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eureka-its-zico · 8 months ago

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A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad.

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart.

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary.

Vital.

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance.

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over.

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help.

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty.

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day.

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer. If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave.

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops.

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him.

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it.

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well.

Halsey had found something. Really found something.

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it.

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way.

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code.

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her.

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot.

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated.

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands.

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you.

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him.

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up.

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away.

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away.

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns.

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal.

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win.

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets.

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky.

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point.

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty.

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood.

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman.

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat.

I Should’ve been softer…

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you.

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment.

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this. Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company.

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance.

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form.

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel.

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline.

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head.

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.”

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited.

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence.

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives.

You were supposed to be a lucky one.

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world.

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born.

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly.

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left.

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony.

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard.

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills.

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale.

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak.

“Thao, can you come play?”

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over.

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you.

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.”

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him.

You didn’t waste any more time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers.

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’.

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass.

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew.

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit.

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation.

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened.

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter.

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him.

Could you have gone around?

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared.

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut.

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather.

“And where did you run off to this morning?”

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned.

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning.

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named.

Either that or joining the resistance.

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him.

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention.

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent.

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut.

“Enough!”

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name.

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned.

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins.

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything.

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls.

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later.

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle.

This was a kill zone.

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle.

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed -

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground.

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay.

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome.

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward.

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes.

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan.

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar!

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence.

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit.

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.”

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time.

Except this time - no…NO!

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of.

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it.

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him.

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather.

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste.

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed.

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward.

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped.

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie.

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame.

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see.

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you.

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue.

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him.

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told.

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back.

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball.

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt.

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan.

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon.

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality.

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you.

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.”

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest.

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him.

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain.

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather.

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect.

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it.

This Dr. Halsey.

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low.

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe.

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage.

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next.

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.”

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather, and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back.

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth.

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 - helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him, had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious.

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside your grandfather's gut.

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life.

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact.

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor.

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back.

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while.

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking.

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in.

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt?

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it.

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you.

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked.

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat.

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it.

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit.

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t.

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for.

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back.

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step.

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect.

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy.

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed.

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda.

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head.

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin.

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take.

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing.

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind.

You didn’t understand until you did.

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child.

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful.

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.”

Gone.

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage.

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed.

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke.

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

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zep-zep-blog · 11 months ago

Text

Vox x fallen angel!gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst (but not heart wrenching)

Cw: Fighting, mention of death, threat/mention of killing

☼Divine Intervention☼

Reader is a fallen angel and it takes a near death experience to confess their feelings for Vox.

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You were an angel, a very good one at that. Helping human souls and climbing the ranks, gaining 2 more pairs of wings and becoming a seraphim. All of that made you proud to fly around heaven, greeting new souls and old. But, Sera was weary of you, ofcourse she was, you were exactly like another seraphim centuries ago, outgoing and full of dreams that didn't fit the mold. She feared that you would suffer the same fate and suffer you did..

Sera was right. She knew you were vibrant and had the same hopes of heaven that Lucifer had. She watched you fall just like he did, the title of seraphim torn from both heavenly entities.

The wind howled around you as you screamed, arms out stretched for Sera, Emily, anybody to help you, save you. But, it was too late. Your title, your halo, everything you worked hard for since your death was striped as the sky began to darken to red. Now there you lay, the warm sidewalk of the pride ring. Hell, the one place you forced yourself to hate in fear of falling and yet you fell anyway. Your wings curled around yourself, a small attempt to protect yourself from the sinners walking by. They paid you no mind, like a pebble on the ground. You soon gained the courage to pick yourself up, you looked down at your heavenly clothes that were once glowing and white, but now they were torn and no longer glowing. Your wings were the same, now dirty from laying on the ground. You didn't feel the weight of your halo, figures. You were no longer an angel, a fallen one, the second to fall from grace.

You slowly started to cope with the loss of your title, taking baby steps to fitting in with the sinners around. That's when you met Vox, the tall, tv demon. He didn't see your dreams as a burden or wrench in the gears like Sera or heaven did. He saw them as opportunities for shows, scripts, hell even fashion ideas for Velvette. He offered you a job and place to stay, asking you to be his writer for his channel to broadcast all over Voxtech. That soon created to building blocks of your flourishing relationship, soon you both had child like crushes, but were unable to act upon these feelings. Vox feared that if he opened up, the other overlords would find a weak spot. You never said anything in fear of rejection and hate, surprising how falling from grace can affect you sometimes.

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Extermination day. The most dreaded day in hell. Angels sent from above to exterminate sinners for a day. There Vox sat, reading your text over and over again, 'Be back soon!'. It was sent almost half an hour ago and the security guards were done with waiting, starting to close off the building for the event. He starts to worry, his charismatic mask starting to crack as there was no sign of you.

Meanwhile you were rushing down the streets, hiding and avoiding angels. You couldn't die from them, atleast you thought so, but you didn't want them to see you. They would humiliate you for sure, so you tried your damnedest to get back.

Suddenly a sting cold hits right inbetween your shoulder blades and you fall with a yelp. A smug laugh filled your ears and you knew immediately who was behind the muffle cackle. Lute, an angel that once looked up to had just struck you down.

"Y'know, when I saw you fall I felt bad. The almighty [Name] seraphim, now nothing more than a fly in a spider's trap." Lute spoke, disdain evident in her voice as she dug her foot into your lower back, her spear against your throat. "Just like Lucifer." She spat, applying more pressure, causing you to yelp again.

You tried everything in your power to knock her off, even expanding you wings to try and gain some ground, but she had the upper hand. Both strength and weapon.

"GET OFF THEM!" A shout echoed through the street. You and Lute look up to see Vox, who had slipped out at the last second to find you. As he quickly approached, knocking Lute off of you. He then continued to block her attacks, taking a few hits of her spear. After a few minutes the clock chimed, signaling the extermination to be over. This caused Vox and Lute to freeze, Lute flew off with a scoff and Vox ran to you. He helped you up, bringing his arm to your waist and your arm to his shoulder to help you walk back.

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You sat on the bathroom counter as Vox cursed under his breath at the cuts and scraps on your legs. If only he had been there sooner, kept you inside and not ket you, if only..he had been better. Ofcourse that's what he thought. You're mind raced at what Lute had said, it was exactly what everyone thought of Lucifer. Now it was what everyone thought of you, nothing special, a failure.

The word failure repeated in your head like a broken record, causing tears to well in your eyes. This caused Vox to stop, frozen at the fear that he had dome something wrong.

"What's wrong? Did I apply to much pressure? Did-did I-" He gets cut off by you hugging him, your grip tight as you try not to cry. "Hey..hey, it-it's okay." He akwardly patted your back, he wasn't used to comforting someone, hell he didn't even know if he could.

"I'm so, so, so, sorry.." Sobs fell out of your mouth as you garbled out an apology. Vox was shocked, sure you were angel, but to apologize for nothing that you caused? "Hey. Don't apologize dammit. You did nothing." He said sternly, "But-but I went out.." You rebuttaled, but he was having none of it. He shut you up quickly with a kiss, shocking you, but you didn't complain. You leaned into it to, making out with him, feeling his hands go to your back. You yelp as his hand grazes over the wound inbetween your wings.

"Are you okay?" He breaks the kiss, waiting for your response. "I kinda got..stabbed," You say hesitantly, wiping your tears and sniffling. "YOU WHAT!"

Vox wrapped uo the rest of your wounds, paying extra attention to the stab wound. He placed the last bandage and hesitantly placed a kiss on it, making you shudder. You then noticed the cuts on his arm from the fight and this makes you worry. "You're hurt. Why didn't you tell me?" You ask, grabbing ahold of his arm. "Doll, I'm fine. Just some nicks, they'll heal." He blows your concerns off, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it. You huff, "Atleast let me put bandaids on them."

You place bandaids along his arms and hands, giving him a smile when your done. "So..do you want to date me?" He blurted out, finally opening up. This is probably the first time you've seen him. The real him. Not the cocky tv show host, not the power hungry overlord, just him. You smiled and nodded, kissing him.

You two spent the entire night cuddling, your wings wraping around like a blanket. You can and will spend eternity with eachother. And if it weren't for the divine interference of Lute and the extermination you probably wouldn't have confessed your feelings.

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Hope yall enjoyed! ^^

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #gn reader #x reader #Vox x gn reader #near death experience #fallen angel

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bloodgulchblog · 5 months ago

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fuck it i woke up and thought about halo and can't get back to sleep.

i really genuinely truly, from the bottom of my heart, think that sergeant johnson is a critical character for a halo adaptation and creates a lot of opportunities.yes, he's dead. yes, he's been dead for longer than we had that character in the first place. but if halo wants to return to the story of the original three games, johnson is so so valuable.

bear with me and pretend i know a damn thing about tv for a second.

everybody loves our boy master chief, but chief is an obnoxiously difficult character to portray directly as a leading man in a medium where you cannot easily get inside his head. chief's quiet and private and focused on his work. because of that, chief's personality is a negative space that you demonstrate the most through the characters around him. the people you put around chief and have talking to him, telling him stuff, and asking him to do things are the tools you have for illustrating him so they gotta be good. cortana is the best of them, obviously, but cortana is also an AI so her perspective on the world is also very weird.

of the human characters who interact the most with chief in that period of time, johnson is by far the best and the one who has the most layers. on the top layer, johnson is charming and funny and competent and tough. game fans love and remember him because he's likable. on the deeper layers, johnson is a long-experienced participant in this war and the war that came before the aliens showed up. he knows a lot of secrets, including the vital secrets about the chief, and has conflicted feelings he carries around. he keeps his head down and his ears up, and plays dumb jarhead to protect himself and others. he has just as much crazy shit in his backstory as chief and cortana, but chief's chief and cortana is like 3 years old tops and also an ai. johnson is our adultiest adult. johnson's pretty stable, he knows who he is and what's going on, and his perspective is much less strange.

chief needs handler characters with perspectives that are easier to grasp than his. johnson is an amazing handler character for chief because johnson knows him, johnson knows why he's fucked up, and johnson is a decent dude who cares about him even though he cannot save him. if you dilate the timeline to let these two characters talk, it is easy to have johnson check on chief and have chief report back that he's fine in a way that totally shows oh, this dude's priorities are insane. you establish that johnson knows the chief and is looking out for him, and then you do a flashback that shows he has known chief since he was a teenaged child soldier? jesus, suddenly so many things click together. you don't even have to get into the details of johnson's own status as a spartan-i grad for it to work.

it doesn't stop there! johnson's also a key character if you're working with the arbiter! johnson's the first human the arbiter ever has a chance to have respect for, and johnson's smart and able to figure out how to work with him! it also makes for great parallels because johnson was there when the war with the covenant started. you don't have to shoehorn him into a situation to create a bookend, it's just there.

johnson is a likable character with a rich backstory and a nuanced perspective on events and a complex relationship to them. (oh avery johnson, you have been victim of and complicit in so much shit, how's that going for you buddy?) he's a capable action character who also works well on the quieter end, is known and involved in secrets, and can draw out interesting and important details in the original trilogy's two main characters.

also, johnson is just a genuinely cool character who deserves more and on the one hand it's probably ultimately better for the character that he hasn't changed hands a dozen times like everyone else, but on the other his death still feels like a gutpunch and a loss. so like. idk. give him something cool to do in an adaptation from the time where he's alive.

....

anyway, the punchline of this whole thing is that i think johnson is a vital character. so of course he wasn't in that tv show.

#sgt johnson

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indigograceauthor · 3 months ago

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Miss my man so much...

#john 117 #master chief #halo tv show #halo tv series #halo the series #save halo tv

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allandoflimbo · 1 year ago

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Touching Himself

Bucky touches himself for the first time since coming back to his regular life. Then, he remembers how much he loves edging. He even calls himself a dirty little slut.

18+ ONLY. No minors. Seriously. This is filthy.

Fandom: Marvel/MCU/Bucky Barnes

This is a drabble. Just practicing some writing in between larger WIPs. There might be more coming, maybe.

———-

Three hours. That’s how long he’s been going at it.

By it, he means his cock.

He’s denied himself this ever since the blip. Not so much because he didn’t feel like he couldn’t do it, but because he never had the time or the privacy.

Between missions and saving the world, he rarely ever found a time where he had the energy to cum.

Some nights after his missions with Sam, he’d come him to his Brooklyn apartment, and take a nice warm shower.

He’d stare down his chest, watching as the droplets ran down his pecks, over his stomach, and over his aching dick.

It ached to be touched, stroked, milked, to be fucking ruined.

He would hold himself back. He’d drag his hand over his pelvis and sigh. He was too tired.

He had been tired for years. All he thought of for years was fight after fight. If the blood that ran down the drain, mixing with the water creating a pink haze was anything to go by.

He’d get dressed and tuck himself into his sheets.

The first time he was able to finally sleep in a proper bed, he finally did it. He felt relaxed and awake enough.

Legs stretched out, the left slightly bent in, his right hand lingered over his thigh. He tried to stay focused on the tv, the cool and inviting halo in the darling night cascading a glow over his sheets and his body. The volume was barely high. Low enough that when his fingers crawled towards his crotch, the sound of the fabric on his hand echoed in the room.

He looked down at this pants, noticing how hard he already was. He wrapped his hand around his shaft, just over his pants, and let out a long moan.

Finally.

Those were the words that hit him. During the day he would be whatever they needed him to be out there; fighter, Avenger, agent, whatever the fuck else. But here, alone, he would be a man.

But if there was one thing about Bucky that decades of warp did to him, was that he loved being a kinky little slut.

He even says it out loud as he flicks his pointer finger over and over and over and over…and over again over his dick, on that one little spot.

He didn’t even jerk himself properly that night. Just his finger flicking over that one spot, a inch off his eight inch dick, was enough to have him gasping in seconds.

“Come on, come on,” he started grunting through clenched teeth, his head shooting up at he looked down at his finger flicking his cock over his pants. His legs widened a bit more and he gasped, flicking harder, “make me cum. Make me fucking cum.” He was gasping at this point, his own hips thrusting up to meet his finger. His eyes didn’t leave his hand as he watched him doing this to himself, “that’s it,” he whines, sitting up slightly, finger faltering slightly from a cramp, but it works out perfectly because his finger moves up slightly just about a centimeter, right under his tip and against that one pulsing vein and spot, “yes!” He screams, flicking over and over and over and over and over again, “god yes.” He pants, watching as his grey sweat form a dark patch from his cum. He doesn’t stop flicking and a shudder runs through his body, “yes, yes, yes.” He repeats it, even through agonizing whimpers of over sensitivity.

Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and his hand dropped over the damp spot on his leg.

That was the first time. Then there were the ninety others after that.

Needles to say, he was orgasm hungry. Seventy plus years did that to a man. Especially one who lived ninety percent of his days with no privacy and no time to properly date.

Weekends were usually the most convenient time for him. His favorite discovery of the new century were toys. There were so many.

He invested in three to start with and he got the hang of all three fairly quick. He experimented with himself. Different positions, different sensors, and his all time favorite activity; edging.

He loved edging so much.

There was something about the being on that peak of pleasure for minutes that made him obsessed with it. Not to mention, that he also loved dirty talking himself through it every time. And then when he’d let himself cum, it was worth it. He was his own little cock slut.

The only good thing to come out of this serum was the amount of cum that he was able to produce. It was enough to fill a cup to its peak. On night where he’d edge maybe four or five times, he’d be drenched in it. His stamina was also one for the books.

To be able to edge for so long and then edge again after cumming was unbelievable.

So he played with himself, literally and figuratively. He set goals to see how long he could edge for.

At first, five minutes was already brutal, then it was twenty, thirty, fifty, an hour.

He gasps as he felt his edge approaching. He quickly pulls his fleshlight off his dick with a groan.

“God.” He groans, stretching his legs farther apart, and throwing his head back.

His cock twitched viscously in the air, begging for that release that it’s been on the edge of for the last three hours.

Bucky was half sitting on the edge of his bed. His ass was barely on the sheets, almost sliding completely off, and his legs were stretched apart. He was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and he felt amazing.

His left hand was balled up into the sheets, gripping it tightly, almost ripping it. His right hand was holding the toy so hard, his knuckles were glowing white.

Bucky took in heavy breathes to bring himself back from that edge, staring at his dick with a wrecked look on his face.

When he felt safe enough to where one touch wouldn’t make him cum immediately , he took in a deep breath and raised the fleshlight back up.

The second the fake slit touched his tip he stopped and whined.

He could do this.

He bit his bottom lip and gasped, sliding the toy a littler farther down.

“Take it, fuck, wreck me” he growled, sliding the toy over himself slowly, “fucking destroy me,” his voice turned into a sob as he continued to move his hand, feeling his end again, especially as it ran over that one spot that made him see stars and lose any sense of control or dignity he had, “that’s it, that’s it,” he tilted his toy a little more to the right and he groaned, “that little spot, just like that, oh shit, oh shit,” he whined, he needed to hold it, he wanted to so bad, he didn’t want it to end, but it also felt too good to stop, “just a little,” he stroked it once more, way too close, so close it was almost dangerous and he could feel his semen stop halfway up his cock the second he pulled the toy off his dick, “more.” He cries.

He throws the toy aside and rubs his hand over his Adonis belt. He could feel the precum all over him. He was drenched in it.

Just the thought itself made him have to clench his teeth to stop from cumming.

“Not yet, not yet.” He repeats it over and over again.

He sits himself down properly, this time on the floor in front of his bed.

He’s in a daze and his heart is in his ears.

He looks down at his cock and he wraps his fingers around it.

He moans, letting his head fall back against the bed.

He strokes once, twice, and a third time.

“I can’t hold back.” He whimpers, tears prickling in his eyes.

Without hesitating, he grabs his shaft, and without even needing to stroke, he cums harder than he ever has in his life.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #MCU #TFATWS #Winter Soldier

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indigograceauthor · 1 month ago

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Halo Season 1 Soundtrack

Beautiful, epic music.

#halo the series #halo tv show #halo tv series #save halo tv #john 117 #master chief #kai 125 #riz 028 #vannak 134 #halo silver timeline #halo tv: silver timeline #silver timeline #silver team #Spotify

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carterstarlight25 · 9 months ago

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Hi everyone! So I been thinking hard on a rather unique 3way crossover that I been considering about writing. Please feel free to give me your input.

The 3 way crossover consist of DC x DP x Halo Infinite. With the ships being Jason and Danny (Obviously). Master Chief and Bruce as the second ship to be included. And Tim Simping for Katrina. (Cortana 2.0 from Infinite)

I see these possible dynamics being cute as Chief will learn how to be human, and how to love. Him and Team Phantom Finding Family. Also I don't mean the bull Chief pulled in the god awful Halo TV Show!

Bruce will learn that killing isn't an act of God. It isn't you kill once, and become a mindless murderer. That there is a difference, between a Soldier doing his duty to protect humanity and his loved ones. And a mindless killer, enjoying the horror of its victims as the bleed out with please for mercy. Effectively stealing their innocent lives... Oh also learn to not be as emotionally constipated after Katrina effectively out smarts him into a therapy session with Jazz Nightingale. (Last name changed after she saved Danny from the their parents lab…)

Danny will learn what it means to be apart of a family. And how screwed the GIW are.~

Jason, finds out he’s ghost pregnant and a heavy underdeveloped Halfa. All while the Pit becomes a full ghost that he ends up birthing. Which is gonna be a Dinosaur that will be Jason’s “Nightmare.” To his Fright Knight. (I am really wanting to go for Altispinax, or Spinax Vivosaur from Fossil Fighters series. But idk, might just use the Giga from Jurassic World Dominion. Just to change it up from what I seen people have the Pits become.

How Chief comes into the story however, would be introduced via Clockwork leaving a very obviously placed Halo Infinite Xbox Game case with a unmarked disc inside it. In an Alley Danny was taking refuge in. With a sticky note of course. And a few chapters in, when he was alone in Wayne Manor decided to play the game. And by Play. I mean go ghost and jump into the game. But of course. With his Fabulous Phantom Luck (trademark pending.) A new power began to make itself known as the code latched on him on his way out. Bringing Master Chief and Katrina to life in the real world, with all his memories and Katrina with the entire UNSC Database.)

While that’s how I plan to bring in Chief and Co. the main gist of this will be an all out battle, to destroy the GIW. Outlaws, Sirens, Chief and the entire Batfam Team up.

Despite the JL repealing the Anti Ecto Acts. A few Private donors continue to find them to get their hands on Ectoplasm. The League of Assassin’s, Lex Luthor. And of Course Vlad Masters will be the main villains connected to the GIW.

I can see Jason and Chief getting along like wildfire. And when Bruce finds out Jason is one leading the squad his kids, trying to get them to go on a date with Master Chief. It leads to some funny moments I would think. And of course can’t forget Chief reluctantly surprise appearance in Civies at one of Bruce’s Gala’s. (I kinda wanna make him wear Olive Green suit and dress pants. Black Bow Tie with a white under suit. Black belt. And an Olive Green Military Cap to hide his Neural Implant. Maybe having all his Medals from the service pinned to his chest. At least the ones that match ones in this universe. So not all of them obviously.

And Jason would absolutely catch his father freeze up when he sees the handsome Spartan.

For looks regarding Chief’s face since we don’t know what he looks like. I was thinking Caucasian Male, short brown hair that could be the right height to spike it up at least. Not a complete buzz cut. Rather bright blue eyes. That do not glow like Danny’s. But at least around that color. Of course he will have some scars on his left Temple, his lip and across his right eye. Freckles too. His muscle mass would of course be a bit more built then Jason. Which says something. But, you know. Super Soldier and all. (Update: I did in-fact Draw it ^^. If you want to see. Let me know if you wanna see Master Chief in a suit at the Gala ^^)

The Ages I was gonna go for was as follows.

Alfred: Immortal (Thanks Clockwork!)

John (Master Chief): 46yrs (I know it’s not his cannon Age. But it’s what I want for the story.)

Bruce: 45yrs

Barbara: 29yrs

Dick: 26yrs

Jazz: 21yrs

Jason: 21yrs

Cass: 20yrs

Sam: 20yrs

Danny: 19yrs

Duke: 19yrs

Steph: 19yrs

Tucker: 19yrs

Val: 19yrs

Tim: 18yrs

Ellie: 14yrs

Damien: 12yrs

Katrina: 6 months old

And that’s the little Fanfic I been thinking about. Of course it’s just an idea. but I think it would be fun to write.

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firetrucks-fastcars · 8 months ago

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Your Home's Really Only a Town You're Just a Guest In

2.5k words | Logan Sargeant/Oscar Piastri | The Miami GP is over in a matter of seconds for Logan. Losing it all at his home race makes him realize a few things about what home and family truly mean

He was spinning before he’d even registered the impact. He barely had the brain capacity to cross his arms over his chest as his car went careening off the track. The gravel trap rattled his teeth and he tasted blood as he bit down on his tongue. He braced himself for impact just before his car hit the barrier, sending a shockwave down his spine, making his toes tingle and his head snap forward, despite the brace holding him in. God, that fucking hurt.

He’d never get used to this feeling. One might think he had, considering the amount of times he’d been in this position over the last year. He pushed down the self-deprecating thoughts for now, only focusing on moving his hands enough to press the radio button and answer his engineer’s desperate pleas to know if he was alright.

“Oh mate,” he groaned, unable to think of a more intelligent response.

“Not your fault. Not your fault.”

“Ugh. I bit my fucking tongue.”

He knew SkySports would be angry at him for having to spend money on the bleep effect but he didn’t have it in him to care at the moment.

“You okay? Are you okay?”

He huffed into his helmet, trying to catch his breath, “I- yes. I think so. Did I do something wrong?”

He couldn’t think of anything he could have done, he couldn’t even see Kevin in his mirrors. The first look he’d gotten at the car had been blurry at best as he spun his way off the track and the Haas kept on racing.

“No I don’t think you did. I’ll look at the review. Can you get out of the car on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

He began undoing his seat belts as the marshals moved toward his car. One gave him a helping hand and he stepped over the halo, hopping from the cockpit, the crunch of gravel under his boots. This was it. His home race was completely undone in less than 30 seconds. And he’d been doing alright too. He’d been on pace with Alex, he’d placed higher in the sprint. For the first time since Australia he’d felt a little glimmer of confidence. However, this sport and everyone around him seemed determined to put out any fire he had as quickly and as harshly as possible.

The marshal led him to the evacuation car and he slid into the backseat, placing his helmet next to him. He wished the ride to the Williams garage was longer than a few minutes. He wished he had more time to come up with something better to say to his team other than a weak apology for fucking up another car. His only saving grace was that his parents weren’t in the paddock. Instead they were probably shaking their heads from their couch, turning off the tv and moving on to do something else since their son had failed so spectacularly, yet again.

As he stepped out of the car into the oppressive Miami heat, he found himself wishing for England. So rarely did he miss the gray skies, but today they would match his mood much better than the inescapable Florida sunshine. He wished for the milder temperatures of Monaco, where the sun didn’t feel like quite as much of a mockery. Where he could hide in Alex and Lily’s apartment and neither of them would push him to speak until he was ready. Where he could escape to Lando’s and play games with him and Oscar and Max Fewtrell until his throat was sore from yelling and he felt slightly human again. Where Max would grow tired of Lando complaining about him moping and invite him over for dinner. Where he could sit in his designated seat on the balcony (declared as such by a drawing featuring entirely too much glitter, made of course by Penelope) and drown his sorrows in cheap European beer. Where people actually cared about him, or at least pretended to.

But no. He was trapped here, as if held down by the humidity that blanketed the entire state he had once called home. Now, he felt more like a guest. He knew that after this race was all said and done, he’d crawl back home to his parents’ house that bore no signs of their second son, save for a few pictures on the walls, relics of his karting and junior formula days. He was a guest in the place where he was raised.

A firm hand gripped his bicep as he was led into the garage, “Are you alright?”

Elias had practically materialized next to him and was leading him past all of the engineers and mechanics, their well wishes and promises of “There was nothing you could have done” nothing more than tv static as they made their way hastily toward his driver’s room. Elias unlocked the door and pushed Logan inside but didn’t follow.

“Take your time. Get cleaned up and settle down. Don’t come back out until you feel human again.”

“What if I never feel human again?” The vulnerability spilled from his lips in the worst case of word vomit he’d ever experienced. He didn’t have a chance in hell of stopping the words once they started flowing.

“You will. I know it doesn’t feel like it and you don’t want to listen to my pep talk right now, so I’ll save that for Alex later. But you will feel human again Logan. You will come out on the other side, stronger and better because of everything you’ve been through.”

“Can you ask James if there’s still room on the flight back for me tomorrow?” he asked instead of acknowledging what his trainer had just said.

“I thought you were staying for a few days. You had plans to fish with Kyle and go to the hockey game.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, I do really want to take you out on the boat. I just don’t know how much longer I can be here before I suffocate.”

“I understand. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get everything sorted with James. Just promise me that you’ll talk to your brother before we go. He’s worried about you.”

“Dalton is always worried about me.”

“He loves you. Don’t take it for granted.”

With that Elias slipped back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Logan sighed and laid back on the massage table, staring at the ceiling. He could hear the faint roar of engines in the distance. He wondered if Lando was still leading? Maybe one of them would finally have some good luck. He forced himself into a sitting position and leaned over to retrieve his phone from the front pocket of his backpack. He pulled up his brother’s contact and sent a message.

To Dalton: with mom and dad?

From Dalton: Yeah but I can leave. Need me?

To Dalton: yeah

From Dalton: Okay. Give me five

Logan counted in intervals of sixty until his phone began to buzz in his palm. Dalton always kept his promises.

“Hey little bro.”

“Are Mom and Dad around?”

“Nope. I went down to the dock. I figured you wanted this to be a private conversation.”

“Are they still watching the race?”

“Yeah. We’re all rooting for Lando’s first win. They aren’t mad at you Loges, there was nothing you could have done.”

“Yeah that time. What about all the others? They’re disappointed and you know it.”

“I know what they can be like Loges. Trust me, I know better than anyone. They want you to succeed but they don’t understand what the pressure does to you.”

“‘Pressure makes diamonds son’.”

Logan’s poor imitation of their father’s deep southern accent made Dalton chuckle.

“Pressure makes dust. You can’t let them get to you bud. This is how they are about everything, it's how they always will be. You just have to prove them wrong.”

“They won’t give me a chance.”

“Mom and Dad? Or the team?”

“Both. Every time something starts to go well for me, Williams tears the rug out from under my feet. Mom and Dad will always side with them, especially Dad. Nothing is ever good enough, I don’t even know why I bother anymore. I love a sport that hates me and I’m a guest in my own fucking family. I don’t belong anywhere Dalton. I don’t belong in Europe, I don’t belong here, I should just fucking disappear and then everyone would be happier.”

“I wouldn’t. Kyle wouldn’t. Neither would Alex or Oscar or even fucking Lando. Loges, you’re so focused on everything that’s working against you, that you can’t acknowledge that there are people in your corner. Williams fans fucking love you, but all you care about is the keyboard warriors who think you should make your car levitate to avoid being hit. Fuck them. And fuck anyone who ever says you can’t do something. Fuck Mom and Dad. But don’t toss aside the people that want to help you. When was the last time you talked to Oscar about how you feel? Or are you just telling him that you’re fine and that none of this shit affects you? Because I know the truth, Loges. When are you gonna stop lying to yourself and playing tough guy and accept some help? Because until you start leaning on the people around you, you’re gonna keep crumbling. And I won’t be the one that’s left to pick up the pieces. Not again. I love you way too much to watch you destroy yourself because you’re stubborn.”

“I love you too.”

“Now what are you going to do?”

“Stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“And?”

“Go out tonight to celebrate Lando’s win. Then I’m gonna go back to England tomorrow with the team and work over data with Alex so we can find a way to fix this tractor of a fucking car.”

“Good. I’m proud of you little brother. Call me anytime, day or night. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon. But not until you’re ready.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

As he cleaned himself up and changed from his sweaty race suit to his usual team kit, he turned on the monitors to watch Lando win the race. He left the team (with permission from Gaetan) to run down to the pit lane and congratulate his friend. He found Oscar and Alex, leaning against the wall together, waiting for their turn in the media pen and joined them so he could fulfill his own duties to the press.

“Hey Osc,” he linked their pinkies together briefly in greeting, before pulling away. “Shame about your race.”

“Yeah, some people were just itching for penalties today,” Oscar rolled his eyes. “How are you doing? You seem surprisingly carefree.”

Alex regarded him with a raised brow, “You are suspiciously calm.”

“I talked to Dalton. I’m still annoyed about the crash but Kevin got what he deserved and there’s nothing else I can do. Other than comb through the data and try to figure out a way to make this God forsaken tractor go any faster.”

“I’m with you,” Alex agreed. “I already told Gaetan and James to book a conference room and stock the fridge with Monster because we’re gonna be there a while.”

Logan chuckled and bumped their shoulders together, “I’ll be there Monday.”

Alex raised his brow again, “I thought you were staying for a few more days?”

“I was going to. But, I need a change of scenery. And living in London has ruined me. I can’t handle the heat.”

Oscar gave him a look that said they’d talk about it later, but was called away by his press officer, “You’re coming out with us tonight. We’re celebrating Lando’s win!”

“I expected nothing less.”

*****

It was way too late (or early, depending on how you looked at it) when they finally made it back to the hotel Mclaren was staying in. He and Oscar had left the party a few minutes early, leaving Lando in Max’s capable hands. Elias had already retrieved his luggage from his parent’s place and had it brought to Oscar’s room. Once they were both showered and half asleep, Oscar finally asked what he’d been dying to all night.

“So what made you decide you want to leave early?”

“I talked to Dalton. And he made me realize that how I’ve been acting lately isn’t healthy. I’m tearing myself down to meet these unrealistic expectations my parents have set for me and I’m killing myself to try and prove myself to people who don’t actually care. I’ve been realizing lately that I feel like a guest here. Florida isn’t really home. I don’t really feel at home anywhere to be honest. Only with you, or Alex. Sometimes Lando and Max.”

“You know what my mom told me once? It was right after I left Australia for good and I was so homesick it hurt. And boarding school sucked and I was just about ready to give it all up and come home. But my mom told me that home isn’t really a place, it’s people. And family isn’t just the people who raised you. So I’d always be welcome at home with them, but I was also responsible for making my own home and my own family and that once I did that, I wouldn’t be so lonely. A few months after that, we became teammates. And I figured out pretty quickly what my mom meant. I know you’re proud of being from America, to be the first American in F1 in a long time. But that isn’t your whole identity, Loges. And Florida doesn’t have to be your home because you were born here. Your home can be in England with me, or Monaco with Max, Lando and Alex. You can consider both places home if you want because all of us are your family. We care about you so much baby, especially me. It has hurt so bad to see you struggle for so long. I just want you to realize you’re with so much outside of racing and outside of your hometown. You will never be a guest with me Logan, I hope you know that.”

“I do. And I’m starting to figure out this family thing. I just think it’s going to take some time. I have to really figure out where I belong in the world.”

“I know. And I’ll always be with you, there is nowhere you can go that I won’t follow.”

“I’m stuck with you forever huh?”

“You bet your ass you are. You’re stuck with Lando too because he’ll tag along just to be annoying. And Max because he has to supervise when I’m not around. And Alex, because he’s just along for the ride.”

Logan laughed and hugged Oscar close, “I think I’m okay with that.”

He stared at the ceiling as Oscar snored lightly next to him, waiting for sleep to come. So what if he felt like a guest in his home? He’d just make another.

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant fanfiction #loscar #oscar piastri #williams racing #williams f1 #formula 1 rpf #my works

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indigograceauthor · 3 months ago

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Love this man 💚🧡💚

#john 117 #master chief #save halo tv #halo silver timeline #halo tv: silver timeline #halo tv series #halo tv show

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whoblewboobear · 5 months ago

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We gotta put Jace and Porter in a Netflix dating reality show/Love Island/bachelor au. They’d either be the couple that wins at the end just to breakup or arguably the strongest couple by the end that doesn’t win but stays together after the show.

They’re so messy and toxic at the reunion just fighting with all the other contestants and maybe the host too if they try to bring up Porter coupling up with someone else and leaving Jace in danger of going home one week.

If it’s love island it’s 100% bc of Casa Amour. Jace flirted a bit and played the game but ultimately doesn’t choose to couple up with with someone new. The producers showed the everyone back at the house footage of what happened in the other villa and Porter fucking sees red watching Jace flirt with all the new casa amour people. When the new singles arrive to the villa Porter wastes no time to chat a cute guy up and take him back to the hideaway.

When the other half of the house gets back and Jace sees Porter looking VERY cozy with someone else and he’s distraught. Him and Porter have a screaming match by the bar that night. Viewers are eating this shit UP. Sandra-Lynn and Halo have to pull Jace away from Porter before he beats the shit out of him. Porter is just being so cocky and rude and smirking at Jace like “let him hit me~” Jace pulls a reality tv classic and spits in Porter’s face. Porter who is reveling in the fucking mess of it all. That man is a perfect reality tv villain. A true chaos agent the villa.

Both of their talking heads in the confessional are so insane at this point too. Jace is trying to pretend he doesn’t care in between clips of him crying and screaming and being comforted by half the house lmao, meanwhile Porter is doubling down and saying if Jace wasn’t so quick to shove his tongue people’s throats he wouldn’t have coupled up with *checks notes* hetero Jessica? He barely remembers this poor woman’s name it’s awful. He says at the next re-coupling he’s getting back with Jace but he likes to watch him squirm a little bit.

Jace HATES that he has to depend on Porter to choose him again, so he puts in the work and starts chatting up Zara and they hit. It. Off. Jace is probably calm for the first time in weeks since he got there. It’s days before the recoupling Zara tells Jace that she likes this but wants to stick with Lucilla. She does mention that Porter is planning on recoupling with him though. That she heard it from Gorthalax. Jace does hate how happy it makes him but he wants to play hard to get and see if Porter atleast comes to talk to him at some point. And he does!

Porter ends up winning some challenge. He can choose to go on 3 dates with anyone of his choosing. When he gets the text he reads it for the group but immediately beelines to catch a producer to ask if it has to be a different person for each date or if he can go on all of them with one person. The producers are seeing the ratings and the dollars skyrocketing from this stunt so they allow it.

When Jace gets summoned for the first date he’s a little put out because you always save the person you actually wanna couple up with for last, right? Porter is gonna tell him he’s not picking him. WRONG.

Porter is genuinely being so romantic and sweet and it’s probably the best day they’ve shared in the villa. But by the time the first date would be wrapping up, Jace places a hand on Porter’s arm and says it’s okay if he doesn’t choose him. Porter raises an eyebrow and asks him why he’d think that. Jace asks who his next two dates are with and when Porter responds with “you.” Jace tears up and kisses him.

They definitely don’t win the show but they do end up very happy together post-show.

#I like making them rotten and toxic before they get to be soooo sweet to each other #I prommy Porter is only a fucking menace on tv he’s a very good bf to Jace outside of the villa #and Jace only spits on and punches Porter in bed #they’re freaks but they’re freaks in love #if you see a typo on this not you didn’t #starbreaker #blewb rambles #blewbs fic ramblings

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fizzyxcustard · 10 months ago

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Covert Eyes (23)

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?

When Amy's parents get involved, how will things pan out for Amy and Lucas?

Official soundtrack list: here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

People who don't interact with my fics over a few months will be removed from tag lists.

Bright light burst into the room and the familiar voices of Ros and Jo broke through the shroud of silence that had formed in the room. Halos around their heads. Amy winced against the light….

As Amy lay in bed, waking, she saw Lucas’ outline, his form haloed by a bright light. He was in the doorway. Every time he stood in the doorway, the room dark, with only light from the hallway behind him, it took her back. It felt as if she were time travelling back to her time locked away with nothing by Simon Caulfield’s slimy words for company.

Lucas limped into the room. She could hear his shouts in her mind as Simon Caulfield had put a bullet in his thigh merely seconds before Ros and Jo saved them. Then once they had both been released, Amy and Lucas had been in hospital overnight. They had been given their own private room due to the nature of their reasoning for being in hospital.

Harry had given them both time off to recuperate, and offered counselling. Lucas, as he had done many times, politely rejected Harry’s offer. However, Amy knew that she would probably find herself fighting against the memories for some time.

Lucas got into bed beside Amy, and studied her for a moment. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, but gradually they had begun to fade and the light in her eyes was starting to reappear.

Amy curled her arm around his head, her fingers sifting through his short hair. He was literally her everything.

***

Richard Holland held a small package in his hand, thinking back on the postman’s words that it had been sent first class but accidentally got lost at the depot, so was a week late. He ripped open the thick envelope finding a small stack of papers inside. On the top was a note, written in capital letters.

RICHARD AND SHARON HOLLAND,

THE ENCLOSED PHOTOGRAPHS ARE PROOF THAT LUCAS NORTH IS NOT WHO HE APPEARS TO BE. YOUR DAUGHTER IS IN DANGER.

Richard felt his whole body grow cold at the sight of photos of Amy bound to a chair and blindfolded. Then further photographs showed Amy lying on the pavement in a pool of her own blood, next to another woman also shot. With Lucas standing over both of them, a gun in his hand.

***

Amy and Lucas were still off work when the phone call came. Lucas was sat on the sofa with a mug of coffee, flicking through the channels, rolling his eyes at how shit day time TV was. Amy had been cleaning the kitchen; mundane tasks were enough to take her mind away from the thoughts of Simon Caulfield. The pain in her neck and back was fading day by day, but still enough to cause her grief and keep up a steady dose of painkillers.

“Dad?” Amy asked. “Everything okay?” Amy sat down at the kitchen table and sighed, wincing at sharp stab of pain which shot through her neck.

“I’m coming to fetch you, Amy. You’re not to stay with that bastard any longer!” Richard Holland demanded. “Your mum knew there was something behind the shooter; I know she was involved with Lucas. And I know you were took hostage last week.”

A rod of ice shot down Amy’s back and her heart raced in her chest. “D…Dad….what’s happened?”

“I’m coming to London to get you. He better not be there when I come because I’ll kill the bastard!” Richard seethed.

“Dad, please, stop it.”

“No, I won’t stop it, Amy. I am not prepared to let him do this to you. It’s a good job your mum is at work and hasn’t seen the photos. I won’t let her see them.”

“Who sent you the photos?”

“It doesn’t matter who sent them. I’m coming to get you. Pack some things.”

“Dad…please….”

Lucas could hear Amy’s pleas and hobbled into the kitchen. “Aim, what’s going on?”

Richard growled down the phone line. “Trying to play the protector now, is he? He can fuck himself. He’d better not be there when I come and get you because I really will kill him…”

Amy was weeping as her father disconnected the call. She held the phone in her shaking hand, until it finally fell from her grasp and hit the floor. “Dad knows!” she sobbed. “He’s got photos of me from last week and when I was shot. He’s coming to take me back to Coventry. I can’t leave.”

Lucas’ breath caught in his throat. Everything he loved was slipping away, and for a few seconds he tried to grapple with some kind of rational thought. He knew he couldn’t fight this one; Amy’s father was right. Despite having not heard Richard’s side of the conversation, Lucas knew he was doing the right thing. Amy had to be safe.

Amy dashed at Lucas, grabbing his shirt. She could see in his face that he was admitting defeat.

“You need to go with him, Aim. They can keep you safe: I can’t,” Lucas said, his voice breaking. “I love you too much to let you keep being hurt. He’s doing this because he loves you, Amy. He fucking loves you…and so do I.” His voice finally broke. Tears fell down Lucas’ cheeks and he took Amy into his arms, holding her tight. “Go with him, angel. I can’t keep you safe anymore.”

“You can,” Amy wept, looking up at him. “I want to be with you, Lucas. More than anything. Don’t push me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away because I want to. Fuck. Can’t you see that? It’s because I love you more than anything that I’m doing this.”

“If I do go, I’ll come back,” Amy argued. “They can’t make me stay.”

Lucas smiled through the tears. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

The next two hours were crippling as Amy packed two suitcases full of clothing. Lucas watched her from the doorway, knowing that letting her go was the only way to keep her safe. Amy belonged with her family who could be the stability she needed. “I am coming back,” Amy said defiantly, stopping for a second with a pile of underclothes in her hands. “I don’t intend on staying there for long.”

“You’ll stay as long as you need to.”

“I’m only doing this to please you and Dad for now, but I’ll be coming back,” Amy countered. She approached Lucas and lifted her hand, cupping his cheek. He kissed her palm, turning into her touch. Then suddenly he kissed her hard, catching her off guard. Heat mounted so high between them and within seconds, Lucas’ lips were trailing down Amy’s throat.

They made love on the bed. It was like the very first time they had made love: intense, passionate, full of want. As Lucas came and then rested his head on her chest, he whispered, “I need to let you go.”

“Lucas, no!” Amy whimpered. “Don’t you dare!”

Lucas got up from the bed, untangling himself from her and re-buttoned his shirt, and then pulled his jeans up, re-buckling his belt.

“When we got back together, I should have known I wouldn’t be worth it,” Amy growled. “I’m never worth it, am I?”

“You are worth everything!” Lucas shot back. His eyes were wide and his whole face was contorted in anger and frustration. “How the fuck can you say you’re not worth it? I’m doing this because I love you. I should have known better than ever bring you into any of this. I should have stayed away when I first saw you.”

Amy choked as she heard those words and dropped to the bed. “You regret me….”

“I would never regret you. I only regret that I caused you so much pain. Your dad won’t be too much longer, I don’t think.” He looked at the clock; Coventry was about a three hour drive away from London. It was now just after one in the afternoon and Richard had called at eleven. “Go with your dad. You are loved so much more than you could ever imagine. By all of us.”

Lucas walked out of the room and picked up his keys in the hallway.

Amy followed on behind, calling after him.

Before Lucas left the flat, he kissed Amy hard one last time. “I adore you so much,” he choked. “Be happy, angel, but more important, be safe.”

Amy sobbed on the doorstep as Lucas left. She watched his form walk down the hallway and out the main door into the street. Pain was ripping her so raw inside and in her own mind she knew that she could never give up on Lucas North completely. No matter what happened and what evil things were thrown at them. Their love would be stronger than any of it.

***

Amy sat in her dad’s car as they drove back to Coventry. There was only silence and the gentle sway of the car as it swept along the motorway. Until Richard broke open the silence. “Fancy a coffee?”

“Okay,” Amy whispered, her voice so hoarse after sobbing. Her cheeks were still vivid red and her eyes full of unshed tears. They threatened to fall at any moment. Just her dad’s kindness and soft voice made her want to cry all over again. Of course he was only protecting her; that had never been in dispute. That was all he and Lucas were doing.

Richard slipped out of the car and headed into a Costa at a motorway service station. Rain was beginning to spit as dark clouds began to move in. Amy stared out of the window, her focus glued to the spot in front of her where a family were getting into their car. A dark haired man, accompanied by a blonde woman. A toddler and an older child, who looked to be around ten. They looked happy.

The sound of the driver door opening snapped Amy back to reality and made her jump. Richard noticed his daughter’s shock and smiled sadly at her. “Here you go, love,” he said, offering her a large latte. “Extra shot of caramel.” Then he winked.

As Richard started the engine, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Amy,” he said. “I’m only doing this for your good; you know that, don’t you? I know you love Lucas. But being with him is going to put you at risk.”

“I know, Dad,” Amy said, her voice quiet. “I know you’re doing this to help me and because you love me.”

“You might be a grown woman, but your mum and I would do anything for you, you know that. We want you safe. No matter how old your children get, your responsibility for them never stops.”

The car was still stationary as Richard glanced across at Amy’s hands in her lap, and he noticed something dark around her wrist as her jumper sleeve had ridden up her arm. “Fucking hell,” he whispered. “Your wrists.”

***

Lucas slammed the flat door as he walked back inside, knowing Amy would be gone by now. The silence was deafening, and a gasp came from the very back of his throat. She’d gone. Her room was tidy, but her diary from her bedside table was gone, along with her slippers and most of the toiletries from the bathroom. He opened her wardrobe, just to feel the pain of her departure even more. There were barely any clothes left.

In the kitchen and Lucas slumped down on the floor, feeling the cold of tiles against his backside and thighs. Pain from the bullet wound shot down his leg, but he didn’t care. The pain couldn’t compare to that of letting Amy go. He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and looked at the photo of them on his lock screen. She was his everything. Though the pain was excruciating, her very presence in his life had helped him to feel once more. All of the emotional and mental numbness he had felt since coming home from Russia, had been burned away by Amy Holland. She made him feel happiness, contentment, love, pleasure. But also pain. Pain seemed to be a constant in his life now, a permanent friend.

***

Amy stepped into her parents’ house, feeling the wave of familiarity rush through her. The smell of a home she had left many years ago – it was still exactly the same. It hadn’t been that long since she and Lucas had been visiting for new year, but this was different. Today marked the day she would be staying for longer. Maybe until all of this blew over, and then she could be with Lucas again. So she hoped.

“Your mum isn’t home yet, but I’ve burned the photos. I can’t let her see those. What happened, Amy? The truth, please,” Richard asked, his voice was low but firm. He had never been a demanding man, instead always being gentle with his daughters. But today had shown Amy just how fierce he really could be. “You know who sent those images, don’t you?”

“It’s all secret information…”

“No, Amy! I won’t have that shit,” Richard growled. “Tell me. I don’t care if it’s top secret and a risk to national security, or whatever, you’re my daughter and I deserve to know what happened to you.”

Amy stood in the kitchen and looked up at her dad who was waiting for an answer. He had his arms folded and his face was set in a straight expression.

“The woman who shot me was Lucas’ ex and a CIA agent. She faked her death because she killed her boss and went on the run. Then she must have found out about me and Lucas, and tried to make me think he wasn’t really in love with me. And she collared us outside the café that morning and went to shoot Lucas, but I stopped her. And Lucas killed her.”

Richard sighed and held his hand to his mouth. “Fucking hell, Amy.”

“It was Sarah’s brother who took me hostage, wanting to get revenge on him. Apparently, the accomplice of Simon Caulfield was Sarah’s ex-husband; I was told that in the hospital. They went rogue together to get revenge on Lucas.”

“And you were still prepared to stay with him after all this?” Richard asked, his eyes wide.

“I love him,” Amy replied softly. Tears were falling down her cheeks again. “I’ve never loved anyone else like this, and he actually loves me back. For so long I never felt I’d ever find a man who could love me...”

“Oh, love,” Richard sighed. He took Amy into his arms and held her tight as she wept on him. Through tears, Richard looked up at the ceiling, asking in prayer for the strength to be what his daughter needed.

Once Sharon was home from work, Richard explained the whole story to his wife.

“Where are the photos, Rich?” Sharon asked. Her dark eyes were wide with shock and her hands were shaking.

Amy was sat at the other end of the table, feeling as though her whole body was closed off. She hung her head, feeling ashamed of everything that had occurred.

“It doesn’t matter about the photos. I got rid of them. I wasn’t letting you see them,” Richard replied.

Sharon walked towards her daughter. She was slow and deliberate, and her gaze was locked on her daughter’s arms. Her skin was concealed by a thick jumper. Sharon leaned down and gently pushed the sleeve up on Amy’s left arm. “Oh, God,” she gasped, seeing black and purple bruising around Amy’s wrist.

***

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#Lucas North #Richard Armitage #Spooks #MI5 #Lucas North x OC #Original Female Character #Fanfiction

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