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justanotherghostwriter · 4 months ago

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Dear @coffeepotcat. It was my privilege to be your gift-giver for the @secret-cyborg event this year!

Under the cut, you'll find a fanfic set in a happy-ending aftermath of the Cyborg Soldier episode "When You Wish Upon a Shooting Star"/"From Here to Eternity".

It features some (hopefully) fluffy brother-family-team bonding between 002 and 004, with 009 being the mischievous little brother instigator of family cohesiveness. It also does feature some injury recovery mentions for both 002 and 009, and mentions of death, self-sacrifice and grief. I tried to keep the latter two brief, though, so as not to impede the found family fluff. I really hope that you enjoy!

Officially: screw the idea of gratitude over being alive. 002 was going to bitch about things that deserved being bitched about. And crutches? Crutches fell into one of the top tiers of Deserving of Bitching About. He’d gotten used to maneuvering the wheelchair they’d found for him quickly and, after days of having to lie around in bed, any form of restored mobility had been a relief to the crawling he swore he could feel under his skin. He’d thought that Gilmore slapping some prototype legs on him would have been a nice step forward, pun stolen from 007, regardless of how many times the doctor had gone on about the damage done to 002’s body and the fact that they’d have to do a lot of trial and error with the constructed-from-scratch legs, especially as 002 continued to heal first and then get used to the new grafts.

A stumble forward was more like it. Where the wheelchair had brought bruised fingers when he misjudged a doorway, the crutches seemed to get caught on everything. Including his half-working new legs. It was infuriating, and he knew some people had it worse, and he knew that it was only a pure miracle 001 had had enough power to stop the crash-landing from outright killing both him and 009, but 002 was not going to deny the absolute ass of it all even in the face of the relief.

What was really raining on his — completely justified! — honest assessment of the circumstances was, of course, 009’s reaction to everything. Joe had come out with most of his external structure fine, thanks to fancy technology and updates that hadn’t been around when 002 was first built. But things had gone wrong on the inside, somewhere between the Yomi battle and the Robot Turned Spaceship battle and the freefalling through space,leaving the younger cyborg weak, perpetually freezing and often struggling for breath from a crushed windpipe Gilmore was tearing his hair out trying to heal. But it wasn’t because of the damaged throat that 009 complained less. Oh, no; he was just one of those infuriatingly demure and positive patients.

When he wasn’t trying to undo all his healing by pushing himself far beyond his limits, of course.

But, this time, there was no threat to serve as an excuse for 009 to hop over some steps of recovery. Just an uncertain, slightly shell-shocked, somewhat-grieving somewhat-celebrating group of fellow human war experiments. While 002 told it as it was, 009 hid his face behind his bangs, insisted he was fine and grit his teeth to swallow the shame and frustration when it did arise.

Once, he’d grit them so hard that he’d accidentally activated his acceleration switch. It was the first time since the Yomi mess had started that everybody laughed as one: first at 009 and the comical, horrified shock on his face where he’d gone tumbling. Then at 006’s cry-laughing. Then at 007 mocking all of their laughter styles. Then just... because they could. Maybe because they had to.

Aside from that memorable incident, and one or two other moments of cautiously pushing the envelope a little when 002 assumed the underlying emotions were getting almost too much to control, 009 was complacent and as self-reliant as he possibly could be.

Which was why 002 was wobbling down to Dr Kozumi’s sitting room, tripping over his legs and the crutches and getting what felt like under-arm blisters from the whole ordeal. Because Joe, through his bangs, had quietly asked if 002 could please sit with him, because even the fire that 006 made and all the blankets they piled him under weren’t helping, and they still gave off something akin to body heat, as cyborgs, which might help. And, hell, cuddling a guy on a sofa was not exactly how 002 wanted to spend the afternoon but...

But he couldn’t get the image of 009, shivering violently in the sickbed to his right, back when he’d been more out-of-it than awake. And 005 walking in and asking, so gently, if he could carry 009 inside, where there was a fire. It had happened so many times after that, but that first one... it stuck. The worry beaming off of everybody, and his own helplessness — hadn’t managed to save Joe, hadn’t managed to help him then — and the memory of how 003 sounded when she sobbed for 009 and the look on 009’s face all cemented themselves deep.

Plus... Joe had asked. The rarity made it something precious, and something Jet couldn’t deny. Especially because he was, actually, grateful to be alive. And almost more grateful that 009 was alive, too.

Of course, when 002 fumbled his way into the sitting room, out of breath and as frustrated as he was viciously triumphant, there was no 009 in sight.

004 was sitting on the couch, though, a book open in one hand and his eyebrow raised in 002’s direction.

“Where’s 009?” 002 asked, anger clipping his words.

“Hmmm. So you got told the same story, huh?”

It took 002 half a beat too long to understand. “He told y—? I’m going to kick his ass.”

“Are you going to ask him to sit on the floor in front of you to do it?” 004 asked, beginning to smirk.

002 glared at him, temper crackling. “I can, and I will, kick his ass in a way that — ah, shit —”

Stupidly, he’d lifted a crutch to brandish it, threateningly. And that tipped his balance completely, leaving him to slow-fall, windmilling the whole way, until he was on his butt on the floor, slightly sprawled.

“I’m listening, you can keep going,” 004 said, smirking widely.

002 responded by giving him the finger, humiliation and rage both heating his face and why did they still have the ability to blush? Surely that should have been engineered the hell out. 004 got up, languidly, stretched, and then sauntered over to offer 002 a hand up. His smirk was slightly softer. More knowing. 002 cursed at him, but then took his hand and allowed the other man to haul him up, steady him, and then help him wordlessly to the sofa, where he collapsed to regroup.

And then there was silence. Not awkward, exactly, but still tenser than it had been. Than it usually was between them, unless they were in the middle of a serious disagreement. It just felt, all of a sudden, like there was too much to say, and 002 realised that they hadn’t talked since everything had gone down. He hadn’t even seen 004 around, recently.

“I thought you’d left,” he commented.

“No,” 004 said, still reading. “I was just... helping out in other ways. In other places.” He shot 002 a crooked grin that made 002 uneasy at once. It was self-depreciating in a way that made warning bells start to ring in 002’s head. “Might have shot either one of you for being your own particular brands of annoying.”

Usually, 004 was a bit of a puzzle to figure out. But this one was easier than most, because 002 had had a lot of time of lying about and thinking and remembering and processing what had happened in the Yomi Kingdom. And he remembered 004, straight-backed, fury so cold it looked emotionless, as he faced 009 and offhandedly said how he’d managed to shoot Van Vogt.

“009... doesn’t think less of you. For shooting Van Vogt. You know that, right?” Joe was a bleeding heart, but he wasn’t a naive idiot. Evil was evil, and deserved to go straight back to the slime pits of hell. 004 stared down at the book. “He was just...” 002 struggled with the words, not knowing himself how to phrase it. Joe hadn’t wanted Albert to have the bitter taste of revenge coat that moment, he supposed. 009 was still too black and white for all of that.

“I know. We’ve chatted. I thought him asking me here...” 004 trailed into silence for a few beats, and then sighed and snapped his book shut. “He doesn’t,” he repeated, as though reassuring himself. “But it still happened. I’m... angry.” 002 pressed his lips together, one part of him in solidarity, and the other painfully aware of how alien 004’s experience was to him. “We’ve... won. I guess. For now. Until the next... I’m angry,” he snarled, hands curling into fists, metal creaking somewhat. “At Van Vogt. At Black Ghost. At you.”

002 reeled back a little in shocked surprise. “At me? What the hell.” Surprise, hurt, shame, defensiveness, bitter rage all catalysed into his glare. 004 met it without flinching. “That is not fair. I did everything I could. I— I...”

“Didn’t think.” Albert’s voice was more measured, but no less heavy. “What would we have done if you’d died, huh?”

“003 wasn’t crying over me.”

“So that means it was fine?”

002 wished he could get to his feet easily. Having this confrontation sitting down was making his chest tight like he hadn’t felt in... years. “You,” he snarled, “Cannot seriously be the one lecturing me about self-sacrifice and not caring about what happens to the team if I die.”

“I think I’m uniquely able to talk about it, actually,” 004 snarled right back. His arms were crossed, shoulders visibly tense as he continued to lean against the back of the couch.

002 switched tactics. “It could happen any time. Battles kill people. Look at how suddenly we nearly lost 008.”

“That’s the point.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that the whole freakin’ universe wants to take us out. So we shouldn’t be helping them. It means that at any moment, we could lose anybody. Anybody. Without warning. So we have to think and do all we can to protect one another. This team. This family. Every member. It means that you’re part of us, whether you like it or not.” 004 swallowed and broke eye contact. For a moment, he was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was cut glass, and 002 had a dawning impression that 004 wasn’t only lecturing 002, but himself as well. “You’re an important part of this family, Jet.” The first name cut through the growing defensive anger, leaving 002 with nothing except vague guilt and upset. “And you wouldn’t have been able to help him. You had to have known this. But you went anyway. To die. Knowingly.”

“I thought I could — ” But 004’s face stopped the familiar lie. “I hoped I could save him. But... but I... I didn’t...” With a snarl of frustration, he scrubbed at his face and then buried his fingers in his hair. “Out of nowhere one day 009 came to me and asked about the acceleration mode. Asked me if... if anything about it had ever made me feel... lonely. I told him no, weirdo, or whatever but... but it stuck with me. And then, when they were dying, all the sisters wanted was to reach one another and I...” He swallowed. “I couldn’t let him die alone.”

004 exhaled, loud and shaky. And then silence, thick but no longer oppressive, blanketed them.

“I’m sorry about Vena,” 002 said, quietly.

Another audible exhale. “Yeah.”

002 slumped back. 004 played with his book a little. “So. You’re not leaving?” 004 eventually asked.

002 shrugged. “Maybe for a bit. To go visit. I promised. But... No.” He glanced at Albert. “You?”

“Nah. Maybe for a vacation or so when you lot drive me absolutely crazy. But...”

But. Things were different, this time. None of them wanted to disperse like they had when they first thought they’d destroyed Black Ghost. And, even back then, they’d all been one moment away from regrouping. There was very little out there in the world for him, Jet realised with a small pang. Maybe, in a few years, there wouldn’t be anything at all.

“Ready to go find 009?”

002 scoffed. “Yeah. That asshole.”

004 waited for him to get himself to his feet, and matched his pace as they shuffled together toward the deck. They found 009 in one of his favourite spots, basking in the sunshine and wearing a coat that could only have been one of 007’s thrift store finds, it was that hideous.

“What the hell was that?” 002 snapped at him, and 009 opened one eye to look at him, all Butter Couldn’t Melt In My Mouth. “Made me walk all the way to the damn sitting room and then you’re not there?”

“What’s the game?” 004 echoed, arms crossed.

009 gave a crooked smile. “One Father used to play with us when he wanted us to talk about things. The, um, priest, I mean.”

Like they didn’t know whom he was referring to. Like they didn’t know too much about each other. 002 thought of Joe’s orphan friends — his only sort-of-family from before — who had been turned into cyborgs. He suddenly realised that Albert had referred to them as a family, and it hadn’t even struck him as strange. On the tail end of that revelation came another: there was nothing much left in the world out there, but everything for him in this ramshackle group of idiots, morons and annoyances.

He would do anything for them. And they for him. And the line, he guessed Albert had been trying to teach him, just had to be one that was a negotiated give-and-take. Because that’s what family did.

“Don’t know what you were hoping for. This idiot just fell down, is all. How did you even get out here?”

“GB, before he left,” Joe admitted, and the coat’s owner was all-but-confirmed.

“Well, come on, I don’t have all day to stand here being messed about by you. And don’t think I’m staying to keep you warm, now.”

Joe only grinned, fond and bright, and began levering himself to his feet. Despite his words, and the almost ever-present annoyance, Jet found himself starting forward on instinct, ready to help. Albert beat him to it, and Joe accepted the hand up that stayed, as support, to lead him back to the sitting room. The silence was, finally, light and easy, though there were moments of twisted shadows as Joe wavered and Jet banged into things like a blind one-hour-old colt.

By the time they got to the fire, Joe’s breathing was laboured, and it was with a grim-faced worry that Albert settled him down and dumped the blankets on him. Joe was back to insisting he was fine, but 002 sat beside him, anyway, since he was there already and all. They talked about Albert’s book, and then GB’s plans for books, and then the movie theatre in town and if it was showing anything good, and then movies that they liked growing up. Joe faded very quickly, and Jet found himself playing pillow as well as space-heater.

“Shut up,” he said, quietly, to Albert’s smirk. “He cannot still be cold...” But he could feel the unnatural chill against him, and hear the raspy breathing, and so he didn’t begrudge the slightly uncomfortable position, or the heat of the fire. “Thought Japanese people hated physical affection. Makes sense we got the defective, cuddly one in a million,” Jet grumbled.

“Black Ghost is notoriously good at finding the worst possible candidates for ruthless soldiers.” Jet blinked at Albert’s words, and the German laughed. “Look at our team. How many pacifists and golden hearts do we have on it?”

Jet thought for a moment. And then snorted. “Wow. They really should have done background checks.”

“I’m pretty sure you and I would have been the only two to make the cut. Maybe 008...”

Jet rolled his head so he could see more of where Albert was reading through Joe’s wild stack of hair, made wilder by the sea spray. “You’re a marshmallow on the inside,” he said, with a heatless sneer. “Complete sap.” Albert looked up at him, sharply, a scowl forming. “And we need you on this team, too, okay? In this family.” He blurted it before he could think twice about it, emboldened by Joe hiding his face somewhat. He’d never had to do emotional brotherhood speeches. Sue him. But he knew, regardless, that this was important. “So... you know. What’s good for me, is good for you.”

They had a bit of a stare-down for a moment, and then Albert nodded. Just once. Small. Slightly defeated, entirely brimming with hope.

And then he went back to reading, mechanical hands turning the page so gently, and Jet went back to trying to keep Joe warm, and he daydreamed about all of them going to take a picnic on the beach on a good day, and all the horrendous shenanigans that would ensue because they turned one another into delinquents when there was no threat to turn them serious.

Jet was looking forward to it.

#secretcyborg2024 #Ghostfic

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secret-cyborg · 4 months ago

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This one is from an anonymous gifter for Saffron_Eve!

The setting is a post adventure domestic fic, with everyone getting together to enjoy a campfire and all that it entails.

“And now I can tell you about the green ribbon, she said in a low groan. The last of her aching breath blowing towards him. Untie it, and you will see why I never could tell you. He felt sweat beginning to collect at the base of his neck, as he reached out and carefully- “

“Oh god, Albert stop, you don’t need to tell this one every time!” Francoise swatted at the air in front of her as he grinned at her disgust.

“Fran it’s not even scary, it’s sort of romantic in a way.” Joe chimed in, as thoughtfully as he could muster given her near squeal of detest.

“To who?”

She was so quick to answer in exasperated disbelief, that the trio found it hard to contain themselves. Chang and Pyunma sat just off to the side trying their damnedest to stay out of it, but it was getting harder by the minute. Pyunma twist and split oreos in half while Chang worked on artisanally scorching the outside of a handful of soft, fat marshmallows. Then they’d work in tandem to seal the cookies back up with the hot fluff just barely sandwiched between it all.

Joe smacked at the mosquitos circling the backs of his legs, and Francoise huffs between glances at the pock marks tracing his ankles. Jet follows her line of vision and his face sours. “Jesus Christ, did you put on any bug spray?”

“It’s doesn’t look that bad” he said sitting just a little straighter than before.

“Yeah, well it looks like you’re trying to smuggle marbles man.”

Pyunma blew air out his nose trying to stifle a laugh that knew too well when to leave, and tried to face the other end of their makeshift campsite. He bit down on his lips trying to stop it from going and further but even Albert had begun to laugh and it made it that much harder to stop. Joe fished around in a tote bag piled behind their folding chairs until he found the small can of spray.

“You are not doing that here, go over there and spray it” Chang practically spat at him between flaming exhales. “You do that here and guess what? All of this, tastes like DEET and we are not doing that again.” He motioned in wide circles in Pyunmas general direction, the memory of last years smores tasting more like propane than anything else after GB insisted on cooking over a grill. “Uh, right.”

Albert was practically grinning ear to ear as he pulled his phone up to his face and began reading the remainder of the story off his screen. The farther away Joe got, the more Francoise high pitched squeals and the guy’s laughter seemed to echo out into the early evening. He stopped somewhere between the campfire and the house they were all currently calling home, hoping the wind wouldn’t carry the spray too far one way or another and nearly drenched himself in it. Between the can rattling and the fizz of the nozzle he could just make out the slam of the screen porch side door.

Junior flagged him down with one arm, the other cradled Ivan who in turn simply stuck one of his arms directly in the air. “You guys ready yet?” his voice boomed over across the lot. “Yeah, they’re finishing up right now. How are things going with Great?”

“Gilmore is still working on him…” Ivan reaches out for one of the fingers Joe is wiggling in his face. “He fried up pretty well that one.”

“What is Gilmore doing to him?”

Junior smirked “Oh, you gotta come see” The pair walked back into the house following the sound of a wet slap, then a grunt. GB sat half naked and arched over a chair at the kitchen table, toes curling and heels pressing into the hardwood floors. Gilmore hovered over him; sleeves rolled up to his elbows fishing out long strips of paper towel from a bowl of milk. “Here’s the next one” he said before slapping the strip over Great’s hot, red, and by tomorrow leathery skin. He looked like a dumpling with a near transparent wrapper, or like what Joe imagined the early stages of a silk worm making a cocoon would be like. Little beads of milk trailed off his shoulder blades and pooled onto the floorboards.

Great turned his head slightly if not painfully over his shoulder when he heard giggling. “Knock it off already, will you? I learned my lesson, no need to rub salt in the wound.”

“And another” Gilmore called out before laying down the next section of soggy paper towel. Great winced and as sorry a sight it was Junior and Joe couldn’t help but watch the thick white goo spread across his face and ears jiggle with every movement. “You know the sun block only works if you wear it before you get burned.”

“Oh, har har, that’s right get them in while you can. While a fellow is down, quickly now get them in. What will you do next eh? Call the tabloids? Alert the media if you find it so funny, I’ll wait, really.”

“That’s yogurt” Junior tried to answer between rolling laughs “Anything will work so long as it’s got fat and it’s dairy.”

“Last one” GB’s head shot back around with the soft smack against the patch in the middle of his back. “All done.” Gilmore said matter of fact as he carried the bowl back into the kitchen and began pouring the leftover down the drain.

“What’s next?” GB called out to him; a bit too aware of how tight he was holding his shoulders.

“It needs to sit for a while.”

“Pray tell how long is a while?”

“About an hour or two” he said while wiping the milk off his arms and hands.

“An hour? What the hell am I supposed to do for an hour? You lot are trying to eat without me!”

“I said a bath would have been faster-”

“So did I”

Gilmore nodded, “Junior and I both said a milk bath would be faster and what did you say? Something about feeling like a biscuit? Well, we’ve done it your way and now you’ll have to wait and join us.”

“Well will you all at least promise to save me some?”

Gilmore thought for a moment “Now you know that isn’t up to me, we will see how Chang feels.”

Great felt the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders, as he recalled every instance of Chang’s nagging to apply sun block throughout the day. He even remembered Francoise offering and even heckling Jet over the large swatch of thick cream he slathered on his nose. Egg on his face now it all seemed. He mulled over which was better in this case, sitting it out empty stomached or trying to withstand a critical blow from Chang’s repertoire of well-meant talking-tos.

He wilted in his seat and it sucked the joy out of Gilmore’s teasing. Junior handed off Ivan to Joe and began rummaging through the kitchen drawers. To Greats shock and the others humor, Junior came back out with several boxes of cling film in his hands and began pulling out long sheets.

“Oh no” GB started to wonder if sitting inside was really so horrible after all as the film was wound around his wrist and slowly up his forearms. “Oh, you can’t be serious”

“I told you; a bath would have been the easiest” Junior told him as the roll wrapped around another time.

It was incredible, simply incredible GB thought, just how persuasive this man could be with a roll of plastic wrap.

“That night Ruth took a hot bath, and as she soaked the spot burst! Then out poured a swarm of- “

Francoise pushed the wadded-up blanket she had draped over her lap into Jet’s face in an effort to smother the end of the story out of him. She pushed it half-heartedly into a face that had begun laughing once she lunged towards him. “I told you! I told you! One more of these bullshit stories and I was going to do it! You just had to try me!”

The group laughed over the crackle of the fire and the thump of the pair falling out of their chairs and onto the dirt. Francoise yelped and started pounding her fists into his chest while Jet nearly wheezed from how mad she was getting.

Gilmore passed a large aluminum baking tray to Pyunma, picking up one of the culinary abominations he’d only seen on late night home shopping network programs. Slotted somewhere between all the other needless kitchen knick-knacks and overly branded gadgets. They would call it whatever they wanted but filleted oreos with a burnt marshmallow a smore did not make. But it would take him one…or five before he could probably explain why.

Pyunma in turn, passed the tray to Junior who was chipping off bits of cookie to hand feed to Ivan whose cheeks were already powdered in what looked like soot. The pair gave up an hour or so ago at keeping his hands clean, the damn things kept getting sticky the moment they looked away.

Chang was next, and he similar to Junior was breaking the cookie into chunks and tried to feed Great out of the palm of his hand like a horse. Whatever embarrassment would come from that was already far outweighed by the sheen of his cling wrap coat and his slowly caking yogurt mask. He was thankful at least that in the night they couldn’t get a good enough gander at all the details.

Albert leaned across GB’s lap to take the tray from Chang and quickly nudged it onto a laughing Joe’s lap. They watched as the pair stopped wrestling long enough to get back into their chairs. Jet covered in dirt practically all over his back and Francoise with it all over her shins and somehow even a few twigs tangled in a large knot on the side of her fringe. Her chest heaved with the ridiculousness of it all, catching her breath and feeling so frustrated at these back-to-back gross stories. If they were genuinely scary that was one thing, but high jacking the evening to talk about the most deranged and disgusting stories were beyond her.

As she calmed down it became apparent no one else had started a new story, and she felt a bit worried that she killed the mood. Though when Francoise glanced around the fire everyone was looking at her and trying very obviously, or maybe very badly more like it- to hold in a laugh.

#secretcyborg2024 #cyborg 009 #fanfiction

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