#six got taught the team is important then got ripped away from any chance of having one

[hollowedhusk]

Alright, I'm gonna say something, and I take no criticism.

Is it just me or do Commander Fox (clone not the furry) and Noble Six give off some similar trauma vibes.

[holy-stevie]

Next to you

Summary: Steve Rogers is your best friend. You had been by his side through everything, but what happens when he gets an oppurtunity to go back to the love of his life? 

Warnings: angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole. 

a/n: Just a little steve drabble i’ve had in mind for a while now 

Please do not post my work on any other sites 

You had been next to Steve Rogers side for as long as you could remember. You met him when you were both at the sweet age of sixteen, bumping into each other awkwardly in the art room at your high school. Ever since that encounter the two of you had been best friends, the skinny blonde man with the most endearing blue eyes and strongest will had become your family.

When Steve Rogers got into an alley fight, you were there to pick him up from the ground, to make sure his wounds were treated, and he was home safely. You would step in when the punches got too brutal, when Steve wasn’t able to get back up himself. As much as he would complain at the idea of you stepping into his fights, he couldn’t help the relief he held at the right hooks Bucky had taught you to throw, the move you had learned to complete expertly at this point. You would make a joke about him having them on the rails before pulling him up from the dirty sidewalk and taking him home, making sure he was fed, clean, and dozing off before leaving.

When Steve Rogers was finally accepted into the army, you were by his side. Erskine taking the deal to take you with them, knowing that Peggy Carter wouldn’t mind having another young lady to train on her army base. Steve didn’t like the idea of you going into a dangerous war, but after you gave him the challenging glare you had been giving him for years he just shook it off. You trained together, you slightly excelling under Peggy’s watch as she wanted to make a soldier out of you as an example to the ego fed men surrounding you both.

When Steve Rogers laid in the middle of a lab in Brooklyn about to go through his life changing moment, you were right by his side. You were there giving him a comforting smile and telling him that he could do this, and he did. You stood agape next to him when he was let down from the pod, now a six-foot hunk of muscles and tan skin. You were by his side when Erskine was shot, quickly pulled to stand behind him as two more shots were fired from Peggy before both of you rush to the scientists’ side. You were by his side when he was offered his stage gig as Captain America, unable to follow him on his tour you still stayed by his side through the form of letters you sent every week.

When Steve Rogers arrived at the camp of the 107th you ran into his arms the second you saw him, neither of you caring about the mud and blood on your uniform. You stood by his side when he confronted Phillips and stormed a hydra base to save your mutual best friend Bucky Barnes. You watched from his side as he stared after the beautiful Peggy Carter in the red dress, teasing him about his lack of flirting abilities. You drank bottles and bottles of alcohol from the destroyed bar after Bucky Barnes fell from the side of a cliff in the alps.

When Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the ice to save the world, you were right next to him. You were right next to him when they found the plane 70 years later, never leaving his side for a second in the crash. You put on a brave face for him when you were told that both of you were in the future, the world as you knew it, gone. You held his hand gently when you were both escorted to your new apartment, everything changed from what you remembered. You rested your cheek against the top of his head as he cried in private over the friends he had lost, over the love that he had lost.

When Steve Rogers and the other avengers faced the battle of New York, you were by his side. Fighting back to back with the new adjustments S.H.I.E.L.D had given you both, fighting the Chitauri together. You were quick to run to his aid when he was shot down past his limit, covering both of you as you held out a hand to help him up from the ground. You slumped next to him when you ate swarma with your teammates in a run-down shop, holding each other up through the exhaustion from the battle caused by the handsome Asgardian.

When Steve Rogers was on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D aka Hydra, you were running along with him. When the deadly assassin hunting both of you was revealed to be Bucky Barnes, you fought next to Steve to get your friend back. When Bucky aimed the gun at Steve you were the one to take the two shots, giving Steve the opportunity to change the chip. You were by his side on the riverbank after Bucky had pulled you both out, barely breathing but alive. When you awoke in a hospital bed, he was by your side quietly singing along with your new friend Sam Wilson.

When Steve Rogers was in a trance from the daydream the witch had put him in, you were there by his side, holding his hand reassuringly. Patiently waiting for him to come out of the trance, whether that be in a breakdown or a sudden surge of leadership with the team. You stood by his side as your team fought a team of feral robots, both of you jumping from the robot made asteroid with seconds before it dropped.

When Steve Rogers didn’t sign the accords you obediently stood by his side, arguing with the people you were starting to consider family. You helped him fight through a German police force to save Bucky, ending you both locked in the headquarters as Tony pleaded with you to sign the document. You stood next to him to fight against your team for the sake of your childhood best friend Bucky Barnes. You helped each other up off the ground after the power from Tony’s suit was cut, not saying a word as he drops the shield that Howard Stark had made for him.

When Steve Rogers stood in the outskirts of the legendary city Wakanda, you were right next to him as you always had been. You fought the hardest you ever had on that day, not stopping for even a minute to let the aliens surrounding you get the advantage over you. You faced the Titan together, getting knocked down together. You stood by his side while you both watched Bucky Barnes disappear.

When Steve Rogers lost all hope in himself, you were there by his side on the bedroom floor, holding him as he broke. You sat on the cold floor patiently for hours as he cried, what seemed like endless tears. You went to every support group with him and made sure he was fed, clean and asleep before taking care of yourself. You were there the countless nights he woke up screaming for his friends, his family.

When Steve Rogers and the remaining Avengers planned the time heist, you were by his side, watching the natural leader in him and Tony take over. When he stood a few feet from the love of his life you were standing by his side, lips pressed together as you watched the longing flash across his face. When he laid defeated on the ground you were by his side pulling him to his feet, “We’re soldiers Rogers, we die on our feet.” You were by his side as you both mourned the loss of Tony Stark.

Now you sit next to him, but you are not by his side. You sit with your hands clasped together, not daring to meet his eyes as you fight the tears from escaping your eyes. He was leaving, leaving Bucky and Sam, leaving you. You should have put the dots together when he was standing at the damn window, she was his everything.

“But what about us? Do we not matter anymore Steve?” You ask, you know your question wasn’t fair. He had been fighting his whole life and he wanted to settle down, have a family. With his true love, Peggy Carter. He stands, pacing in front of you as he scoffs.

“Of course you matter, but I finally have the chance to be with her. I can have everything I ever wanted, I can finally settle down and have my own family.” He says, your eyes flicker up to his in disbelief. The Steve Rogers in front of you is not one that you recognise, not the one you had spent your whole life protecting.

“And I’m supposed to do what? Forget you exist? Forget that you’re my best friend?” You ask, the tears no longer kept at bay as they flow freely down your cheeks. Steve swallows before turning away from your gaze, not man enough to meet your eyes as he says the next thing.

“Peggy is all that matters to me y/n. No one is as important to me as she is, not even you.” You blink numbly as your eyes meet the ground, unable to believe the words coming from his mouth. All these years of friendship for nothing? All the times you had laughed together over a stupid dad joke Sam would tell you, all the times you would cover each other’s backs in battle or stop to make sure the other was okay. All the times you held him as he broke down from the pressure being put on his shoulders.  

You don’t say anything more to him as you stand, ready to leave the room and scream. Your eyes meet his, yours filled with tears and rage, a hollow feeling passing through them as you look at the man that you had sacrificed everything for. He doesn’t look regretful in the slightest, his blue eyes just holding the determination that you had admired since you were sixteen.

That exact look is planted behind your own eyes as you watch Sam Wilson approach the bench with a now elderly Steve Rogers occupying it. Your own eyes are hollow and dead as you stare at the pair, the space beside you, although occupied by Bucky, was haunting you. You press your lips together tightly as you turn, not giving a single second of hesitation as you storm to your car. Driving recklessly, you arrive at your apartment in Brooklyn in record time, slamming the door shut behind you.

There’s an eerie silence before you explode, throwing picture frames, tearing old photos and new ones. Ripping apart clothes and over turning the bed. After hours of rage you sit in the centre of the destroyed apartment, listening to someone knock on the front door numbly. Bucky Barnes approaches you slowly, being careful to not hurt himself on the sharp objects and he gathers your broken form in his arms.

When Steve Rogers leaves his best friend behind with no care, she breaks down in Bucky Barnes arms. Crying and gasping for air for hours, clutching his shirt willing him not to leave her. Because Steve Rogers was no longer next to her, and he never will be again.  

taglist: @scarletsoldierrr​

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Please, obligatory "hunger games au" please?

[Technically a Catching Fire AU, since I didn’t actually want to write all the protagonists killing each other, but the concept is the same.]

When the announcement of the Quarter Quell comes, past Hunger Games champions to be reaped all over again, Rachel thinks Oh.  Thinks, they were always going to find a way to get rid of me.

She cheated, after all.  Broke the Games, ensuring two winners instead of just one.  The poison passing between her lips and Marco’s.  The defiant dare: that the Capitol could have two survivors, or it could have none.  She and Marco sobbed out their love as they clung to each other later that day, and it’s been enough to keep them alive until now.  But it was never going to last.

When she tells Marco this, he laughs.  “It’s not just us, though.  Think about it.”  He ticks them off on his fingers as he goes. “Erek sabotaged the Arena itself to win.  James was one of the figureheads of the District 6 protest.  Ax is too well-liked by too many important people.  Even your boy Tobias smuggled all of those Avoxes out of the Capitol — no, don’t try to deny it, it’s not like I don’t know.”

“So it’s not just us people are rallying behind,” Rachel says.  “We’re not the only troublemakers.”

Marco winks at her.  “You are the rallying point, my dear.  I’m just your adorable side piece.”

“If it had to happen again, better that it do so while you’re still young and strong and pretty,” Alloran intones.  He’s looking over Ax and Estrid, unamused as always.  “Better yet, Aximili, you could’ve kept your mouth shut and we wouldn’t be here at all.”

Ax shrugs.  He’s one of dozen surviving male champions from District 4, so it’s just bad luck that he’s got an honorable streak he can’t seem to shake.  Ax is pretty sure that if his own name had been called then Alloran would’ve volunteered in his place, which is why he’d volunteered for Alloran.

“We’re both out of practice,” Estrid says.  “I’ve been in biotech labs for most of the last thirteen years, and Ax’s been getting fat entertaining the upper crust—”

“Do not speak about things you do not understand,” Alloran says flatly, and Estrid shuts up.

Ax keeps his expression pleasantly neutral.  He’s very good at it, by now.  “She has a point,” he says.  “We’re both past our prime.”

“Not as far past as I am.”  Alloran narrows his eyes at Ax, almost certainly still angry about Ax not letting him go die in the Games.  Alloran might have been a butcher in the Arena in his own time, but he’s seventy-six years old.

Ax lifts his chin.  “Tell us what you would have us do, mentor.”

“Go on, start making friends,” Nora says quietly, looking over the lunch room.  “It’s high time you got to work on your strategy.  Rachel’s no good at alliances — just look at that kid Karen she helped through half the last games.  So it’s all on you.”

Marco makes no move to go join anyone.  “We shouldn’t delude ourselves about my chances.  Last time, I was up against mostly half-starved kids, and I still would’ve died if Rachel hadn’t carried me through, sometimes literally.  Now?” he says.  “Twenty-three warriors.  Every single one of them a card-carrying baby-killer.  My scintillating wit and charm aren’t going to be enough this time.”

“So you have no strategy at all, then.”  Nora only says it because she knows it’s not true.  She knows his mind; she sponsored him in his own Games, and then they co-sponsored eight other kids.  Hell, after what happened to his parents, and hers, each of them is the closest thing the other one has left to family.

“Probably for the best if my strategy doesn’t depend on trusting any of these people,” Marco counters.

“Not even the District 10 girl?”

“What, Cassie?  Just because she cries over ‘em after she kills them doesn’t mean she’s not still a killer.  I don’t trust her any more than David.”

Nora smiles grimly.  “In that case, you’re probably trusting David too much.”  David won 10 years back by luring several tributes into deadly traps with promises of or requests for aid, and then ripping apart their bodies even after they were long dead.  The first kill he’d made had been the 12-year-old girl from his own district, who’d given him some of her food and then been too weak to resist as he held her face-down in the mud until she’d stopped struggling.

“Maybe I’ll go cower behind one of the Careers, see if that’ll keep me alive,” Marco says.  “Big Jake, for one.”  Jake Berenson of District 2 is from a long bloodline of Career tributes, one that has turned out more champions per dead child than any other.  He’s well-liked, well-fed, and strong enough to kill barehanded.

“Erek King,” Nora suggests.  “You know, the District 3 boy?  He doesn’t look like much, but he probably won’t turn on you.”

Marco snorts.  “He’s only a pacifist until you back him into a corner.  Just like the rest of us.”

“Hold the lift!” someone calls, and Cassie lunges forward to punch the door-open button.  Both District 12 tributes slide into the elevator with her, panting slightly.  They’re no longer on fire, she’s glad to see.

“Thanks,” Rachel says.  She and Marco are still holding hands, as always, but up close it looks like Rachel is holding Marco upright by their shared grip.

Marco barely lets the doors close before leaning heavily into Rachel’s arm and kicking off one of his shoes.  It clatters loudly across the floor, and Cassie realizes it has an almost eight-inch heel — their stylist’s trick to make Marco taller than Rachel.  Marco lowers himself to the floor, standing on his own now, and yanks at the other shoe.  It catches on the hem of his robe, and with a hiss of annoyance he rips that off too, revealing that he wears nothing underneath.

Cassie turns away, feeling her face flush.

“What, like you’ve never seen a naked man before?” Rachel asks, laughing.  “You were at the opening ceremony, you saw what Ax was — and wasn’t — wearing.”

Yes, and Cassie had felt sick to her stomach watching the way the crowd ogled him, a piece of meat that they couldn’t wait to devour.

“Come now, my love, you know style’s all part of the strategy, for that one especially,” Marco says to Rachel.  He’s not wrong: if Ax can play the crowd well enough, the sponsors might even be able to get him another version of that scythe-thing he favors.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not crass, sweetheart.”  Rachel grins at him.  “Kind of like stripping down in an elevator to try and shock the baby tribute.”

“Doubt I interest her, my darling,” Marco says, “seeing as I’m not a muttation.”  He laughs and adds, “not yet, anyway.”

Cassie realizes she still hasn’t said a word.  Not about the nudity, not about the taunting reference to her own victory, earned when she nursed an injured muttation back to life and taught it to kill for her.  And what’s she supposed to say?  One of these two will kill her, likely as not, before the week is out.

The best that Tobias can say about his own interview is that he manages not to let anything show on his face.  He does his best to answer the questions — about District 11, about his feather-patterned costume, about what he thinks Crayak has planned for the games ahead — in ways that are unremarkable and inoffensive.  He and Melissa both won, eight years apart, with the same strategy: they’re small and lithe and easily underestimated, but they’re also able to flit through the trees well overhead of their fellow tributes without being spotted until it’s too late.  Now, the advantage of surprise is gone with the broadcast of his last Games, and the advantage of agility disappeared with the bottom half of his right leg after infection set in.  He’s going to die.  But he wants to die with dignity, he told Melissa last night, even though he knows that probably won’t be possible.

Rachel and Marco both have it easy during the interview process.  All Marco has to do is tell the story of Rachel first trying on her flaming dress, and how beautiful she’d looked to his eyes even while waiting for her hair to catch on fire.  The audience is eating it up, laughing and cheering even as many of them sob openly throughout.  Rachel’s so stunning in her wedding dress, even as it crumbles to ash around her, that it’s easy to fall in love with her through Marco’s eyes.  When she promises to protect what is hers, staring fiercely into the camera with clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, half the Capitol falls in love with Marco all over again.

Cassie’s interview is still the most interesting, in that she gets six words into a protest speech about the treatment of the outer districts before her mic cuts off and a “technical malfunction” shuts down the conversation.  Jake’s is exactly what you’d expect from a Career, lots of shrugging and mumbling and letting his bulk speak for itself, while Ax’s causes no less than fourteen rapturous fainting spells as various audience members are overcome with the power of their love for him.

All in all, Tobias is pretty sure he fades into the mass of tributes — Collette in her wheelchair, Loren who smirks under opaque glasses, Taylor whose beauty remains undiminished by her three prosthetic limbs — whom everyone has written off as unlikely to win.  It’s probably for the best, Tobias assumes.  If it comes down to that, he’ll be just like the rebels and sponsors: fighting tooth and nail to keep Rachel alive.

Rachel buries her face against Marco’s neck, dark hair and blond tangling together.  “I think…” she breathes against his skin, too soft for the microphones to detect.  “I think maybe we can trust the Ellimist.”

She feels his jaw tighten where they’re pressed together.  Marco’s the cynic who dances them away from the worst of the traps; she’s the optimist too stubborn to know when she’s been beat.  They make a good team.  She owes her life to his inspired decision to declare his love for her on live TV just as much as he owes her for the trick with the berries.

“He’s one of the Gamemakers,” Marco hisses.  “Fuck that.”

Rachel shakes her head just a little.  “He showed me…  I can’t explain it, not here.  Just— Do you think you can trust me?”

“Always.”  Marco sounds like he means it, because he’s skilled like that.  “Always.”

Ax does his best to breathe, in the seconds between their ascent into the Arena and the gong signifying the land mines’ deactivation that will release them from their pressure pads to begin the Games.  He’s a warrior, the servant of his district and his family.  He has volunteered twice now, once in Arbron’s place, once in Alloran’s.  Let it be done.

Across the way, he sees that even as Rachel rises into position she’s already making some busy motion with both hands close to her chest.  Ax can’t see clearly what she’s doing, but he sees Tobias’s eyes go wide in alarm.

Tobias frantically shakes his head, but Rachel ignores him.  She scans the lines of tributes until she finds her target.  When she does, her smile grows vicious.  Her right hand flashes out as she throws an object full-force at David’s face.

It’s her belt buckle, Ax realizes.  A nearly-useless weapon, small and blunt.  But does the job.  When it smacks David squarely in the cheek it throws him off balance.  Enough that he staggers back two steps — straight off the pressure pad, ten seconds before the gong.

Wha-BOOM!

The concussion of the land mine triggering breezes against Ax’s face nearly twenty yards away.  And just like that, the 75th Hunger Games begin.

The instant the gong sounds, Marco is off and running.  Headed for Rachel.  She whips around when she hears his approach, sliding into a defensive stance, but she relaxes by millimeters when she sees that it’s him.

Without any discussion, she and Marco and Tobias fall into a loose phalanx, facing outward with makeshift weapons in hand.  All Marco’s managed to grab so far is a piece of the platform he was on, but improvised weapons have always been his specialty.  He’s yanking and twisting sharp edges into place like this is yet another chunk of District 12 fence ripped from its posts, when something whistles over his head.

He ducks, almost too late.  Taylor’s knife flies past, embedding itself in the backpack that Rachel holds up to shield herself.  Rachel yanks the knife loose and flips it around in her hand.  Beside her, Tobias holds a stick like a club, staring around wildly.

Taylor’s second knife never leaves her hand.  Instead she dives forward, headed for Marco’s throat —

Shink.

Taylor coughs hot blood onto Marco’s face.  The steel that killed her yanks loose from her body as Ax pulls his blade back into his hand.  

It’s almost faster than Marco’s eyes can follow.  The chain it’s on whips behind him, then snaps outward again.  This time the scythe-thing takes a girl’s hand clean off at the wrist.  Again Ax snaps it back to himself, coiled and at the ready faster than thought.

Marco sees Rachel go pale as she registers the kusarigama in Ax’s hand.  It’s like a chain mace with a bladed head, a machete attached to the end of a bullwhip.  Not the kind of thing that one finds at a corner store in Panem.  The kind of thing that the Gamemakers must have placed here, after having seen the way that Ax wields one like it’s an extra limb.  The kind of thing they must have put down deliberately, if they wanted him to win.

“We have to go!” Tobias shouts.

Marco gestures for him to lead the way.  There’s no use sticking around to get slaughtered at the Cornucopia, and especially no use risking Rachel.  The three of them take off at a steady run, leaving Ax’s graceful slaughter in their wake.

Jake kills a muttation just as it is sneaking up on Marco and Tobias.  This makes no sense, Marco concludes, but there’s no time to question it.  

Marco takes a thrown hatchet to the shoulder protecting Rachel, because that’s all he can do.  He tells himself that he isn’t hurt when she hisses angrily that there’s no one left to impress so he can just stop with the lover-boy act now.

Ax kills the District 3 tribute who nearly killed Marco, but then refuses to kill Marco even as he’s lying wounded on the ground.  

They don’t seem to understand, Marco wants to shout, that he’s not important.  Rachel — beautiful Rachel, strong fierce tough Rachel, Rachel who can launch a thousand ships with the power of her bravery — is the important one.  Marco’s just the clever little schemer who showed the Capitol who she is, just set dressing in her story.

The Games… don’t work the way they’re supposed to.  Six tributes die of smoke inhalation.  One drowns.  There are four murders, and then no more.  The remaining thirteen, and then twelve, and then eleven, keep allying with each other.  Crayak’s direct intervention, or maybe the Ellimist’s, whittles their numbers, but the survivors keep drawing in tighter and helping one another.  And if everyone is allied, no one is killing.

“So what’s it going to be, then?” Jake asks.  He glances around at all of them, but his eyes meet Ax’s and hold there.  Ax stares steadily back.

There’s a wary sort of camaraderie there, and Cassie knows its source.  In a way, these two are just the same.  Each one is his family’s second chance at a champion.  They are seconds sons, both of whom watched older brothers volunteer and be shipped off to the Arena.  Both of whom watched their brothers’ state-sponsored murder in full technicolor on 20-foot screens.  Both of whom volunteered in their turn.  Career tributes, yes, but the sort of Careers who lack all delusions of glory or honor.

“Let’s do it.”  Rachel speaks first.  She’s the first pick in her own family.  First of three.  And Cassie chills to think of the things that Rachel has already proven willing to do, in order to prevent her little sisters’ entering the Arena.

“You know I’m with you,” Tobias says, smiling sadly at Rachel.  She smiles back, brushing the back of her hand over his.

Those two are cousins, if the Capitol propaganda is to be believed, but Cassie wasn’t born yesterday.  Marco and Rachel are very good at playing the game behind the game — so good, in fact, that they’re engaged to be married and claim to have a kid on the way — but up close, they’re also very obviously playing, their flirtation only a game to them.  It’s Tobias and Rachel who look at each other with real affection, with real desperation.  But their story didn’t advance the cause, and so the Capitol took advantage of a passing resemblance — blond hair, long limbs — for its own ends.

“No offense,” Marco says, in a tone that guarantees he’s about to cause offense, “but why would we ever believe you people?  Some of us who didn’t grow up on three servings of meat a day bought by past kids’ victories need proof that you Careers aren’t just going to turn on us.”

“You have no reason to trust us,” Jake says.  “None of us has any reason to trust any of the others.  But I will tell you this much: the Capitol needs us to hate and fear each other, or else this whole sick enterprise cannot continue.  You can all do what you want, but I’m going to choose to believe that maybe, just maybe, everyone else here wants to go down defying the Capitol rather than continuing to play puppet for their entertainment.”

Ax plants the end of his kusarigama against the ground, expression hard with determination.  “You tell us what to do, and I will follow.”

“Yeah.”  Rachel laughs, tossing her head back.  “What he said.  Let’s start kicking the asses of some people whose asses actually deserve to be kicked for once.”

They’re hiding in District 13.  Turns out that’s still a thing.  Marco got away from the Gamemakers; Nora did not.  Marco surprises himself with how much he misses her, like maybe he did care about her after all.  It’s too late now, though.  The next time he sees her, she’ll be brainwashed and mind-controlled, if she’s even still alive.

“Hi, there.”  Cassie sits down next to Marco at one of the long cafeteria tables.  She turns to follow the direction of his gaze.

Rachel’s sitting across the room, leaning close to talk to Tobias.  The two of them hold hands across the table, able to be affectionate in front of witnesses for the first time in their lives.  Rachel doesn’t seem to realize, caught up in conversation as she is, how easy she is to love.  She doesn’t know the effect she has, and maybe that’s part of her power.  She wasn’t lying when she said she only volunteered to save Jordan, and she’s not lying now when she promises to save all of Panem.

“For you it’s real, isn’t it?” Cassie asks quietly.  “She has no idea, and neither did I at first… but you really are in love with her.”

Marco laughs, tempted to deny it.  But what would be the point?  “Isn’t everyone?”

[secretlystephaniebrown]

I’ll See You in the Drift

Michael Caboose's world fell apart when his partner Church was lost in the drift. But when Caboose turns out to be drift-compatible with Tucker, he might have a second chance to fix what once went wrong.

Hey! What's up, it's my first posting for the RvB Reverse Big Bang!

I had the absolute pleasure of working with @captainkonot on this project! You can find the comic they drew here, it's absolutely gorgeous and it was such a delight working with them! Check out the rest of their work if you haven’t already, its all fantastic. 

Pacific Rim AUs are my JAM so I had a blast writing this; I hope to come back to this AU again, because I think there's a lot of potential and so much story still to tell! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Thanks to my dear friend @sroloc--elbisivni for beta-ing this for me!

Also on Ao3

Outside of Sheila, the storm crashed and howled. The waves were nearly up to Sheila’s shoulders, each one roaring as it moved around the jaeger and its enemy. The kaiju they were fighting was huge; bigger than any of the ones that Caboose had seen before. Bigger than the one that Caboose and Church had killed last month, surely. Had Dr. Grey said what kind it was before they had gone out? Caboose couldn’t remember.  

Church’s mind was twined with Caboose’s, comforting and present in a way that helped slow down his racing heart.

<Focus,> Church whispered in his mind, and Caboose’s concerns melted away, replaced by the laser precision that happened when he drifted with Church. <We can do this.>

Caboose nodded, and the acknowledgement carried through the drift to Church, even though he wasn’t looking at Caboose. They stepped forward in unison, and Sheila moved with them, plowing through the turbulent sea like it was nothing but bathwater.

Church pulled his arm back for an attack. Caboose couldn’t see it, but he felt it, like Church was pulling his arm back too.

Sheila hummed beneath them as she moved, the power from her core filling Caboose with that familiar reassurance.

They were in the drift, in their jaeger. It was all going to be fine.

<Caboose!>

Caboose blinked and moved quickly, raising his own arm to block the jaeger’s blow. The force made his knees buckle, but he didn’t falter. People were depending on him. He was a jaeger pilot, and there was responsibility there.

<Come on, buddy,> Church said, and Caboose could feel his fondness through the drift. <Let’s kick his ass.>

Caboose smiled, and brought up one of his legs, striking out just like Sarge had taught him. Sheila’s leg made a connection with the kaiju, sending it stumbling backwards. For a moment its head ducked beneath the surging waves, but it resurfaced quickly. Church let out a shout, vocally instead of through the drift, and Caboose felt a wave of joy flow through their connection, although he wasn’t sure if it had originated from .

And then everything went wrong.

The kaiju rushed forward, and before they could react, it was on top of them. It was faster than they had expected, recovering quickly from the blow that Caboose had dealt it. Caboose and Church struggled to regain their balance and fight back, but there was no time as claws raked  against Sheila’s armor, filling the air with the awful sound of ripping metal.

“Church!”

Caboose was thrown backwards. Blood trickled down his face.

“Caboose!” Church grabbed him, physically by the arm. The drift was full of fear and hurt and Caboose couldn’t make out Church’s face very well, but he also looked bad.  

The kaiju screamed outside, and Caboose screamed as the claws sunk into the wall right in front of them, tearing through the armor like it was nothing.

For a moment, Caboose saw a face with too many teeth, too many eyes, too many everything.

The next thing he knew, Church had thrown him down, and then—

Pain.

White hot pain flooded Caboose as Church was ripped out of the drift. Caboose was screaming for both of them, screaming louder and harder than he ever had before, because his brain was on fire, because everything hurt, because Church was hurting and so Caboose was hurting and—

Nothing.

The connection had been severed.

Caboose stood up on shaky legs. He was all alone in his head, feeling raw and hurt and empty.

“You killed Church!” he heard himself screaming. Tears were streaming down his face and he could taste blood.

Caboose didn’t control the sword. That was not his job. That was Church’s job. But when he moved his arm, the sword moved with him.

Church was not here. Sheila was around him, and she felt heavy. She felt so, so heavy.

Caboose felt like he was heavy too. His head hurt a lot, and every single movement was an agony, but he kept going, and going, and...

The monster had stopped screaming. It was cold and wet and dark, and Caboose was alone in the dark. He didn’t like the dark. He didn’t like any of this. There was water around him, and metal. He couldn’t see anything.  

He fell to the ground, curling up on his side. The water was by his feet, moving slightly. The storm seemed to be over, but Caboose didn’t care. Everything hurt, it hurt a lot, and he didn’t know what to do now. He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep.

<Caboose, don’t fall asleep, don’t you dare! Stay awake, you hear me?>

<Church?> He was tired, he was so, so tired, why wouldn’t Church let him sleep?

<Shut up, Caboose. It’s going to be fine, you hear me? You’re going to be fine. They’re coming for you, buddy, they’re coming.>

<Why can’t I see you?>

<Don’t you dare die on me, okay, don’t you dare—>

“We found him!”

Sunlight flooded the room, and Sarge was there. His suit was red, like he always liked it to be, because—Caboose couldn’t remember why. But the red was important. Just like blue was important to him.

“Caboose! You’re alive! And you killed the kaiju, attaboy, now where’s your partner, let’s get you out of here—” Arms surrounded Caboose, helping him to his feet. He shook as someone else took his other side, helping him stand up. It was someone in a pink suit, who was saying lots of things very fast.

“He’s—” Caboose turned his head. He had just heard Church’s voice, he should be right there.

But there was no one else in the jaeger. There was a hole in the front, where a kaiju’s claws had ripped it open.

Church’s helmet, cracked and bloody, was lying on the ground.

Tucker really had been just a kid when the kaiju had arrived. Things had been... different then. There’d been high school and girls and sometimes guys. When he’d thought about his future, he’d talked about college, not the Jaeger Academy or the Pan Pacific Defense Corps.

Detroit was pretty far from the coast. It wasn’t great, it wasn’t perfect, but it was home at the very least. They were pretty far removed from everything when the kaiju hit San Francisco, but Tucker still remembered it vividly. Every moment had been staring at the televisions, at phones, watching as the world as they’d known it fell apart.

That very first kaiju attack was six days of pure terror, with people constantly wondering if they even could kill the damn thing. Three whole cities, evacuated and destroyed, as the creature stormed up and down the coast.

And when it finally was killed, more of them followed. There was attack after attack, and the whole world seemed to realize, for the first time, that they really couldn’t fix this problem.

Suddenly, the coast became a lot cheaper to live on, even the East Coast, where no kaiju had come through. No one wanted to be near the water. But everyone wanted to live inland, far away from the kaiju. And suddenly, places like Detroit became a lot more desirable to the kind of people who had a lot of money.

Tucker’s family held on as long as they could, but slowly but surely, they and the rest of their neighborhood were inched out. And out. Until one day Tucker knew they were one move away from being able to see the ocean, and he decided that if he was going to die in a kaiju attack someday, he wanted to go down fighting.

He signed up for the Jaeger Academy a few days later.

When he’d signed up, he’d have thought that if he passed, everything would be great. Everyone saw jaeger pilots on the news. They were celebrities, rock stars, and they got to fight the good fight. Punching aliens and getting laid for it seemed like there would be no downsides.

That was at least, until he realized where he was being assigned.

Blood Gulch Dome was the worst of the worst. It was up north, far away from most of the main kaiju attacks, so there was less money and fewer jaegers to go around.

They had exactly one kill to their name when Tucker arrived. And about a month into his orientation, things started going from bad to worse.

Battle Scorpion, the only jaeger Blood Gulch had, went down hard in a fight. It took out the kaiju in the process, but it was pretty badly damaged.

But it had killed half of the team, and hurt the other pretty badly.

Shit was... well, it was pretty fucked from the start. But there were other bases on standby, ready to help if there was a kaiju spotting, while Sarge stepped up their recruitment efforts and tried to get more money to try to fix Battle Scorpion, or better yet, money for a new jaeger.

But even with that going wrong, Tucker wasn’t too pessimistic. The jaeger would be fixed or replaced soon, and the other bases were winning their own fights.

Plus, the people here weren’t all that bad.  

There was Sarge, who ran the dome. He’d been a pilot once, Tucker could remember seeing him on the news. A pilot and an engineer, who’d helped design jaegers as well as pilot them. Now, he was old, but he still ran around, acting like he was a hotshot pilot, ordering everyone around and trying to keep things under control.

Kai was the other rookie, like Tucker. They were supposed to be drift-compatible, but... things hadn’t quite worked out that way. And they weren’t drift-compatible with anyone else on base either, which worried both of them more than they liked to admit. If they weren’t even drift-compatible, what were they supposed to do when Battle Scorpion was finished and they needed a team?

Simmons was their expert on the Breach. A kaiju attack had injured him pretty badly a few years back, but his mechanical limbs didn’t slow him down much, even if they were pretty eye catching.

Grey was his counterpart, their local kaiju expert. She spent a lot of time in the lab, digging through the corpses of fallen kaiju, trying to figure out how they worked better. Budget cuts meant that she was also their doctor, which Tucker was never quite sure how he felt about. She was a good doctor and all, but after one too many times of walking in on her standing in a hollowed out cranial cavity, it was pretty hard to think of her as someone who was qualified to give him cold medicine.

Donut was their mechanic who’s basically only job at that time was to try to fix the one jaeger the program had. It had been ripped up pretty badly in the kaiju attack which had killed one of the pilots and injured the other so bad that they didn’t think he’d ever drift again. He had Lopez for help, most of the time at least.

Lopez was a robot. Apparently he was Sarge’s creation when Sarge had tried to prove that robots could drift with humans. He’d obviously failed, and the robot was mostly just a machine which spouted Spanish phrases and helped Donut fix things, but sometimes...

Well.

Sometimes Tucker thought that Lopez was a little more human than he let on.

Grif was Kai’s brother. He did odd jobs around the base, napping whenever he could, and generally trying to stay out of everyone’s way.

But he and Tucker still drank beer together on Thursday nights. It was pretty good.

The word on everyone’s lips was Freelancer, the wealthy, swanky program right in the heart of things. Tons of kills and multiple pilots with their own jaegers. Freelancer was a beacon of hope for so long that Tucker almost forgot the first thing he’d learned in program.

Attracting too much attention was always dangerous.

No one really knew when things really started to go downhill. One day, things were fine. But then...

They started to lose.

Not just the Freelancers, but everyone. All over, the jaegers started losing. The kaiju were getting bigger and bigger, but also faster and smarter and quicker.

The day that Tucker knew things were only going to get worse was when O’Malley, one of the most successful jaegers ever, went down in a fight.

Because, the thing was, Tucker knew one of the pilots.

And if Tex was gone, well.

The rest of the world didn’t stand a chance.

There was a lot of buzz, filling the dome during that time. Apparently Sarge had known Tex too, during the start of things, before he’d been moved out to Blood Gulch to waste his days away in obscurity. Politics, Sarge would scream whenever people asked. Politics.

And politics were only getting worse. There was talk about ending the jaeger program, redirecting the funds. Some dumbasses wanted to build walls, hoping to keep the kaijus out.

Tucker didn’t really think the kaijus would ever really stop though.

At least not until the last of the Freelancer jaegers Memory Cliffs, had a malfunction and took out half of the dome, killing most of the administrative staff in the process.

The survivors were brought to Blood Gulch. All three of them.

Tex, as it turned out, had survived. But her partner had died in the drift, and she’d been comatose ever since. They weren’t sure if she was ever going to wake up.

Carolina and Washington had survived too, which would have been awesome news, except that whatever the fuck had happened to them during those last few days meant they couldn’t drift again.

And the Pan Pacific Defense Corps was due to vote on defunding the Jaeger Program at the end of the year.

Basically, everything was pretty damn fucked.

But... life went on. Just like it did after the first kaiju.

Tucker rolled out of bed, still tired. Ever since Sarge had let Wash and Carolina take over the training, he pretty much felt like he’d been pelted with rocks every time he woke up in the morning. Tucker was pretty sure that Wash and Carolina took way too much enjoyment out of making him and the other recruits sweat and suffer.

Wash and Carolina were going to put him through his paces all morning, working him until his calves ached and his arms felt like jelly. He had sparring this afternoon; Sarge kept finding all sorts of people for Tucker and Kai to try to be compatible with.

Before lunch though, Tucker made a quick stop at the infirmary.

Tex was exactly where she’d been the last time he’d visited her. Her hair was starting to get long, and all he could think about was how much she’d hate that. She liked to keep it short, buzzed on the back and sides, with only her bangs long. Now, it fell almost to her shoulders, a testament to how long it had been since she’d been able to hold a pair of clippers. He sat down next to her.

“Hey Tex,” he said. She didn’t move; pretty typical for a coma patient. But still, he made sure to leave a gap in his talking so that if she ever decided to stop lying around, she could respond. “Training again today. Your friend Carolina is seriously riding my ass, and not in the fun way, y’know? Too bad, she’s hot. Wash is hot too—is that like, a requirement of your program?” He carefully stayed in punching range, but she didn’t so much as twitch. “I hope you wake up soon,” he said. “We could—we could use you. A lot.”

Tucker shoved his hands in his pockets and left, hoping to avoid Grey. If he stuck around too long she’d talk to him about kaiju until his ears wanted to shrivel up and die. He was just here to help people, and maybe pick up some hot, interested people, not figure out why the kaiju from Seattle had three stomachs.

Lunch with Grif was followed by more training. After he made his way to the room, He picked up his staff and spun it around idly.

“Oh!”

Tucker looked up, and frowned. He recognized the guy by sight, if not by name. It was the janitor for the base. He was wearing a big blue jumpsuit, and was staring at the staff in Tucker’s hands like it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. “I know how to use one of those! Can I play?”

Tucker glanced at the clock; there was fifteen minutes before training officially started. “Sure,” he said. He jerked his head towards the rack. “Help yourself!”

The janitor picked up one that was meant for his height; and held it delicately for a moment before becoming more sure, adjusting his grip. As he fell into position, facing Tucker, something seemed to shift in his body. Suddenly, Tucker realized that the guy was really tall, and pretty sturdily built.

“What’s your name?” he asked, falling into position too.

“I am Caboose! And you are Tucker,” Caboose grinned at him. There was something disarming about that smile. It threw Tucker off balance for a moment, not sure of what to make of it or the man wearing it, before Caboose suddenly started the drill.

And it was a drill, there was no mistaking it for anything else. Caboose had done this before; at least a thousand more times than Tucker had, that was for sure. Every blow of his staff had confidence and power behind it, shaking Tucker’s arms as he moved to block each strike.

But there was a rhythm to it that was almost hypnotic, one that Tucker found himself being drawn into. Strike, block, strike again, spin, turn, strike, block, jump. Swish, swish, thud. The world was slowing down, the rest of the room fading away, until all that was left was Caboose’s dopey grin, and the sound of their staffs.

Tucker had never felt anything like it before. He never wanted it to end. There was a rightness, seeping into his skin. He felt a connection with this guy; this random janitor who he’d been seeing around the base for as long as he could remember. Tucker didn’t have words for it, as he ducked low to avoid Caboose’s staff, adrenaline rushing through his veins. All he knew was that this, this was what had been missing, and he’d found it.

Finally, they stumbled apart, and Tucker stared at him, breathing heavily. “That was fucking badass,” he said. A wide grin was splitting his own face, mirroring the one on Caboose’s. They were both streaked in sweat, standing close to each other, leaning against their staffs. “Holy shit!”

A loud, single clap sounded from the other side of the room. Tucker spun around, and saw Carolina there. She was watching them, her bright green eyes glinting, and there was a knowing smile on her face. “Got to say,” she said, sounding satisfied with herself. “I was starting to think we’d run out of people on base before we found your drift partner.”

“Drift partner?” Tucker turned back to Caboose, incredulous. “Holy shit, did you—?”

But no one was there. The staff lay on the floor, abandoned, and Caboose was nowhere to be seen.

Caboose didn’t remember much about what happened after Church left.

Things were fuzzy, and Caboose just missed Church and so he stopped paying attention for a while. It was easier. Mister Sergeant said he could go to a hospital far away or he could stay but he’d have to make himself useful because those were the rules. He’d sounded sad as he said them, but he’d carefully held placed a hand on Caboose’s shoulder as he had explained things until he was sure Caboose had understood.

Caboose chose to stay. If he left, Church wouldn’t be able to find him when he came back. He couldn’t be a pilot anymore though, Doctor Grey explained to him when Caboose had gone to talk to her. Because Church had left, he couldn’t go in the drift right now, and Caboose had been hurt in the fight so she wasn’t sure it would be safe. Sheila was all broken too, but Donut said that he would make things better. Sometimes he let Caboose watch him fix her, spending long hours sitting on the ground by Donut while he worked.

So instead of being a pilot and fighting monsters with Church, Caboose cleaned things. He mopped floors and dusted rooms and changed light bulbs. Sometimes Grif helped, and that was nice, because Grif didn’t yell at Caboose or ask him what had happened with Church. Instead he napped or ate snacks, and sometimes he shared his food with Caboose if Caboose was having a really bad day.

Caboose didn’t mind the cleaning. Sometimes people were rude to him, but most people weren’t. And it was good to keep busy, until Church came back.  

“How are you doing buddy?” Washington was in the room that Caboose was cleaning now, and that was nice. Caboose liked Washington.

“Hello Pilot Washington,” Caboose said. “I am doing good! I do not have a headache today!”

Washington smiled at him. “That’s great, Caboose. Do you have another appointment with Doctor Grey soon?”

Caboose shrugged. “She will come and find me if I do,” he said.

It was true. Doctor Grey was always worrying about him; his headaches and his shoulder and his scars and his brain. She made him get in the metal tube a lot so she could make sure that his brain was okay, but Caboose didn’t mind too much. His headaches were happening less now, and Doctor Grey said that was a good sign.

“He’s clear, Wash,” Carolina said from behind Caboose. “I just checked with her.” She smiled at Caboose, and Caboose smiled back, because Carolina was Church’s sister even though he was not supposed to know about that because it was a secret, and so he liked her a lot. She wasn’t as good as Church, but she looked like him, and that was nice. She missed Church too, and that was also nice. Not enough people missed Church for Church. Most of them missed Church the pilot, not Church the friend.

“Hello Pilot Carolina!” He said.

“Hi Caboose,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you know how we do those exercises sometimes to make sure your shoulder is healing properly?”

“Yes! I lifted up Simmons and he screamed! Like Washington’s cat did when I gave her a bath!”

Carolina made her quiet happy noise. “Yes. Do you want to go to the sparring room today? I’ve got a new exercise I’d like you to try.”

“Okay!” Caboose said, nodding eagerly. Exercising with Carolina was always fun.

“Alright,” she said. “Meet me there after lunch, okay?”

It had been a while since he had been to the sparring room. Grif usually cleaned it instead of him, because it made Caboose sad sometimes because he had spent a lot of time here with Church. But today he didn’t feel sad, just... drifty. He missed Church, but in a different way.

There was someone there, holding one of the staffs. Tucker, that was his name, names were important. He was friends with Texas and visited her a lot. That was nice of him. Caboose couldn’t visit Texas much because he got sad and tried to wake her up and that was against the rules. But it was nice that Tucker visited. Tex would probably get lonely, otherwise.

“I know how to use one of those! Can I play?”

They played the hitting game, just like Caboose had used to play with Church. It was different, but it was still fun. Tucker was stronger than Church, and maybe faster, but obviously Church was still better at it, and Caboose was stronger than Tucker.

But it made Caboose feel good, getting to play the game, getting to go through all of the old tricks that he’d learned. And Tucker had some ones which Caboose hadn’t seen before, and he wanted to try them for himself. It was fun.

It wasn’t until Carolina said “drift partner” that Caboose realized what the hitting game meant. He’d forgotten that part; it had just been a fun thing to do for a long time, a thing that he had done with Church, long after they’d been assigned together. But they wanted him to be partners with Tucker and to drive Sheila with Tucker, and Caboose didn’t like that.

So he left, because he didn’t need a new drift partner, he already had one, and it was Church. Church would come back soon and then he wouldn’t need Stupid Tucker and his staff.

And Church would come back, no matter what the others said. Because he had to.

“Caboose,” Carolina had found him very quickly. He wondered if Grif had told her his favorite hiding spots. The one Caboose had picked this time was under one of the walkways with the metal grates over it. She carefully shifted the grate so that she could climb down and join him.

“Hello Carolina,” he said. His face was wet and his nose was running, so she gave him a tissue. He blew his nose and then dropped it on the floor. He’d pick it up later, once he was less sad.  

“I’m sorry Caboose,” she said, sitting down next to him. “I didn’t realize you’d be upset.”

“I have a partner,” he said, crossing his arms. “And Church will come back soon.”

Carolina wouldn’t look at him. “No Caboose,” she said, very quietly. “He’s not. He’s lost in the drift, remember?”

“I heard him,” Caboose insisted. “He was still there.” None of them had ever believed him when he talked about that part. Doctor Grey had kept talking about hallucinations and Carolina had tried to talk to him about the rabbit, but Caboose knew better.

“Caboose...” She pressed a hand against his arm. “Church wouldn’t want you to not pilot forever. You love being a pilot, Caboose.”

“That is true,” Caboose admitted. He thought about the beautiful jaeger waiting in the docking bay, unused for a long time, and added loyally, “Especially Sheila.”

Carolina smiled at him. “Why don’t you try it? Maybe it will help.”

Caboose considered it carefully. If he said yes, maybe he’d get to spend time with Sheila, even though it probably wouldn’t work.

Because there was no way he could be drift-compatible with Tucker. He was already compatible with Church.

“Okay,” he said, almost feeling bad for Carolina because she really thought that this would work. “I will try.”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Tucker told Wash. “The guy fucking ran away when he realized we were drift-compatible.”

“Caboose hasn’t drifted with anyone in a while,” Wash said patiently. They were walking through the hallways of the base, heading towards the docking station. They were going to do a dry-run of the drifting, just to make sure that they were right and they were actually drift-compatible. “Carolina just had to talk him down a bit.”

“That’s not exactly encouraging,” Tucker said, scowling a little to himself.

“Tucker...”

“I’m not backing out! I’m just saying the guy clearly doesn’t like me!”

“Caboose likes everyone, Tucker. I’m sure you two will get along just great.” Wash placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look. I know it’s hard for you. But Caboose has had a hard time too. Just... be easy on him, okay?”

“Whatever,” Tucker said, shrugging off Wash’s hand and striding forward, into the docking bay.

“Heeeey Tucker!” Donut bounded up to greet them, beaming widely. “I hope you’re ready to see how well you can handle my pride and joy!”

“Don’t worry dude, I’ll take good care of it,” Tucker said automatically, waggling his eyebrows. Donut laughed.

Battle Scorpion was still kind of beat up looking, but she was the most beautiful thing Tucker had ever seen. Donut had done a fantastic job repairing her, and upgrading her while he was at it.

“Impressive,” Wash said. “You did a good job, Donut.”

Donut waved his hand. “Oh Wash! That’s so sweet, I know it’s not nearly as big as yours, but it’s how you use it that really counts!”

“Oh god, don’t encourage him,” Grif said, walking up to them. Simmons was rushing up behind him. Between the two of them they had a bunch of weird looking equipment that probably measured the brainwaves or something.

“Caboose is already inside,” Simmons said. “You should go too; I think he’s nervous.”

Tucker laughed. “Well that makes two of us.” He walked down the stairs to the entrance of Battle Scorpion. He was already wearing his suit, which made him look like a total badass. Blood Gulch didn’t have a great budget for custom suits like some of the other programs, but even the standard ones looked pretty great. Besides, Grif had told him he knew where to get some teal paint to spruce it up later.

Caboose was sitting on the entrance ramp. His helmet was off, and he was looking at the ground.

“Uh... hi?” Tucker said. He had no idea what to do. It wasn’t like he’d ever talked to the guy before. Things had been so hectic that Tucker had barely realized he’d existed.  

Caboose looked up at him. The skin under his eyes was read and puffy, and Tucker suddenly felt kind of like shit. Wash clearly hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that Caboose had a hard time with all this shit.

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” Caboose insisted. “I’m just... missing Church.”

The name was familiar. He frowned, trying to remember. “Uh... that was your old partner?” He hazarded a guess. Then something clicked into place. Oh god. If Caboose had been a pilot before, and had lost a partner...

He was Battle Scorpion’s old pilot. The one who had piloted the jaeger alone and killed a kajiu, even after his partner had been killed. Tucker hadn’t realized the guy was still on base; there were all sorts of fancy hospitals inland for pilots who had been injured or lost a partner. That kind of shit was damaging, he couldn’t believe that Sarge had let him stay.

And yet... the guy seemed to be doing okay, all things considered.

“Yes,” Caboose said. “He was my best friend.” He said that so simply, so cleanly. Like, there was no other words needed, like those words wrapped up every single thing about this guy. He was Caboose’s best friend.

Tucker wondered what kind of person he was, to have earned that title, that adoration.

“I’m... sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It is okay,” Caboose said. “It’s not your fault that he is gone.”

“Right. Good. Okay,” Tucker said, having no idea where to go with this. This guy was about to be in his head in a moment, and he had no fucking clue about him. “Do you... want to go inside?”

Caboose looked up, and over his shoulder. “That would be a good idea,” he said. “I have missed her.”

Tucker offered Caboose a hand, and Caboose pulled himself up. Tucker let out a sharp exhale—Caboose was heavier than he looked—and then the two of them walked into their jaeger, side by side.

Donut had fixed Sheila up until she was all pretty. The inside was familiar, and Caboose got into his old place, while Tucker got into Church���s old place. Caboose tried not to be mad at him for that.

“Alright,” Simmons’ voice said over the loudspeaker. He sounded very nervous. It had been a long time since he had to do this. Caboose frowned, trying to count the days in his head, but so many of those days, especially at the start, were blurred together. “Let’s... commencing neural drift!”

Tucker turned to him, and smiled. He had a nice smile. “Ready?”

“Yes!” Caboose said, and he meant it. Even if Church wasn’t here, he had always liked drifting. It was nice.

Caboose felt it begin. It was nice and slow as his awareness seeped into Tucker’s. The world began to shift as his mind settled, the familiar feeling sinking into his bones until he was comfortable and happy and—

<“Who the hell is this, what the fuck!”>

“Church?”

<“... you can hear me? Fuck Caboose, no, don’t come after me—”>

“Caboose? Caboose!”

Caboose reached out without thinking, trying to grab at Church, because he was right there, he had to be. There was the loud noise of crashing metal, as Sheila moved with him.

“Tucker, he’s chasing the rabbit!”

“Caboose!”

Caboose suddenly felt the drift go away. And Church was gone too.

“I... I am fine,” he said. He was lying.

Church was in the drift, Church was in the drift.

If Caboose could go back into the drift, he could get Church back, and then everything would be okay again.

After Caboose had nearly trashed the docking bay, they were told to take a break. They needed to talk things over, to figure out if it was still a good idea for them to go out.

Caboose had been very quiet, the whole time. He’d stuck near Tucker, which was... a good sign, right? That he wanted to be near him?

That night, Tucker had gone to sleep early, trying to figure out what was going to happen next.

He woke up, only a few hours later, to see Caboose at the foot of his bed.

“Tucker!”

“Ca—Caboose? What the fuck!” Tucker struggled to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I am a janitor! I have all the keys,” Caboose said patiently. “Quick! We need to go to Sheila!”

“What is it?” Tucker suddenly felt more awake. “Is it a kaiju?”

“No,” Caboose shook his head. “We need to go! Church is in the drift, and we need to get him out!”

“What?” Tucker felt dumbfounded, trying to put those words together in a way that made sense. “Your old partner? What’s he got to do with any of this?”

“Church was hurt, when we last drifted,” Caboose said. Each word was said very carefully. He’d told people about this before, Tucker realized. He’d rehearsed this, over and over again, until the story came perfectly and clearly.  “He disappeared. But he’s not dead. I heard him! He talked to me. And then he talked to me again! Just now, when we were drifting! And if we go back into the drift, we can get him back!” He dumped Tucker’s armor onto his bed. Sometime during the night, Caboose had found teal paint, and decorated his armor so that it matched his. Or had Grif done that? Tucker had no idea.

“Why do you need me?”

Caboose gave him a look that said a thousand words.

Tucker sighed. “Alright, fine.” They were going to get in trouble for this. They were going to get into so much trouble.

But...

Caboose had this wide-eyed, desperate look. He needed this, Tucker realized. And... it wasn’t like anyone was going to get hurt. They weren’t going to take the jaeger anywhere, just... drift for a bit.

He got out of bed, and got changed into his armor, only barely remembering to kick Caboose out of his room to do so.  

He followed Caboose through the base to the Battle Scorpion. This went against everything he knew, everything he’d been taught. He finally had a chance to be a pilot, finally had found someone he could drift with, and the fucking guy didn’t even want to drift with him. He just wanted his help getting his other partner back.

He wanted to be bitter, but he’d read the reports. He knew how much damage it could do to someone, to lose a drift partner, especially while someone was drifting.

Maybe Caboose just needed... closure, or something. So he could stop chasing the rabbit, and learn to be Tucker’s partner.

Caboose was talking the whole time, softly when they were passing through the barracks, and more loudly as they entered the other part of the base. He talked about how he knew that they could find his friend, about how important it was that they save him and get him back, and about how they would all be best friends forever when that happened.

“Look!” Caboose finally said, as they got to the Battle Scorpion. “Sheila!”

“It’s the Battle Scorpion,” Tucker grumbled. “What kind of a name is Sheila?”

Caboose didn’t even pause to listen, charging right into the heart of their jaeger to get things ready.

Tucker felt his heart racing in his chest as he got back into position for the second time in twenty-four hours.

“Let's just hurry and find your dumb friend in th—”

“His name is Church!” Caboose interrupted, his eyes wide and eager. God, Tucker wanted to hate him for this.

“Whatever—in the drift and then get out before they catch us.” Sarge was going to kill them for this. Especially Tucker.

There weren’t enough words for Tucker to describe the drift. People had tried before him; one of the people in one of the other programs had been a bit of a poet and had written some lines about the way that souls united, the way hearts raced until the rhythms stopped being separate things and became one. The way that two pilots became one jaeger.

None of them really did it justice, not in Tucker’s limited experience at least.

And as they entered the drift fully, Tucker heard Caboose cry out.

“Church!”

There was something warm and sticky on Caboose’s face but he didn’t care, didn’t notice. The world was fuzzy around the edges, but it didn’t matter, because Church was there.

He looked bad. Like, really bad. He was smeared in red and was slumped where he was standing. Caboose knew what happened next; the jaeger ripped open and there was screaming and everything was bad. He reached out towards Church, trying to reach him.

Suddenly, Church looked up. He looked tired. He looked very, very tired. But his eyes were looking right at Caboose. “Hey buddy.”

“Church, are you oka—” Caboose was still trying to reach him. But Church wasn’t moving to reach back.

“Shut up,” Church said, and he sounded tired too, “you're drifting.”

Caboose knew that. Of course they were drifting. They were in the jaeger together, that was how this worked.

“What the fu—” Tucker said. But Tucker couldn’t be there. Because Caboose had not met Tucker yet. Because Tucker only came to Blood Gulch Base after Church had—

Tucker could not be here.

“You’re in the memory of how I died,” Church said,and he was calm. He wasn’t yelling. That was wrong. Church always yelled. “Calm down and wake up.”

“Th—the monster, Church I—”

“Holy shit, he was right,” Tucker said, sounding awed. But Tucker shouldn’t be there. Because he didn’t know Tucker. Tucker hadn’t come to Blood Gulch yet. “You're sentient. Nothing in the drift is supposed to be sentie—”

“Hey!” Oh! Church was yelling again. Maybe things were going to be okay after all. “You his new partner? He needs to know he’s drifting.”

The monster was coming, and then Church would be gone again, and everything would be very sad and lonely and nothing would be okay.

“Church, we can still make it,” Caboose said. Something dripped into his eye. “I'll fight it for both of us. I'll get us back...” Back home, back to where they’d be safe and okay and everyone would be so happy to see them.

Suddenly everything was bright and hurting and sharp. Just like it had been last time, after Church had been ripped out of the jaeger. He couldn’t feel Church. He was alone. He was piloting the jaeger alone and everyone said he wasn’t supposed to do that, that this would hurt him, but he had to, he had to hold on, because the monster was still out there, Church was still out there…

Someone grabbed him, and Caboose yelled, his concentration flagging. “Caboose! Look at me! This is a memory!”

He looked down, and stared. Someone was there, in the jaeger, wearing normal people clothes instead of armor, and he was staring up at Caboose.

“Tucker...?” Yes that was it. It was stupid Tucker. He was new. He had...

“Yeah, and you're the shitty janitor I'm drift-compatible with!”

Janitor? Caboose wasn’t a…

He remembered now.

Holding a mop and staring at the floor, head aching and arm aching like they always did. Visiting Tex in the hospital, telling her stories until he got frustrated at her not responding and tried to shake her awake, and then the doctors told him he had to go.

Meeting Tucker. Sparring Tucker. Drifting with Tucker.

Tucker was smiling at him, but Tucker’s mouth kept moving, the corners of it trembling, as if he was scared.

“Remember? You met me AFTER all of this. Come on you asshole.”

Caboose did remember. He remembered begging Tucker, pleading with Tucker, to do this. To come here.

“Tucker...I brought you...to find...” Suddenly, the world changed. The warm and sticky stuff vanished from his face. Blood. It had been blood. He had been covered with blood, just like he had been when... “—Church,” Caboose finished. He felt tired and sad.

The world was white. Stark and white and empty. Caboose felt very small, just standing there with Tucker. Small, and tired, and lonely, even though Tucker was right there.

A hand suddenly came down on Caboose’s shoulder, and he looked.

“You idiot,” Church said heavily. “I told you not to come looking for me.”

“Church!” Caboose stumbled forward and wrapped the guy up in his arms, lifting him up off the ground. “You’re alive!”

Church closed his eyes, and Tucker saw the wince. “No buddy. I’m not.”

Caboose put him down carefully, frowning. “But you are here.”

“I’m stuck, Caboose,” Church said. “My body’s gone. I’m here. In the drift.”

“Who says you even need a body?” Tucker blurted out. Holy shit, he had not meant to speak up. But here he was, crossing his arms, staring at the guy.

He hadn’t thought Caboose had been right. Things in the drift weren’t real, everybody knew that. They were memories and things like that, they certainly weren’t sentient former jaeger pilots with bright green eyes and a scowl.

“Of course I need a body,” Church scoffed.

“Why? I mean, look at ghosts!” Tucker said. He was liking this idea more and more; it felt right, somehow, like he was onto something. Like it had felt the first time he had entered the drift with Caboose. It was like something had just slotted into place, and now he just needed to follow this through.

“Ghosts are dead!” Church sounded very offended.

“Look dude, you’re the one saying you’re dead and without a body, you’re already halfway there!” Tucker threw out his arms. “We’ve just got to... get you out of the drift I guess.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Well...” Tucker floundered, trying to think of an answer. “Ghosts in movies can possess people, right? So possess me or Caboose, and when we leave the drift, maybe you’ll come with us!”

“You can’t possess people, Tucker,” Caboose said solemnly. “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s worth a shot, though!” Tucker said. “Then Caboose can have his best friend back, and stop talking about how much he misses you all the time!”

Church looked at Caboose a very long time. Caboose smiled at him widely.

“... fine,” he said. “We’ll give it a shot.”  

He slowly faded out of sight, moving forward towards Caboose. Caboose spasmed suddenly, and Tucker reached out without thinking.

“Caboose!”

The white room faded away, and suddenly Tucker inhaled sharply as they broke out of the drift.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Simmons’ voice screeched from the radio. “Were you drifting? My readings are everywhere, why were you two even in a jaeger—?”

Tucker staggered forward. He felt like he’d just ran a marathon. Every inch of him was soaked in sweat, and his breathing was harsh and short. “Caboose?” He said, feeling sluggish and slow. Leaving the drift hadn’t been like this last time, but now everything hurts.

“He’s fine.”

Tucker fell to the ground, staring, as a blue, floating, transparent version of the guy he’d just been talking to in the drift stood in front of him.

“Church!” Caboose yelled happily, leaping forward as if to hug him. But, apparently Church didn’t have, y’know, substance or a body, and so instead he fell on top of Tucker.

“Caboose!” Tucker protested, groaning.

“What the hell—Grif did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Grif sounded very tired. Perhaps he had been napping before Simmons had spoken to him. Grif napped a lot, and it was very late at night.

“You two get out here right now!” Sarge ordered through the loudspeaker. “I want you down here on the double! No, triple! Quintuple!”

“Sir, you skipped quadruple—”

The loudspeaker went dead.

Tucker pushed Caboose off him and got to his feet. He helped Caboose up, then turned to look at Church. “So,” he said conversationally. “Ready to meet everyone again?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Church said, but he was already heading for the exit. “Not like I have anything better to do.”

Everybody was very happy to see Church again, once they were done yelling about it, and once Grif had made Simmons wake up again, and once Caboose had explained what had happened, and once Mister Sergeant had made Tucker explain as well, just in case.

Donut had said that Church being alive again was like a birthday, and so they needed to have a birthday party for him. Donut was very good at parties; there was a banner and cake and even a tiny hat, which Caboose had decided to put on Sheila instead of on himself.

Church was talking with Carolina a lot, but Caboose knew sisters are important, so he did not mind too much. Caboose wondered if anyone had told Church about Tex yet. Church would not be happy about Tex being asleep still. But maybe Tex would wake up soon, now that Church was back. It could be like the movie! Church would kiss her and she would wake up again, and everything would be fine!

Happy with this train of thought, Caboose decided that he should go get more of the punch that Doc was serving.

Tucker was waiting for him at the table, looking very tired. Caboose was kind of tired too, but he did not care, because Church was back. But, Caboose guessed that Tucker didn’t know Church, so it was okay that he was not quite as excited as Caboose was, even though Church coming back was the best thing ever.

“Hey Caboose,” Tucker said.

“Tucker!” Caboose said. “Church is back!”

“Yeah,” he made a face. “Sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It is okay,” Caboose said. “You don’t really understand the drift. But I will teach you!”

Tucker stared at him. “You still want to drift with me?” He paused. “You still want to pilot Sheila with me?”

Caboose scoffed. “Well duh, Tucker,” he said. “Doctor Grey says Church can’t drift because he doesn’t have a brain, and then Church said no that was me, and she said it wasn't very nice, but I should be able to drift with you. And Church might be able to come with us!”

Tucker started grinning. It started out as a small smile, but it grew bigger and bigger. “That’s great, Caboose,” he said. “We’re going to kick ass together.”

“Yes!” Caboose agreed. “We will, and Grif and Simmons will help us once they get married and get a jaeger!”

“Wait, what?” Simmons yelped. He’d been standing very close to them, and so it was very loud. But Caboose didn’t mind loudness right now; his head didn’t hurt at all.  

“He’s saying we’re drift-compatible, dumbass,” Grif said, mouth full of cake.

“What? We’re what?”

Caboose wondered if Simmons hadn’t known that he was drift-compatible with Grif. It was obvious, wasn’t it? They moved like each other, just like he and Church had used to, before Church had become smaller and learned to levitate.

“Hmmm,” Mister Sergeant said, stroking his chin. “I think you might be onto something there, Caboose!”

“Of course I am,” Caboose said patiently. “It is the ground. It’s nice!” He tapped the ground with his foot to prove his point, smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt the celebrations,” a clear, loud voice said, breaking through everything else. They all turned around to stare at the woman, who was standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry to barge in on this, but we’re rather short on time.”

“Who are you then?” Sarge demanded, taking a step forward. Caboose tried to hide Church behind Tucker, but it was hard when he couldn’t touch Church. They would need to work on this.

She gave him a smile. It wasn’t a polite smile, it was the smile that Carolina got when she won a fight, or when she was still fighting and she having fun.

“My name is Vanessa Kimball, and I want to talk to you about saving the world.”

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Infinity of Stars (Reader x Rocket Raccoon) CHAPTER 13

When taken from her home planet, Terra from a young age, Y/N L/N, also known as Iris, is taught to survive and becomes one of the galaxies' well-known bounty hunters.

But what happens when rumor spreads that she knows the locations of the rare and dangerous infinity gauntlet; a highly powerful weapon that could destroy all?

She is the only human to know of its whereabouts, something which the Guardians of the Galaxy  need to find, before its too late.

But... Who will get to the weapon of mass destruction first?

Chapter 13

"I can't believe she straight up betrayed us!"

"The human girl was not to be trusted, but you let her into this group with welcomed arms! The person who should be paying for this is Quill!"

"I trusted her because she was someone that could get us to the Gauntlet in time!"

"Well, that's too late now, Zerron and his band of idiots have probably gotten it now!" Gamora shouted, "Look at us Quill," she gestured to the five, "We can't defeat them. We have a ship that barely works, Zerron will have this entire galaxy and all of us included killed!"

Rocket had spoken at all, but all the shouting above each other was beginning to get on his nerves, his ears twitching, teeth snarling more and more as he sat quietly, but it wouldn't take long before his anger would boil above.

"WILL YOU LOT SHUT YA TRAPS!" Rocket screeched above all of them suddenly, making everyone cease their arguments to a complete stop. The room had now quietened and felt like the temperature had gone from magma hot to ice cold.

"Rocket, you have a point you'd like to say?" Quill interjected. "As a matter of fact, I do." He breathed in before speaking, "YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF PHONIES IF YA THINK THAT WE'VE GONNA SIT HERE AND DO NOTHIN'!" Everyone was taken back by his abrupt change and shouting.

"SHE DIDN'T BETRAY US! THE FACT THAT SHE WAS TRYIN' TO PROTECT US WAS SOMETHING THAT YA ALL SWEEPED OVER YA DUMB KNUCKLEHEADS!" "You were always callin' her names!" He pointed towards Drax, " and you weren't given her a chance from the beginning!" he then pointed towards Gamora.

“I was the only one out of ya bunch to get to know her!” “I am Groot.” Groot mumbled, making Rocket roll his eyes, “She saved our asses twice before, she did it again, so that we could get out and find her.”

“Rocket... I didn’t think we were going to find her...” Gamora spoke up, “That bastard has her and he probably won’t keep her alive for it.” He hated seeming weak, his voice had croaked too many times during his shouting. “They have her... and I can’t do anything about it, he glared up at them, “BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL SITTING HERE ON YA ASSES AND CALLING HER A TRAITOR!”

Everyone was dead silent, taking in Rocket’s words carefully, deciding on what to do or say next, “As much as I don’t like saying this... but he’s right.” Peter begun, “Are you siding with him?” Gamora exclaimed, “She saved our lives too many times before, and we didn’t think much of it... it’s time that we save hers.”

Rocket stared up at the Terran in disbelief, “I don’t care if you’re not with me, if you don’t wanna come, say now.” Peter continued. Everyone was silent, as Rocket stood to his feet, “Count me in, you’ve already sided with me before and I can’t just leave her... we never got to finish somethin’ that had never started.” Peter smiled towards him.

It was next for Drax to stand, “You’re a strange man Quill.” he begun, “But if it’s to see the rodent happy, I’m in.” Rocket was about to interject that he was always happy, until Groot stood up happily onto the table in the middle, “I am Groot!” He beamed, as Rocket smiled at him.

Everyone’s eyes were now towards Gamora, “I didn’t trust her, due to her hurting us all... but I’ve been so blind from the beginning. I was only... trying to protect my friends....” she smiled, “my family.” she now stood up to join the others in her team.

They all smiled at each other, “Now, what are we waitin’ for.” Rocket smirked, “Time to get this old bucket workin’, we’re gettin’ my girl back!”

“You betrayed me.”

Punch.

“You betrayed your own family.”

Punch.

“You’re own flesh and blood.”

Punch.

“You’re lucky I ain’t killin’ ya here girl.” Zerron sent another flying punch to her stomach, as Y/N groaned, her arms being held up by two men as she couldn’t anything to defend herself. “You ignorant.” Punch. “Naive.” Punch. “Stupid little girl. I saved you from the hell from your stupid planet. I gave you food and shelter. I protected you from what was out there, and this,” Punch. “this is how you pay me back!”

“You didn’t protect me! You took me away from my home, MY planet, beat me up and made me feel weak, worthless! You threatened me countless times, day after day, that you’d eat me!” Y/N barked back, “Well, answer me this Zerron, I’m willing to know! Why?”

The punching had stopped briefly, everyone who was surrounding them had stopped their cheers and listened in, “So,” Zerron smiled a toothy grin, “The girl does bite back.” He sent a flying punch to the side of her cheek.

“I threatened you because I was makin’ you stronger, stronger to survive from what was out there.” He went back to jeering and sending punches to her stomach, “You were small, and we needed ya, you could fit in small spaces. I was only tryin’ protect ya like the father I was.”

“Father?” She sneered loudly, laughing abruptly, “You never loved me like a father should! Hell, have you ever had a daughter to protect? No father threatens to eat their suppose daughter!” She snapped.

“You treated me like shit, took away my toys and forced me to grow up! Tortured me to fight when no girl at the age of six should! When was the last time you saw me cry, play with my teddy bear, or even act like a little girl should? Never!” She could feel the tears threaten to fall down her cheeks but she bit down on the inside of her cheek before continuing, “You were never a father to me, and you never will.” She spat.

He was silent for a moment, “I never had a family of my own...” He spoke. “My father did the same to me, beat me and make me fight, I didn’t know any better, I always thought that was how fathers were suppose to show their love to their children.” Y/N was taken back, surprised by his words.

“Let her go.” The men holding her arms up released her, as she fell to the ground, “and come with me.” He moved away from the large formation of men around them, as she groaned, helping herself up as she stumbled to follow him.

She stumbled yet followed him, walking far behind as he stopped in front of one of the many shut doors inside the ship, “The Storage Room? Why did you force me to follow you here?” She was confused, “You never allowed me to come around here, or open the door to this room.” She continued.

“Remember when I said that I threw your toy outside the window that day?” She remembered that day: she was searching for her teddy bear for hours, and when she finally asked where it was to Zerron, he said that he had thrown it away in space, telling her that ‘little girls don’t play with dolls’.

“Yeah, how could I not.” She huffed, clearly showing exasperation towards him, “You cried for days, like you were mourning for that damn thing.” Zerron sighed, as he placed his hand on the scanner, before dialling a four-digit code into the panel, the words, SCAN DETECTED: SCAN RECOGNISED, and the door was opened, the hinges groaning as if it hadn’t been opened in years.

“I never told you everythin’, until now.” He pushed the door to open wider, Y/N being greeted by immense darkness. She couldn’t see everything, since it looked like there was no light, but what she saw surprised her the most.

All her toys, old clothes, tokens and things she had loved when she was little, all stored away and hidden from her. “I never knew why you liked these things.” Zerron huffed out a small chuckle, as Y/N glanced back to see him pick something up.

“But you always did love them.” He handed over the item to her, taking in the old material, old and worn out, but still recognizable, one of its beady eyes was missing, and the pink ribbon she remembered putting around its neck was still there, but ripped and torn from years of neglect.

“You kept all of this? Why didn’t you want me to use it?” She asked quietly, her voice felt hoarse and croaked, “There’s some things that I didn’t think were useful, but,” he picked a small yellow dress up, its material dusty and ripped, “I couldn’t bear to toss it away.”

She finally smiled towards him, a small tear slipping down her cheek as she walked over to him, opening her arms and hugging him,. She felt the man tense, as she realised that she was never allowed to hug him when she was young, he always said it made him weak. She didn’t expect him to wrap his arms awkwardly around her and initiate a hug back.

“Why? Why did you keep me here? After all these years?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence, “You were precious cargo, important to them.” the R'zahnian man spoke, “Them?” She was confused, highly, but before she could ask another question, a man came running to the door, “They’ve followed us!” Y/N was confused more by who had followed them, until she heard Zerron growl, “Them damn Guardians.” He had now walked off, walking towards the cockpit, “Zerron wait!” She called after him, running to catch up with him, but due to her small height and his tall 6’2ft one, he was only just walking in large strides.

Once they got to the cockpit, the other men were waiting as Zerron looked out, “What the hell is that?” one of them asked, as Y/N was near enough to hear, catching her breathe as she too looked out.

The Milano was just metres in front of them, and she recognised Peter and Rocket sitting in the front, with little baby Groot on Rocket’s shoulder.

“I believe you have something of ours, a fellow member of the Guardians,” Y/N felt her heart stammer in relief when she heard Rocket’s voice, “Hand her over or else you will receive a personal bomb, courtesy of me,” Y/N spotted Drax holding a large bazooka outside on the roof of the Milano.

“You have five seconds,” at that everyone on the ship was shouting and grabbing weapons, threatening to fire at the much smaller ship. “Zerron wait,” she butted in, pressing a red button as she spoke, “ROCKET DON’T FIRE, IT’S ME!”

There was brief silence from the opposite side as everyone was frozen in their places, waiting for the next moves made, “IT’S HER!” She heard Rocket’s voice bellow from the other side, as she knew he was suppose to say it to his fellow team-mates quietly, without having the speaker still on.

“Toots, I’ve missed you, are you hurt?” She smiled, her cheeks reddening as she pressed the button again, “I’m fine Rocket, I’m not hurt, how did you find us?”

“Through the courtesy of moi.” Peter joined in, as Y/N smiled brightly, “Can this wait for a moment, what the hell do y’all want?” Zerron had joined in as he spoke into the speaker.

“A truce.” Peter spoke, “We join teams and go to find the Gauntlet together.” There was once again madness on Zerron’s ship, men shouting over other men, “I’LL BLAST YOUR BUCKET OF SHIT INTO SMITHEREENS!” “Zerron, we can trust them.” Y/N interrupted, as Zerron was very difficult to negotiate with sometimes.

“We think it would be best to find it so enemies like Thanos won’t be able to destroy the galaxy and all of us included.” She continued. “That would mean you wouldn’t keep it afterwards.” She breathed, as she heard the other men shout and join in, arguing that it was their way of life, she felt exactly like that once she realised, it would be difficult to get them to agree on something like this.

“Are you seriously going to agree with them?” One man butted in, gaining many agreements in the crowd, “They’re all cowards!” “Silence!” Zerron barked, “If you’re lying to me about this Y/N, you know what’ll I do...”

“Eat me?” Y/N smirked, as she knew that he could never do that, he had 19 years that he could’ve done so. “No, throw you out and let you die in space.” He seemed awfully serious, but she knew there was some regret in how he spoke to her, as if he didn’t mean it at all.

“We’ll agree on your terms, but if you’re lyin’, that rodent will be skinned and made into a coat for me to wear.” Y/N would know that there was some cursing from Rocket’s side as Peter spoke up once again on the speaker, “It’s a deal!”

“Quill, I’LL SKIN YOU MYSELF!”

[jaygilbert-blog]

COFFEE TALK [with Michael Kauffman]

“I’ve worked in music and technology during my career, largely in sales, marketing, and PR roles. I love to connect artists and companies with fans and customers -- and have been doing that in tech (YouTube on the marketing team and at Google via corporate communications), at start-ups like RightsFlow (a rights management and licensing company acquired by Google), and earlier in my career at labels and distribution companies like UMG, Verve, BMG, and Windham Hill.”

Q: What are a few of your favorite “industry moments?”

I loved spending time on the road with artists earlier in my career. While at Windham Hill in the mid-90’s, I joined Keola Beamer, Ledward Kaapana, and a few other Hawaiian slack key guitar icons on a series of dates up the eastern seaboard. It was one of the first times I spent a lot of time with a band who I had limited prior knowledge about. Pre-internet days. Not only did I fall in love with that music, but I got to introduce the band and crew to PA-breakfast-fave scrapple while eating at the Melrose Diner in Philadelphia. While at Verve, we arranged for the amazingly gifted vocalist Al Jarreau (RIP Al) to host the Music Biz Annual Conference Awards Dinner one year concurrent with his new release. Al arrived in San Antonio with a serious bout of the flu, and we didn’t know whether he’d be able to speak, let alone take the stage. But after a few hours of sweating it out, focused rest, home-brewed tea, and a mind-over-matter attitude, Al took the microphone and blew everyone away with his grace, wit, and charm.

I was fortunate during those years at Verve to work with a top-notch sales team (Tony Pellegrino, Jon Vanhala, Lisa Hopkins, Mark Callaghan, Jeff Lusis, Kim Smith, Missy Iredell), self-branded “The Jazz Pack”. We adopted a song-and-dance approach to many of our sales presentations and had a blast singing-while-selling our releases (I like to say that we were the last of the singin’ sales guys). Flashback to Los Angeles in 2001. The Universal Music and Video Distribution Conference was being held at the Century Plaza Hotel, and we were scheduled, along with all the other UMG labels, to present our upcoming releases to our friends at distribution. Instead of a generic video presentation, we opted to host an awards show called “The Tommy’s” (named for our beloved label Chairman Tommy LiPuma, industry icon, producer, and true music maker) packed with curated categories, spoof videos, and actual live performances highlighting our artists and releases.

The opening song-and-dance number involved us wearing Adidas tear-away track suits worn over tuxedos, doing a bit of choreographed dancing along with a backup crew consisting of the XFL’s LA Xtreme cheerleading squad. It culminated with Tommy himself being led through the curtains of the stage and down to his front-row seat amidst a rousing standing ovation (Tommy’s entrance is ~4:29 in this YouTube videohttps://youtu.be/Y09IwrNHO8Q). Furthermore, there was also an ice sculpture of Tommy, a raucous afterparty, the USC Fighting Trojan Marching Band performing "Tequila", balloons falling from the ceiling, and hundreds of customized Tommy bobbleheads that were presented to all in attendance. I vividly remember Tommy saying to me right before we stepped onto the stage: “Mikey! What's going on here babe?!” Most fun I ever had in a sales presentation. What a cool experience to work with that team and Tommy.

Another highlight happened at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City in early 2014: I spearheaded the music integration at our YouTube on Main Street pop-up experience. It was one of the more stressful planning periods I’ve endured — late nights, intense conversations, negotiations to book acts, and everything in between — but the effort was ultimately rewarded with goose-bump-inducing performances from Damon Albarn (“There’s no way we can fit a string quartet and a large keyboard on that small stage.”), Venus And The Moon (who asked me to rehearse with them in the parking garage), Carina Round, Sarah Lee Guthrie and Johnny Irion, Sleeping At Last, Matthew Perryman Jones and Kate Tucker (many artists via a Paste partnership — thanks Josh Jackson), and a few roof-raising late-nite DJ sets from Young Guru, Neon Indian, and LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy -- who's agent phoned me on the day of his set to tell me he was stuck in Chicago due to snow. He arrived just in time to walk on the stage and start spinning records! It all came together and was magical. Plus so many other highlights: a post-dinner celebratory “toast” with Cheap Trick in Chicago, dinner in the Sinatra room at Patsy’s in NYC with Jamie Cullum, and of course live experiences like The Subdudes at Tipitina’s in New Orleans.

Q: If you were to make a playlist of the songs that are part of your DNA, the comfort food that you keep coming back to, that never fail to move and inspire you, what would those tracks be?

It would have to be a playlist of playlists… how many songs do I get?

Can I have 20 - 25? I love the Great American Songbook: Frank, Ella, Billie, Dean, Sammy, Tony, Dinah, along with Miles, Coltrane, Bird, Bill Evans, Ben Webster, Basie, and all the jazz masters.   Here's a happy hour playlist assembled by Ken Druker, our head of catalog while I was at Verve. He curated this “Jazz Pack Supertunes” compilation for our crew back in the late 90’s: Frank Sinatra & Count Basie - Come Fly With Me Dean Martin - Ain't That A Kick In The Head Buddy Greco - Around The World Bobby Darin - More Sammy Davis, Jr. - Hey There Jack Jones - You'd Better Love Me Count Basie - All Of Me Frank Sinatra - That's Life Eartha Kitt - C'est Si Bon Tom Jones - It's Not Unusual Perez Prado - Mambo No. 8 Wayne Newton - Danke Shoen Bobby Darin - Hello Dolly Frank Sinatra - Fly Me To The Moon Steve Lawrence & Eydie Gorme - This Could Be The Start Of Something Big Buddy Greco - She Loves Me Vic Damone - The Song Is You Al Martino - Speak Softly Love Nino Rota - The Godfather Waltz Dean Martin - Return To Me Johnny Mathis - Chances Are Sammy Davis Jr. - I've Gotta Be Me Frank Sinatra - The Way You Look Tonight Marilyn Monroe - Happy Birthday Mr. President (on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/michaeljoel/playlist/1mNOucMihzZ38hMLv2ptNB)

Q: Are there any artists that never really made it, that came across your desk, that you wish people could hear and embrace?

Action Figure Party comes immediately to mind (a group spearheaded by Greg Kirsten, founder of Geggy Tah, who over the past decade has become a Grammy-award winning producer of Sia, Beck, Kelly Clarkson, Ellie Goulding, Pink, the Shins, Tegan and Sara, Lily Allen), signed to Verve at the time by Bud Harner, our ultra-cool A&R rep. “Everybody Ready” now playing: https://youtu.be/Xud_KlHlqr0

Q: Who was your mentor? Why? Early in my career in advertising: Jim Coudal, the creative director at Weber, Cohn & Riley gave me a shot as a copywriter and helped me craft a voice for headlines and copy. Chris Balla and Bob Garbarini at BMG (now Sony) who provided the freedom and the guidelines to teach me how to think about music marketing. Pat Berry, my boss at Windham Hill (now running the Six Degrees label), who taught me pretty much everything I know about sales, much of it based on always framing decisions with what’s best for the artist. Also from the Windham Hill timeframe, Dave Morrell, who spearheaded AAA/non-comm promotion at our High Street imprint, is a dear friend and mentor who taught me how to love stories and to leave people with a smile. Dave has been releasing his memoirs — and they are a hoot! Horse-Doggin’: Volume 1 is available here: https://www.amazon.com/Horse-Doggin-Dave-Morrell-Archives-Vol-ebook/dp/B00IZLEFQ6/ref=la_B00LG1S4P0_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1491231314&sr=1-1 and 1974 - The Promotion Man - Volume 2 is here: https://www.amazon.com/1974-Promotion-York-Morrell-Archives-ebook/dp/B015YV11M0/ref=la_B00IZQHCE8_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1491231441&sr=1-3. Read up. Plus Bob Schneiders at UMVD taught me the ropes as for retail sales when I started at GRP, and also showed me the importance of connection via common passions solidified with personalized outreach. And the host of other sales and marketing execs who guided me through the years: Ben Kline, Pat Monaco, Bob Anderson, Tony Camardo, Linda Finke, Saul Shapiro, Mike Davis, Cliff O'Sullivan, Mark Flaherty, Marc Zimet, Anthony Ellis, Rob Santos, Nell Mulderry, (can't forget you) Jay Gilbert, the Jazz Pack (Jon, Tony, Lisa, Jeff, Mark)... it takes a village obviously.

Patrick Sullivan (CEO / Co-Founder at RightsFlow) mentored me through his leadership to win against the odds through smart-thinking and a tireless work effort, while Scott Sellwood (our Head of Biz Affairs at RightsFlow, and Publisher Relationships at YouTube) inspired me with his brain, musical abilities, and tenacious commitment to finding common sense solutions. And finally Tommy LiPuma, of course, our Chairman at GRP and Verve, who taught me how to pursue quality in music, art, wine and life. A legendary music leader, visionary and Hall of Fame human being with a legacy of music and joy rooted in the artists, colleagues, employees and millions of ears and hearts that he inspired. A few of use traveled to Cleveland last year to celebrate his 80th. So glad we did. It was a night of stellar performances: Diana Krall, Dr. John, Al Jarreau, Leon Russell (RIP)… followed by the afterparty back at the Ritz-Carlton, drinking amazing wine while listening and laughing into the wee small hours to the many, many stories filling the room. Music biz stories for the ages. Tommy stories. So fortunate and thankful. Smart, passionate, creative mentors who rocked my world.

Q: What’s the best part of your job? Helping and listening (to people and to music). Anytime I can generate a creative conversation with an artist, a company or a colleague, and help them think about their audience and how best to share + super-serve + connect, it’s a good day.

That, and getting together with friends and colleagues for lots of happy hours and live music. Ketel martini, up. Ice cold. Olives.

[captaincanarygotmelike]

Fic: Covered in the Colors

Summary: Leonard Snart was used to living a life of monochromatism. Why wouldn't he be? It'd been like that his whole life. He lived in a world where seeing your soulmate meant seeing color, and he had just adjusted to the idea that he would never be one of those people. That is, until he woke up on the roof of a building and looked into a pair of blue eyes.

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Color. That word had always had little meaning to Leonard Snart. He knew that there was some phenomenon that caused people who’d met their soulmate to see color. Bullshit, he’d always thought.

It’s not that he didn’t believe it, he just didn’t believe it would ever to happen to him. He’d met a few people who could see color, but the crowd he’d hung around for most of his life wasn’t exactly the soulmate type. He was pretty much positive Lisa could see color; she hung around Cisco Ramon far too often, more than she had any other guy who’d been in her life. Why she wasn’t saying anything about it was beyond him. Leonard, though, was fairly certain that he’d be living in a world of black and white forever.

Then, one day, something changed.

He woke on a rooftop in the middle of the night after being knocked out and kidnapped. There were others with him, at least seven or eight. He recognized a few. There was Mick, of course, and Professor Stein, but he’d never seen the rest before, and as he and the others got to their feet, he looked them over. There were two claiming to be reincarnating hawk deities, which, he thought, was an iffy story at best. There was the blonde assassin with a glint in her eye that he couldn’t quite explain. There was a man in an exo-suit who looked like a discount Iron Man. Next to him was a younger man who seemed to be the second half of Firestorm, and, standing above them all was the same man who’d kidnapped him and brought him here in the first place.

This man started to talk, but Leonard wasn’t listening because as he looked away from the people around him, something in his vision changed. The dark grey of his jacket suddenly, just, wasn’t. He couldn’t explain it, it just wasn’t grey anymore, replaced by something else. He blinked a few times, figuring his eyes must be a bit wonky from whatever that Rip Hunter guy did to him when he knocked him out, but when he opened his eyes again, something else had changed. This time, it wasn’t his coat, but the skin on his hands, no longer pale grey. Again, the change went away as quickly as it came, bust as he looked around, he saw a similar disturbance in his surroundings.

He was pretty sure what he was seeing was color. No one had ever been able to describe it properly, even those who could see it (and especially those who couldn’t. When Lisa was in middle school, she’d been determined to prove that her favorite actor was her soulmate, saying that she’d seen a picture of him in a magazine and seen color, but her shoddy description of what color was gave her away fairly quickly). Leonard knew what color was scientifically: it was the different ways light bounced off of objects, but that didn’t really help him here. He knew from grade school art that color came in shades. The words red and blue came to mind, and he was pretty sure those were different colors, but he wouldn’t be able to differentiate the two.

If color was anything though, this was it.

As the minutes went by, more and more of his surroundings changed. It rolled over his vision like waves onto sand. Sometimes, objects would change for a moment or two before returning to their previous states. Some things, especially the bright flashing of traffic lights and cars on the street below him, stayed in their new form. It was incredibly distracting. He could barely pay attention to any of what this Rip Hunter was saying, getting in a generic snarky comment or two before turning on his heels and leaving the rooftop. Mick followed him, of course, and soon they were back to the safe house they’d been staying in.

He went straight for the old, beat-up computer that sat at a desk in the corner of the room. He began to type the different colors he could remember into the search engine one by one. He memorized the different names and what each one looked like. Soon, he could look around the room and name the color of each object. His jacket, he learned, was a dark shade of the color blue, and looking down at it, he decided he preferred it this way to the dark grey he thought it had been. His skin was a very light shade of brown and his hair was also brown with touches of grey. His eyes were light blue, nearly the same color as the blast of ice that came from his cold gun.

Just as he was looking at various shades of green, Mick entered the room with a beer bottle in hand. Leonard tried to close the internet browser so Mick wouldn’t see what he’d been doing, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“Green?” Mick repeated the word that was plastered across the computer screen. “What’re you looking that up for?”

“Nothing,” Leonard replied, a little too late. Mick heard the hesitation and realized what his partner wasn’t saying. He started to laugh, chuckling like this was the best thing he’d heard all day.

“You can see color now, can’t you? You saw your soulmate.” Mick waited for a response. When it didn’t come, he continued, “Well? Didn’t you?” Leonard nodded and Mick let out another laugh, “Who could it be? My money’s on Haircut.”

Leonard didn’t respond so Mick didn’t pursue the subject. Leonard wished he could say that he knew who is soulmate was, that he’d felt some sort of pull or one of those other clichés he heard about people who saw color, but he didn’t. It could be any one of the people who’d been on the rooftop with him and the only chance he’d get to figure out who his soulmate was was to go on this damned time travel mission he didn’t want to go on.

After leaving the rooftop, Sara Lance took the train back to Star City. It’d been a while since she’d seen her sister, and besides, she wanted her opinion on this whole time travel stuff. She also wanted to talk to Laurel about something else. Something strange had happened to her on that rooftop. She’d been listening to this British dude talking about time travel when, out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen something she’d never seen before and she was pretty sure she knew what it was: color. Her time in the League of Assassins had taught her a little bit about color, mostly how to spot people who could see it and how to use that to her advantage. The League taught her that to see color was a weakness because it meant you had something to lose. On a few occasions, Sara had seen two assassins find soulmates in each other. The League had a particularly brutal way of dealing with that: they’d pin the soulmates against each other; whoever killed the other first won. It was one of the more barbaric traditions of the League, but it was effective. The winners of those battles always became some of the best assassins the League saw.

Sara never thought she cared about having a soulmate. Looking back at all of her important relationships in the past — Nyssa and Oliver were the ones that came to mind — none of them were “soulmates”, none of them made her see color, but she didn’t care. She had loved them regardless of whether they were her soulmate or not. But now that color was flickering in and out of her vision like a bad lightbulb, she was having a hard time maintaining that same level of nonchalance.

Soon, Sara made it back to the Arrowcave.

“What’s up with you?” Laurel asked after the customary reunion hug.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Sara replied.

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” Laurel replied, “I’m sure I can handle this.”

“Fine,” Sara sighed, “I think I’m starting to see color.”

“Oh,” Laurel replied. The surprise was apparent on her face. “Who?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t actually know. It first started while I was meeting eight people.”

Laurel snorted. “Nothing you do can ever be simple, can it? Do you have any idea who your soulmate could be out of those people?”

“I guess I could rule out a few people, but that still leaves five or six.”

“Yeah, but you must feel some sort of pull or something towards one of them.”

“You didn’t,” Sara shot back.

That was a low blow. Laurel had seen color for the first time the day she met Oliver when she was seven years old. It was also coincidentally the same time she met Tommy and she wasn’t sure which one was her soulmate. Eventually, she decided for herself that it must be Ollie. Years later, she found out she was wrong in a horrific way.

There’s a catch to the whole seeing color when you meet your soulmate thing; when they die, so does the color. When Tommy died, Laurel’s color began to fade away as she watched the building her soulmate was trapped in crumble.

“Sorry,” Sara added sheepishly.

“You have to go on this mission,” Laurel ignored her, “C’mon Sara. This is your soulmate we’re talking about here. This is your chance at happiness, and if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

“I don’t know if I even want a relationship right now. I mean, I was just dead, Laurel! It’s kind of hard to just bounce back from something like that.”

“Well, maybe your soulmate could help,” Laurel replied. When Sara didn’t respond, she tossed her a set of batons, “C’mon, let’s spar. I want to hear about this time travel stuff.”

As it turns out, every one of the eight people Rip Hunter recruited showed up at the abandoned lot thirty six hours later. Sure, several of them were there against their will, but Leonard suspected that Rip didn’t really give a damn how they got there as long as they were going to work for him.

Once they were all seated on the bridge of what was apparently a timeship — even Leonard had to be a little impressed at that, but he didn’t even come close to the reaction Dr. Stein and Raymond Palmer had — Leonard decided to take in this new team (Leonard wasn’t big on teams; he wasn’t sure this one would work out).

He’d worked with Firestorm before, or at least, he’d worked with half of it. He knew Martin to be very smart, yet sometimes arrogantly so. Leonard had never met the meta’s new other half, Jefferson Jackson. Jax was the youngest of Rip’s recruits. Leonard felt that, so far, he liked him the most out of everyone, and the fact that he was currently unconscious definitely didn’t have anything to do with it.

Leonard knew that neither of these people were his soulmate. He’d already met Martin, so it definitely wasn’t him, and while he couldn’t be completely sure about Jax, he was sure enough to know that it was very unlikely.

He could also rule out the Hawks, Kendra and Carter, who were each other’s soulmates and had been for thousands of years.

Leonard could only hope that his soulmate wasn’t the Atom. Ray Palmer had both the energy and the common sense of a young child. He felt the same about their apparent captain, Rip Hunter, who had the crotchety I’m-better-than-you sense of arrogance of a much older man.

However much Leonard was against it, he had to admit that both men were possibilities.

That left Sara Lance. Leonard could see the assassin as being the only one he’d be okay with having as a soulmate. She was strong willed and powerful and seemed hardened at the edges in a way no one else on the team was.

He also knew that he was out of his mind thinking that it could possibly be her. She was young and badass and absolutely gorgeous. The universe would never just hand him all of that on a silver platter, especially considering how little it had given him before.

The team’s first mission went exactly how Leonard thought it would.

They were attacked and someone died.

To be fair, Leonard had the time of his life. He’d trashed a bar with Mick and the White Canary and he’d gotten back just in time for a fight against a time traveling bounty hunter. All in all, it was a good day.

The second mission, on the other hand, went a little differently. That time, Sara was not with him. She was assigned to accompany Firestorm on a trip to find a young Martin Stein. Leonard and Mick, instead of the assassin, got Ray, so while Sara was off visiting stoned collegiate hippies, Leonard was attempting to break into an immortal psychopath’s house with the world’s most optimistic vigilante.

It did not go as planned.

By the end of the night, they were down a team member, and Leonard learned that blood was not black as he thought it was, but red.

A few more missions went by. They were still in 1975, they were still down a member, but by now, they’d given him a proper burial. They’d given him the respect he deserved.

Later, when everything was over and they were back on the Waverider, the team sat on the main deck, all in their own chairs, all painfully aware that one was empty.

They were quiet, lost in their own thoughts or not thinking at all, just basking in the silence.

Jax was the first to speak. He turned to Professor Stein with a perplexed look on his face.

“If you think any harder, you’re going to explode, and if you go down, I do too.”

“I apologize, Jefferson,” Stein replied, “More has happened in the past few days than just my wedding ring disappearing, and it’s taking me longer than I believed it would to process it.”

“Then spill it, Grey.”

“The color I’ve seen since I met my wife faded along with my ring. They’ve both now returned, but I’ve been seeing color for so long that I forgot what a monochromatic world was like. At least I had the knowledge that my color could be returned. I couldn’t imagine the sufferings of one who had lost his soulmate in a way that couldn’t be rectified.”

“I guess that’s where I come in,” Ray admitted, “I lost my color when my fiancée Anna died. You know, you lose your color at the same rate your soulmate dies. For some people, it’s slow, but Anna’s death was quick and all of a sudden, all the color was gone.”

There was a brief pause as Ray sadly looked off into space before he turned back.

“How about the rest of you?”

Rip, being the person closest to Ray, started.

“I’m in the same boat as you, I’m afraid,” Rip said, “I saw color when I met Miranda and knew I’d lost her because it disappeared. That’s how I found out it happened. I was on a mission, doing my duties as a Time Master. I knew things in 2166 were bad, and I hadn’t heard from her in a little while, but then one day I blinked and everything was black and white. The only thing worse than losing your soulmate is not being beside them when it happens.”

Rip then turned to Kendra, who was sitting a few feet away from him.

“I’ve been seeing color since I met Carter in our first life — I guess he was Prince Khufu then — and 2000 years later, it’s still here.”

“Even after one of you dies?” Ray asked, raising his eyebrows. Kendra nodded sadly.

“How fascinating!” Martin exclaimed with bright eyes.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you, Grey?” Jax rolled his eyes.

“How about you, Jefferson?” Martin asked, turning to the other half of Firestorm, “Do you have any experience with the color spectrum?”

“Nah,” Jax shook his head, “Maybe someday.”

“Yes, you are a little on the young side to be meeting your soulmate,” he agreed, “Although it isn’t impossible.”

“Yeah, some people met their soulmates in my high school,” Jax nodded, “There were counselors for it and everything and they’d have to go to meetings and discuss stuff like the future and things like that.”

“Yes, adolescents tend to not make the wisest choices when it comes to the future,” Rip commented.

“Yeah, I get that,” Sara nodded, knowing that had she not gone on the Queen’s Gambit as a teenager, she would never have ended up where she is today.

“It seems we still haven't heard from our resident criminals and assassin,” Stein commented.

“Nothing to say, Professor,” Mick replied as Leonard silently tipped his head to the side in acknowledgement.

“What about you, Sara,” Kendra said kindly.

“Not much room for soulmates in the League,” Sara said, because technically that was the truth. It just wasn’t exactly the whole truth. Kendra’s eyes remained trained on her a moment or two after everyone else’s had moved on. There was a funny look on her face, as if she could see completely through what Sara had said.

The team traveled to Washington D.C., Soviet Russia, future-Star City, deep space. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, Leonard always found himself with Sara.

In 1945, Sara’d been tasked with killing Martin if a mission went sideways. Leonard doubled back, leaving his partner behind to deal with a temporarily incapacitated Ray and nearly getting caught in the crosshairs of a Soviet gulag rampage, all so he could keep Sara from killing Stein

In 2046, the team separated. Leonard followed Mick into the depths of a crime ring that was running Star City. He wasn’t too concerned until the leader threatened to kill his team. It was mentioning a blonde assassin that got his attention. He chose once again to go against Mick and find Sara.

In deep space, he was with Sara, choosing Sara three times. Once when they were freezing to death in the cargo hold of the Waverider and he gave her his parka because if anyone was going to survive this he was damned sure it would be her. Later, when Mick had defected and Leonard had to choose to either go with Mick or stay with the rest of his team, he chose Sara. It happened a third time when Mick and Sara were fighting and he knew if he didn’t help one of them, someone would end up dead. He picked Sara.

Wherever the team went, Sara was always on Leonard’s mind.

Then, things changed.

The team was in 1953. Sara and Leonard weren’t paired together; Rip took Leonard off to investigate the case of several missing persons in Harmony Falls, Oregon and Sara went with Stein to the hospital in the hopes of gaining some intel on those who were missing.

The mission actually went fairly well, better than most. Sure, they sort of handed Kendra to Savage on a silver platter, and sure, Jax was temporarily turned into a ravaging bird monster, but besides that, it went according to plan.

It was departing from Harmony Falls when problems arose.

Something went wrong and Sara, Kendra, and Ray watched the Waverider depart without them.

They had no choice but to stay in the 1953. They waited for a little while, knowing that the team would come back for them if they stayed put, but soon, it had been too long.

The team wasn’t coming back for them, and now, they had no choice but to live out the rest of their lives in the fifties.

Sara found that the longer they were there, the duller her colors became. She wondered if that was common, for colors to fade if you were away from your soulmate for too long. She couldn’t look it up, though, because computer access was nonexistent in the fifties.

Around the same time she stopped being able to see color in dim light, she left Ray and Kendra. Sara couldn’t stand being around them and all the love they had while her one real chance at love was fading away before her eyes.

She needed to go somewhere that had no place for love or color or soulmates:

The League of Assassins.

There, she was finally around people like her. There was no attachment, no connection, no emotions. All that was there was a lot of weapons and an unhealthy relationship with murder.

It didn't keep the color from fading.

Less than a year later, it was almost gone. She tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter, that her color wouldn’t be missed, but she couldn’t. All she could do was wait for the day it vanished completely, replaced with black and white once again.

That day didn’t come. What did, however, was Rip, but not just Rip either. Nearly the entire team came to rescue her.

Nobody had ever done anything like that for her before. In fact, she was so blown away that she didn’t quite know how to react. So, she did the first thing that came to mind, and that was to turn them in to R’as.

However, Sara almost immediately noticed something that took her attention away from that: the team was missing two members, Mick and Leonard. Sara tried to think rationally. There were plenty of reasons Rip would leave two of his best fighters behind when breaking into the League of Assassins, but even she had to admit that those reasons got more and more bizarre and unlikely as she went down the list. She knew that the only reason they weren’t there was because something was wrong and Sara’s steadily fading color didn’t help to clear her mind.

Lucky for her, Rip had a plan that let her end that train of thought. Unlucky for her, that plan involved pinning her against Kendra, knowing full well that at least one of them would end up dead.

Something rose in Sara as she watched Ray try to jump in front of Kendra. It was not anger, nor the bloodlust she’d become used to feeling when facing an adversary. This was different. She felt so incredibly frustrated, frustrated that Kendra’s soulmate was eternally guaranteed, and frustrated that she even had Ray, who loved her regardless of whether they were soulmates or not.

Then, there was Sara, watching her color slowly fade away. Then she felt the anger she hadn’t been feeling before. It was red and hot and burned in the back of her throat and consumed her every thought, so much so that she barely had to control her movement as she and Kendra fought.

Rip was almost right. Someone almost did die. Sara was a moment away from slitting Kendra’s throat when something in her vision changed and she froze. It was barely there, but noticeable when she moved her eyes from side to side. A bit of color was creeping into her vision. More yellow had been added to the stone walls of the room, adding to their look of age and deterioration. The torches on the walls glowed an even deeper orange, matching the anger in Sara that was now rapidly subsiding.

But she didn’t have time to worry about color, because Chronus, the bounty hunter that had been following them since even the very beginning of their mission, appeared in the doorway. She fought him, using every method she had to bring him down. She was one second away from ending the whole thing when it happened.

She heard Leonard’s voice before he saw him. He was grimacing, doubled over, with one hand clutching the stone doorframe and the other tucked inside his coat. He looked over the crowded room, stopping only when he found Chronus and then Sara.

As her eyes met his, her vision exploded with color.

It had never been that bright before, never that clear. There was no fading at the edges, no flickering, it was just there, like it was supposed to be.

It was a strange sort of confirmation of what she already expected, given that she was the only one who’d undergone anything at all; she highly doubted anything had happened to Leonard’s vision in the two days he’d been away from her.

Sara wasn’t exactly surprised, the only reason it’d taken her so long to see this clearly was, what? Fear? Doubt? Whatever it was, all she knew was that the time she spent with Leonard was like a dream in a life that so often felt like a nightmare. She didn’t want to let herself believe something like this — love, a soulmate, Leonard — was even possible. More than that, she didn’t want to get her hopes up because she didn’t want to feel the pain when it all came crashing down again.

The rest of the evening flew by; Sara barely paid any attention to what was happening. All she knew was that somehow, she’d ended up in her old room on the Waverider. It looked exactly as she’d left it, because technically, she’d only left forty eight hours ago.

She was sitting on her bed and working at the intricate braids her hair had been pulled into. She was so lost in thought that she had no idea what she was doing, she was just letting her hands do the work and let her mind wander anywhere else.

Sara wasn’t going to tell anyone about the hell she’d been through in Nanda Parbat, not because she thought the war stories or the brutality would be too much to handle, but because how was she supposed to explain that the pain of those things was nothing to how she felt watching her color fade away?

It’s not that she wanted to tell anyone either but she knew that if she found herself alone with Leonard, she’d tell him everything.

She couldn’t though. She couldn’t tell him any of what she’d been through over the last two years. He wouldn’t get it.

Would he?

Sara had to admit Captain Cold was not as cold as he had been at the beginning of this mission.

Still, the last time Leonard was faced with emotions, he killed Mick.

Tried being the operative word.

He didn’t kill Mick. Sure, he stranded him in the middle of nowhere, but the Leonard she’d met would have killed him. Or would he have sided with him?

Sara didn’t know what to think anymore. Everything from the mission was kind of hazy; two years was longer than she thought it was.

Was Leonard still capable of comprehending how hard those years had been for her?

On one hand, why wouldn’t he be? Hadn’t he been through this whole color thing too? Who’s to say he wouldn’t want to talk about it with her?

“Cat got your tongue, Canary?”

Sara jumped to her feet, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

As her vision cleared, she saw Leonard leaning against her doorframe. She relaxed slightly and tucked the knife back into the waistband of her jeans.

“Sorry,” Sara said, not meeting his eyes. She stood up, “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Don’t apologize,” Leonard replied.

Sara moved towards the door.

“If I were you I’d stay away from me for a while. Who knows what I could do?” Sara brushed past him, leaving her room and walking down the hallway.

Leonard didn’t move, watching her retreating form until she had rounded a corner. He could tell something was wrong, and it wasn’t the effects of returning to her old assassin ways. Leonard remembered who she was when he first met her;  he remembered how she’d been, how she’d acted. This was different.

Before, she’d been fearless, and cocky — arrogant even — about death. She’d seen it as unimportant, meaningless, but clearly thought it would never happen to her.

She may have had a point about that last part.

The Sara that he’d just seen bore almost no resemblance to the one he’d met several months ago.

He saw hesitation in this Sara, fear even.

Leonard didn’t think he’d ever seen Sara afraid before. It was an interesting color on her.

Color.

Was that what this was about? Had she started to see color on Nanda Parbat?

Leonard had thought that maybe Sara had been the reason he’d started seeing color himself, but now he wasn’t so sure.

If not Sara, then who was it?

That didn’t explain how Sara had looked at him when he’d arrived at the headquarters of the League of Assassin. Mick had been surrounded, subject to the team’s arsenal of weapons and abilities with no chance of survival. At the sound of his voice, the whole team had turned. He met Sara’s eyes first and instantly her face went sheet white, her eyes widening. He had no idea why it happened, and still wasn’t entirely sure it had at all; it had lasted a split second before his attention had been pulled to saving Mick, but it had been the only thing on his mind since then.

What was wrong with him? How was he letting one person become this important to him, and just on the assumption that she was the one who’d caused him to see color?

Maybe this distance would be a good thing.

Unfortunately for both of them, it didn’t last long.

The next mission consisted of a few of Leonard’s worst days yet, not because of the mission itself, but because of just a few moments in it.

One such moment was when he accidentally said something stupid. He was manipulative — he got it from his dad — and although he wasn’t always particularly proud of it, it came in handy more often that it should have. To be manipulative, you have to be good with words, and Leonard definitely was. He didn’t have to worry about saying anything stupid because he never really had before.

Then again, he was starting to think that being around Sara was making him become a different person.

For better or for worse.

Either way, he said something to Sara when he didn’t mean to.

And what about your feelings, she’d said

About you?

He hadn’t meant to say it. It had been a deflection, saving him from a completely different conversation he didn’t want to have. Looking back on it, there were a million things he could have said instead, but he’d been too distracted by how clear his color was when he was looking at Sara to put too much thought into what he was saying.

He knew Sara saw right through him. He could tell just in the way she smiled at him before continuing.

She called him an ass on her way out. Nobody else would have gotten away with that, only Sara.

The worst part of this mission happened at its tail-end, and it was something Leonard didn’t think he’d ever forget.

They’d been on some landing strip or something, fighting Savage, his men, and a fleet of atomic robots. It was total chaos, fighting happening both on land and in the air. Then he’d turned and seen Savage holding Sara, one arm pinning her against him, the other holding a knife to her throat.

On the surface, Sara looked nothing more than incredibly angry, and that was enough to send some of Savage’s men a few steps backwards, but as her eyes met Leonard’s, he saw something even scarier: terror.

What do you want?

The words were out before Leonard could stop them. He would do anything to never see Sara looking so scared again.

Except that wasn’t him. He was supposed to be called Captain Cold for a reason. He was supposed to not care.

Well, he did care.

A few more missions went by; nothing particularly exciting happened within them.

Leonard got to see Sara dressed for an afternoon in the Old West, which was a view he definitely enjoyed. He also got to see a younger version of Sara, which was slightly more disconcerting.

Sara tried her best to keep her younger self away from the rest of the team.

She wasn’t entirely sure how this soulmate thing worked, but she was pretty sure nothing good would come of seeing Leonard — or, you know, whoever else her soulmate could be — decades before she was supposed to.

Sara did pretty well until she was bringing Leonard’s infant self back to the Waverider and it dawned on her that she might be handing her future soulmate to herself.

Is that a baby?, she’d asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.

Sara searched her face for any changes, and wracked her brain for some sort of new memory, but nothing seemed to have changed.

A half an hour later, she was back in her room and free to ask Gideon what she wanted to know away from prying ears.

“Gideon,” she said into the air.

“Yes, Miss Lance?” the AI answered.

“Gideon,” Sara repeated, “I can see color.”

“I am aware.”

“Okay,” she hesitated, slightly thrown off, “well then can you tell me who my soulmate is?”

“Unfortunately, no, Miss Lance,” Gideon replied, “Unless it is of the cardiovascular nature, I cannot deal with problems of the heart. Is that all?”

“No,” Sara said hurriedly, “I have a question. If my soulmate is who I think it is, then my younger self just saw him, held him, and nothing happened.”

“I assume when you say soulmate, you are referring to Leonard Snart, and in this case, his infant self,” Gideon said.

“Yes,” Sara said. This was the first time she’d heard it out-loud. She wasn’t sure what to think of it. “Why didn’t I see color when I saw him?”

“There is not much science on the subject of soulmates, but there are theories,” Gideon said, “My theory on this particular problem is in that this Leonard Snart is from the past. In his current time, you haven’t been born. Therefor he doesn’t have a soulmate yet.”

“So you think he’s my soulmate?”

“I calculate the probability of Mr. Snart being your soulmate is—”

“Actually, never mind,” Sara cut the AI off, “I don’t want to know.”

While the last few missions were rough for Leonard, the next one was just as difficult for Sara.

They were in 2166, and fighting Vandal Savage at the height of his power. Sara wasn’t sure how this could possibly be a good plan, but against her better judgement, she was trusting Rip Hunter.

They went to a speech, given by Savage to some of his men (it had been astonishingly easy to sneak into; Savage’s security was abysmal).

Then, they’d seen her.

Cassandra.

Or Cassie, as Leonard liked to call her.

Sara had never been a particularly jealous person, probably because she’d never had to be. She was usually the object of people’s straying eyes, not the other way around. It was a part of her that she’d never been particularly proud of.

She’d never missed it more.

“You’ve gotten pretty tight with Savage’s daughter,” Sara said to Leonard when they found themselves alone in the mess hall. She had gone in to get some lunch, and Leonard had already been there when she arrived. He was making hot chocolate — he always made it a big ordeal, making the whole thing from scratch and complaining about the “shitty instant crap” the entire time — and he had two mugs on the table.

What are you doing?

Cassie’s never had hot chocolate. You’ve never lived until you have hot chocolate.

Cassie?

“What can I say,” he replied, “abusive fathers have me seeing red.”

Sara stared at him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the first and only time Leonard directly referred to color happened to be right after he met Cassandra, could it?

“If your hope was for me to be green with envy,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “I think you’ll be disappointed.”

Their eye contact was held for longer than two “just friends” should have been able to get away with. Sara’s eyes were narrowed, one eyebrow cocked. Leonard had a smirk plastered across his face.

It was Sara who broke their gaze as she turned to leave the mess hall.

Leonard thought Sara would avoid him like the plague after what he’d said to her, but they returned Cassandra to her own time, and things went back to normal. He thought the quick return to normalcy may have been because of Savage’s presence on the Waverider. He had replaced his daughter in the cell on the Waverider mere hours after it had been inhabited by Cassandra. He was just as stubborn as his daughter, but much less capable of reasoning.

Savage being on board made Sara nervous. She hated being nervous; it brought back residual League habits: jumpiness, always being on edge, one hand unfailingly gripping the hilt of a knife or the collapsed batons in the back pocket of her jeans.

For some reason, being with Leonard dampened those effects. It wasn’t that he was calm; if she wanted calm, she’d probably be sitting next to Kendra, but she wasn’t. She was sitting next to Leonard, him in his usual seat on the bridge, her sitting with her back against it, her head so close to his shoulder when either of them moved, she brushed against the leather of his jacket.

Just the way they were nonchalantly passing the beer bottle back and forth was making her feel better. The sheer force of his aloofness — the way he treated the presence of an immortal psychopath on the Waverider as a mere inconvenience to him, rather than an actual threat — was enough to ease even some of her nerves.

Sara wanted Savage off of her ship. Even more than that, she wanted him dead. She’d always just assumed that’s how all of this would end, because that had been the plan the whole time, but now, half of the team wanted to spare his life (although if she was being completely honest, she shouldn’t be so surprised considering the outcome of most of their past missions).

Hell, she’d kill Savage herself if she could, but only Kendra could do that.

Maybe that’s why his presence on the ship had her so on edge. Next to Vandal Savage, Sara was completely powerless. Sure, she could hold her own in a fight against him, but not even two tours in the League of Assassins gave her the ability to kill him.

Maybe that’s why she hung around the team’s resident Rogues, because she was sure they felt the same way about all of this, they just didn’t show it.

Until they did.

When Mick brought up the idea of hijacking the jumpship and returning to Central City, Leonard agreed. It was more of an impulse move, a product of his anger at Rip for what he’d done to Jax, for his betrayal.

When Sara heard the plan, she didn’t exactly argue. It’s not that she didn’t want to, it’s that if she said anything, she’d say everything. She’d say how much she liked being around him, how so much of her had become dependent on him, even though it went against so much of what she believed in. She’d tell him about color, and how she didn’t want to go through losing it again and how she definitely didn’t want him going through the same thing. She’d tell him everything.

So she didn’t say anything at all.

The Rogues’ plan fell through, which neither Leonard nor Sara were particularly surprised about. Neither of them were overly disappointed either.

Walking to where the jumpship was docked, Leonard had felt a twinge of guilt — an emotion he was somewhat used to feeling by now — about leaving Sara behind.

He felt an even worse emotion about leaving Sara behind with Vandal Savage onboard the Waverider. Sure, Sara had managed to avoid permanent death for years, but Savage didn’t need to avoid it at all; he was defying all human function without lifting a finger.

Leonard didn’t want to doubt her skills, but he didn’t want to find out later, when all the color in his vision he’d gotten so used to suddenly disappeared, that things had gone sideways.

He wanted to be there with her to help if things went sideways.

It did.

Savage got out of his prison cell — because Ray’s an idiot; Leonard had said it all along and no one had listened. He shut down the ships central controls. They were flying blind — Sara was flying blind.

That left the rest of the team to hold off Savage and the brainwashed Carter Hall.

Leonard fought back harder than usual, trying his best to keep them away from the bridge. He needed to keep them away from the bridge, not because he particularly cared about what was happening there, but because Sara was there.

He needed Sara to be safe. He had no ulterior motive, and he wasn’t getting anything out of it, but he knew he needed Sara to be safe. That’s it.

That’s why his heart plummeted into his stomach when he’d been hit, and the last thing on his mind as the world went black was that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to see the blue of Sara’s eyes when he regained consciousness.

He did, in fact, regain his ability to see color when he woke up.

Sara was fine, royally pissed off, but fine.

“I wish I’d been there more to help bring down Savage,” he told her later. He was in Sara’s room, leaning against the foot of her bed and watching her deal out a deck of cards. They were waiting, biding their time until Rip came back and told them what they would do next.

“I dunno, you seemed pretty comfortable when we found you,” Sara responded, doling out the last of the cards and picking up her own pile.

“That wasn’t exactly my choice,” he replied, “I would choose helping you over being passed out against a wall in a heartbeat.”

“I think most people would,” she said, choosing to ignore any hidden meaning in his words, “Sorry to hear your plan to get home didn’t work out.”

Leonard shrugged, “I’m not.”

They fell into silence after that, each concentrating on the game in front of them. They played for the win first, not the company, although that was an added bonus.

Leonard was thankful for the silence later, because it allowed him to hear the unfamiliar noises from within the Waverider. He had sort of a sixth sense for when things were about to go wrong, perhaps because in his past, it often did. He had needed to recognize a bad situation before it happened so he could avoid it. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he sure as hell didn’t want whatever it was near Sara.

We need to find somewhere to hide.

Why do we need to find somewhere to hide?

Alexa.

Sure, the word Alexa wasn’t exactly the best explanation, but it was all the explanation he had time to give before they had to get moving — or more specifically, moving through the Waverider’s ventilation system. They were both aware of how uncomfortable the other was; Sara knew that Leonard had never done well with being in close proximity to another person, and Leonard knew that closed spaces reminded Sara of parts of her life she desperately wanted to forget.

They both stayed quiet though, not sure how to bring up their own discomfort, or their awareness of the other’s. They listened to the sounds of their team being dragged away. They waited until the only thing they could hear was the sound of their own breathing, then ten minutes more.

Finally, Leonard decided it was safe to emerge from their hiding spot.

The next few hours were a blur of chaos and confusion. He pulled a gun on Sara; an action fueled by his own fear of losing her, and one he instantly regretted. He apologized for it later — not well, he had to admit, but he wasn’t very good at apologizing, never had been — but she was still upset with him. He didn’t blame her.

You want to steal a kiss from me, Leonard? You better be one hell of a thief.

From anybody else, those words would have meant a rejection, but from her, it was something else. It was a challenge.

Leonard was never one to back down from a challenge.

It turns out, he didn’t have to.

The decision to sacrifice himself at the Oculus Wellspring was almost a no-brainer.

Almost.

He couldn’t let Mick stay, not after all the times Leonard had gone against him during the mission: taking him out of 2046, stranding him in the middle of nowhere, the countless times he’d chosen the team over his partner. He couldn’t add another instance to the list, it wasn’t right.

But that still left Sara. Sara was what made this decision almost a no-brainer.

Leonard was almost positive now that Sara was the one who’d caused the arrival of the color in his vision. He’d had no idea, back at the beginning of the mission, that he’d be the one taking it away from her, at least, not in such a brutal way.

He wished it didn’t have to be like this. He wished there was another way, that he didn’t have to hold down the failsafe. He wanted to follow Sara back to the Waverider and continue their conversation about me, and you, and me and you. He wanted to talk about color, he wanted to get lost in her blue eyes and run his fingers through her blonde hair.

But he didn’t tell her any of it. He didn’t have time. So when Sara kissed him, he tried to put as much of what he wished he could say into kissing her back, how one look at the beginning of a ludicrous time travel mission had made his entire life light up.

She pulled away, but didn’t leave him just yet. As her eyes traveled across his face, trying to memorize every detail, his eyes remained locked on hers. He took in every pigment, every shade of blue, because if this was was, he wanted her eyes to be the last good thing her remembered.

Once she’d dragged Mick onto the Waverider and propped him up against his usual chair on the main deck, Sara sat down and squeezed her eyes shut. Rip directed Gideon to fly the Waverider away from the Oculus as fast as she could.

Then came the explosion.

Gideon clearly had gotten the timeship out of range, but even without seeing it, Sara knew. She heard the rumbling crash roll through the air. With it came the quaking vibrations that shook the Waverider even with the distance the AI had put between them and the Oculus.

She knew she needed to open her eyes. She knew that they were traveling further and further away from Leonard and if he was still alive, she was the only one who’d know.

As the Waverider trembled, Sara hated herself for thinking there was even a chance he could still be alive. She knew Snart had to be dead. No one, not even the elusive Captain Cold could survive an explosion like that. It just wasn’t possible.

Then why were her eyes still closed? Why was she holding onto the slightest possibility that she’d open her eyes and see color if she knew it was impossible?

The quaking of the timeship had finally subsided. The team was silent. Nobody moved.

Slowly, Sara raised her head. Her eyes were still closed, but she could see the brightness of the Waverider's tech through her eyelids; nothing gave her an inkling of whether she could still see color though.

She had to just get it over with. She had to do it.

She opened her eyes.

Gone was the brown of Rip’s duster, gone was the yellow of Jax’s suit and the red of Ray’s.

Gone was Leonard.

All she saw was grey.

Sara met Mick’s eyes. She silently gave one nod, answering a hundred unasked questions.

There was the proof.

Now, she knew for sure that Leonard was her soulmate. Now, she knew for sure Leonard was dead.

And that was that.

I hope you enjoyed this! Depending on the outcome of season 2, there might be a sequel to this story in your future :)

[thornburgrealty]

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