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ausaplenty · 1 year

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Bouquet for sorrow and regret

A mix of AUs and characters

Asphodel to indicate your regret will follow you to the grave (Gilbert, Kiara - Betrayal AU)

Azalea for fragility in a difficult time (Kiara, Gilbert, Lilian - Soldier Poet King AU)

Snowdrop for consolation and hope of better days ahead (Ren, Jade - ATLA AU)

Rue for regret (Thomas, Violet - Pre-P14H)

Willow for mourning (Ren, Thomas - Red Hood AU)

Gilbert Mead, Kiara Scuro - Betrayal AU

Asphodel – regret that follows you to the grave

Kiara smiled tiredly at him from the back corner booth as he entered the Chinese restaurant, one hand on the stroller next to her.

Ren and Skye had texted earlier with their excuses.

The unofficial Team Awesome monthy reunions were nearing expiration, with Gilly and Kiara clinging on by their nails. They weren’t doing it for themselves, though, as much as they were trying to keep something alive.

Lilian.

He’d almost backed out today. Made up some excuse about research and apologized. At least with the other two absent, the bitterness wouldn’t be so quick to rise for the blonde.

Kiara blamed Ren and Skye for staying at SPSRA, after what happened to their best friend. For glossing over the false imprisonment and agonizing pain because SPSRA was the “greater good.”

“Tell me who they’re helping?” Kiara demanded, her lips twisted into a snarl as she glared at the other two.

“We’re helping people. The engineers are improving technology so we’re less reliant on the Basement and –“ Skye recoiled as the word spurred a hiss from the shadow walker.

Ren refused to cave under the weight of hostility. “It’s making a difference, Kiara, and Skye and Thomas and I are doing what we can to make sure what happened to Lily isn’t repeated.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

Gilbert was safe from Kiara’s rage, though he didn’t deserve it. The chip was his fault. His work had killed Lilian.

“Hey Gilly,” Kiara greeted when he slid onto the scarlet vinyl seat across from her. “I ordered egg rolls for us already, I’m famished. And I ordered tea for you.”

“Thanks,” he said. He nodded toward the stroller. “How is she?”

Kiara’s smile should have been radiant, befitting a proud new mother, as she pulled the blanket away from the carrier’s opening. The tiny baby with a mess of black curls slept in her seat, tiny squeaks escaping occasionally.

“LiLi would have loved her,” the shadow walker murmured. “With how much she loved kids? It would have been hard to pry Inali out of her arms.”

Gilbert’s heart twisted.

“I’m moving,” he blurted out awkwardly, resting his hands on the table. “T-There’s a company in San Diego that wants my help creating assistive devices.”

Kiara’s gloved hands covered his. He met her eyes.

“I get it.”

Kiara Scuro, Gilbert Mead, Lilian Moros - Soldier, Poet, King AU

Azalea – fragility during a difficult time

“Gilbert!” Kiara shouted between coughs as she stumbled through the masses. Her voice was lost in the barrage of screams and wails as the soldiers set fire to the huts and shacks that had barely sheltered the people of Beryn. “Gilly!”

The soldiers bore no symbols, a shield to protect the lord and his cronies from suspicions when he offered the village protection, but Kiara knew their purpose.

A mercenary barreled toward her atop a piebald stallion, the pike in his grasp aimed at her gut. The blonde snarled as she rolled out of his path, lashing out with a dark tendril. The shadow wrapped around his neck, cutting into his flesh before Kiara gave a vicious yank and severing the soldier’s head.

There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword. They will tear your city down

Somebody plowed into her, knocking her to the ground. She twisted in their grasp, wrestling her attacker beneath her with a blade to their throat. Angry brown eyes glared up at her.

A mousy-haired young man glared up at her, straining against Kiara’s thighs straddling his torso. “Bastards,” he spat. “We were fine before you and your friends got here, with your talk of free and fairness. I warned my lord -

Kiara growled, climbing off of him. “Get out,” she ordered. “The blame lies with your lord.”

She strode into the shadows, cursing to herself.

Her role in this ballad was plain. A weapon to be wielded as they severed the chains of slavery and oppression. And unfortunately, her companions knew their purpose too.

Lilian to find the tyrants, to glean as much information for their cause. Sometimes, their hearts could be swayed with words. She was the appeal, a chance for the villain to change their ways before Kiara gave them no alternative.

There will come a poet, whose weapon is their word. She will slay you with her tongue.

And Gilbert.

He was architect, laying the foundation for the people to rule and govern themselves.

There will come a ruler, whose brow is laid with thorn. Smeared with oil, like David’s brow.

“Kiara!” Gilbert’s voice pierced the chaos and the blonde sped up until she laid eyes on him. He was struggling against a chokehold, a thick arm cutting off his air supply.

She surged out of the darkness and lashed out with a razor-thin whip that cut into the mercenary’s arm.

The soldier grunted in surprise at the wound and her appearance, freeing her friend in his shock. “Move!” she barked.

A shadow swept out, knocking the attacker off his feet. The blond man obeyed, scrambling out of the way. The dark tentacle elongated and thickened, thrashing wildly with the mercenary in its grasp until he was a bloody pulp.

Freed, Gilbert ran toward a burning hut. He yelled something at her, the words lost in his coughs and the screams of somebody trapped inside the structure.

“- have to save them!” she caught.

Awareness dawned on her as she recognized the home’s position in the village.

The healer’s hut.

Gilbert slammed into the door, his shoulder shattering the wood. He inhaled deeply, sucking in as much clear air as he could before he went to cover his nose and mouth.

“Like hell you’re going in there,” Kiara snapped, trapping his foot with a shadow so he was tethered to the ground. She ran past him, a wave of darkness gathering over her in a dark shield. Burning thatch fell against it. Her eyes landed on the forms trapped on the other side of fiery pile of debris.

Not debris. Materials. Items piled there and set ablaze.

The soldiers had gone for the healer first.

Rage boiled inside her. She brought the shadow down on herself, rising into the darkness and emerging on the other side. A woman stared up at her, a toddler clutched in her arms as she shielded a third body.

Kiara threw herself on top of the trio, calling the shadows to her. They sank into the black, the blonde pulling them behind her out into the village. She grabbed Gilly and transported them to the woods.

The conscious woman shrieked as they emerged, pulling away from the shadow walker, and pressing the child to her chest. She sobbed as she saw the village in the distance, flames growing as the fields and huts burned, and she collapsed to the grounds, her wails and the toddler’s blending together.

Gilbert crouched beside the healer, his hands hovering fearfully over the warm, wet stain on her abdomen. “No no no no,” he cried. “Kiara –“

She pulled him to his feet and turned him away from the body to envelope him a hug. “We need to go, Gilly, LiLi is waiting.”

~*~

“I don’t know what happened,” Gilbert said, staring into the campfire. “Beryn wasn’t ready for that. We needed more time.”

Their work was tenuous, a precarious tower balancing on a few feeble stones. They worked in stages, careful to time each right so as not set the chain of events in motion too soon.

“Selene – she was my choice to lead,” he explained.

“She was a good choice,” Lilian agreed as she pressed a heel of bread into his hands. The man accepted it, but just turned it over in his hands. She glanced over at Kiara. “She was willing to challenge the lord before we arrived, just for the sickness spreading through the village because of the overwork and rotten food.”

The blonde woman nodded her understanding.

“I don’t know what happened,” Gilbert lamented.

“One of the villagers told the lord. He said as much before I found Gilly, when he blamed us for the soldiers attacking,” Kiara supplied. She prodded a burning log with a stick, shifting the pile so it collapsed in the center. “Mousy hair, ears too big for his head – sound familiar?”

“Jaren,” LiLi offered as she sat between them. “Idolized the guards, but was too scrawny to be one.”

The trio sat in silence, Gilbert leaning against Lilian in support.

She knew Gilbert was blaming himself. He wasn’t considering that the lord could have attacked the healer even if their trio hadn’t shown up, if Selene was prepared to stand up to the nobility. No, he was too caught in the moment, connecting his presence to her death.

“So the question is,” Kiara scowled, “Do we let this behavior go unpunished?”

Ren, Jade – ATLA AU

Snowdrop - consolation and hope for better days ahead

“Here,” Jade said, pressing a warm bowl into Ren’s hands. She grinned when the air bender eyed it suspiciously. “It’s not sea prunes, I promise. Just broth.”

Ren took a sip, closing her eyes as she felt the warmth fill her.

“What happened after –“ she winced at the memory of the lightning strike, her entire body tensing instinctively.

“Thomas held Reed and Kiara off so I could escape with you. We heard reports that he was captured,” Jade answered, sitting back on her feet. She scowled, her eyes bright with fury. “The Fire Prince and Princess are returning to the Fire Nation while the ships converge on Ba Sing Se to –“

“Take control,” Ren growled, her grip tight around the bowl. “I forgot it fell.”

She failed.

Anger clenched at her chest, its claws painful around her heart. Her mouth tightened and she brought the soup to her lips to mask it.

Jade noticed with a frown. “It won’t last, Ren, we’ve still got the Day of the Black Sun and Jasper’s actually got a half decent plan that doesn’t require the Earth King’s armies.”

“What’s the plan?” Ren demanded, itching to rid herself of the heavy burden of failure. She set her bowl down and grabbed her glider, the wooden weight a familiar feeling in her hand. With a grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and leaned her body against the staff. “What do I need to do –“

“You need to lay down and rest,” the water bender ordered. “You’re so weak after the healing session, I could knock you over with one finger.”

The avatar glared at her as she eased herself down on to the mattress.

“I know it’s annoying and you’re exhausted and drained,” Jade sighed. “But there’s nothing you can do about it tonight and you’re not going to defeat anybody if you don’t give yourself time to heal.”

She cleaned up as Ren spread out on the bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Thomas, Violet – Pre-P14H

Rue – regret

“Thomas?” somebody asked, shaking his shoulder.

The dream walker snapped out of the trance he was in, staring at the paperwork laid in front of him on tiny metal desk. Violet frowned at him, only taller because of the way the shoddy chair sank to the bottom of the supportive shaft.

“’M sorry,” he slurred, rubbing his eyes. “Dream walkers and their cat naps, you know how it goes.”

The council member squeezed his shoulder worryingly. “I do. I also know that wasn’t helpful in the slightest.”

He sighed.

If it were any of the other council members, he would doubt the sincerity of their questions. A dream walker who couldn’t sleep well enough was useless to them, just a body that didn’t serve its purpose.

“Vance Elliot’s resignation just became official,” Violent explained as she shook her head. “I know you were close with he and his sister, Thomas, and I’m wondering if you needed time.”

Vance hadn’t answered his calls. The times Thomas had sought him out had been met with hostility and rage.

Charlotte Elliot was dreamless. And out of the hospital she’d been sent to after the operation failed.

“There hasn’t been enough time, Violet,” he answered with a bitter chuckle. “Vance blames me. Even if I didn’t perform the surgery. Even if I fought against Lottie getting that kind of treatment. I’m the catalyst.”

If he had known SPSRA would use her as a test subject, would he have told the council about her? Would he have trusted Vance’s ability to contain her powers when the man was restless as a tumbleweed and itching to go on the next mission?

He shook his head.

“Take some time off, Thomas,” Violet urged. “Catch up on your sleep. Stop thinking about what could have been done differently. And when you get back, the paperwork for your promotion will be finalized.”

The dream walker stared at her as if she had two heads. “Promotion?”

“That’s right. The council decided you’ve shown potential,” the older woman informed him with a proud smile. “When you get back, we’ll put you in mentorship training and you’ll soon start working to recruit and train SPSRA’s heroes.”

Why?

A part of him – a voice that sounded like his former partner – wondered if this reward was for his silence. Don’t talk about Charlotte and the organization’s errors. Betray your friends for the ‘greater good’ and get a new title and status among the agency.

Or was this caution. He’d been vocal about the Council’s flaws. He hadn’t been on a retrieval mission since the operation, but could he go on another with the nagging thought that this target could be the next Charlotte Elliot?

He pushed it all down.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a tight smile. “I appreciate the trust.”

Ren, Thomas – Red Hood AU

Willow – mourning

“We can’t find her.”

Ren stared at Morpheus’s office door, her fingers tight on the manilla folder and its contents.

She’s argued against this. Had told the Council that he wasn’t ready, hadn’t given up on Kiara – it was cruel to ask him to take on a new sidekick when he was still obsessively searching for his last one.

Two years is enough time to accept the person you’d promised to protect – and failed to do so – was dead.

She sighed and raised her fist to knock. “Thomas? It’s Ren,” she called. “I have – the Council an assignment.”

The dream walker didn’t answer and the shapeshifter hesitantly turned the knob.

And stepped into an empty office.

“Thomas?” Ren frowned at the lit desk lamp and the papers scattered around the desk. She could see the old photos they’d been sent of Kiara, her face bruised and her body bloody in a sterile white room. Her frowned deepened when she noticed the foot peeking around the corner. “Thomas …”

The redhead was stretched out on his back, his face screwed into a scowl as it did when his dreams weren’t yielding the results he wanted.

She pulled a chair to the corner and settled in to wait for him to wake on his own.

“You can’t find her?” Ren asked as she sat next to her mentor.

“He’d find some way to cut her off from me,” Thomas muttered, raking his hands through his hair. The bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, ironic for a man whose power required sleep. “A drug, another dream walker – he wouldn’t want to risk me ruining this for him.”

“So it’s not as if he’s just keeping her in the dark about where she is, he’s found a way to eliminate the risk of you completely.”

The thought sent a chill down her spine. Morpheus was one of the few things about SPSRA Ren had complete faith in. And somebody knew the faults in his powers.

The redhead wiped his eyes with the heal of his hand. “Vance always did think of everything.”

She opened the folder, analyzing the contents so she’d have ammunition against his arguments for why he couldn’t accept a new protegee and to convince herself of them herself.

Ren was part way through when Thomas stirred, a groan escaping his lips. She grabbed the water bottle off the desk and offered it to him as he sat up.

“Ren? What time is it?” He asked with a raspy voice. He took the bottle and drank thirstily, trying to fight how dry his mouth felt.

“Around 6,” the shapeshifter supplied. “Thomas, the Council held a meeting.”

“They have a lot of those,” Thomas said dryly, pulling himself to his feet. Palms spread on his desk, he scowled. “Anything worthwhile?”

His eyes narrowed on the folder when she laid it out open in front of him, focusing on the photo of the young woman in front of a lined wall and holding a plaque with a number.

“Thomas –“

“No.” He shoved the folder away. “I’m not taking another protegee. SPSRA policies specify a mentor can only have one –“

Ren closed her eyes.

“SPSRA has updated Inkling’s file. As far as the Council is concerned, Inkling is no longer MIA,” she told him stoically, trying to keep the fury out of her voice. She’d argued this as much as she protested assigning Thomas a new mentee, enraged by the cold bureaucracy of it.

“And what about Kiara? Or did they not care that she was – is more than a code name?” he hissed.

She met his eyes. “You better than any one know how the Council considers these decisions.”

Teacher was dead in the eyes of SPSRA too, despite Vance Elliot walking through Manhattan without a care in the world. But if they wanted to divorce themselves from any of his actions, the reports had to say the hero was dead.

How many disillusioned heroes were roaming the world, knowing that their accomplishments and victories no longer mattered since they’d left SPSRA.

“I’m not taking another student,” Thomas insisted.

“What if she needs you?” Ren retorted. “Thomas, this is her last chance.”

Lilian Moros was an alias, one of several SPSRA had noted, but her strikes carried through whatever name she used. If Thomas rejected this, she’d be inhibited and incarcerated.

“Then you mentor her,” the dream walker snapped, folding his arms across his chest. “Meta has enough sway in the community. Your reputation will protect her.”

“It will once. After that, her next mistake will be her last,” the brunette answered, pointing to the list of prior crimes. “Morpheus pioneered the mentor program, Thomas, you know every one – including her – deserves room to make errors.”

He bowed his head. “I need to find her, Ren.”

“I’m not asking you to give up on her, Thomas.” the shapeshifter put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m asking you to do the thing that you stay with SPSRA for … I’m asking you to help somebody.”

#Flower Drabbles #Ren Kobayashi #Thomas Kelley #lilian moros #kiara scuro #Gilbert Mead #Violet #ATLA au #Pre-P14H #Betrayal AU #Soldier Poet King AU #Red Hood AU

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 25 days

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Soldier, Poet, King

Part 15

[Beginning] [Previous]

[AO3] [Masterpost]

Almost a year after the last update, have a new chapter 😅 We're actually in the homestretch of it now and maybe that's why I'm slowing down so much (plus like...life, other projects, you know how it goes)

--//--

“Get this fucking brat off me, I said I’m fine!”

Jin Guangyao continues tapping away at his tablet without a twitch; there are still so many meetings to schedule, so many questions to answer in the wake of their ‘press’ junket, such as it was. Just this morning he’d been contacted directly by the most prominent black market Kaiju parts dealer in Shanghai demanding amnesty lest Jin Guangyao find himself dead in a ditch the next time he steps foot outside the shatterdome, so quite frankly he’s got bigger things to worry about than the wet-cat-protesting-his-bath that is Xue Yang.

“You promised, love,” is all Xiao Xingchen has to say for Xue Yang to settle down with only a little more biting, and considering Nie Huaisang has just taken over the task of poking and prodding him from Mo Xuanyu the biting isn’t really much of a threat, save for the vague potential for infection. Who knows where that mouth has been.

“You’re almost single-handedly responsible for the worst turn this war has taken since it began, so I’d say you’ve lost the right to make demands from us ummmm..indefinitely,” Wei Wuxian replies from his makeshift work area in the back corner of the lab, feet up on his desk and also tapping a mile a minute at his own tablet (though whether he’s doing groundbreaking Kaiju research that could also change the entire course of the war or playing a rhythm game is really anyone’s guess; both are equally likely).

“I used your notes so you’re on the hook for it just as much as I am! You’re basically the Grandmaster of fringe Kaiju research and shit, this is all your fault too!!”

“Wow, that’s a boring argument to have heard for the 30th time today. When are you going to get sick of repeating it?” Wei Wuxian yawns. Jin Guangyao refuses to smile at the rather blatant riling-up that Xue Yang so loves to do to everyone else and yet can’t seem to handle when it’s turned right back on him.

“Take it easy,” he calls without looking up from his work; in his peripheral vision he watches Xue Yang attempt another lunge off the slapdash examination table (comprised mostly of a filing cabinet laid on its side and Nie Huaisang’s emergency cot resting on top of it) set up in the middle of the lab, but of course Nie Huaisang hadn’t even needed to be told to tie him down as soon as they’d gotten him on it (“Buy me dinner first, Sangsang!”) so there’s really nothing for him to do but thrash against his restraints.

“Told you he’s feral,” young A-Qing mutters under her breath, sounding mutinous around the chak-chak-chak of chomping on her ever-present bubblegum.

“Yes dear we know he is, and something tells me that cracking open the brain of an interdimensional Lovecraftian nightmare so he could try slurping the contents out like a slushee hasn’t improved things very much,” he replies and feels oddly vindicated when she snorts a laugh into the back of her hand.

A-Qing is…unexpected. He’d heard her calling for Xue Yang to come upstairs that night he and Nie Huaisang had gone to see him at The Cockpit, though of course that evening he hadn’t known precisely who she was or why she felt she had the right to boss Xue Yang around. Finding out that she’s the once-wayward-child-turned-protegé of the Immortals (and that her ethics are significantly more dubious than her benefactors’) had been..a surprise, to put it mildly. Not that he thinks that Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen aren’t perfectly capable guardians, of course, but rather he’s surprised that two distinguished gentlemen such as themselves seem very fond of collecting people who could be reasonably compared to scrungly alley cats and ignoring all their mange and fleas in favor of cooing over how sweet and brilliant they are.

And they are (brilliant, at least, though not any given definition of sweet to anyone except their ‘daozhangs’), but the contrasts at play in their little fucked up family of four are still a bit of a mystery to Jin Guangyao.

It had been A-Qing, apparently, who had hacked the CCTV and the ‘dome’s video feeds long enough to broadcast Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixun’s deaths straight to the communications tower (and the entire city), and as such Nie Mingjue has instructed that she give their security team an extremely thorough rundown of every breach in their defenses that she had exploited. Jin Guangyao still desperately wishes someone had thought to record Nie Mingjue’s reaction when the girl, standing no taller than his abs and thoroughly uncaring of the danger she was putting herself in, had laughed in his face, popped her gum, and told him that it had taken no longer than an hour the afternoon of the Kaiju’s arrival to get her hands on everything digital in the ‘dome, not just their camera feeds. He hasn’t seen his lover turn that shade of red in a very long time, nor ever seen him so sorely tempted to shout at someone less than half his age and height.

Anyway — she’d taken a shine to Jin Guangyao within minutes of Lan Xichen ushering everyone into the ‘dome to avoid further scrutiny by the press, easily picking him out as one of the adults in the room most likely to indulge her quasi-legal and morally gray brand of ethics outside of her beloved daozhangs. So now here she sits, tinkering around with something Wei Wuxian had given her to turn into a signal jammer for anyone outside the ‘dome attempting to access anything on their network or frequencies, and Jin Guangyao has found himself on ersatz babysitting duty.

(She is also, according to Xiao Xingchen, worried about Xue Yang’s health and wouldn’t be able to focus well working somewhere she can’t keep an eye on his condition; an assessment which Jin Guangyao very politely and very secretly thinks is a load of horseshit.)

“Stop biting, Yangyang, or I’m going to have to knock you out,” Nie Huaisang scolds, and Jin Guangyao is genuinely surprised when it works. Xue Yang quiets down and seems resigned to his fate of being hooked up to various machinery to monitor just about every measurable aspect of human life.

“He has nightmares when he’s unconscious,” A-Qing whispers conspiratorially. Jin Guangyao leans over a bit to hear better and keeps his eyes on Xue Yang, wary of his sudden acquiescence proving itself to be a fake-out. “Really bad ones. I think he’s still in their heads a little.”

“Heads? Plural?” Jin Guangyao asks.

“Uh-huh. He Drifted with one but he says it was all of them, all at the same time. Like the Borg.”

Jin Guangyao frowns and feels like he’s missing something, namely whatever the hell the ‘Borg’ are, but Wei Wuxian makes somewhat aggressive eye contact and puts a finger to his lips to shush him and then makes a sort of ‘keep going’ gesture.

Jin Guangyao glares at him for the contradictory instructions but decides he must mean to just keep her talking about the Kaiju specifically, not to get sidetracked on whatever ‘Borg’ is.

“He knew that the last Kaiju would follow him.”

“Of course he did,” A-Qing snorts, shrugging like she can’t be bothered as she returns to her tinkering, “That was the whole point of the plan to kill your dad, but he knew he could do it because they’re all trying to get at him now. All the time. He says they’re calling for him but it’s more like shrieking he can't ever stop listening to.”

Well. Xue Yang is an obnoxious and genuinely dangerous menace, but being relentlessly pursued by an unknown number of Kaijus who can get in his head any hour of the day or night is not a fate Jin Guangyao would wish on anyone. Another glance at Wei Wuxian proves that he’s turned pale and seems to understand precisely what Jin Guangyao does about what that must be doing to Xue Yang’s already tenuous grip on sanity.

“He’s about to overload.”

Jin Guangyao does not jump at Song Zichen’s sudden comment from behind him, his voice is too quiet for that, but it’s certainly a little disconcerting. He doesn’t have time to ruminate on the slightly eldritch creepiness of the Immortals, though, as he looks over at Xue Yang again and is alarmed (to put it mildly) to find that his neck has turned…blue? There’s an entire network of veins standing out under his skin as he strains against his cuffs but they’re the same neon blue of fresh Kaiju blood rather than anything human, and Nie Huaisang seems to realize in the same moment that the new way Xue Yang is straining against his cuffs has absolutely nothing to do with his hatred for being confined.

“Go get the Wens,” Jin Guangyao orders Wei Wuxian, who promptly jumps to his feet in a flurry of papers to tear out of the lab. Xue Yang thrashes around a guttural scream that only barely manages to escape the tightening confines of his throat and Mo Xuanyu lunges forward from where he’d backed off at Xue Yang’s protest in order to take over the various sensors and instruments hooked to him again.

“His readings are all over the place,” Mo Xuanyu reports over the sound of Xue Yang’s screaming. “It’s a miracle he’s not dead, the Kaiju seem to have completely rewired his brain!”

Jin Guangyao takes note of that in a distant sort of way as he stands in front of A-Qing in a futile attempt to shield her from watching Xue Yang’s shockingly rapid deterioration. The Immortals are standing at his head, Xiao Xingchen attempting to keep him from thrashing so much he injures himself and Song Zichen pressed up behind his husband to hold Xue Yang’s shoulders down with a grip so firm his knuckles and fingertips have gone white.

Whatever it is that’s happening to the veins in Xue Yang’s neck is spreading, the same spidery blue veins standing in stark relief in his temples and across his forehead, and he can only assume it’s spreading downwards as well. (With a detached sort of interest he wonders what’ll happen if it reaches his heart, but it’s highly likely that they don’t want to find that out if they also want Xue Yang to survive. Which he does.)

The Wen siblings arrive just as Xue Yang’s screaming is choked off, quite literally, by a profusion of foamy blood, and as Jin Guangyao turns to usher A-Qing fully out of the room he hears Wen Qing calling out orders to her brother and everyone else in the room, taking charge of the emergency with her usual deft authority.

“Wait — is he dying? For real?” A-Qing asks, suddenly sounding every bit her very young age. “Wait stop, Yao-ge, stop! He’s not allowed to die unless I kill him!!”

“He won’t die,” Jin Guangyao says smoothly, though he and A-Qing both know that’s not something he’s actually capable of guaranteeing. “I promised him I’d send him away from all of this, somewhere nice in the countryside where no one would ever bother you or him or the daozhangs again. I’ll keep my promise but you must calm down.”

A-Qing is small but she’s ferociously strong for someone her age; Jin Guangyao grapples with her in an attempt to keep her from running back into the lab, their heights and strength almost evenly matched. For a long moment they stand there locked in a struggling stalemate until A-Qing bites his shoulder and Jin Guangyao manages to get a foot hooked around the back of one of her ankles to kick her feet out from under her and bear her to the ground with the loud clang! of bone on metal.

Jin Guangyao winces for the bruises that maneuver definitely left on his knuckles, but that’s preferable to giving poor A-Qing a concussion simply because she’s afraid for Xue Yang’s life. He grits his teeth against a pained shout as A-Qing throws her head back to grind his bruised hand hard enough into the floor that he feels the slight texturing of it for grip start to grate the skin off his knuckles, but still he refuses to let her up.

“Alright come here pipsqueak, up you get.”

Jin Guangyao doesn’t even entertain the thought that Wei Wuxian would dare talk to him like that, so he simply rolls to the side to let A-Qing pop up off the floor — and barrel straight into a much more secure hold in Wei Wuxian’s arms, where she struggles hard against his superior height and strength, and instantly loses.

“Qing-jiejie’s got him under pretty heavy sedation, Xuanyu’s trying to figure out what the fuck that was but he’s stable for now,” Wei Wuxian reports around the ruckus of A-Qing struggling to kick him in the shins.

“No! You’re gonna make him even crazier, I just told you!” A-Qing practically screeches. “Do you want all the kaijus to know where you are? You just locked him in there with them!!”

Jin Guangyao stands and dusts himself off as Wei Wuxian uses his grip on A-Qing’s arms to spin her around to face him, suddenly as intense and serious as he only gets in the midst of battle.

“His nightmares, you said. The Kaiju are actually trying to talk with him? In real time? They’re actively communicating with him?”

“They’re in his brain, Xian-laoshi!” A-Qing wails, “And you just stuck him in there with them and he can’t get out!”

“Okay, I hear you,” Wei Wuxian soothes, though Jin Guangyao notes that he still hasn’t released his death grip on A-Qing’s scrawny biceps, holding her rooted to the spot in front of him. “We’ll wake him up as soon as we can, you have my word. But he’s a danger to himself right now until we can figure out what’s going on with him, physically, and we don’t want him to hurt himself any more than he already has. Do you hear me?”

A-Qing wavers for a long moment, glancing back at the door to the lab like she wants to make a break for it, but in the end she just sags in Wei Wuxian’s grip and nods, clearly miserable.

Jin Guangyao is suddenly very aware that for all her genius and her scrappy alley-cat bluster she’s still only a teenager, and a young one at that.

“I understand.”

“Do you want one of the daozhangs to come take you back to your quarters?”

“...Bai-daozhang.”

“Alright, we’ll get him. You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s going to be fine.”

Jin Guangyao doesn’t even wait for Wei Wuxian to realize that — in this one singular instance! — Jin Guangyao is prepared to do whatever he thinks best without question. He turns back to the lab and steps into the controlled chaos that is the Wen siblings dancing around each other with hardly a word needed as they attempt to save Xue Yang’s body while Mo Xuanyu and Nie Huaisang frantically get all the data on his mental state that they can possibly scan for in the interim.

The Immortals are, thankfully, simply standing to the side to watch the proceedings with eerie stillness, not even seeming to blink as they stare at Xue Yang lying motionless under a soft cage of wires and IV drips, acupuncture needles sticking out of him in the few places where nothing is stuck to him.

“Xiao Xingchen?”

Xiao Xingchen’s gaze is intense when he turns it on him, his perpetually-smiling lips set into a grim line for the first time since Jin Guangyao has met him. The effect is startling, to see someone so gentle pushed so far, but Jin Guangyao is not a man easily cowed.

“A-Qing is asking for you; she’s…distressed by the current situation.”

“Ah.” Xiao Xingchen’s icy expression softens ever so slightly. “Of course, just give me one moment and I’ll take her somewhere less fraught.”

Jin Guangyao nods and tucks his hands behind his back to hide the way he’s clutching at one thumb in the curl of the opposite palm, squeezing it to ground himself. He watches, curious, as Xiao Xingchen turns to step directly in front of his husband and the pair of them lock eyes for a moment, right hands on each others’ temples and thumbs pressed to the curves of their cheekbones just below the eye. They stand in perfect stillness for a long moment and then break apart at some signal only they can understand.

His confusion must be too obvious, as Xiao Xingchen offers him a crookedly sly smile as he approaches.

“Our cybernetics are capable of linking to one another,” he explains and gently shepherds Jin Guangyao back out into the hallway by the strength of his magnetic presence alone. “What he sees I will see and vice versa, until we break the connection again. It takes some getting used to, but it’s quite handy.”

“I can imagine so,” is all Jin Guangyao can think to reply. They step into the hallway again and find that A-Qing is at least no longer being restrained, merely standing miserably at Wei Wuxian’s side though she perks up a little at the sight of Xiao Xingchen at his side.

“Come here, sweeting,” Xiao Xingchen soothes and A-Qing runs to his side, tucking up under his arm like a duckling to drape his over-long, trailing sleeve over her own shoulders like a blanket. “A-Yang will be fine, he’s in the best place possible for this to happen, hm?”

A-Qing nods but says nothing as Xiao Xingchen starts to lead her away, still murmuring warm, gentle reassurances that calm even Jin Guangyao, though naturally they aren’t aimed at him. When they turn the corner and he’s alone in the corridor with Wei Wuxian, he glances at his companion and pauses at the look on his face.

He’s seen that contemplative expression often since the Wens arrived and Wei Wuxian began helping Mo Xuanyu with his research in earnest. That’s the look of a man barely more sane than the evil genius strapped to the examination table a mere 20 feet away who has an idea that no one is going to like very much, save for himself.

“What are you thinking?” Jin Guangyao prods, despite his self-preservation instincts screaming at him not to encourage whatever new madness has grabbed hold of Wei Wuxian.

“The scans can’t really tell us much,” he muses, thinking out loud, “because his brain has become…different, let’s say. He has new synapses, new types of signals firing between neural pathways that we don’t know how to read or understand what they do because they’re not human signals. And we can’t keep him sedated much longer or I think the Kaiju hivemind or whatever it is really will just turn his brains into porridge; we’re barely holding off a total overload as it is.”

Jin Guangyao is following so far, but he can’t fathom the conclusion, whatever it is that Wei Wuxian has thought of that’s put that manic gleam in his eye.

“So what do you propose we do instead?”

The grim smile that slashes across Wei Wuxian’s boyishly charming face is chilling, and Jin Guangyao has to put conscious effort into not letting his shoulders creep up around his ears.

“He Drifted with a Kaiju brain, ah? I think it’s time somebody tried Drifting with him.”

Jin Guangyao can’t help but wrinkle his nose at the thought of being privy to any more of Xue Yang’s thought processes than he already is. That just doesn’t sound like a good time at all and he certainly wouldn’t have volunteered for such a job even before his brain became part-Kaiju soup.

By the time it hits him a mere moment later that Wei Wuxian means to do it himself — to Drift with Xue Yang now, while he’s being bombarded with signals from the Kaijus no matter the fact that they’ve seen how much damage it’s done to Xue Yang — the man has already brushed past him to hurry back into the lab.

“A-Sang stop scanning, plan B – bring that rig over here, hook me up.”

Jin Guangyao needs to stop this, they’re already down two highly experienced, infinitely valuable pilots and they cannot afford to lose another, especially not one as good as Wei Wuxian and not for something so stupid—

He’s off like a shot down the corridor in an instant, feet pounding on metal grates and concrete floors as he flies through the Shatterdome with grim purpose, ignoring every twinge and ache in his old injuries; he can worry about them later, for now he darts between startled denizens of the ‘dome without apology until he can burst into Nie Mingjue’s office. He slams the door open without knocking and is thankful to whatever miracle of genetics gave him his eidetic memory that remembers precisely what his partners are (meant to be) doing at all hours of the day and where.

The Twin Jades look up from the data tablets and report readouts spread on the table between the three of them, equally startled looks in their wide eyes.

Xichen recovers first and asks, frowning, “A-Yao? What is it, love, what’s wrong?”

He can’t breathe past a stitch in his ribs but he forces himself to gasp anyway, “Wuxian is about to Drift with Xue Yang — he’s going to try to understand what he’s done with the Kaijus from the inside.”

Jin Guangyao stumbles to the side just in time to avoid being bowled over by Lan Wangji bolting from the room swift as an arrow, Lan Xichen barely sparing a moment to glance first at Nie Mingjue and then him before he follows on his brother’s heels at a dead run.

Jin Guangyao bends over to try to catch his breath until he feels large, hot hands pull him straight again and keep lifting until his feet are dangling a few inches off the floor, his arms slung over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders so he can stretch out properly and take all the pressure off his ribs and back.

He sucks in a deep, unobstructed breath and then another, and after the third Nie Mingjue carefully sets him back down on his feet.

“Where are Xingchen and Zichen?” he asks, eyebrows pinched like he’s got a headache coming on.

“Zichen’s in the lab, Xingchen took A-Qing away, I don’t know where. They won’t leave the ‘dome though, I’m sure.”

“I want them in here ASAP, Zixuan and Yanli too if they can make it — I’ve got questions and I’m fucking sick of waiting for the answers.”

–//–

Lan Xichen runs through the shatterdome as fast as he can, chasing little more than glimpses of his brother’s white jumpsuit and the dark ends of his hair whipping around corners as people scatter out of their way with a sort of organized efficiency. He can only hope that they don’t leave panic in their wake — they’re at least running away from the communications tower and the Kaiju sirens are, of course, silent. He doesn’t have time to worry too much about that, though; his priority now has to be Lan Wangji, because Lan Wangji’s will be Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian past the point of rationality. This has been true for years, long before the pair of them were given the opportunity to work in proximity and let their youthful infatuation mature into something well-rooted in mutual respect and regard for each other. Lan Xichen has been Drifting with his brother since they were teenagers, and though they don’t share their thoughts whilst in the Drift in the same way the other Pilots do, that doesn’t mean Lan Xichen hadn’t known. That kind of devotion isn’t something one can tuck conveniently away in the silence of meditation, and Xichen had done what he could to help his brother nurture that love through obstacles many people could never imagine.

He knows precisely what it will do to his brother if Wei Wuxian loses himself in the way that Xue Yang has. He also knows that if Wei Wuxian must lose himself then Lan Wangji would rather be lost with him than be left behind again to wonder if there was anything he could have done differently to help Wei Wuxian avoid this in the first place.

Wei Wuxian’s inexplicable disappearance to Yiling so many years ago had been difficult for everyone, really.

Lan Xichen practically skids into the research bay mere moments after Lan Wangji and stops himself from careening into it headlong with one hand braced on the doorframe. Lan Wangji, a mere two steps ahead of him, has not stopped voluntarily, that much is clear. He isn’t struggling, but Song Lan and Wen Ning both have death grips on his arms and apologetic looks on their faces when they glance up at Lan Xichen’s arrival. He can see in the next moment why they’ve stopped Lan Wangji with some force; Wei Wuxian is already deep in the Drift, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands in white-knuckled fists on the arms of the chair pulled up next to the exam table Xue Yang is strapped to, the latter thrashing weakly enough that he isn’t dislodging any of the dozen or so tubes and wires stuck into him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lan Xichen asks Wen Qing, standing calmly behind Wei Wuxian’s seat with her hands cupped carefully around either side of his neck.

“If Hanguang-Jun interrupts them now Wei Wuxian may never come back.”

“His brain activity is only slightly abnormal, no more than if he were at risk of chasing the rabbit,” Nie Huaisang pipes up from behind the bank of computers, Mo Xuanyu typing furiously at his side. “Xue Yang was slipping but he stabilized fully once they started Drifting — it’s actually helping I swear!”

“How is this even possible?” Lan Xichen can’t help but ask, feeling helpless in a way he absolutely does not care for. “Xue Yang is hardly sane, let alone Drift Compatible with-”

Lan Wangji is utterly blank, cold as ice, when he interrupts, bleakly, with, “Wei Ying is a true universal Drifter.”

Wen Qing doesn’t do them the disservice of pretending to be surprised, though Lan Xichen vaguely wishes that she would. But of course, if there’s anything abnormal in Wei Wuxian’s medical history, she would be the first to know it. And his siblings would hardly ever betray such a lucrative secret, not when Wen Ruohan would’ve used him the same way he’d used Xue Yang — destroyed him, the way he’d done to Xue Yang.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of monitors beeping and the ragged, uneven breathing of so many people on edge in the same room.

“The ability to establish a successful Drift with a partner is no guarantee that one will not be injured in the process, even in standard procedure. What are the odds that this connection will destroy his neural pathways beyond repair?”

Wen Qing glares at him first and then Lan Wangji, though whatever she’s thinking she doesn’t let it stop her from answering a curt, “50/50.”

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath in and stands to his full height, doing his best to compose himself and draw an air of authority around himself, no less a suit of armor than his flight suit. “Song-daozhang. Wen Ning. Please release Wangji.”

They do so after a moment’s hesitation and Lan Wangji snaps his sleeves straight again with sharp tugs on the cuffs, his back ramrod straight in a mirror of Lan Xichen’s. Lan Xichen steps further into the room to stand at his brother’s side, a united front, and curls his hand carefully, unsure of his welcome, around Lan Wangji’s wrist in silent comfort. Lan Wangji naturally doesn’t return the gesture, but he doesn’t pull away either so Lan Xichen leaves his hand where it is, the thick canvas of Lan Wangji’s jumpsuit a comfortable barrier between his grip and his brother’s distaste for physical touch.

Lan Xichen counts to a hundred and thirty-seven before something changes; the steady, muted beeping of one of the monitors abruptly ratchets higher, faster, and Mo Xuanyu’s face goes grim as he begins tapping away at his keyboard, his eyes flying from side to side as he reads whatever strings of data are lighting his face up green.

“It’s okay,” he has the good sense to caution, though he doesn’t look away from his monitor for even long enough to glance at them, “they’re fine, whatever it is they’re experiencing they’re doing it together, still aligned.”

Song Lan shifts his weight suddenly, nothing more than a redistributing of his weight from one foot to the other, but it grabs Lan Xichen’s heightened attention before he’s even completed the motion. He spares the man a glance just as he cocks his head and turns to look at the door behind them.

“What is it?” Lan Xichen asks, his grip tightening unconsciously on Lan Wangji’s wrist.

“Xingchen just told me Chifeng-Zun has sent a runner asking for us. A-Qing doesn’t want to let him go, but we can no longer delay the inevitable. Nor do I wish to.”

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath, consciously forces himself to release his grip on Wangji’s wrist one aching finger at a time, and both asks for and receives his brother’s forgiveness for the bruising restraint in a pair of glances and a slight nod that he returns.

Honestly Nie Mingjue has been unusually patient waiting even this long to have his questions answered. He has waited without complaint through the recovery period following the battle, through all the planning and soothing of the press, and now through the thoroughly unexpected arrival of Xue Yang and the Immortals. But time is up now, his partner’s patience is wearing thin, and Lan Xichen can admit at least to himself that his own near-infinite patience is depleted as well.

He finds himself torn between a desire to stay here in the lab to support his brother in fretting over the question of Wei Wuxian’s survival against such unique odds and returning to Nie Mingjue’s office to learn the truth from the Immortals. Just as much as he wants to support his brother, he wants to support his partner in his efforts to clean up the mess Xue Yang has dropped on their doorstep, and the desire to do both simultaneously has him at something of a loss-

“Bring them out of it!”

Wen Qing’s sharp order cuts through the tension of the entire room; before Lan Xichen (or Wen Ning) can stop them, Song Lan and Lan Wangji have crossed the room to their respective partners. In the split second before Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu manage to do as she’s said, both Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang scream loudly enough that blood flecks their colorless lips, and by the time they both slump forward, unconscious and eerily silent, they’re being unhooked from the rig as quickly as Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu can work.

In the sudden silence, Lan Wangji’s soft, “Wei Ying,” is unbearably loud.

–//–

“It’s not as bad as we thought, but it’s also worse,” Wei Wuxian rasps; the fact that he’s hunched in his seat and only able to sit upright with Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin bracing him on either side is quite nearly the only thing stopping Nie Mingjue from wringing his neck, his talent and genius be damned. Jin Guangyao rests a restraining hand on his wrist below the table as if he can sense how close he is to losing control. (He supposes it’s entirely possible that he can.)

Xue Yang looks even worse than Wei Wuxian, ashen-faced and a stray drop of blood or two like black freckles on his chin. He’s braced on either side by the Immortals, of course, whose character judgment Nie Mingjue is beginning to question. Deeply.

“Explain.” Really, he should be applauded for his restraint.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat with a little cough that looks like it hurts. “They know what he knows about the pilots, the Jaeger program, our research, everything, but-”

“I didn’t know much-”

“Only what Wen Ruohan wanted him to know and pass along for his own purposes-”

“Not that they understood it much more than we understand them-”

“But obviously they know enough to start mimicking the Jaegers and this is the really interesting bit-”

“They’re built like an assembly-line churning out giant evil monsters that want to beat your ass flat-”

“Well yes but you know, without any sort of personal desire to murder anyone in particular because they’re not necessarily individuals. We keep using the word hivemind-”

“And it is a hive, like really giant freaky bees-”

Nie Mingjue slams his free hand on the tabletop and the back-and-forth between Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang mercifully comes to an abrupt halt.

(“Ooo we made Daddy angry,” Xue Yang mutters, snickering weakly, which Nie Mingjue is electing not to hear.)

“How is this better than we expected, A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asks, her hands twitching on the tabletop like she wants to reach for her brother even though she’s sitting too far away to reach him.

“The information Wen Ruohan gave them through Xue Yang wasn’t as thorough as we thought; it was designed to manipulate their behavior, not give them blanket information about everything and everyone in the Pilot program,” Wei Wuxian explains, thankfully alone. “If he knows what fighting style they’re going to use next then he can counter it, and if he can tell them when it’s best to attack Tokyo and when to attack Shanghai or Manila or Sydney or San Francisco then it’s all to his benefit. He can control not only his spoils and his money but also his image. He just did it for the first time when he sent the last kaiju to us and instructed Eternal Sun to swoop in to save the day.”

Jin Zixuan rests a hand over Jiang Yanli’s as he asks, “And how is it worse?”

“The connection with Xue Yang has been open every minute since the first time it was initiated several years ago.”

There are no words that Nie Mingjue knows to describe the wave of revulsion that sweeps through him at such a thought, but judging by the expressions he can see around the table on the faces of the rest of those to whom this is news, they’re all feeling the same.

Personal feelings aside, that isn’t a fate he would wish on anyone, not even Xue Yang. To have every moment, waking and sleeping, for years subject to the incomprehensible, violent minds of intergalactic monsters? It’s harsh but someone should’ve done Xue Yang the kindness of putting him out of his misery a long time ago.

“But not anymore,” Xue Yang rasps, bringing Nie Mingjue’s attention back to him. He’s grinning in a way that doesn’t look at all like a smile, sharp and flat with pink-stained teeth.

“That’s temporary,” Wei Wuxian says and he looks distinctly cagey, “I just tried something theoretical-”

“Oohhh it’s not theoretical Wei-gege,” Xue Yang cackles, hacking and coughing like a cat with a hairball, “you’ve done it plenty of times before! Just turned a nice little switch in my brain and made it all go quiet, I saw it!! Saw it in your head, saw it in mine-”

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Jiang Wanyin cuts in, jaw clenched and eyes flashing.

Jin Guangyao clears his throat, a pointed reminder to stay on topic that Nie Mingjue’s temper certainly appreciates. Crisply, he says, “You will have plenty of time to discuss it between yourselves later. What I would like to know is what we do next with the information we have. You have now seen the structure of the Kaiju homeworld — we should use this to determine the best way to eliminate their threat to humanity.”

As much as Nie Mingjue would like to feel like they’re coming to some sort of productive conclusion, the fact of the matter is that of the eleven people in the room, four of them are far too injured to sit through a lengthy strategy meeting and they are, unfortunately, the four most important voices. (He supposes it’s really seven injured, if he includes himself and his partners in the list considering they’ve fulfilled the duties Wen Qing gave them medical leave to complete and are due to submit themselves to her care in the medical bay the moment they leave this imromptu meeting.)

He makes no effort to hide his displeasure about all of this as he sighs a heavy, “No,” and fixes a steady stare on his old friends (and Xue Yang). “That will have to come later. All I want to know for now is what you three want from me. You came here for some purpose, and as much as I would like it to be so, I don’t think you’re here to reforge old ties.”

It is, unsurprisingly, Xiao Xingchen who smiles ever so slightly, unashamed of being caught, and nods, his shoulders curving by an inch or two to turn the gesture into a small hint of a bow.

“It was partially driven by a desire to see you, Mingjue, under much better circumstances than when we parted. It was equally a desire to seek out Wei Wuxian, who A-Yang felt certain would be able to help with his condition. The state of things could not be allowed to continue with the danger posed to humanity, but my Shifu could do nothing for him. She has abstained from worldly concerns and is not as knowledgeable on the issue of fringe Kaiju research as Wei-gongzi; she defers to his expertise.”

Wei Wuxian looks rightly poleaxed by such praise, though Nie Mingjue thinks his deathly pallor and the deep bruises under his eyes (the whites of which have turned the violent red of ruptured blood vessels) contributes, rather gruesomely, to the look of shock.

“And then what?” Nie Mingjue can’t help but ask, glad for Jin Guangyao’s hand still on his wrist below the table, and thankful for Lan Xichen’s hand creeping onto his knee on the other side in silent solidarity. “Xue Yang has put all of mankind in the gravest danger imaginable. He’s a threat to humanity because he exists. Even if we can help, what do you expect me to do when it’s over? Let him go?”

“Yes.” Song Lan’s computerized voice is cool and neutral, of course, but his expression belays some sort of strong emotion beneath the calm surface he always maintains. “He has delivered the tool for humanity’s salvation into the hands of your resident genius, and what Wei Wuxian knows soon you will, too. The gift of knowledge and his cooperation in neutralizing the threat he poses, combined with the protection Jin Guangyao has offered him in exchange for his assistance, will repay his debts and leave him free.”

Nie Mingjue does not glare at his partner beside him, who doesn’t even twitch at the mention of whatever it is he’s promised Xue Yang this time. Of course Nie Mingjue knows that Jin Guangyao has always had a vested interest in keeping Xue Yang alive for his own purposes, but what he would have thought was the most important of those purposes has been accomplished; Xue Yang killed Jin Guangshan, what further use could Jin Guangyao have for him?

They can argue about it later. Jin Guangyao has apparently promised Xue Yang his protection, which means Nie Mingjue must once again let go of his fantasy of separating the man’s head from his shoulders. He grits his teeth but manages to push his anger aside for the moment to get back to the matter at hand.

“Fine.”

“The world is changing, old friend,” Xiao Xingchen says, soothing and understanding in equal measure, “and our time is ending. The war must be won soon, you know this. The Jaeger program is limping along, rotting from the inside as it falls prey to greed and complacency. We had no doubt that your righteousness-” Xue Yang snorts; he goes ignored by everyone in the room “-and sense of justice will not allow you to step down while there’s still a fight to be had, and you are one of the few Shatterdome leaders we felt we could trust with the truth of Xue Yang’s misdeeds. Many others would treat it the same as Wen Ruohan has done and attempt to use it for their own personal gain, but we know you will only use it to end this once and for all. That’s why we came here, and when Xue Yang is no longer a danger to himself or others we’ll leave again to go where no one else can find us.”

Silence reigns after such a pronouncement for a few long moments, broken only when Lan Xichen sits up straighter with the faint rustling of his canvas jumpsuit.

“This temporary solution that you’ve employed, Wuxian — is it enough to buy us time to rest before we begin attempting more permanent methods of severing the connection?”

“It should be — if it fails, Wen Qing or Wen Ning will know how to create the same effect.”

There’s some history here that Nie Mingjue is missing, but now doesn’t seem like the time to push it. Those who have been injured are fading quickly (Jiang Yanli has already had to shake her husband awake once), and he’s aware suddenly of how the steady worsening of his temper is likely the result of his neural pathways continuing to weaken as Wen Qing warned they would. As much as he would like to see this resolved now, he can’t ask so much of his partners or his pilots (or, he begrudgingly adds, Xue Yang).

“Fine,” he huffs, slapping his open palm once on the table in punctuation, “everyone is ordered to rest. Barring any emergencies we’ll meet again tomorrow at 1100 hours to strategize. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian will return to research for monitoring. Dismissed.”

There’s a flurry of movement as most everyone stands either under their own power or assisted by those around them. Jin Zixuan spares him a tight nod before he leans his weight heavily on the handles of Jiang Yanli’s wheelchair and the pair of them leave, held up in the doorway for a moment as the two pairs of three attempt to navigate their exit without letting Wei Wuxian or Xue Yang crumple to the ground.

Nie Mingjue is left alone with his partners, and Lan Xichen wisely stands to shut the door so softly the metal doesn’t even clank against its frame.

“What the fuck have you promised him?” Nie Mingjue asks with no preamble, his gaze fixed on the handle of the door as Lan Xichen sits down in the seat across from them that his brother has just vacated. “A-Yao what have you done?!”

“I did what I had to, and there’s no use being angry at me. I’d do it again in a heartbeat even knowing what we know now, and no amount of yelling will change it.”

Nie Mingjue hates that he’s right; he at least slams the side of his fist down against the table, the boom of it startling Lan Xichen enough to make him visibly jump but he waves off Nie Mingjue’s apologetic grimace immediately.

“I should have killed him years ago when I had the chance,” he growls. “When this is over I never want to see him again. Ever.”

“That won’t be a problem; I’m sending them overseas to the States, or perhaps Canada — somewhere far enough inland that the kaiju are little more than a horror story, where the only impact of an attack is a week’s delay in imports. Whatever intervention Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing will devise to sever his mind from the kaijus’ won’t cure the damage already done, nor will it prolong his life for more than five years, at most. He should live out his remaining years enduring the trials of being loved inexplicably by two of the most righteous men the world has ever seen. He’ll be miserable enough to sate even your desire for revenge within six months.”

Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath in, holds it for a count of five, and exhales again slowly. Jin Guangyao’s hand is still on his wrist and he rubs small circles into it with his thumb — it’s as much of an apology as he’s going to get, and he’s just going to have to accept that.

“We should report to Wen Qing. I’m sure she’s going to scold us no matter when we go but we shouldn’t worry her more than necessary, hm?” Lan Xichen murmurs, smiling softly when Nie Mingjue catches his eye. “We’ve gotten our answers and there’s not much more we can do until Wei Wuxian has recovered anyway. I’d like to see you take care of yourself for once, Mingjue.”

“Don’t single me out, we’re all shit at it,” Nie Mingjue grumps, but he stands up anyway and pulls Jin Guangyao with him, watching him closely for any signs that his headlong run from research had aggravated any of his old injuries. Jin Guangyao wrinkles his nose at him when he notices him watching, but Nie Mingjue just ducks in to press a firm kiss to his forehead (offering the same to Lan Xichen holding the door open for them when they pass) and leads his partners out of his office and into the labyrinth of the ‘dome.

They traipse in silence down to the medical bay, Nie Mingjue’s mind churning over the new problems that Wei Wuxian’s Drift with Xue Yang has created, but when they reach their destination he forces himself to put the matter aside for the time being.

“Chifeng-zun,” Wen Qing greets, unimpressed, when they step into the main triage room. “Zewu-Jun, Lianfang-zun. Finally.”

“You told us we could delay until the press had been soothed and the metaphorical fires put out,” Lan Xichen reminds his friend. “We came as soon as we could.”

It’s clear she doesn’t agree but she just jerks her chin towards one of the private examination rooms, and when they troop along behind her Nie Mingjue finds it’s already set up for them, the Drift rig moved over from research and three cots already made up with crisp linens fresh from the laundry. She’s even done them the courtesy of pushing the cots close enough together that they can comfortably touch each other while lying down if need be (though he can’t help but notice that she’s left a conspicuous enough gap between them that it’s clear anything more acrobatic is strictly off-limits).

“I’ll take you through a Drift myself first, a simple connection test like the first to establish the neural link and ensure it’ll stay stable for longer than a few minutes. You’ll then rest under observation until 0600, and if I decide you’re ready for more then Wen Ning will be in after breakfast to run you through a proper simulation to see how you fare in drop conditions. Questions?”

“Many,” Jin Guangyao dimples. “None about our treatment, but I would like a chat this evening while we’re resting, if you would be so kind.”

“My time is in high demand, Lianfang-zun.”

“As is mine, so I thank you for accommodating me.”

Nie Mingjue ignores the urge to smile as Wen Qing visibly bites down on what has to be a retort that she hasn’t actually agreed to do so, but he knows firsthand how useless it feels to go against Jin Guangyao when he’s decided to be stubborn like this. She folds with a nod and a sour little twist to her mouth, and Jin Guangyao at least has the good sense not to gloat over his victory (though his partner does wink up at him when he turns to approach the Drift rig). Nie Mingjue follows his partners over to the rig and he could swear he can already feel himself relaxing, the promise of the comfort of their minds slowing his heart rate and narrowing his focus to the immediate present in a way he almost never gets to appreciate.

He sits still through the familiar process of being hooked up and settles automatically into an almost meditative circuit of breathing and calming his mind further as Wen Qing gets Jin Guangyao connected next and finishes with Lan Xichen, her hands working deftly over the tangle of wires and sticky pads to connect them to his skin-

“WEI WUXIAN!!!”

Nie Mingjue is too calm to jump — but only just. The door to the medical bay slams open with a deafening clang and he and Wen Qing shout a reprimand in chorus, “JIANG WANYIN!”

She continues, “I have patients!! Get out of my med bay if you’re not dying!”

Wei Wuxian comes barreling into the room first and Nie Mingjue thinks, at a glance, that actually he might be dying. He has to clutch at the door frame to stay upright, his face is pale as bone and his eyes are, of course, still blood-red from his Drift with Xue Yang, and he’s panting like he’s just run a marathon.

“Wuxian,” Lan Xichen breathes and, as he’s only half-wired in, quickly divests himself of the various nodes in favor of getting to his feet and hauling Wei Wuxian upright just as twin lines of dark red blood begin to drip from his nostrils.

Wen Qing hurries past them to stop Jiang Wanyin, just barely visible over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder; he’s clearly distraught, his teeth bared and his eyes red-rimmed and glittering with furious tears.

“Don’t you dare protect that bastard-” he grits out, straining against Wen Qing standing in his way to block him from his brother.

Nie Mingjue sighs heavily and starts unsticking all the wires Wen Qing had just placed on him, Jin Guangyao doing the same beside him with an equal air of resignation.

“Your idea to push them all to their limits,” he mutters to his partner under the sound of Jiang Wanyin continuing to hurl abuse at his brother barely staying conscious in Lan Xichen’s arms.

“Your idea to support the Pilot exchange project in the first place,” Jin Guangyao retorts — a weaker argument than he’d usually make, but Nie Mingjue isn’t in the mood to press his advantage.

“Wen-daifu, Wuxian needs attention. Where’s Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks, his question answered in the next moment when Lan Wangji sweeps into the medical bay looking icy enough that Nie Mingjue would swear the temperature drops at least a degree or two from the force of his fury alone. It’s a wonder that Jiang Wanyin doesn’t seem at all intimidated at his entrance — instead he looks somehow even angrier. In fact, he looks damn near apoplectic when Lan Wangji steps up behind Wen Qing to further block Jiang Wanyin’s access to Wei Wuxian.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Nie Mingjue finally snaps, his voice carrying over and cutting through the rest of the panicked, angry chatter like a cleaver. Jiang Wanyin opens his mouth, and Nie Mingjue fixes him with the hardest glare he can. “Do not start shouting at me, Jiang Wanyin, or nothing Wen-daifu can do will save you.” The audible snap of the man shutting his mouth does less to assuage Nie Mingjue’s temper than Jin Guangyao resting his hand on the small of his back.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji calls, low and intense, and all attention in the room zeroes in on them as Lan Xichen transfers Wei Wuxian’s weight into his brother’s arms.

“Get him over to a cot, Wangji. Wanyin, get out.” Wen Qing steps smartly away, clearly expecting to be obeyed. Wangji carefully lifts an unprotesting Wei Wuxian into his arms and lays him down carefully on the nearest bed and Nie Mingjue realizes he’d looked like he was awake but he’s not conscious, or at least he’s not aware. His eyes are darting back and forth, flickering between things that aren’t there, and his mouth is moving in constant soundless muttering that puts the hair up on the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck.

“Come on, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen murmurs; he’s tugging gently on Jiang Wanyin’s arm, trying to get him to move in the direction of the door, but the man is standing, unmoving, staring in dawning horror at his brother being carefully held down by Lan Wangji and prodded at by Wen Qing’s acupuncture needles.

“You idiot,” he finally whispers, his expression twisting from horror to anguish, “You goddamn idiot!!”

Wen Qing doesn’t even look up from her work to snap, “Wanyin get out!! I’ll talk to you later!”

This time Jiang Wanyin allows himself to be towed out of the room, and Lan Xichen shuts the door quietly behind them, cutting off whatever Jiang Wanyin starts shouting as they go.

“What happened?”

“Wanyin demanded to know what Wei Ying did to Xue Yang.” Lan Wangji’s voice is quiet but his disdain for his partner’s brother is clear enough. “Wei Ying did not wish to answer, but when Wanyin’s continued insistence triggered this episode, your brother revealed the truth.”

Wen Qing sighs, her lips thinning with obvious displeasure, but she doesn’t pause in her work.

“I’m assuming these are the questions you would like answered as well, Lianfang-zun?”

“An astute observation.”

Wen Qing sighs again and stands up straight as before, her hands resting lightly on either side of Wei Wuxian’s neck, her thumbs pressed carefully against his jaw as he slips into true unconsciousness. His eyelids don’t even flicker with the movement of his eyes anymore; he looks far too like a corpse for comfort like this, but at least he doesn’t look like a man possessed.

“It was a secret I promised to take to my grave, but if A-Ning has told Wanyin already then I can’t keep it from you. You need to Drift first as soon as Zewu-Jun comes back, but after I’ve stabilized all of you, including Wuxian, then I swear I will tell you everything.”

“Everything,” Nie Mingjue emphasizes, catching Wen Qing’s glare with one of his own. “You’re not in Tokyo anymore, Wen-daifu, and anyone who wanted to profit off of secrets in this Shatterdome is dead.”

Wen Qing’s eyes flicker to Jin Guangyao at his side, but Nie Mingjue isn’t sure whether she wants to argue that that isn’t true, with Jin Guangyao for her example, or if she’s checking to see if he’ll react strongly again to the reminder that Jin Guangshan is gone. Either way, Jin Guangyao doesn’t even so much as twitch at his side.

She hesitates for a few beats longer before she nods with obvious reluctance. “Fine. Everything. We’ll need Mo Xuanyu to bring us Wei Wuxian’s research.”

“There are horrors in Wei Ying’s past that he has kept from his siblings for many years,” Lan Wangji speaks up, too quiet to startle even though Nie Mingjue had nearly forgotten he was there, so still and silent he’s been while he sits at Wei Wuxian’s side. “He has developed a way to carve up his mind and isolate sections of memory and thought; there are things he does not wish for them to ever know.”

Nie Mingjue is glad for the practice of navigating Lan Xichen’s polite roundabout phrasings to help him understand the heart of what Lan Wangji is getting at now.

“Anything we learn will remain completely confidential, Wangji. You have my word.”

“And mine,” Jin Guangyao adds, and though Nie Mingjue doesn’t quite understand why he deemed it necessary, Wangji’s shoulders only relax ever so slightly after the second promise is made.

“Mn.”

“Go back to your treatment,” Wen Qing instructs them in her ever-professional brusque tone. “I’ll be in with Zewu-Jun to start the Drift in a moment, this changes nothing.”

Nie Mingjue levels her with a final significant look before he turns to do as instructed — he’s long since learned not to test a doctor’s temper — but as he ushers Jin Guangyao out of the room ahead of him he can’t help but overhear Lan Wangji’s quiet but firm reply,

“No, Wen-daifu. This will change everything.”

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #pacific rim AU #Soldier Poet King #background wangxian #background xuanli #background/implied songxuexiao

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