastard sons never sat right with me. None of the honesty of the World Eaters-‘ Khord grunts at this, but makes no other move as he slots diamantite teeth into a chainaxe. ‘and all the brutality of the Wolves. At least the Wolves have a purpose. Those bastards in midnight…all they lived for was torture. It was unclean.’

‘That is my point, that exactly, Ashrock. There’s a flaw, or some…some truth to the Legions that turned that reveals the treachery. The Night Lords were criminals, all of them. Rapists and murderers given the geneseed. The Word Bearers might’ve once worshipped the Emperor, but who knows what other fanes they found to bow to. Perturabo was always unhappy, always hating Dorn. Horus could offer the Iron Warriors nothing more than the chance to kill the Fists and it would be enough.’ Macito shakes his head, putting his bolter carefully aside, resting it on hooks and placing his gauntleted hands on his knees.

‘The Alpha Legion, that is more curious to me.’

‘What’s curious? What’s possibly curious? They’re traitors, Macito. Traitors. We don’t need to understand them; we don’t need to figure them out. We only need to kill them.’ It would always be Ides, he had considered once, always Ides that would be the one. There is so much hatred that burns in that son of Corax, a nucleonic nugget in his chest that will never, ever cool. At Praxitilum V, when they had struck the outpost of the III Legion for resupply, his bloody rampage had rivaled Khord’s. Ides had no nails to blame.

Barradon shrugs, pauldrons hissing as they match his gesture. Underneath the applications of white paint, splashed and slathered across the surfaces, here and there can be seen tiny streaks and patches of oceanic green, peeking through gouges and scrapes. In contrast to the liberal and careless application of ivory coating sits a meticulous and pristine wolf’s head set against a crescent moon in deep black. It had been an obsession of the Astartes’ to find something, anything to blot away his old colors. The paint slathered across his armor is usually meant for decking and bulkheads, appropriated without care. The reborn Luna Wolf had gouged out the crimson, slitted Eye jewels with his combat knife, defacing them and throwing them into waste chutes. The settings still yawn at his belt and chest, hollow like sockets absent teeth.

‘There’s a worth in knowing why. If only to remember where the line is.’ Ides snorted, and didn’t deign to respond. There was a constant tension between him and the three of their little group, the three whose Legions had fallen into treachery. Aviko Barradon, Khord and Varecht Poole, who had never been to Istvaan, who had heard of their Legion’s damnation and turned aside. Each dealt with it in a different way.

Barradon had regressed, repainting his armor, acting sometimes as if the years as a Son of Horus had never occurred. As if the Legion that marched with the damned Warmaster was something different. Something he had never been a part of.

Khord, ever a simple and straightforward World Eater, simply walked away. He still sported the bone-white and sky-blue of his Legion, still the beaten brass devoured world adorned his pauldron. It wasn’t his fault his lunatic father had led his Legion into insanity. Why should he apologize?

Varecht Poole hoped. He had hoped that his father, Mortarion, had made a mistake. An error. A miscalculation. That there could be redemption, for his Primarch and his Legion. That maybe, maybe, his father could be made to see the truth of things, the right of things. Then he had learned of Istvaan V, of Primarchs butchered in the sands. Now Poole was empty, a hollowed out core of a man, more mechanical than the augmented Iron Hands.

And Ides Conom could forgive none of them, nor ever forget their origins. Even if none of the three had been at Istvaan, even if lightyears had separated them from the perfidy committed in the hell of Urgall, Ides would never see them as anything but traitors. Useful, convenient traitors, but still, at their deepest core: tainted.

‘So I try to understand Alpha Legion. The others, I can find a way. Alpha Legion? ‘I am Alpharius’, they always say. When I served alongside them, I only knew a handful of names. They are their Primarch, they say. They are all one. One person, one mind, one purpose. Hydra.’

Leucas gives a slow nod, putting aside his lapping powder and resting his detached pauldron at his feet, still shining with polish. The bold, heraldic Raven was scratched and marred by las-blasts and the teeth of chainswords but never would its luster fade.

Leucas Kypto, son of the Raven, Captain of the Forty-Ninth, the only reason any of them were alive. Leucas who had pulled Sul’in from the glassy soil of a nuclear crater, hauling the enormous Salamander free of the razor-edged debris. Leucas who had gutted Word Bearers and Night Lords alike, slaughtering through the madness of Urgall toward the scattered landers that remained. Leucas who had beaten sense into Ides, with shouted words and then fists, knocking his brother from rage into sensibility. Leucas who had hauled Mordecai, bodily, from the field as the Iron Hand raged, frothing for the heads of the bastards, the bastards who killed his father.

Leucas, who had gone back. Leucas, who, with a battered Thunderhawk ready to launch, with injured and dying brothers on board, with the galaxy guttering into insensibility and horror around him, had turned his back and dove into the crush once more. Because he saw another brother, saw another Raven with its wings clipped, struggling to safety. Leucas who had gripped his hand and pauldron, who had pressed his helm to Macito’s and shouted to be heard over the din of dying dreams. To come with him. To stand. To fight on. To live.

Leucas had ‘saved’ him.

Leucas who had kept their slowly growing, dysfunctional band together and alive through the months after the Massacre.

Leucas who had stood between Ides and Khord, bodily interposing between a man with nothing to lose and a man lost to the Nails and talked both down.

‘I can follow your meaning,’ Leucas says, crossing arms across his broad plastron. ‘The Alpha Legion strives to all be singular. If the order came from their Primarch, who would question it?’ The marine shakes his head, sighing long and deep. ‘This is the seeds from which all of this was sown. Secrecy. Blind obedience. Wheels within wheels and intrigue where there should only have been warriors.’

‘The rot of the Lodges,’ Aviko grinds out, and rare was it that he would speak at all of his Legion. Several heads nod at that. ‘The Lodges,’ spits Khord, the words like crumbling masonry. ‘We had none of that shit in the XIIth, but I saw it enough in others.’

‘The Lodges,’ whispers Poole. He holds out a hand, where a small metal disc glints. His low voice is monotone, bereft of any feeling or inflection. ‘Where all could be equal. Where anything could be said. ‘I can’t say’. ‘I can’t say.’ Would you betray your own brothers? ‘I can’t say.’’

‘How excellent, we all understand why our brothers betrayed us. Now their treachery is clear.’ Ides slams his bolter onto the rack and stands, pushing towards the door. ‘This conversation goes places I don’t care for.’

‘Ides.’ Leucas does not raise his voice, nor change his tone, but the Raven Guard stops short of the hatch.

‘Sit down.’ For a long moment, Conom remains with his hand outstretched, reaching for the release, before he slowly lowers it, and stomps back to the battered metal bench.

‘I’m sure Brother Macito had a point behind all this.’ Leucas raises an eyebrow, black like the short-cropped hair on his head.

‘I did.’ Macito sucks in a deep breath, holds it for a second, and releases it. All of it.

‘I am Alpharius.’

#horus heresy #kill team #warhammer 30k #killteam #shattered legions #bonesinger writes

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amandaoftherosemire · 7 years ago

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Sing For Me - Chapter Twenty-seven

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OFC (Sasha)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC Sasha, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Dr. Christine Palmer, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Clint Barton

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,377

Format: Series (Complete)

Warning: Angst, mentions of and flashbacks to torture, imprisonment, and murder.

Summary: Sasha checks in on Zoe and tells everyone her story at breakfast.

A/N: Not consistent with Marvel canon. This is my first foray into writing fanfiction. I’m open to and eager for any constructive criticism and feedback. Despite the warnings, most of this is fluff and happy with just a little angst. This is more of a transitional chapter. The next one will have more answers.

Banner by @hellzzzbelle

Sing For Me Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-six here

Chapter Twenty-seven

Leaning heavily on Bucky, his arm around her shoulders, Sasha shuffled into the med-bay in cushy, fuzzy slippers. With her hair bundled off her neck for the first time since her capture, she was almost feeling human. She'd gone for warm and comfortable in old yoga pants that had been washed a thousand times and a support tank since a bra pressed painfully on sore muscles and raw skin.

She'd topped it with a giant hoodie belonging to Bucky she'd found in her bed. It smelled like him and she couldn't resist. Her face dead serious and never breaking eye contact with him, she had pulled it on and zipped it up. When he laughed out loud at her, another tightly wound part of her relaxed. She thought three-thousand calories followed by ten hours of uninterrupted sleep in the deepest dark she could find and she might feel like Sasha again.

Before any of that could happen, however, she needed to find out what was going on with Zoe. Her eyes skimmed over Steve and Wanda to land on Zoe's still form. Shuffling forward out of Bucky's bracing arm, she rushed as much as she was able to the little girl's hospital bed. Despite the clean hospital gown and hooked up to monitors and an IV drip, Zoe didn't look ill. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling evenly.

Sasha took the little girl's hand and squeezed it gently, her heart hurting a little at how small and frail she looked in the big bed. “Why does she have an IV?” she asked, worried.

At the gentle touch to her arm, Sasha jolted around to look at Dr. Palmer. “It’s just saline,” the doctor said, smiling. “She was a little dehydrated.”

“Christine,” Sasha said, wrapping the woman in a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Christine laughed and hugged Sasha back. “Likewise,” she replied, pulling back to arm’s length to fix Sasha with a stern look. “And how are you feeling?”

Sasha dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine,” she answered, far more concerned with Zoe’s condition. “Do you know why she hasn’t woken up?”

“She’s not fine,” Bucky piped up, and continued despite Sasha’s scowl in his direction. “She needs you to look at her feet.”

Christine’s lips twitched as she spoke. “I don’t know why she’s still unconscious. It’s like regular sleep except we can’t wake her. I have options but since I don’t know what caused the unconsciousness, I’m hesitant to use them.” Christine glared at Sasha. “Now what about your feet?”

Sasha shot Bucky a withering stare and ignored the question. “I used my power to make her go to sleep, and it had some punch behind it. I didn’t want her to see what happened.”

Christine pursed her lips and considered. “Maybe she needs you to wake her up.”

Sasha sighed. “Too bad I’m tapped.”

Christine slid her arm around Sasha’s shoulders and started leading her away from Zoe’s bed. Sasha’s shuffling gait wasn’t lost on the doctor. “It’s not going to hurt her to sleep awhile longer. Why don’t you get some rest and try when you’re not so exhausted?”

Sasha chuckled lightly, “That obvious, huh?”

Christine squeezed her shoulders gently and replied, “Visible from space. Now let’s get you examined and treated.”

Sasha, knowing from previous experience that there was no point in arguing with Christine once she decided to take care of someone, huffed nonetheless. She decided if she had to be treated, she’d take a much-needed minute with Wanda. “Fine. But I want Wanda to come with me.”

With a grin, Sasha held out her bare hand to Wanda, who had been trying to remain unobtrusive, still a little afraid Sasha blamed her. The wide smile and outstretched hand put her fears to rest and she walked forward to close Sasha in a hug.

“You’ve been blaming yourself, haven’t you?” Sasha said as she returned Wanda’s hug. “Silly witch, you’re not omniscient.”

As they turned to walk toward a private room, Bucky stepped forward to follow. Sasha held up a hand. Honestly, she needed to fall apart and she didn’t want to put Bucky through that again so soon. “I don’t think so, Barnes,” she said, archly. “You’re pushy and a jerk, so you get to keep Steve company.” Without waiting for a response, she shuffled into the exam room and closed the door with a snap.

Bucky let out a shuddering sigh as soon as the door closed and began to blink back tears. “Jesus Christ, Stevie. Jesus Christ.”

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, his face falling. He had been wearing a smile at Sasha’s playful demeanor. He had been hoping it meant she had escaped relatively unscathed. “Buck, what is it?” he asked softly.

“He beat her, Steve. Repeatedly. She’s limping because he beat the arches of her feet with a cane.”

Steve was infuriated. He thought of Sasha as soft and sweet and the very idea that someone could deliberately hurt her left him angry and disappointed with the world in general. “They’re not going to get away with it.”

Bucky lifted wet eyes to Steve’s and something dark and dangerous passed between them, matching reckless grins spreading across their faces. Steve Rogers had an intrinsic disdain for bullies and an impulsive heart that led him into any number of unnecessary battles. When Bucky Barnes, who was supposed to be the level-headed one, went to war at Steve’s side, they were a force to be reckoned with. “No. They’re fucking not,” Bucky growled.

Trying to comfort, Steve went on. “And we got her back. That’s what really matters.”

Bucky turned away, his fists clenching in frustrated fury. “That’s just the start, though, Steve. I don’t know what all they did to her, but it was bad. She flinches at any unexpected touch. She’s afraid she’s hallucinating, and she mutters her own name under her breath like she’s trying to remind herself.”

Steve was heartbroken. He knew better than most what humans were capable of doing to each other, but he never stopped hoping for better. At times like this it felt like a curse. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he breathed, New York ripe in his voice.

Bucky snorted. Somehow, hearing Steve sound like he did back before he felt the weight of Captain America’s shield made Bucky feel better. “There’s the Brooklyn.”

“Aw!” Sasha’s voice had both men turning to look at her. Still standing in the doorway of the exam room, having come to a halt to cry out, she whined, “Steve went all Brooklyn-y and I missed it? Do it again, Steve!”

Bucky stepped forward to save Steve, whose face was starting to go pink. “Come on, doll,” he said. “Let’s get you fed.”

Before he finished the sentence she was moving forward, a little more easily than she had been. Seeing the evidence of anger and sadness on both his and Steve’s faces told her immediately that they had been discussing something to do with her.

When he reached her, she reached up to take his face between her palms. Needing to comfort, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed away from his cheek a tear he hadn’t noticed had fallen.

Laying her lips against his, she kissed him with a little hum. “It’s real,” she murmured, resting her cheek against his. “I’m home.”

Bucky slipped his arms gently around her to pull her close. She rested her head on his chest, tucking her head under his chin. Squeezing him tightly, she said softly, “I’d rather know you’re real, Bucky, even if it hurts.”

Bucky rubbed his cheek against her hair and answered, “I don’t want you to ever hurt.”

Sasha’s emotions rose up and choked her into silence. Resting her head against Bucky’s chest, his arms warm and protective around her, felt like heaven. Overwhelmed with love and relief, she had to clear her throat to respond. “Pain fades,” she rasped, and tilted her head back to smile sweetly up at him.

The sight of that sweet smile eased the worst of the storm inside him and helped him set aside dreams of vengeance for the time being. His hands instinctively moving in soothing circles over her back, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

Sasha glared at him playfully. “Better,” she replied drily. “Happy now?”

“Getting there.” With a nod and a “Thanks, doc,” to Christine, he moved to Sasha's side and let her brace herself on his arm.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Sasha said to the doctor. “Let me know if anything changes?”

Christine started pushing Sasha gently towards the door. “Of course. Now go. Eat. Sleep.”

With a small chuckle, Sasha let herself be led out. On their way to elevator, Bucky put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her gently against his side. “She’ll be okay,” he said, trying to reassure. “Hungry?”

As they stepped into the elevator, Sasha tipped her head back with a groan that shot straight to Bucky’s gut. “Oh god,” she moaned. “I’m having pornographic fantasies about food right now.”

Bucky stayed silent, that moan playing havoc with his libido. He found himself partly grateful for the presence of Steve and Wanda. He could feel that Sasha was still too shaky and vulnerable for the things that moan had him fantasizing about.

Wanda smirked. "You really are," she laughed. "I didn’t know you could make love to pot au chocolat while also consuming it."

Steve blushed rosy red and shook his head, smiling. "How? You know what, I don't want to know."

Sasha tipped her head back and laughed as the doors opened to the communal living area. "Now Stevie," she said as they exited the elevator, "when a woman and a pot au chocolat love each other very much…"

Steve rolled his eyes and walked ahead of them to the kitchen as Wanda and Bucky laughed. As Wanda followed, Bucky pulled Sasha to a stop. Turning her to face him, he gave her a flirtatious smile and growled, "Go on."

Shaky Sasha may have been, but she wasn't dead. Flirty Bucky was and would probably always be one of her greatest weaknesses. Exulting at the warm desire spreading through her veins, she celebrated the feel of normal, healthy lust. With a siren smile, she murmured, "You find me pot au chocolat and I’ll show you."

Bucky scooped Sasha up in his arms as she squeaked in surprise and humor and ran for the kitchen yelling, "Tony! Any pot au chocolat in this tower?"

Skidding to a halt in the kitchen, Sasha's eyes widened at the mammoth amount of food spread all over the island and counters. Breakfast foods and pie of nearly every type covered every surface and everyone was crammed together loading up plates while they waited for her.

Tony was shouting back as he turned, “No, but there’s French silk pie,” but he was almost drowned out by the cheer that erupted when they all saw Sasha grinning in Bucky's arms.

Bucky gave her a hopeful look and she answered it with a pitying glance and a shake of her head. "Not the same thing at all. Now put me down, you oaf," she said with a wiggle of her shoulders. "They're gonna think I'm delicate."

As he bent to set her feet carefully on the floor, he kissed her temple and murmured, "Not delicate, doll. Just precious."

"Excuse me!" Sasha raised her voice to be heard and everyone, for once, immediately quieted down. "First hug goes to whoever thought up breakfast foods and pie for my homecoming banquet."

Natasha sauntered forward with a smug half-smile on her face while Tony scoffed. "I paid for it," he snarked as Sasha wrapped her arms around Nat and rocked back and forth.

Nat would have pulled away, but Sasha held on. "He told me you were dead," she murmured, old grief and terror rising up to steal most of her voice. "After a while, it got hard to convince myself he was lying." Nat's eyes shot to Bucky's and in them she found the same cold rage she felt herself.

Sasha laughed when Tony moved into her line of sight holding something in a wrapper and grinning cheekily at her. Rolling her eyes, she let Nat go to enfold Tony in a warm hug. He hugged her back briefly before pulling away to push what he held into her hands. "What is this?" she asked as she started to unwrap it.

"An American cheeseburger."

Sasha knew the story. Hell, she'd seen the press conference where he ate the damn cheeseburger from her hospital bed after she'd tried to take her own life. She'd given him shit about the cheeseburger, but she'd never told him she had found his no-fucks-to-give attitude in the face of imprisonment, torture, and escape inspiring as fuck in that moment. She wouldn't tell him now, either, but she unwrapped the burger and took a bite. "Val should have known that a Tony Stark protégée would be a bite more than he could chew," she said, her mouth full.

Tony laughed. "I’ll drink to that," he said with a wink, lifting his coffee mug in a toast.

“You’ll drink to dryer lint.” Sasha swallowed the bite of cheeseburger and smirked. “So, that's Irish in that coffee then?” Lightning quick, she snatched the mug out of his hand and took a drink. ”Ugh,” she said with a grimace and handed it back. Espresso and something like a half cup of sugar, it tasted like jet fuel. “What is wrong with you?" she asked, sticking out her tongue and making gagging noises.

Sasha moved around the room, hugging everyone and making jokes. While she did so, Bucky was making her coffee while Natasha plated up the French toast she was sure Sasha would want. By the time she reached Steve, there was a place at the table ready for her.

Sasha exclaimed as she threw her arms around Steve's waist, "I haven’t hugged you yet!" Squeezing him as tight as she could, she growled with the exertion while Steve just laughed at her efforts. He closed his huge arms around her and hugged her back as gently as he could.

"Steve," she said, and leaning back to look up at his warm smile Sasha was struck by the sweetness of his face. She knew he didn't want to ask her. Just as she knew Steve would always do what he didn't want to when needed, no matter how much it hurt him. Unwilling to let Steve shoulder anything else, she took Steve's face between her palms and smiled. "French toast first. Then…" she paused and raised her eyes to the ceiling consideringly, "most of the story. Then coconut cream pie. Then the rest of the story."

Steve chuckled lightly and nodded. "Sounds good to me."

She shook Steve slightly and let go, turning to Bucky waiting at her arm to help her to the table. When she saw the plate of French toast waiting for her, she grinned at Nat, sitting across the table and delicately eating her own breakfast. Sasha sat and picked up the coffee. After the first sip of sweet hazelnut coffee goodness, she turned to Bucky with near literal hearts in her eyes. She fisted her hand in his shirt and tugged him down for a long, warm kiss.

Bucky was blushing when she let him go. Sasha had never been so affectionate in front of the others and he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

"If I fall into a food coma, will you carry me to bed?" she asked.

"Eat," he instructed. "And don’t ask me stupid questions." With a tender smile, he brushed his thumb over the scar on her cheek and turned to get his own breakfast. Sasha began to shovel in the French toast with a groan of pleasure at the taste of real food.

A short time later Sasha asked herself out loud as she polished off the last bite of French toast on her plate, "How to explain Valentin Morozov without giving you indigestion?" She felt slightly ill, having eaten five pieces of French toast in record time but real food had been too delicious. Val had ordered that she be put on a weird liquid-bread tasting meal replacement shake after the end of the third week.

Valentin was taunting her with Natasha's death as he lined up his strike. He was using a riding crop now and wanted to carefully place the thin scars that would result with the use of the balm developed by his scientists. Developed specifically for Morozov's sadistic needs to cause pain while assisting in healing, Sasha hated the damn stuff. A happy benefit for Morozov, as he fancied himself an artist, the assisted healing resulted in far more severe scarring than would normally take place.

"It really is too bad about Ms. Romanoff. Were you very close, Alexandra?" he asked before with a whish and a crack he brought the crop down in the middle of her back. As he circled her she shook her hair back and lifted her head. She'd been focusing on staying silent during these "lessons". Perhaps it was time to say fuck it.

"You better hope she is dead, Val. She's my bestie, you know." She smirked as she said this, her voice sassy and smug.

Valentin raised an eyebrow as he adjusted his angle, bringing the crop down with a whoosh only to tap her with it. It made her jolt every time, but she couldn't help herself. "I find it hard to believe the Black Widow has a 'bestie'," he replied, "but it is adorable to watch you threaten me from such a vulnerable position." With a crack, he struck her again.

Sasha hissed in a breath but controlled the scream. She went on like he hadn't hit her. "Um, I've painted her toenails. We're besties. Even if we weren't I've got all sorts of friends." She delivered this last with sly look. She knew Katie had reported her relationship with Bucky to him.

Valentin frowned at her conversational tone while he tested out his next strike. Swoosh, tap. Swoosh, tap. To tell the truth, he was a little concerned by the former Winter Soldier, but he reminded himself that ghost stories didn't frighten him anymore. Besides, his new sun would shine for only him. "By the time they find you, I'll have you nice and pliant, Alexandra. Then we'll see." Swoosh. Crack. Scream.

Sasha shook her head to dispel the memories. She wondered how long before they would fade a little. How much time would she need before they weren't breathing down her neck? More than a few hours, drama queen, she thought to herself. She looked up, a little embarrassed to be the center of attention in this way. She was uncomfortable being the focus of so many sympathetic eyes.

Maybe it was better that she was tapped out. She didn't know if she could continue if she could feel that sympathy, despite it coming from a place of understanding. None who sat there this morning was a stranger to trauma or pain.

Sasha put on a brave smile, and sat back, placing a casual arm over the back of her chair. Her tone nonchalant, she started, "Well, I got this…" tapping the scar on her left cheek "…my first day there." She shrugged her shoulders and laughed, darkly. "What can I say? I'm an asshole."

She went on from there, starting with Karen. She hadn't ever found out exactly how Katie's power worked as they could never talk without being monitored, but she wanted to make sure that everyone understood that Katie had been more than she appeared, that no one was to blame. She needed to make it clear that she had known from the start that Katie had used that power against them.

Sasha explained that over the course of her captivity, she had discovered that Valentin had been planning this off and on for years. He had purchased the vibranium from Klaue before the Ultron mess. After hearing about the death of his mistress' cousin's boy during a home invasion, he found himself fascinated by the girl who had survived the assault relatively unscathed. His research into her had led him to believe that he could use vibranium to harness her power to create a mass weapon.

Morozov had been about to make his move when Sasha had gone to work for Tony Stark, forcing him to change his plans. He had to find a way to lure her in rather than snatching her from her apartment as he had intended, and he had to find a place to hold her that would prevent her from being found quickly. Hence, the bunker made from an old mine under the compound in the mountains of Washington State.

She spoke briefly, and dismissively, of the beatings, torture, and brainwashing techniques used against her to make her compliant with Morozov's will but refused to linger on it. No one considered asking for more detail. Sasha chose not to speak of those things with the group at large, her emotions too unstable to deal with it when she knew she was going to have to talk about Sergei.

Her voice low, she started to tell them about the night she first found out about Valentin's weapon and her place in it. When she got to the part when they tortured a young Hydra boy to experiment with how her emotions moved through the machine, tears spilled down her face. Bucky, moved his hand from its place on her knee to slide his arms around her shoulders and pull her close.

Sasha sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, grateful to lean on his strength when hers was so sapped. "When I wouldn't give in, wouldn't beg him to make it stop, he had Trevor the Walking Bag of Shit kill him to punish me. And with that, I need coconut cream pie.”

“Come on!” Clint’s shout made them all jump. “You can’t stop there!”

Sasha laughed, releasing the tension and letting everyone else laugh along. "I'm sorry, Clint!" she cried. "But pie!" She looked up when Steve cleared her breakfast plate and replaced it with a piece of coconut cream pie. "If I wasn't stupid over your best friend here, I'd fight for you, Steve."

Under her breath, Natasha murmured with a half-smile, "You'd lose." Sasha shot her a laughing smile and winked. She couldn't wait to get Nat alone to grill her about Steve.

As she ate her pie, she started to tell them about Zoe, how she'd found her in her cell that night and decided then and there that getting Zoe out was her primary goal. Once she was done with her pie, she continued to eat, stuffing herself full of eggs and bacon before moving on to a slice of cherry pie. Just as she was getting to the events of the previous evening, Bucky was sliding a piece of key lime pie in front of Sasha with an impressed look on his face.

At this, Sam asked disbelieving, "How are you still eating?"

Sasha chuckled as she speared a piece of pie with her fork. "God, I don't know. I'm about to burst."

"Then stop!" Bucky said as he started to pull the pie away again, yanking his hand back with a yelp when Sasha stabbed him with her fork.

"Paws fucking off, asshole," she said, circling her plate with her arm and scarfing down the rest of the pie while she glared daggers at Bucky who shook his hand and laughed. Polishing off the last bite, she pushed her chair back with a groan at her overfull stomach. Despite this, she looked longingly at the custard pie close to her.

"No!" Bucky exclaimed, correctly reading the considering look on her face. "You're gonna make yourself sick."

"Worth it," she muttered petulantly.

"Go on with your story, Crazy Girl," Tony spoke up.

With a pouty twist to her lips, she went on. Here was the sticking point, to be honest. "I don't know exactly what happened," she said, frowning. "I just know that when I woke up from taking a fucking ham to the face, I looked down and saw Zoe strapped to that bed, my palms on her face. I fucking lost it."

When she stopped, everyone waited silently, expecting her to continue but in her mind she was lost again to the dragon, bathed in wildfire, and staring into Valentin's sightless eyes.

"Sasha?" Steve said her name gently, recognizing the look on her face. He'd seen that look many times before and knew she was reliving part of her own personal hell. When her eyes lifted to his, he smiled kindly at her. "I think we can figure out the rest. You can give us details later."

Sasha gave him a grateful smile. She honestly hadn't been sure she would be able to go on. Between the rawness of her own emotions, the carb heavy meal she just gorged on, and sheer unrelenting exhaustion, she may have shattered had she tried.

"I'm sorry, doll," Bucky said, cuddling her close. "One more question and I'll carry you to bed, okay?"

Sasha snuggled in, her eyes already trying to close. She held them open with an effort. "Deal."

"Where are they?" Bucky asked. "Val, Trevor, Katya?"

Sasha let her eyes fall closed. She didn't want to respond, wanted to just fade away into sleep where hopefully exhaustion would keep any nightmares at bay. She made herself answer. Not only was she unwilling to let Val have even that much power over her, Bucky needed to know.

"Val and Trevor are dead," she stated, her voice cold and remote. "I let Katya go. She was a victim, too." With that, she let herself tumble into sleep, secure in the certainty that Bucky would take care of her. She was safe. It was real. She was home.

Chapter Twenty-eight here

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eddycurrents · 7 years ago

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For the week of 9 October 2017

My favourites this week are both endings; Rocket #6 by Al Ewing and Adam Gorham and The Woods #36 by James Tynion IV and Michael Dialynas. Published by Marvel and BOOM! Studios.

Since at least the “Grounded” relaunch/expansion of the Guardians of the Galaxy franchise titles, Marvel has been producing some extremely high quality, well-written, beautifully-illustrated series that I always feel cheated out of when they’re “cancelled” instead of rightfully referred to as limited series. Particularly those of these last two groupings including Star-Lord, Gamora, I Am Groot, and the two excellent Rocket Raccoon series, first Matthew Rosenberg and Jorge Coelho’s Rocket Raccoon, and now this, Al Ewing and Adam Gorham’s Rocket, which I’d wager could possibly be the best Rocket Raccoon series since Bill Mantlo and Mike Mignola’s series back in 1985 (which this series references and draws from).

Al Ewing crafted an interesting story with "The Blue River Score”, layering it in the genre trappings of a hard-boiled caper, including the typical hard-hitting narration of a Raymond Chandler or Richard Stark novel, a femme fatale in Otta Spice, and an impossible heist, and then mixing it with colourful “obscurish” Marvel characters like the members of Technet and setting it across the backdrop of the more zany corners of Marvel’s cosmos.

Rocket #6 even brings it back around to the original Rocket Raccoon mini-series and Rocket’s old continuity, behaviour, and such with the correlation a lot of people were probably wondering about regarding Otta and Rocket’s otter-love, Lylla, being revealed here as one and the same. Not only does it add Ewing’s penchant for mining the depths of continuity for story payoffs and inspiration, but it also makes the story resonate a bit more with emotional impact.

Adam Gorham’s artwork is wonderful. He excels at drawing strange and wonderful creatures, but also has an added roughness, a scratchiness to his linework that perfectly fits the hard-boiled narrative. His overall design sense, from page layout to panel transitions also make this fun to read. There appears to be extensive thought that’s going into how the story is being told, from both Ewing and Gorham, and it results in an immensely enjoyable comic.

Particularly, I think more comics, not just crime comics like Rocket here or much of Ed Brubaker’s work, could do with a “prose gutter”. I highly recommend this to people who love off-beat crime comics.

The Woods #36 is the conclusion to a series that has dabbled in horror, fantasy, and sci-fi, but at its heart has always been a coming of age tale centred around the kids who had their whole world upended by being stolen away to a strange and dangerous realm on the other side of the universe. The ending is suitably epic as the former children show that they’ve truly grown and matured as they fight to find their way home.

Michael Dialynas has been delivering some incredible art since the series began, but these last few issues have been truly breathtaking. The double-page spreads this issue alone, juxtaposing two different types of battle going on are a treat, showing an ability to make both the quiet character moments and the high action compelling and interesting visually.

The story James Tynion IV has been telling is largely one about growth and change, of transformation through adversity, and occasionally needing to fail. The finale throws the biggest roadblocks and gives the opportunity to show how far the characters have come since that first issue, even antagonists like Adrian get a chance to shine.

This issue also shows how seamlessly Dialynas and Tynion have grown as collaborators. The scene between Isaac and Ben works well both in dialogue and in art, giving a huge emotional impact both in how it appears and in the heartfelt conversation.

Overall, this has been a great series and this is a very satisfying conclusion.

Quick Bits:

Atomahawk #0 collects the shorts that ran previously in Heavy Metal. While a new series is being published in Image+, this is a good time to pick up what came earlier in one place. Aside from just a balls to wall story from Donny Cates, Ian Bederman’s art remains phenomenal. His style reminds me a lot of Peter Kuper and the way that he constructs his characters, action, and page layouts are just fantastic. Highly recommend this special and the serial in Image+.

| Published by Image

Babyteeth #5 gives us one of those game-changing reveals that Donny Cates should be known for producing now based on at the very least Redneck and God Country. Sadie’s world just got a whole lot bigger and a whole lot stranger as she starts getting clued in to what’s going on with her and her baby.

| Published by AfterShock

Birthright #27 reminds me that I probably don’t talk about the colourists enough. Take, for instance, Adriano Lucas’ work here. Andrei Bressan’s linework would still look good, but it’s Lucas’ colours that really elevate the story and put us in a more magical reality with a shift here from standard “realistic” colours to the brighter, softer, and more colourful world inside a more fantastical realm. It just shows the impact that the colourist has on the overall tone and atmosphere of the book.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Daredevil #27 continues the twisting arc of DD’s mentoring of Blindspot since the beginning of this volume. Charles Soule gives us a more thorough backstory for Blindspot and reveals what has happened since the “Dark Art” story-arc. It’s pretty...um...dark.

| Published by Marvel

The Dying & The Dead #6 is still the most beautiful, possibly inscrutable, hidden history comic being published.

| Published by Image

The Family Trade #1 is something different. And pretty fantastic. The premise and setting of the Float, a kind of extension of some of the politics of the Italian city-states during the time of the Renaissance, is brilliant, serving as a perfect backdrop to the populist political allegory that Justin Jordan and Nikki Reed are presenting here. The characters, and the idea of a family of assassins meant to keep society in check is also compelling, particularly the lead, (Jessa Wynn, who I’m fairly sure isn’t even named in the first issue, I grabbed it from the solicitation info), in her somewhat bumbling way.

Morgan Beem’s art also adds greatly to the overall feel and tone of this world. She has an art style that looks highly influenced by European artists, with a soft watercolour palette atop, achieving a very distinctive look for the comic.

Oh, and there’s “talking” cats. Every book should have talking cats. Every one.

| Published by Image

GI Joe #9 concludes this volume from Aubrey Sitterson and Giannis Milonogiannis. The end features some really nice action in the art from Milonogiannis. It’s nice to also get another series up to speed finally for the First Strike crossover, even though the GI Joe: First Strike comic that also comes after this series is already out. ROM looks like it’s the only hold out still before I can finally start reading that. The other highlight of this issue being the revelation of the new Cobra Commander.

| Published by IDW

God Complex: Dogma #1 is an impressive looking comic. The artwork from Hendry Prasetya is slick and layered in thick solid blacks, highly suitable to the futuristic mystery presented in the story, which is then elevated by the colours and sheen that Jessica Kholinne adds on top. Visually, it perfectly evokes that kind of Blade Runner feel.

The story is also pretty interesting, Paul Jenkins hooks us fairly well with the murder and mystery of the Church of Trinity. The mix of a mysterious, possibly fictitious “one god” and the real, tangible deities of Delphi’s Rulers is something we’ve seen variations on before, but it’s still a compelling examination of faith vs. direct knowledge. The world, based on Glitch’s toy line, is fairly broad. The lead, Seneca, serves as a bridge between the two aspects and Jenkins delivers a little twist on the narrative partway through that has you reexamine the narration itself, making you go back and re-read the comic in that different light.

| Published by Image / Top Cow - Glitch

Grass Kings #8 focuses on Pike and his backstory, giving depth to the Grass Kingdom’s man of few words. In addition to his history, it also serves as a broadening of the mystery of the potential serial killer among the people, showing the other perspective of the conversation from last issue regarding Ms. Handel’s “suicide”, making us question even more.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Harbinger Renegade #8 finally gives us the reunion of Kris and her parents, a plotline dating back right to the first story-arc. As has been the case for much of this series, it’s not exactly pleasant. It is, however, still satisfying and probably one of the happier moments in the series, even if bittersweet. The push towards Harbinger Wars 2 is also more apparent, with a drive for a Renegade army and training becoming more imperative. Animalia is also one scary little kid.

| Published by Valiant

Harrow County #26 is heartbreaking, even if you’ve grown to hate the character who dies this issue, it’s still heartbreaking. Kammi’s assault on Emmy’s life, friends, and whole world grows this issue, even with the devastating blow in the beginning of the issue, and it raises the question as to how far Kammi is going to take it, how much more loss the series is going to deliver, and what it might drive Emmy to do. Cullen Bunn and Tyler Crook are firing on all cylinders with this arc.

| Published by Dark Horse

Hulk #11 is another dramatic shift in tone, suddenly reintroducing Jen’s ability to break the fourth wall, hitting for a story that is more humorous in tone, and in some cases being silly, as the last issue before the Marvel Legacy “relaunch” back to She-Hulk and legacy issue number. Personally, I’m not sure I like it. It’s by no means bad, but it’s still a dramatic departure from the more serious “Deconstructed” arc and continuing with the more ridiculous aspects of the last arc with the food vloggers. It works for what it’s going for, recapturing some of the humour that previous incarnations of She-Hulk have presented, I just find it a bit of a jarring change.

| Published by Marvel

Jimmy’s Bastards #4 finally clues in the leads as to what we’ve known since the announcement of the series. This issue also hammers home that I think the wider joke of Garth Ennis’ black humour and piss-take of current identity politics is missing the mark.

| Published by AfterShock

Mech Cadet Yu #3 is still every bit as fun and heartfelt as the previous two issues, this remains an incredible all ages story with giant robots and invading bugs. Greg Pak has created a character in Stanford Yu that you just can’t help but smile at his stumbles and achievements, so incredibly likeable that you want to read more as soon as the issue’s finished. Takeshi Miyazawa also gets to reveal the Sharg this issue, setting up what looks like a battle between the cadets and the monsters for next issue.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Noble #5 is my first issue of this series and I feel in a similar position to ostensibly the POV character, Astrid Allen, a little in the dark. Brandon Thomas uses an unreliable narrator in Lorena Payan explaining to Astrid what has been going on with her husband, the titular Noble, and the changes that have turned him into a superhero and it’s fairly compelling. Certainly enough that I decided to pre-order the Noble: God Shots book out later this month collecting the first four issues. I wonder how this issue’s reality and the previous issues will align. The artwork from Jamal Igle is a high point. The action scenes of Noble trying to save a commercial airliner are particularly well done.

I also have to say that how they’re numbering these books is also interesting. They’ve got a main issue number for the overall series, but they’ve also got a volume and issue number for story-arc/trade as this is Volume 2, Number 1. It makes story delineations fairly easy to see where breaks and potential jumping-on points occur.

| Published by Lion Forge / Catalyst Prime

Optimus Prime #11 begins the “Primeless” arc, acting as a kind of non-branded tie-in to the First Strike event, covering what’s happening to the Cybertronians on Earth cut-off from Cybertron and left in the dark. I haven’t begun reading the First Strike crossover yet, as I’m still waiting for the last issue of ROM to land to be up to speed, but it doesn’t feel as though I’m missing anything here having not read it yet. In fact, in some ways, it puts me in a similar position to the characters in the book as I don’t know what’s happening either. In any event, John Barber does a good job of ratcheting up the tension between the different factions on Earth and amongst the rest of the Council of Worlds. I also need to reiterate that there really should be at the very least a Thundercracker mini-series.

| Published by IDW

Redlands #3 shifts point of view to Laurent, a bounty hunter without a license, gator man, and apparent lover of Bridget of the coven, who was introduced as a prisoner in the first issue. I really like how Jordie Bellaire is telling this story, in somewhat non-linear waves that keep rippling outward introducing new characters and interactions while still advancing the overall plot. The epistolary backmatter of clippings of gator man sightings and how to field dress a deer are also interesting touches. It adds a nice depth to the world.

And as since the first issue Vanessa Del Rey’s artwork is incredible. Dark, moody, and at turns erotic. This book is pretty much as sensual as it is horrific and bloody, and I think that’s a very welcome choice from Bellaire and Del Rey for this story.

| Published by Image

Retcon #2 is still...something. Between the first two issues, we’ve got some kind of government conspiracy involving black ops superhuman/magic-user teams. That seems pretty straight-forward and is fairly interesting. The problem is that the interviews and backmatter with the creators imply that they’re doing something else with the series and that just doesn’t come through in the narrative. So, if you’re looking for something that kind of taps the same vein as Doom Patrol meets Automatic Kafka, this is up your alley.

| Published by Image

Royal City #6 kicks off a new arc set in 1993, delving into the teenage years of the Pike children, back when Tommy was still alive. Jeff Lemire’s story gets more layers to it as it shows the personalities of the children in their genesis, and starts easily putting together some of the pieces as to what we’re going to see happen in the first arc, including Richie’s girlfriend, Tara’s relationship with Steve, their mother’s affair, and maybe what happened to Tommy. Lemire is great at weird, and great at small town family dynamics, and this series puts them all together in a beautiful illusory package.

| Published by Image

Sheena: Queen of the Jungle #2 adds some more depth to the story and more mysteries as Sheena chances upon the guy who’s been watching with drones and the two of them stumble upon unknown ancient temples in the jungle. Marguerite Bennett and Christina Trujillo are still treading common ground, but it’s still entertaining and they’ve managed to make Sheena a fairly interesting character in her own right, and, with Moritat’s art, great to look at.

| Published by Dynamite

Star Wars: Doctor Aphra #13 concludes the “Enormous Profit” arc and with it Kieron Gillen & Kev Walker’s run on the title. Gillen will apparently be back to co-write the next issue before fully transitioning to the main Star Wars title and I’m not sure what Walker is doing next. Suitably this issue features some nice action, some duplicitous intrigue, and the trademark sardonic humour. What the murderbots, Triple-Zero and BeeTee-One, have up their sleeves after being unshackled of morality earlier in this arc is a frightening prospect.

| Published by Marvel

Wormwood - Gentleman Corpse: Mr. Wormwood Goes to Washington #1 brings back Ben Templesmith’s comedy horror opus to tackle corruption in politics and it’s a very welcome return. It’s ridiculous, it’s over the top, and it’s actually scary that the bigoted plutocrat scrambling for more power in politics is now a believable reality and not just a caricature.

| Published by IDW

Other Highlights: All-New Wolverine #25, Alters #7, Amazing Spider-Man #789, Amazing Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows #12, Baking with Kafka, Black Science #32, Defenders #6, Despicable Deadpool #287, Eternal Empire #5, Falcon #1, First Strike #5, Inhumans: Once & Future Kings #3, Lazaretto #2, Runaways #2, Sacred Creatures #4, Scales & Scoundrels #2, Slam!: The Next Jam #2, Star Trek: Boldly Go #12, The Unbelievable Gwenpool #21, Uncanny Avengers #27, The Wicked & The Divine #32, X-Men Blue #13

Recommended Collections: Animosity - Volume Two, Black Cloud - Volume One: No Exit, Coady & The Creepies, Harrow County - Volume Six: Hedge Magic, Ladycastle, Low - Volume Four: Outer Aspects of Inner Attitudes, Secret Warriors - Volume One: Secret Empire, Seven to Eternity - Volume Two, Star Wars: Screaming Citadel, TMNT Universe - Volume Two: New Strangeness

d. emerson eddy can both walk and chew gum. If he tries really hard, sometimes he can even achieve both at the same time. But only sometimes.

#This Week in Comics #Rocket 6 #Al Ewing #Adam Gorham #The Woods 36 #James Tynion IV #Michael Dialynas

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pengychan · 8 years ago

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Te Rerenga Wairua - Ch. 9

Title: Te Rerenga Wairua Summary: Found by the gods drifting at sea, Maui always assumed he had been thrown in it to drown. When that assumption is challenged, there is only one way to find closure: speaking to his long-departed family. But it’s never a smooth sail to the Underworld, and he’ll need help from a friend - plus a token that fell in the claws of an old enemy long ago. Characters: Maui, Moana, Tamatoa Rating: K Prologue and links to all chapters up so far here.

For several days after he found himself a friend and a leg short, Tamatoa wouldn't leave his cave.

First off, he saw no point in leaving when dragging himself back in had been so difficult to begin with. Secondly, he could ignore the fact he was missing a leg as long as he didn’t try walking. And third, he just plainly didn’t want to leave it. The fact alone he was still alive - wounded, but alive - was a relief and a source of anger at the same time.

From this moment on, every breath you take is a gift from me.

He slept little, and what sleep he got was far from resting: he would awaken with a start each time, expecting to see Maui swinging his hook down on him, a sharp pain in his phantom limb. He’d eaten said limb, of course, because he needed food while he recovered and hey, his gran hadn’t raised him to be wasteful - but soon enough, hunger reared its head again. And yet he didn’t leave the cave: he burrowed himself deeper into the hole in the rock he slept into and kept himself busy looking at every little piece of treasure he had collected, over and over again.

It was a lot of treasure and it was so shiny, it actually made him feel better. So what if Maui had chosen the humans over him? He was an idiot, that was his loss, and he’d make him pay one day.

Tamatoa shut his eyes, and thought of Maui’s retreating back - of how the last thing he’d seen before blacking out was the newly forming tattoo behind his shoulder, showing their battle. Yet another of his heroic feats, on display for all to see. How many people would he show that tattoo? How much would he brag over defeating and maiming him, like so many before him?

Of course that doesn’t apply to you. You’re my buddy.

So I’m not the exception anymore, am I?

You’re not worth the worst of them, you bottom-feed–

The memory cut deeper than he should have allowed it to, and Tamatoa’s eyes snapped open, only to be met with his own reflection on a slab of gold. He stared down at it, blinking a couple of times, then he breathed out and went back to examining each piece of his collection. Once again, doing so soothed him. Maui could keep his stupid tattoos and tell what he liked to those stupid humans to keep their stupid love - so what? He had something better right there. He could do without a friend, he could do without a leg: his treasure was still there, every last bit of it. And really, it was about time he began showing it off. What was the point in keeping treasure if no one else knew of it, and envied him for it?

I’m never going to hide again.

Starting to stick his collection on his shell, piece by piece, was more of an impulse than a conscious decision. But it got him to stand up for the first time in days and, focused as he was on what he was doing, he barely even noticed the absence of his front left leg. He barely noticed he was hungry. He didn’t care what Maui had called him - he didn’t care because he was wrong, because he was worth all the humans in existence and more, because no bottom-feeder would look that dazzling, would it?

And he did look dazzling all right: once he walked out of the cave to take a good look at himself in the sunlight, he found he couldn’t bring himself to look away. With everything shiny he had ever collected on his shell, covering up most of it, he had turned himself in what was nothing short of a work of art. Why in the world hadn’t he thought of it before?

Tamatoa laughed in sheer delight, spinning a couple of times just to watch himself sparkle so brightly it almost blinded him. He looked amazing - so, so much better than Maui with his stupid ink stains. If he could see him now–

What if he comes back to take the treasure?

The thought alone was enough to kill the moment, the laugh turning into ashes in his mouth. Deep down, he knew that it was unlikely, that Maui would not return unless he was given a reason to - but the truth was that he didn’t want to stay on that island. Home stops feeling like home pretty quickly when someone maims you in it.

Tamatoa scowled, then turned towards the horizon. There were plenty of places where he could go, of course. Plenty more islands he could make his own. But why should he bother wandering aimlessly when his destination was so obvious to him now? There was only one place where he should go, the one his grandma would never shut up about, where he should have been along and where they were supposed to return one day.

But she had died without seeing it again, killed by an underwater volcanic eruption before they could return to Lalotai - or even before she could tell him the way so he could make it there on his own. He had shrugged it off, in the end, and remained on the island he knew: Lalotai had been just a name and some tales until Maui had shown him the way to reach it.

And now that he could no longer bear to stay where he was, once again thanks to Maui, it only made sense for him to return. He had one path to walk, and one path only, from there to Lalotai. Tamatoa turned to give one last look at the island where he’d grown up before leaving it for good, heading back to the home of his ancestors.

The realm of monsters.

***

“So. What do you think? Do I make a convincing monster?”

“Mmh. Remember when you walked into my lair dressed up like a shiny… thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is worse. No one with half a brain is going to be fooled for a second.”

“Hey, that disguise did fool you for a few moments!”

“That’s why I said this one is worse, babe.”

With a sigh, Moana wiped some mud off her cheek and looked down at herself. All right, so mud, sticks, leaves and coconut shells didn’t really make a great disguise, but it wasn’t like she had much else to work with. Maui had made it clear she couldn’t just walk in looking like a human; Moana wished he’d mentioned that earlier, when she was still with her people and she could get her hands on something more convincing. “Fine, maybe it’s not so good.”

“It really sucks.”

“Noted, thanks.”

“It does make you look even uglier than usual, but doesn’t go all the way to monster-ugly.”

“I said noted. Any suggestions to make it better?” she asked. Tamatoa frowned, tapping his chin with a pincer and glancing up at her. The wound on the back of his neck had closed up for the most part, and he seemed able to move without discomfort again. Moana would have marveled again at the speed of his recovery if she wasn’t too busy being annoyed.

“I’d be inclined to say ‘be shiny’, but I guess you’re referring to the disguise and not general life advice. How about–”

“How about a mask?”

Both Moana and Tamatoa turned to see Maui holding up something that looked absolutely nothing like a mask. It was only a crude square of tree bark, with three holes for, Moana assumed, her eyes and mouth. Moana blinked.

“That’s not a mask. That’s… I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a mask.”

“No worries, we’re gonna make it work. It will just need a few finishing touches. Like antlers, more mud, a cloak, and Crabcake.”

Moana blinked and turned to glance at Tamatoa, who in turn was glancing at her, confusion plain on his face. They both turned to Maui.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What do I have to do with her disguise?”

Maui grinned, holding up both the makeshift mask and a cloak made out of dead leaves. “You’ll be part of it - that will make her a lot more convincing, and hide you at the same time. Two birds with one stone and all that. Moana, pick him up and get him on your back.”

“What?”

“Hey, hey. Who’s the shapeshifter here? The master of disguise? Is it either of you? Didn’t think so,” Maui said with a grin when both Moana and Tamatoa looked away. “C’mon, we don’t have all day. Just pick him up.”

Tamatoa wasn’t much bigger than Pua at the moment, but he was definitely heavier and a whole lot whinier. “Careful there! My neck still hurts,” he grumbled when Moana hoisted him on her back. He immediately clung to her torso with all legs, pincers over her shoulders. His eyestalks peered from behind her neck. “What do you even do with so much hair?”

“No talking, Crabby. You’re part of the disguise,” Maui reminded him, and went to throw the cloak over Moana’s shoulders. “Okay, now let me handle this…”

It took a while and it wasn’t very pleasant, with the weight on her back, mud drying on her skin and the bark mask making her face itch, but it was worth it: when Maui stepped aside to let her take a look at her reflection on a slab of gold they had found on the Kakamora’s ship, she could almost believe she was looking at a monster.

The piece of wood she refused to call a mask was very clearly not a face, but Maui said that plenty of monsters and such hid their features, so no one would question it, and the polished branches on it did look a lot like actual antlers. The cloak on her hid Tamatoa from sight, but his presence made it look like she had a severely misshapen back, with kinda helped. The drying mud could be mistaken for scaly, flaking skin as long as one didn’t look too closely, and Tamatoa’s limbs clinging to her torso looked like grotesque, exposed ribs. Also, it looked a lot like she had crab pincers coming out of the sides of her neck.

“This is… actually pretty good,” she admitted, and saw Tamatoa’s eye peering at the reflection from over her shoulder.

“Well, good to know. You got me all muddy, so at least it should be worth it.”

Moana frowned, gaze turning towards the horizon, where she could make out the shape of the rock formation around the Vault - the remains of a once-active volcano. “… Wait. Isn’t the water going to wash off the mud?“

“Not that water, it isn’t. It isn’t even really water - just the illusion of it to keep the entrance hidden,” Maui said, and handed Moana a folded piece of cloth with some of the Kakamora’s treasure in it. “Here you go. This is what you’ll pretend to be there to trade. Also, watch your back. Someone might decide to cut your throat and take it all.”

Oh. Great. “… How often does that happen in the Vault?”

“Pretty often,” Tamatoa supplied helpfully.

“Often enough to be considered a form of transaction,” Maui admitted. “A ‘your money and your life’ sort of deal.”

“Sometimes it’s worse than others, though. Like the mess with that Talamaur.”

“A what?”

“Some really ugly guy who tore someone’s chest open to eat the heart while it was still beating. To consume the soul or something? Anyway, he made a complete mess of it and he also took the guy’s stuff. Talk about greedy.”

The mask prevented from Maui to notice Moana had gone a little green in the face, but he seemed to guess it anyway, because he immediately spoke up. “Yeah, it can get a bit messy. And I mean, you don’t have to come. If you’d rather wait–”

“No, no,” Moana said quickly, holding the bag with the gold a bit tighter. She wasn’t going to just sit and wait; she’d told him she’d help, and that was precisely what she would do. And, to be totally honest, she wasn’t too sure letting those two go anywhere together and unsupervised was such a good idea. “I’m good. I’m coming in with you.”

Maui nodded. “Well, all right. Some of the stuff you see may not be pretty but hey, no worries - I’ll be watching over you.”

“I feel so safe,” Tamatoa said drily.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Maui said lightly, and grabbed his hook. “Okay. Time to get going. Ready for the flight?”

“No.”

“NO.”

As it turned out, Tamatoa was even less enthusiastic about flying than she was. It did make Moana feel a bit better, despite the fact his grip on her torso tightened enough to almost make her fear he’d crack a rib or two.

“I’m never letting him do this again,” Tamatoa said, his voice a couple of octaves higher than usual, as soon as Maui put Moana down on the rocky ground before the entrance to the Vault. Moana staggered a bit, head still spinning, but at least she didn’t feel like she was close to fainting. It was a step forward, she supposed.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Maui muttered. “Chee-hoo!”

His hawk form vanished, replaced by something smaller - a crow. He perched himself on Moana’s shoulder. “And here’s my disguise. We’re ready to–” There was the clack of a pincer closing, and a yelp, before Maui abruptly took off, flapping his wings. A few black tail feathers fell on the sand. “Ow! Really, Crabby?”

“Couldn’t resist,” Tamatoa said. Moana couldn’t see his grin, but she could definitely hear it in his voice. She held back a chuckle - best not to encourage him - and turned her attention back on Maui.

“Can’t you turn into something smaller? You’re heavy,” she pointed out. Her shoulders still kind of hurt from the moment she’d been tugged upwards by one arm while holding onto Maui’s dead weight with the other, but she could carry a bag of gold, and she could carry a crab the size of a piglet on her back - but a large bird on her shoulder as well was kind of pushing it.

Maui rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Humans,” he muttered. “Chee-hoo!”

The crow vanished, replaced by a much smaller, yellow bird. “There. Happy now?”

Moana raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t not being recognized the point of a disguise?”

“Sure it is.”

“And you turn into a Maui ‘alauahio of all birds?” she asked. Maui shrugged, at much as a bird in flight can.

“So what? No one will recognize me at all. I just like to slip in a bit of subtle irony.”

“Subtle,” Tamatoa muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. Maui ignored him and went to rest on one of her fake antlers, well out of Tamatoa’s reach.

“There. And I’m super light, too. Are we ready to go now?”

Moana wasn’t entirely sure she could consider herself ready, especially with such a nebulous idea of what the Vault was really like, but it wasn’t like she could step back. They had wasted enough time as it was, she thought, and walked up to the pool of still water hiding the entrance to whatever lay below.

“Ready,” she said, and stepped into the Vault.

***

Maui had missed plenty of things in the thousand years he had spent alone on that island.

He had missed company, for one, the attention he got from humans or just plainly the chance to talk with somebody else who could talk back to him; speaking to Mini Maui got really old really fast, as he was unable to word any real reply. It had been a frustrating, lonely millennium.

He had also missed his fishhook, of course, and the power it gave him; he had missed all of the forms he’d been able to take, and all that it entailed. He had missed soaring through the skies and diving into the depths of the ocean, changing from one skin to the other as easily as most would breathe. He had missed the power that came with being, well. Maui. Trickster, shapeshifter, demigod of wind and sea; powerless and trapped, he’d felt like none of those things for a long time.

He had missed all of it and more; and, until he returned into the Vault that day, he hadn’t realized he had missed that place, too.

What had been the ancient volcano’s main chamber was swarming with activity, monsters and, most importantly, treasure. Treasure piled in heaps, with beings of all shapes and sizes guarding their share, and others going back and forth to trade, or to just plainly try stealing something valuable. Somewhere on their right a rather dumb-looking Hotua Poro tried to do just that, with the result of being caught and torn to pieces by a boar-headed demon.

Maui found it kind of funny, but Moana hadn’t noticed and he decided not to draw her attention to it. “All right, here we are,” he said instead. They were standing on top of a small rocky formation overseeing the main crater. “Use your monster voice, don’t look at anyone in the eye, and just pretend you’re interested in looking. Crabby, you keep your eyes peeled for anything you recognize and most of all, keep those pincers off the merchandise. If they catch you stealing anything, you and Moana may be dead before you can say ‘shiny’ one last time.”

Tamatoa huffed. “Remember that you said–”

“I know what I said. You’ll have treasure. I just need you to see if you can find the hairpin anywhere first. Once I have it, or if it’s not here, we’ll wreak havoc and take what you want.”

“So you’ll restore me to full size?”

“Yep. Well, Moana will, right before she gets out of the way.”

“Hey, I can–”

“I know exactly what you can do,” Maui cut her off. “Not gonna forget that anytime soon. But Tamatoa and I will be enough to win this one. No need to get yourself in the middle of it,” he added, and let his gaze wander on the entrance of one of the small tunnels that opened up on the sides of the long-extinguished crater. There weren’t many places to hide in the Vault, but those would work just fine for Moana to keep out of a fight. “All right, let’s get going. Remember, you’re a monster. Act like one.”

To her credit, she was convincing enough: when she wobbled among the monsters moving throughout the cave - hey, was that a Hantu Penyardin? He didn’t think there were any left - none of them acknowledged her aside from passing glances to the cloth she was holding, filled with golden trinkets from the Kakamora’s treasure that Tamatoa had decided he could do without. So far, so good: none of them had realized she was human, at least judging from the fact no one had decided to tear her apart.

And none of them realized it later, as Moana walked around undisturbed to carefully look at the treasures and trinkets - or rather, to let Tamatoa take a good look from behind her shoulder, while pretending to be especially interested in hairpins. At one point she bumped into a rather mean-looking being that looked much like a human, but with gills and what was clearly a shark’s dorsal fin; she mumbled an apology and, thankfully, the guy wasn’t up for trouble.

“See anything you recognize?” she asked under her breath, keeping an eye out for the monster that particular pile belonged to - a slimy, slug-like thing. Tamatoa’s eyes scanned the display and, once again, he let out a disappointed huff. “Nope, nothing of mine here. Not that I’d mind taking some either way…”

“Later,” Maui muttered, his voice just as low. “C’mon, let’s get looking–” he began, only to trail off when something caused the feathers on his back to stand on end. He whipped his head around, something in his mind telling him that he was being watched, but he could see nothing unusual behind them: only a bunch of demons, monsters and other misfits going on with their business, trading valuables or stealing them with each other, every interaction underlined by snorts, shouts, curses and growls. Tensions were growing, but there hadn’t been an actual fight just yet; Maui suspected it was only a matter of time before one broke out, with or without their contribution.

“… Maui? Did you just fall quiet? Should we get worried, babe?”

Tamatoa’s voice reached him as though from a mile away. He shook his head and glanced down. “I really hope I didn’t just hear you call me ‘babe’.”

“Pffft, you wish.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Don’t get your hopes up, I was asking the human.”

“Is something wrong?” Moana asked, moving away from the display they’d been looking at.

“I don’t think so. Just a hunch. Let’s search the rest of this place quickly and–”

He never got to finish the sentence, because a moment later something grabbed Moana’s wrist and yanked, dragging her - and, by extension, him and Tamatoa - through the opening of the tunnel they were talking past. Moana let out a yelp that sounded absolutely nothing like the monster voice she was supposed to use. “Hey! What–”

“All right, I’ll bite. What are you doing here, you semi-godly pain in the tail?”

Maui felt Moana wince beneath him before she whirled around to see who had talked. Maui turned with her, still perched on the fake antlers, but he may as well not have: he knew that gruff and yet weirdly melodic voice, and he knew exactly who had spoken before he even saw the humanoid-bird shape towering over them. Partly human-looking, mostly bird, with formidable talons and a long beak, Matuku Tangotango hadn’t changed one bit.

“I… I think you have the wrong guy,” Moana said, in the husky voice she’d practiced, and the being before them rolled his eyes, his long brown-feathered neck bobbing for a moment.

“Oh no, I don’t. Wasn’t talking to you, human. Maui, last time I checked you knew better than involving mortals in your… whatever the crap you do is. Also, wasn’t your bird form a bit bigger than that? Not overcompensating anymo–”

“Hah! See? It wasn’t subtle at all. Good job there, master of disguise!”

Matuku trailed off and blinked down at Moana again, or so it looked like. Then he spoke again, and it became clear it wasn’t her he was staring at: he was looking at the pincers seemingly coming out of her neck, at the exposed ribs that were not ribs at all and, of course, at the eyes peering at him from behind Moana’s neck.

“Huh. My memory is not as great as it used to be - bird brain and all that - but I am rather sure you were a faaaair bit larger than this last time, Tama. What happened to you, bud?”

Tamatoa rolled his eyes. “What do you think happened to me? Take a wild guess.”

“Maui?”

“You got it.”

“Go figure. Making a habit out of getting folks in trouble, huh?”

Fine, fine, that was enough. “Really? A thousand-something years since last time we met and the first thing you do is dissing me?” Maui protested.

Matuku opened his beak to let out a cackling sound. “What was that? Sorry, can’t hear you over the sound of you messing with the Goddess of Creation and getting darkness to spread through the world. Not that I complained, old pal, but some were less than happy about how that particular trick turned out. You could have at least have tried to do something sooner instead of taking a thousand years long vacation.”

“That’s… not exactly how it happened.”

“Yes, he also got his butt kicked first,” Tamatoa piped in. “Struck out of the sky. Lost his hook, lost his powers, and was ridiculously weak without them. Get your facts right, man.”

Maui gave what would have been a scoff in his human form, but only sounded like especially angry peeping in his current one. “Thanks. One can always count on you for some help.”

“Anytime.”

“… Huh. Excuse me?” Moana called out, waving a hand. “Can someone fill me in? Anyone?”

Before Maui could say anything, Matuku gave an exaggerated bow that almost resulted with his beak getting stuck in the ground after narrowly missing Moana’s arm. “Right, right. Sorry for grabbing your arm like that. Name’s Matuku Tangotango, Poukai extraordinaire, but not in the habit of eating humans because I really wouldn’t be in such friendly terms with Maui here if that were the case.”

“Yeah, you’d probably be a leg short,” Tamatoa muttered sourly, but no one really listened to him. The mask on Moana’s face hid her features, but when she spoke Maui could easily picture her raising an eyebrow.

“I have questions about your definition of ‘friendly terms’.”

“Haha! No worries, mortal, it’s always been like this. A bit of joking around, the occasional battle of wits I win without fail, and no harm done. More to the point, I have questions about your presence here, huh… I’d say ‘mortal’ again, but it would be a repetition and I assume you have a first name. Does your kind still do first names?”

“Moana.”

“Charmed. Absolutely charmed. I’m sure you look lovely under that mask. And the mud. And the crab,” Matuku said, and looked back at Maui. “So. What is she doing here?”

Maui shrugged. “Helping me out on a small quest.”

A sigh, and feathered arms crossed over a feathered chest. “I’m afraid I need to ask you what this quest of yours entails.”

“Why? Wanna join in?”

“Nah, I’m good. Getting old for this crap. It’s just that, you know, the last quest of yours any of us heard about kinda resulted in darkness spreading through the world. If we’re gonna have to run for cover again, it would be great to know it now, so I can get a head start.”

Maui grinned, as much as you can grin with a beak. He had no idea how Matuku could be that expressive all the time. “Oh, but there’s also the other quest you didn’t hear about - me stopping the darkness!”

“I thought the human did,” Tamatoa pointed out.

“… Well, yes. But I helped.”

“You can’t have been that useful. When you left my lair you couldn’t even control your shapeshifting powers.”

“Hey, you weren’t there, okay? How would you know–”

“Oh! Wanna know how I almost ate him? The human had to save him, or else he’d be–”

“We’re trying to recover some treasure,” Moana spoke up, cutting him off, and Maui couldn’t help but feeling a pang of gratitude. “Some monsters stole it from Tamatoa while he was, uh… incapacitated?”

“That’s a way to put it,” Tamatoa said sourly.

“Right. So, we figured some of his treasure may have made its way here.”

Matuku blinked, clearly taken aback, and glanced at Tamatoa’s eyestalks poking out from behind Moana’s shoulders. “First you get shrunk, and then you lose your treasure?”

“It was the other way around, but yeah.”

“This is not your best week, is it?”

“And it was Maui’s fault both times!”

Maui rolled his eyes. “Look, shrinking you was actually useful, okay? We’re looking for your treasure right now and don’t even get me started on how you tried to eat me,” he muttered, then looked back at Matuku. “We have recovered some from the Kakamora - hope you weren’t waiting for them to join you here, by the way, ‘cause I don’t think that’s going to happen - and we figured this would be the best place to start looking.”

“And looking for treasure is all you’re doing, right?”

Maui did is best to look absolutely innocent. “Of course!”

“You’re not going to mess with some other scarily powerful goddess, are you?” Matuku said, and tilted his head on one side. Maui forced himself to keep up the innocent act.

“Why would you think a such thing?”

“Tell me you’re not, Maui. I need to hear those words and to hear them now.”

“… Would a musical number do instead?”

Matuku groaned, reaching to rub the sides of his head. “Oh gods, I knew it,” he muttered. “Who are you going to piss off this time around, Maui? I know it can’t be worse than Te Fiti, but–” he began, only to trail off when Maui’s grin widened. He blinked, then let his arms-wings fall limply by his sides. “… It’s not worse than that, is it?”

“Naaaah,” Maui replied. It was the most unconvincing denial he’d ever uttered.

“… Maui, in Tagaloa’s name, who is it you’re going to piss off?”

From over Moana’s shoulders, Tamatoa’s eyestalks turned up in puzzlement. “Wait a moment, what are you two even talking about? Maui just needs a hairpin. Isn’t that right? Human? Isn’t that what he wants?”

Moana shifted uneasily. “Well. That would be Step One.”

“And what’s Step Two?”

“Seeing his family.”

“… Weren’t they mortals? I’m not the expert Maui is on you humans, but wouldn’t that mean they’d be sorta dead after five thousand years? Maui, what do you need that hairpin for anyway? Wasn’t it some kind of sappy sentimental thing? Am I missing something here?”

All right, now that was getting kind of awkward and wasting time they did not have to waste in the first place, Maui decided. After taking a quick look around to make sure no one was there to see him, he leaped off Moana’s fake antlers and landed on the floor in his usual form. “If you don’t mind, my old pal and I are going to have a quick chat,” Maui said, grasping Matuku’s arm-wing and leading him down the tunnel. “I’ll be right back. How about you take one last look around meanwhile? Just don’t draw attention and you’ll be fine,” he called out over his shoulder, and disappeared with Matuku behind a bend without realizing that his suggestion had one huge, fundamental flaw.

Regardless the size, it was absolutely impossible for Tamatoa to go anywhere at all and not draw attention on himself.

***

“Okay, but what does he need the hairpin for?”

Moana bit her lower lip, not quite knowing what to reply. It was something so personal for Maui, she wasn’t sure it was her place to tell anybody else. “… I think it would be best to ask him after we’re out of here,” she finally said, moving past a monster with a lot more limbs than anybody should reasonably need.

“But he won’t tell me!”

“You can try asking nicely.”

“Oh, sure. Ask me to impale myself on a spike as well, won’t you?” Tamatoa said dramatically, and Moana couldn’t hold back a chuckle. She was rather thankful of the fact a lot of the… beings in there made odd noises and muttered to no one in particular: it kept her from standing out by seemingly talking to herself.

“Let’s keep looking. If you see the hairpin, just let me know and we’ll go get Maui, all right?”

“Sure, sure. Let’s get on with– hey, wait a moment. That stuff looks familiar! Get closer - there, the guy with the dumb mask…”

The moment Moana turned to see exactly who Tamatoa was pointing at, she knew he was right - if anything because the thing, something resembling a blot of darkness of vaguely humanoid shape with its features hidden behind a distinctive mask, was familiar to her as well. It was one of the beings she had met in Lalotai the first time she’d been there, the one that had crept up almost close enough to grab her before being shot up through the air by a geyser. The realization was accompanied by a mixture of dread and excitement, because at least that meant they might be on the right track.

“All right, I’ll get closer so you can take a good look–”

“HEY! YOU! THIEF!”

“No, wait–” Moana tried to call out, but it was too late: the next moment Tamatoa had launched himself off her back to fall on the floor, in plain sight. Which, of course, resulted in absolutely everybody around them to pause and turn to look at them.

“Human! Turn me back my usual size!”

Moana’s eyes shifted from monster to monster. They all were staring at them, surprise quickly giving way to something else, and absolutely none of them looked friendly. Tamatoa seemed to realize as much, and spoke again with a note of urgency in his voice. “What are you waiting for? Turn me back!”

“I… I don’t know how,” Moana admitted, her mouth dry.

“… What?”

“Maui never told me how to do it!”

Tamatoa turned to glance at her, blinking, claw still held up. She shrugged helplessly, and he turned back to the beings around them, eyes shifting from the bared teeth and claws to the weapons some of them were starting to pull out. The monster he had screamed at, the twisted thing with the mask, tilted its head aside and lifted a clawed hand.

Tamatoa lowered his pincer. “Ah,” he said.

Moana sighed, and reached to take a golden spear from a heap of treasures with her right hand while letting go of her bag to free the left one, where she still wore the bracelet. She figured that she could ward off a few of them by shrinking them and then beating the crap out of them, but they were too many for her to defeat entirely without help.

“I think this is the part where we start screaming for Maui to come quickly,” Moana said, holding up the spear and taking a step back. Tamatoa immediately scrambled to hide behind her leg.

“… Yeah,” he croaked. “Let’s do that.”

***

“Hine-nui-te-pō? That’s who you’re going to mess with next? Seriously?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe. If you can stop yelling–”

“First you mess with the goddess of life, and now with the goddess of death? What are you trying to do, collect the full set?”

“Look, I wouldn’t do it if it would be avoided, but the only way to–”

“Hine-nui-te-pō, Maui! Remember what happened last time you tried to get past her?”

Maui shuffled his feet. “… You had promised to never speak of it again.”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of the worst idea you ever had.”

“Nope. Taking the Heart of Te Fiti was worse. If this goes wrong, I’ll be the only one to take the fall,” Maui said, his voice low. “No one else will be any worse off. I’ll make sure of it.”

Matuku sighed, crossing his arms. “Is that supposed to make me feel any better? I’d begun thinking you were dead, you idiot. Now you pop up again and tell me you’ll risk your hide again with a suicidal mission?”

“Hey now, who says it’s suicidal?”

“Getting into the realm of the dead does sound pretty suicidal to me.”

“At least we know I’ll be right where I want to be no matter what happens, huh?”

There was a noise halfway between a chortle and a groan. “May Tagaloa help us all,” Matuku muttered. “You know what, fine. Have it your way.”

Maui shrugged. “That’s only going to happen if we find my mother’s hairpin in the first place, or else a trip to the Underworld would be entirely useless. We haven’t had much luck so far.”

“And you were hoping to find it here?”

“I couldn’t think of many other places where I’d go if I were a Lalotai monster in a hurry to trade stolen treasure,” Maui pointed out. “Have you got any more ideas?”

Matuku frowned,tapping his beak. “Actually, now that you mention it, there have been a some Lalotai folks around here in the past few days,” he said slowly, causing Maui to blink.

“What, really?”

“Yes. And they did seem in a hurry to trade. Most if not all have already left, but I’m pretty sure I saw then trading with a bunch of Taniwha - sheesh, I loathe those guys - and some… huh. I can’t remember what you call ‘em, the ugly pale guys who hate the sun?”

“Ponaturi?” Maui suggested. There was no love lost between him and those goblins, and that had a lot to do with the fact sunlight was fatal to them. They hadn’t taken it kindly to Maui and Tamatoa slowing down the sun to make the day last longer, not one bit, and now it sounded like it was time to rekindle the old animosity.

Unaware of his thoughts, Matuku nodded. “Yes, those! They and the Taniwha took plenty of the treasure the Lalotai creeps brought in before leaving, let me think… two days ago?”

If not for the Kakamora, we wouldn’t have missed them.

Maui made an effort to ignore the thought and nodded, throwing the hook over his shoulder. “That’s not going to be a problem. I know where to find them,” he said, thinking quickly. Leaving from the Vault, and if the weather stayed good, they’d reach Manawa-Tane in a couple of days at most; that meant they’d pay a visit to the Ponaturi first, and then, if they didn’t have the hairpin, they’d head south for the Taniwha’s hiding place. “If we don’t find the hairpin here, I know where to look next. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one. Wanna join in?”

Matuku made a face. “No, thanks. I’ll pass. Seeing what happened last time was enough. Just… if you need to find a route past Hine-nui-te-pō, try looking for one that’s less toothed than last time, why don’t you?” he added, causing Maui to sigh.

“Heard you loud and clear,” he muttered. “I’ll figure something out when I–” he began, only to trail off when something suddenly drowned out his voice: a piercing shriek, immediately followed by roars and shouts, and the unmistakable sounds of a fight. “What the…?”

“You weren’t really expecting good old Tama not to draw attention on himself, were you?” Matuku asked, deadpanned. On Maui’s chest, Mini Maui and Mini Moana slapped a hand on their faces almost simultaneously. Maui sighed.

“… Come to think of it, not really,” he admitted. “Well, got to save their skins. Been good to catch up. Let’s do this again sometime!” he called out over his shoulder as he charged back to the main chamber, the fishhook held tightly in his hand, ready for the fight.

Into the tunnel, Matuku gave a long-suffering sigh. “May the gods help you,” he muttered, his voice entirely lost as the sounds of the fight turned into those of a full-fledged battle.

***

“I left you alone five minutes! Literally - AAAGH! - five minutes!”

“It wasn’t me! It was the human!”

“I don’t believe it for a second!”

“Maui! I need you to tell me–”

“But it’s her fault! She doesn’t even know how to turn me back!”

“That’s because - not today, buddy! - I didn’t tell her!”

“Yes, well, if you could - iti haere! - tell me now–”

“I had told you not to try stealing anything!”

“I didn’t! Human, tell him!”

“Well, did he?”

“No, he didn’t– look out!”

“Hey, good shot! Hadn’t seen that one!”

“Thanks! I mean– look, just tell me how to turn him back his usual size!”

“Should we? We’re doing so well on our own…”

“Maui!”

“Fine, fine. Just say– YOU SON OF A–”

“Seriously, man?”

“Wasn’t talking to you! I just saved your shell here, can you try being a little more grateful–”

“MAUI!”

“Fine, fine! Just say ‘whakatipu’!”

“Human! Human, do it now!”

“Whakatipu!”

There was a loud, ear-splitting roar that seemed to shake the world, drowning out all the sounds of the battle - or at least it would have if the battle hadn’t entirely stopped, every single being frozen still as they looked up at the huge, snorting boar-headed monstrosity that had suddenly appeared in their midst. It stared down at them with bloodshot eyes, and within seconds everyone had scattered away, dropping all weapons and treasure, leaving only Maui, Moana and Tamatoa to stand before the giant.

“I should have specified,” Maui said lightly, throwing the hook over his shoulder. “You were supposed to point at the crab when you said it , Miss Master Wayfinder.”

“I was! This guy just jumped in the way and–”

“HUMAN!”

Tamatoa’s terrified shriek came one moment before the being roared and lifted the huge club he was holding, ready to bring it down on them, and its roar drowned out Moana’s next cry.

“Wakatipu!”

Looking back, it would have made a lot more sense to shrink the enemy back to his normal size, but to be honest Moana had sort of panicked; facing a giant monster about to turn you into a wet stain on the ground can do that. But it worked just as well: when the club came down with terrible force it never hit the intended target, because something grabbed it in mid-air: an equally huge and wonderfully familiar claw. Tamatoa grinned at the giant, his pincer clenching into the wooden club, and turned one eyestalk to glance down at them.

“Hey, Maui,” he called out. “You joining in, or are you going to miss out the fun?”

Maui laughed. “Like you need asking!” he said, and lifted his hook. “Take cover and watch this, Moana! Chee-hoo!”

For a moment - only a moment - Moana considered pointing out that there was no need to battle it while it was that huge, that she could easily turn it back to normal. But truth be told, after listening to their tales, she was a bit curious to see for herself what those two were capable of when fighting together. So she did as Maui had said and moved out of the way to watch the fight.

Still, she kept herself ready to use her bracelet if things took a wrong turn. Just in case.

***

[Back to Chapter 8]

[On to Chapter 10]

#moana waialiki #maui #tamatoa #moana #oceania

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joeybelle · 8 years ago

Text

Starlight - Chapter 11

Relationship: Cassian Andor / Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Slow Burn, Foul Language, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

“Captain, you have a concussion,” Cora announced, putting the scanner down. The diagnosis came as no surprise since there was a rather visible bump on his head. Paired with a broken nose and a busted lip, he looked like he had tried to fight a rancor barehanded and lost. “I assume I’m not supposed to ask what happened, since your missions are super secret,” she said, a decent dose of sarcasm mixed in.

“Mhm,” he mumbled, glaring at the droid who had dragged him to the consultation room.

Cora smiled. In the weeks that followed the rescue mission on Marques III, she spent quite some time studying the stubborn captain. It wasn’t a completely conscious endeavour, but seeing how her Butterfly Syndrome did not miraculously get cured overnight, she often found herself looking for him in the crowd. During this time she noticed that:

1. He had no problem coming to the infirmary with minor injuries like broken fingers, cuts needing stitches, blaster burns and anything that could be treated with a couple of pills and/or bacta patches, but avoided it like the plague if there was even a hint that he would have to be admitted. As a seemingly active person, it was easy to understand why he hated being confined in a small room smelling of disinfectants, but Cora assumed he was mature enough to realize that it’s for his own good. Apparently, he wasn’t. On more than one occasion K2 had to drag him to the med bay, almost kicking and screaming and the only time he spent a whole day in the recovery ward was when he was either unconscious or sedated.

And:

2. He didn’t seem to have any friends, besides K-2SO. Not like he didn’t interact with people, on the contrary, he seemed to know everyone on base, but it was always very professional and work-related. No playful banter, no stopping to listen to a joke, no group of friends eating lunch together. He seemed to be either alone or followed by the droid, constantly in a hurry. The only one who seemed to really care about the captain was Doctor Crane. He’d put aside a stack of bacta patches whenever the supplies came in and asked Cora to give them to Cassian when she saw him because “we both know he needs a few extra ones”. He’d stop and examine him from afar whenever he passed the med bay and more than once did he drag him inside because he noticed a limp or a fresh bruise on his face. It wasn’t something unusual, since Doctor Crane was determined to take care of everyone, but he seemed to have a soft spot for Cassian.

“Buttstroke,” the droid explained moving his metallic head to look at Cora, seeing that Cassian had no intention to clarify the situation.

“Which I narrowly avoided…”

“...only to hit a wall, head first,” he finished, earning another glare from Cassian.

Cora couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. They had this old married couple vibe and she could easily see that they cared a lot for each other, without being sentimental. It was a bond created by mutual trust and shared experiences, that didn’t seem to be that easy to break.

“Regardless, it’s a concussion,” Cora broke the battle of wills that had started between the two. “I’ll have to keep you under observation for at least 24 hours.” She knew he was expecting it, but still saw his jaw tensing when she uttered the words.

“I’m fine,” he argued. “It’s nothing, it’s just… I’m fine. K2’s overreacting as always.”

“I am not! Do you know what the chances are to…”

“I know! But I’m fine. Nothing’s going to happen.”

She could see the desperation with which he tried to escape and she felt sorry for him. She wished she didn’t have to force him to do something he hated, but she was more scared of what could happen if she didn’t.

“You know, Captain,” she tried reasoning with him, “the symptoms may not manifest right away and they may hit you when you least expect it. I can’t let you just wander around the base doing God knows what knowing that you may suddenly lose consciousness.”

“I’m not going to black out. I didn’t hit my head that hard.” He was trying to convince her to let him off the hook, but Cora wasn’t so easily persuaded, even if the scanner didn’t show anything alarming. “Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve hit my head, it’s not a big deal.”

“They add up, you know,” she said, cupping his cheek with one hand, trying to make him hold still while she was applying a bacta patch on his newly rearranged nasal bones. “All those past injuries, they add up. With each one, you’re becoming more prone to severe head trauma.” Even though she was wearing gloves she could still feel the warmth of his skin in her palm and it made her heart race.

“They’re not that many,” he lied, and it was such a blatant lie that Cora had to take a step back, prop her hands on her hips and stare at him.

“Do you want me to pull out your file?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t look her in the eye, knowing she was right, but instead he was eyeing the door and Cora had to wonder if he had the courage to just run away forcing her to run after him and drag him back. She grabbed his chin before he could think about it any longer and tilted his head up, studying his busted lip. It took all her self-restraint not to let herself get distracted by the curve of his lips and stay focused on the small cut. He had beautiful lips, somewhat hidden by the ever present stubble, and she loved the way they arched when he smiled. The cut! The cut was shallow and he didn’t need any stitching, but she smeared it in bacta and put a patch on it anyway, so it wouldn’t rip further as he moved. She applied some bacta gel on other cuts and bruises on his face, asking herself if it wasn’t easier to just break his legs and shove him whole in a bacta tank for a few days. Probably.

“I’ll come back here the second I notice something wrong,” he said, his voice close to a whisper as Cora was applying the final patch to the swollen area on his head. “I promise.”

With that, he stopped arguing, but she could see in his eyes that he was still pleading for her to let him go. His face was so close to hers that she could just lean a little and press her lips to his. She wondered if he’d say no. If she cornered him in an empty hallway one day and ask him if he’d be willing. No strings attached, of course. No one had time for that. Just a little fun, cramped in a small corner, rushed touches and awkward embraces. She’d done it before, romance was a luxury in the imperial army and she assumed it was the same here too. He’d get a little action and she… She wasn’t really sure this was a very good idea.

She wondered if he knew the effect he had on her. Did he know how weak she was when he looked at her like that or was he just hoping she’ll have pity? She sighed and put the tube of bacta on the tray.

“Did he faint?” she asked the droid.

“No, he did not,” came the monotone reply.

“You trust him more than you trust me?”

“Captain, your job is to lie, I think you see why it’s safer not to trust you.” He laughed. “I’ll make a deal with you, even though past experience tells me this is a very bad idea.” His smile was growing and Cora cursed herself for being so weak. “I’m letting you go, but on one condition: you will stay in bed today. In your own bed, not a hospital bed, but still in bed. Lie down, head on the pillow, rest, you know the drill. You,” she pointed at the droid, “will check up on him every hour. You can take a med droid with you if you need to check his vitals. If his condition changes even a little, he’s coming back into the med bay ASAP. You heard that, Captain?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he said, hopping off the consultation table.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” she said, before he had the chance to disappear. “As a doctor, I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can see how uncomfortable you are, so I’m just going to have it your way this time. But just this time. And if I see you out of bed today, trust me when I say that I will drag you and nail you to a hospital bed until you’re fully healed. If something were to happen…”

He took a few rushed steps towards her, until he was only a few centimeters away. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m fine, I promise. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He looked sincere, but Cora knew he could very well be lying. She knew the odds of something bad happening were slim, but she couldn’t help but imagine the worst. The idea that he might get sick and she won’t be able to come to his aid in time was killing her. But she had decided to trust him this time so she pursed her lips and gestured towards the door.

“Thank you.” Cassian smiled before turning around and leaving the med bay, looking a lot happier than when he came in.

“Keep an eye on him,” she told the droid, before he too was out of sight.

She sighed and sat down at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. The med bay was silent with just the med droids keeping themselves busy, but she knew it wouldn’t stay like that for long. Moments of peace, like this one, were becoming fewer and fewer as days passed. And she was right, when she got another break, it was way past lunch time and her stomach was protesting loudly.

She decided to go to the cafeteria and grab a sandwich or something that she could quickly eat in her office, but Aidan dropped by and made her change her mind. He had half an hour left until he started his shift downstairs and he convinced her to join him for a late lunch. Doctor Crane assured her that he could handle the med bay on his own while she ate a proper meal so she gave in. There was no point in arguing with him since he had already threatened to put her on a diet if she continued to only eat skimpy meals. She just hoped they had something left in the cafeteria.

Aidan was a really nice company and Cora was grateful he sought her out whenever Lewella wasn’t around so she didn’t fall into the habit of isolating herself. She was never one to have too many friends, even though she wasn’t antisocial either. She just tended to get buried so deep into her work that not many people were willing to stick by her side. But he hadn’t yet given up on her.

As far as she knew, he came from Coruscant, but what exactly had made him join the Rebellion he never told her, and Cora didn’t want to pry. Everyone had their reasons after all, and she wasn’t that willing to share hers either. He was a civilian doctor and from what he told her he still wasn’t accustomed to the idea of being at war. They often made fun of the fact that he was probably worse than her at target practice.

The mess hall was surprisingly busy for that hour, meaning the people had been coming in waves. The kitchen staff looked exhausted, so Cora smiled apologetically and filled her tray with whatever was left. Aidan had already found an empty table and she took a seat next to him.

“Awfully crowded today,” she said, digging in. After all this time and she still found the food a little bland.

“Two squadrons came back earlier today. I guess, like us, they don’t really care for lunch hours.”

“Is Lew back too?”

“No, not yet.”

Cora was busy shovelling food in her mouth, but Aidan was more focused on telling her a funny story that one of the pilots had told him a few days ago than eating. While Cora had almost finished her meal he hadn’t even started, which was a bit odd because she knew he had a pretty big appetite.

“When is your next day off?” he asked out of the blue, taking Cora by surprise.

“Tomorrow,” she answered, forcing herself to swallow a particularly nasty vegetable.

“Mine too,” he said, nervously playing with his food. “Maybe we could, you know, go some place. I could show you around the base, the jungle is really nice if you don’t venture in too much.”

“Sorry, can’t leave the base,” she apologized, hoping that the conversation wasn’t going in the direction she was thinking.

“What?”

“Still a prisoner,” she explained, lifting her sleeve, revealing one of the bracelets. “Can’t leave the perimeter.”

“But you went on a mission off world,” he said, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I got special permission for that.” Remembering the mission still filled her with conflicting feelings.

“Well, then…” He scratched his head and Cora assumed that this wasn’t really going according to plan. “Then we could do something else. I don’t know what else yet, but I think we could make it feel like a date… If you wanted...”

Cora’s heart sunk. This was exactly where she hoped the conversation wouldn’t be going. If she could, she’d just pause the conversation and disappear before he said another word, but unfortunately she had to deal with it like an adult.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, pushing the tray away from her, suddenly having lost her appetite. “It’s just that…” She had no idea how to let him down gently. It was the first time she had been asked out, to something more than just casual sex, so she didn’t really know how to handle it. She wished she had noticed it sooner, but she could be clueless sometimes. Heavens, she wished Lewella was here to help her out.

“It’s ok, it’s cool, you don’t have to say more, I get it,” he babbled, when he saw that she was looking down and not saying anything.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, no other words coming to her mind.

“Just tell me one thing,” he said, his voice trembling a little. “Is there anyone else?”

“No,” she said, looking at her hands. Cassian’s face flashed through her mind, but she ignored it. There was no one else. Then why was she saying no? He was handsome, and smart, and gentle and everything a woman could ever want, so why was she saying no? Because there were no butterflies, she realized. She never considered herself to be a romantic or even sentimental. She’d only fallen in love with someone during med school, but he never noticed her, and eventually she fell out of love. After that, she was way too busy to let her feelings distract her. So then, why was she saying no? She could be with someone who would at least like her, if not love her, who would treat her right, who she had many things in common with. Saying yes would be the logical thing to do. And like they always told her in boarding school: “You’ll learn to fall in love with your mind, not with your heart. A heart is weak.”

But it didn’t feel right. She had no idea what her future held, not that much probably, but she wanted to live as freely as she could. And that also meant free of regrets. In the end she would regret going out with someone she had no feelings for. If he would have only wanted a rushed sexcapade with no strings attached, she would have probably said yes, after all it was just sex, but she knew he wasn’t the type. So it would be better for both of them to just move on.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, when the silence between them got a little too heavy.

“No, no… I’m sorry. I just thought…” He was idly playing with the food on his tray, not eating. “I hope this won’t make it too awkward between us,” he smiled, embarrassed.

Cora could feel her cheeks burning. “Nothing’s changed, Aidan, don’t worry about that.” She heard him sigh in relief, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty as hell.

She finally convinced herself to stop staring at the remaining food in her tray and lifted her eyes only to see Cassian sitting alone, a few tables over. She felt the colour drain from her face and her hands get cold almost instantly. How long had he been sitting there? He was too far away to be able to listen to what they were talking about and he had no reason to listen in anyway. He was looking to the side, seeming lost in thought and Cora was sure he didn’t even notice her.

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” she asked out loud, realizing that he was injured and was supposed to be in bed.

“Who?” Aidan asked, looking around, trying to find the source of her sudden outburst of indignation. “Andor? Eating, like the rest of us, I guess?”

“He’s supposed to be in bed, not walking around.”

“What, you’ve admitted him and he ran away? Hate to break it to you, but that’s what normally happens. He only listens to Doctor Crane, occasionally.” He looked at her and seemed a bit alarmed by the growing frown that was forming on her face. “Just leave him be. He only does what he wants anyway. No reason to get that riled up because of it. Accept that that’s the way he is and he’ll be less of an annoyance.”

But Cora didn’t want to hear it. The rollercoaster of emotions was now going fast towards rage. “I am morally obliged to break his legs and shove him whole into bacta,” she said, getting up and grabbing her tray.

“Really, Cora?”

“He’s pissing all over my medical expertise. He’s gonna regret it.”

“You know this would be funny if you weren’t looking a little scary right now…”

“I’m counting on that. See you later,” she said, hurrying to get rid of her tray before the captain would disappear from her sight. However, when she turned around, he was gone. It took her a few seconds to spot him in the crowd that was leaving the mess hall so she had to almost run after him to catch up.

“Captain!” she called for him, when she got close enough. He pretended not to hear her so Cora grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. That made him turn around and glare at her for a brief second, but didn’t make him stop.

“You were supposed to be in bed,” she lectured him, still not letting go of his coat.

“I was hungry,” he said monotonously, not looking at her.

“You could have asked someone to bring you something to eat. This isn’t what we agreed on this morning.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care? You don’t care?” That was the last straw and Cora’s composure flew out of the window. “I understand you don’t give a shit about me or my medical advice, or the promise you made, but you could at least care about yourself. I’m not trying to do this because it gives me a gold star, for fuck’s sake. I’m doing this because I don’t want your recklessness to get you killed!”

He stopped dead in his tracks and Cora almost collided with his shoulder. “As you can see, I’m not dying,” he barked at her. “I’m fine. I’ll recover on my own. Your job here is done,” he said and brushed her hand off his jacket before he started walking again.

But no, Cora wasn’t going to give up just like that. Aidan was right, she should just accept the fact that this is who he was and there was nothing she could do to change him, but she was annoyed and embarrassed by the whole date thing and maybe she found this as an outlet to vent. Not ‘maybe’, she certainly used this as a mean to release all all her pent up emotions, but she wasn’t thinking rationally anymore.

“Cassian, stop acting like an idiot!” She almost had to run to keep up with him and before the noticed, they were in an empty corridor in an unfamiliar part of the base. “For once in your life do what I tell you and stop being a stubborn prick.”

Before she could yell anything else he turned around, grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to a metal door behind her. Cora instinctively brought her hands up to her chest in a defensive gesture, but even though his grasp was firm it wasn’t hurting her in any way.

“Will you just shut the fuck up!” he hissed, his face centimeters away from hers, so close that she could feel his breath. It was probably the first time she’d heard him cursing and definitely the first time it was directed at her. It hurt a little.

“Make me,” she hissed back, knowing full well that this was in no way a good idea, but she was too angry.

He looked away, laughing in disbelief. When he faced her again, he wasn’t looking her in the eye. He tilted his head a little and pressed his lips to hers. Cora froze for a moment, taken completely by surprise, but it didn’t take long for her to relax and kiss back. After all, it was what she wanted to do for a long time. Her anger melted into thin air.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but it wasn’t rough either. It was heavy with determination and unspoken attraction, a lingering taste of bacta still on his lips. They were moving a little out of sync, as if each of them were selfishly trying to make the most of it. Cora’s hands had somehow made their way under his jacket and were now resting on his chest, feeling his heart beating just as fast as hers. His grip on her shoulders loosened, his hands slowly slipping down her arms.

In the heat of the moment, with her brain not being able to process anything else besides the feeling of his lips pressed on hers, she didn’t notice one of his hands leaving her arm and pressing the access code. The door she was leaning on opened, leaving her out of balance, and only a tiny push from Cassian sent her falling backwards. The last thing she saw before the door closed, leaving her surrounded by darkness, was Cassian’s smirking face.

She hadn’t been caught this off guard in a long time, both by the kiss and by the sudden imprisonment in a maintenance closet. For the next fifteen minutes she just sat in the dark, trying to process what had happened. She didn’t bother checking if she could get out or not, she was ok where she was. It was small and dark, exactly like the rock she wanted to crawl under for the rest of her life.

She could feel her cheeks burning. He had kissed her. Suddenly, stupidly, in a remote corridor, not even checking if anyone was looking. She hadn’t even thought about that until now, and she wondered what people would say if they saw them. Would anyone even care, or would they be too busy to even notice?

She didn’t expect a kiss when she dared him to make her shut up, she expected a punch to the gut or something similar. Her life was slowly turning into a stupid romance novel, it seemed. Damn that book to hell, she thought, hiding her face in her palms. She was confused. For a moment, she thought it was an honest kiss, but then he smirked and shoved her in a closet so maybe he just did it to shut her up. He was toying with her feelings.

As the high given to her by the kiss died down, anger took its place, and when someone came to set her free she was already fuming.

Why did he do it? Why, in the name of everything sacred, did he do it?

His mind was screaming for a logical explanation, but he didn’t have any. He tried to convince himself that he needed to distract her attention, but it was bullshit and he knew it. He could have just picked her up and thrown her in a closet if he really wanted to, he didn’t need a distraction for that.

There was only one plausible explanation to why he’d done it, but it was also the one he tried really hard to deny: he wanted it. Simple as that. He wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her for a long time now, but he always managed to resist the urge. In his head, he knew it was wrong.

At first, he blamed it on guilt. He was responsible for putting her in jail and making her life miserable. It was his fault, he’d lied and betrayed her trust when she needed him most, turning her whole world upside down. It was what he always did, this was his job after all and he never complained, but normally he would be long gone before they figured out the lie. Or they’d be dead. But she wasn’t and he was punished to listen to her accusations and insults. He felt he deserved every single one of them.

He could see her mental state rapidly decaying. She lay awake at night and only got some restless sleep during the day, becoming increasingly tired. He watched her sleep a few times during her imprisonment, when he came to check up on her. He knew what he was doing was unethical, but given his involvement he felt almost obligated to check on her. He was intruding into her very little personal space and he felt bad about it, but he needed to make sure she was ok and this was the only time she didn’t have her defenses up, yelling and trying to claw his eyes out.

She always looked so small and so frail when she was sleeping, the coarse blanket tightly wrapped around her in a smothering embrace. She stirred in her sleep, moaning and mumbling unintelligible words, her face scrunched up in discomfort. He had no idea what she was dreaming of, but he remembered the feeling. He used to have nightmares in the past too, tormenting him every night, but at some point they had stopped. Before he noticed, he’d stopped dreaming altogether.

Seeing her like that made him want to open the cell door and hug her tightly, comb his fingers through her hair until she woke up and just hold her, telling her that she’s strong and she’s going to make it. And that he was sorry. So sorry for betraying her. So sorry for the suffering they were putting her through.

But that was something he couldn’t do. He could accept that he’d made a mistake bringing her here, and it was his fault, but it wasn’t him who was still holding her prisoner, it was the Alliance, and the Alliance couldn’t be wrong. Because if he accepted that, he’d have to question everything he had ever done under their orders and he wasn’t ready for that. So he kept telling himself it was necessary. The Alliance knew what they were doing, her suffering was necessary.

After they set her free and the guilt subsided, he blamed it on the fact that he knew he couldn’t have her. She was just too out of his league. She stood out in the crowd with her white uniform and very clean appearance, her imperial mannerisms and the big words she occasionally used, that he was sure half of the base didn’t understand, and the way she always managed to look down on people, no matter how tall they were. She seemed stuck up and somewhat intimidating, but he knew this was part of her defensive mechanism, he’d seen her crumble just weeks before, hanging to a speck of sanity.

But even then, in prison, she was beautiful. Even with the ugly overalls and matted hair, the dark circles and chapped lips, her natural beauty shone through. She had the type of elegance that came from being born in the high society, something he usually saw in Mon Mothma and the other senators, and something he never dreamed of ever attaining. He may have been quick on his feet, but there was no elegance in his movement. He knew he wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t handsome either. He had a common face that was forgettable in a crowd and that was useful in his line of work, but that didn’t help with his romantic life. Who was he kidding, he didn’t have a romantic life. There was the occasional new recruit who fell for his “air of mystery” as Lewella liked to call it, but they’d get bored easily and move on to someone who was less closed off, less busy, and less boring. Boring. He’d heard them talk about him and call him that. He never smiles, they said, and he never does anything remotely fun. He just works.

So he had this rule, to never date on base. Not that he ever thought of getting into something serious, he was too emotionally unavailable for that, but he had his needs. It was too complicated to find someone on base and most of those hookups ended in drama anyway. He didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with that. Honestly, he found it stupid and unnecessary, but he understood that people would eventually develop feelings for someone they regularly got intimate with. So he went off base, where no one knew him and he could play a role and be someone else for a few hours, get his fix and then never see them again. It was easy to make himself liked when he was playing a role. When he wasn’t himself.

So maybe that’s why he wanted Cora. Maybe he wanted to prove, to himself or to others, he didn’t know, that he could have someone who was as out of his league as she was. He wanted to prove that he, Cassian Andor from Fest, who had nothing, was worthy of dating an imperial general’s daughter. But in the end, there was nothing about him that would catch her attention. So he didn’t do anything. He just buried the feeling as deep as he could and avoided her.

And he regretted it, because people were starting to notice her. There were already rumours, whispers and jokes, and the occasional bold one who’d stop her to ask a question. If at first she seemed unapproachable, they soon learned that she was in fact really nice. Even though she didn’t have much of a private life outside of the med bay and she tended to keep to herself, she was kind and friendly and always tried to help everyone. So the others warmed up to her. And with Lew taking her under her wing she was bound to meet the most interesting people on base sooner or later. Maybe she’d catch the eye of one of the councilmen. After all, she had the upbringing, they came from the same world. She’d have more in common with a senator that with him.

But either she didn’t notice the advances or she discreetly brushed them off, because he never saw her with anyone else besides her fellow medics. For a while he allowed himself a little hope. And then he saw her in the mess hall with the doctor. It was nothing out of the ordinary, with Lewella off world again, she would probably have lunch with someone else, but he seemed fidgety and nervous and he wondered why.

He quickly found out the answer. He was too far away to listen in on their conversation, but he could lip read. Not that he really needed to, their faces told the whole story: he asked her out, turning beet red and she struggled to find an excuse to turn him down, blood draining from her face. It would have been hilarious to watch the awkward exchange of “I’m sorry”s, if not for the burning feeling in his chest that almost left him out of breath. He was angry, uncontrollable and hot, and also a little happy that she had turned him down, but mostly angry.

The voice in his head kept screaming that if she turned down the doctor, she’d never look at him. The doctor was smart, educated and conventionally handsome, while he was none of those. Why did he allow himself to think that he had a chance?

He bolted out of the mess hall hoping she didn’t notice him, but he had no such luck. She caught up to him before he could disappear in the crowd making him wonder if he was getting shittier at his job or she was very good at tracking people down. She started yammering at him about his concussion like he gave a shit about it. He couldn’t look her in the eye right now. He just wanted to run away to someplace where they’d all leave him alone until he could clear his head. But no, she kept nagging and nagging until he snapped and told her to shut up. And then she looked at him, all smug and defiant, slightly out of breath from almost running after him, smirking and challenging him to do something. So reason took a step back and let instinct take over.

There was still no logical explanation to why he’d kissed her. If someone asked him, he’d just shrug and look away, embarrassed, because he wasn’t thinking at that point. He was supposed to be level-headed and reasonable, but was dumbed down by a pair of parted lips.

And it was wrong, kissing her merely minutes after she turned someone else down. And it was wrong kissing her after he had almost killed her a few weeks back when he let her evade a ship full of angry pirates on her own.

When he saw his fellow rebels cornered on the ground, he knew he had a choice to make: keep her safe, or try to save them. He chose the Rebellion and decided to have faith in her. But he didn’t know there was a second enemy ship approaching, though he should have considered the possibility. When she contacted him over the com, her voice desperate, he knew he’d sentenced K2 and her to death. She may have been a good pilot, but this was way above her skill level. However, if the enemy ship approached the open battlefield, they’d all be dead pretty soon. So he made a choice again, and he didn’t choose her. He could have sent her home, but neither her nor K2 could have navigated the maze of space bodies fast enough to get home safely. He wasn’t sure if even he could do it with a ship of angry pirates on his tail.

So he closed his com leaving her alone, knowing he couldn’t listen to them die at the other end of the line. He knew they were all doomed anyway. Without his U-wing and the other ship crashed they had no way of sending a message home, and even if they could, no rescue would come for them in time. If the enemy ship wouldn’t end them, the cold would. He knew he had made a mistake, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Should he have just let the other crew die, classify it as a failed mission and turn back home? Had he made the right choice? Who was more important to the Alliance: a surveillance crew sent on a reconnaissance mission, or a doctor and a reprogrammed imperial droid? He knew who was more important for him…

And then, as he saw the explosion in the distance, his heart sunk. He delayed trying to reach them over the com, knowing it was pointless, not wanting the certainty that they were dead. But there were also other lives that depended on him, and he had to find a way to keep them safe. So he contacted them, expecting dead silence, instead being greeted by her exhausted, but very much alive, voice. Somehow they had survived. It wasn’t their ship that had crashed. He could breathe. He was used to fear for his own life, but fearing for someone else’s was something he hadn’t felt in a long time and he hated it.

When she stepped out of the ship she looked like she was about to faint. Pale, weak and scared out of her mind, he didn’t know what to do to help her. He felt so guilty.

She somehow got herself together and finished the job. There was a slight tremble in her hands as she worked, but she was efficient and didn’t make any mistakes. He kept looking back while they were heading home, making sure that everyone was ok, but mostly to make sure that she was ok.

When they reached home and he was left alone with the droid for a few minutes, K2 told him how she did a broken loop and narrowly avoided crashing. It was risky and reckless, but she had no other choice. She didn’t have the skill to evade them otherwise so she did whatever crossed her mind in that moment. She had been lucky this time. Could she be this lucky every time? Could she be this lucky if he ever chose the cause over her life once again? Could he deal with her death, if it happened?

He decided to avoid her after that. He wanted to wait for this whole “weakness” he had for her to go away. He knew that if he ignored it long enough, it will eventually be suppressed, like all the other things he had buried in the back of his conscience. But his mind was playing tricks on him because whenever he had a small wound, one that he would usually treat with a bacta patch or by just ignoring it until it healed, he would always find himself heading towards the infirmary. She’ll treat it much better than you ever would, said the voice in his head. Besides, you’ll be able to check up on her, see how she’s been doing lately. And so he fell in that trap again and again, hating himself for his weakness every time he left the med bay, knowing that what he was doing was wrong.

But she was kissing back and it felt so right. Slowly at first, like she didn’t really know what to do and then stronger, matching his own need for contact. It was warm and self-indulgent, and he easily got lost in the in the whirlwind of emotions it was causing him. He felt her hands on his chest and he wanted to pull her closer and touch her and let her touch him and get rid of all the clothes that were in the way and just enjoy each other.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for him to realize what he was doing and panic. So he did the first thing that came to mind, locked her in a closet and ran away. It took him fifteen minutes to realize that she had no way of unlocking it from the inside, so he sent someone to get her out.

By the time she had been freed he had found his way to one of the temple’s platforms and sat down, away from everyone, his back to the wall, head in his hands, a terrible headache threatening to split it in half. She was right, he should have just stayed in bed. He should have fucking listened.

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#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #cassian andor x ofc #rogue one #starlight

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