#the fact that he survives (at least the initial order 66 situation) also gives me the opportunity for him and ione to reunite at some point

[shadowglens]

(x)

[arthurjdrake]

TIMING: The day after this. INVOLVED: @humanmoodring & @cryxmercy PLACE: White Crest ICU SUMMARY: Nadia & Mercy visit Arthur while he’s in hospital. TW: Hospitals, Medical Equipment, Needles, Injury Detail

Two days was enough for the effects of the isolation in the hospital to start showing. Arthur could be patient at the best of times, and while he knew it was completely understandable the concern and wariness the nurses and orderlies were taking regarding what was a very traumatic and serious case… He didn’t like being cooped up with barely any contact with the outside world, it was even worse not knowing where his friends were. Used to being able to solve such issues with just a few tears this was a grating experience to say the least. Eventually, Mercy had shown up looking just as bloodied and tattered as he felt and he felt a little of the knot of tension that had balled itself in his chest ease upon seeing her face. Of course she’d be fine. They hadn’t spoken since the morning after the wraith incident and… that little bombshell that had been dropped. But that hardly mattered in the grander scheme of things. But it just left him to worry about other people. “Think you could ask her to bring my phone and charger? And the bag in the hamper at the end of the bed? There’s a spare key in the birdhouse,” he asked the fury who had thankfully been able to get in contact with Nadia and a few other people to dissuade a little of his concerns.

The nurses had quickly learned that Mercy was an immovable object when it came to making her leave the unit. Though her own bloodied, half patched-up, distraught state - once she got away from the ER doctors that had tried to have her admitted when she’d initially shown up there looking for Arthur - along with her promise not to get in their way had swayed them. She’d looked a fright, she knew, spattered with gore and still in the clothes she’d been wearing when her mime had decided to shoot her. Twice. But she hardly cared about that. The nurses had been kind enough to give her a pair of surgical scrubs to wear when they realized she wasn’t leaving, and that’s what she still wore now, sitting in the chair by Arthur’s bed, texting Nadia.

“I already asked her for the phone and charger,” Mercy confirmed, but made sure to add the rest of what Arthur had asked for. “Got it. She’s also bringing those vials you gave her,” she told him quietly, glancing through the glass cubicle doors and the mostly drawn curtains to the nurse’s station. “Should have you out of here in a few days at most.” They couldn’t do it too fast, no matter how much Arthur wanted to leave, and no matter how much Mercy wanted him out of here as well. Healing too quickly could draw unwanted attention.

Nadia walked quickly into the hospital, bag over her shoulder and determination in her step. In her bag, she had the vials of Arthur’s tears, Arthur’s phone and charger, and a tupperware container with some leftovers of the dinner Ms. Carmody had made her the night before. The chicken parm wasn’t Nadia’s ma’s, but it was still damn good, and she didn’t know if Mercy had eaten. As for Arthur… she didn’t even know if Arthur was going to be awake, what kind of state he might be in, anything. She was worried and concerned and feeling more than a little guilty over all of this mime bullshit. When she told the front desk that she was there to see an Arthur Drake, the nurse looked both expectant and weary of a guest of Arthur’s. Even if she didn’t know her that well, Nadia could only assume that that was Mercy’s doing.

“Fuck,” she breathed out as she got to the room, taking in the battered Arthur and the blonde she would only assume was Mercy. Both of them looked like they’d been through hell and back. These mimes were fucking notes. “Looking good, boss,” she joked, heading over to Arthur’s bed. “Got your phone, and your charger. Cute, uh, tortoises, by the way.”

While Arthur felt as if he’d been steamrolled by a forty tonne truck, the nurses had thankfully decided the tubes were no longer necessary. Though he’d been left with an oxygen mask and a heart-rate monitor clipped to his finger. Occasionally the soft rhythmic beat permeated the otherwise quiet room when he’d slept which was mostly all he’d done for the duration save his brief encounter with Officer Hills. He hadn’t seen the stand-off between the staff and his ex-viking best friend but somehow she’d managed to be allowed to stay where most would’ve been ushered out. Though Arthur knew trying to get Mercy to do anything she didn’t want to do was like pushing a massive boulder uphill - it wasn’t gonna happen and likely would squash you in the process. You were better to let her sit and do her thing. “Alright,” he said with a grimace at the achy pain in his chest that came whenever he inhaled too deeply.

The soft exclamation from the door and greeting remark from Nadia drew forth a chuckle, that fast turned into a harsh cough and resulted in Arthur briefly pulling the mask up to his mouth with a wince in pain. His eyes pressed shut for a moment before he lowered the mask once more. “Look as good as I feel huh…” the fact she’d grabbed his stuff earned a faint smile and offer of his hand towards her own. “Ta, I owe you… They’re good company, and don’t… talk back--” he said with a glance at the other person in the room, but also seemed to remind him of something. “Frey, think you can keep them fed?”

Mercy was a bit sore from being shot - the yellow-purple bruises along her neck and shoulder spoke for themselves where they were visible - and a bit tired, but she’d been worse. The nurses had been kind enough to let her stay, and Mercy had been the picture of charm and helpfulness. Earning her a side-eye here and there from Arthur once he’d woken up. He looked better than he had the first night. The chest tubes were gone, there was no tube down his throat or up his nose. His vitals were in the green most of the time. He looked somewhat like her friend again, but Mercy couldn’t help but worry. Even though she hid it as well as she could. Part of which included trying not to hover. He would hate it, she knew.

But when he started to cough, she sat up a bit straighter, eyes moving to his monitors until they righted themselves. Only then did they drift to the young woman in the doorway who could only be Nadia. Mercy gave her a tired but warm smile, relaxing a bit as she caught up with Arthur. Though she tipped a baleful eyebrow at his comment when he glanced her way. But as for his request… “Are they as picky as you are?” Which meant of course she could.

“Oh, super great,” Nadia said reassuringly. “You look fantastic.” He wasn’t dead, which meant that he definitely looked fantastic. He certainly seemed more than uncomfortable, though. “I also brought you these.” She pulled out the vials of his tears. “I think you need them more than I do, champ.” God, he looked like hell. Worse than like hell; Felix had looked like hell when he’d been dragged off from the explosion, and he hadn’t really suffered any damage. Arthur looked like he’d died a bit and been brought back. Escaping death; he really was a phoenix. “Damn, Arthur. What happened?”

His coughing seemed to cause both her and Mercy to spring into action, alerting Nadia to check his vitals and make sure he was alright. They were still in ICU, after all, and that was never a good thing. Mercy seemed immediately concerned, making Nadia wonder how touch and go this whole situation was. If she was actually Mercy. Arthur had called her Frey, probably short for Freya, maybe? Maybe Mercy wasn’t her name. Nadia wasn’t too sure. She looked between the two of them, feeling Arthur’s discomfort and faint amusement and Mercy’s concern, both of them muted and harder to read than most humans. Well, Arthur wasn’t human at all… At the mention of feeding the tortoises, Nadia remembered the last few items in her bag. “Speaking of food, I know hospitals aren’t, like, the best at five star cuisine, so I brought some chicken parmesan. My, uh, neighbor made it, not me, so that’s how you know it actually taste good and isn’t just edible.”

“Good… GQ are my next visitors,” humour to somewhat mask the pain, as always Arthur found it easier to cope with situations that way. Not liking to worry people over his own well-being. When she offered the vials up he waved his hand a little “just one’ll do, you need them more.” He could make more of his own and he’d rather be secure in the knowledge Nadia had a stash of her own just in case. A small soft puff of air was exhaled as he wondered how best to explain, “uh… My mime-clone went full order 66 on me.” He grew quiet for a moment coughing again but not as severely as earlier though he was still limited to shallow breaths for the moment. “Whassit called?” he glanced over at Mercy “tension… thorax? Uh, some medical bullshit for fucker stabbed me and… uh collapsed my lung.” He didn’t mention the fact multiple people had said he was lucky to even survive it considering it was a time-critical condition the complications including haemodynamic instability, contralateral lung compression and eventual occlusion of the superior vena cava which all ultimately resulted in cardiac arrest. Collapsed lung sounded bad enough as it was.

Hovering would only further wind him up, and Arthur had been enough in his head over this as it was. Their glances didn’t go amiss but eventually the coughing subsided with another look of discomfort. “I hate this, and I’m not picky...” he griped under his breath, never the best patient to be laid up. Though the mention of actual food drew some interest to his expression, “oh you… You’re good. They tried giving me some… heinous stuff called bologna.” This was accompanied by an utterly distressed look, “how that’s a foodstuff I will never know.” So much for glaringly confirming Mercy’s remark about being picky.

“That’s Star Wars for the clownfucker tried to murder him,” Mercy told Nadia in a stage whisper just before Arthur started to cough again. She visibly frowned this time, noting how shallowly he was still breathing. If this kept up, the nurses would be in and they would do more fussing than Mercy had. Which would only irritate him further. “Tension pneumothorax,” Mercy supplied before getting up and casually moving to close the curtains. But not before she answered the nurse’s questioning look with a gesture that indicated Arthur needed a wee… but she would take care of it. They gave her a thumbs up and went back to charting.

Mercy closed the curtain - and the glass doors - before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a prepackaged needle and syringe that she’d nicked from the supply cart the nurses kept at their station. “I know you hate it, Ren,” Mercy said gently, touching his arm. “It won’t be much longer, now that Nadia’s saved the day.” She gave the younger woman a small smile of appreciation. “And you are picky,” she told Arthur. Mercy glanced at Nadia again. “He is.” She held her hand out for the vial of tears. Once it was given over, Mercy made quick work of flicking the roller on the IV line to set Arthur’s fluids moving just a bit faster, opening her needle and syringe - and after asking Arthur what a good starting dose would be - pulled up the tears and slowly injected them into one of the line ports (after sterilizing it with one of the alcohol pads she’d also knicked). She didn’t bother to explain how she knew what to do, which included hitting a button to mute the alarms on the vital sign monitor in case it went crazy, but then again, Mercy rarely explained herself unless asked directly. Sometimes not even then.

When the syringe was empty, Mercy capped the needle and the vial and tucked them safely away in her pocket before moving to stand next to Nadia. “Watch this…” Mercy said in a quiet - almost reverent - voice as the pheonix tears slowly entered Arthur’s bloodstream.

It wasn’t funny, but Nadia laughed a bit, all the same. “Star Wars, huh? Of course you’re into Star Wars, too, Professor Gandalf.” She still found it kind of funny that she’d thought he was a wizard, once upon a time. “I’m hardly running any risk of damage any time soon, Arthur,” she said, looking to Mercy and putting the remaining vials somewhere she knew the other woman could get them. “This is the first time I’ve left my apartment in days. I’ve been a bit… stressed about shit.” She wondered if she should mention the explosion at the restaurant, or the lack thereof, and how she feared that she might be the cause of him ending up in the hospital in the first place. “The mimes are no joke, though. Evil fuckers.”

She raised an eyebrow at Arthur’s bologna comment. “You’ve never eaten bologna? That was, like, a staple food in my house growing up. And peanut butter and jelly. I ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly.” It was funny to think of cultured, incredibly British Arthur Drake eating a bologna sandwich, though. “Well, the nerve of them for bringing you such bad food,” she said teasingly. “I hope you’ll find Ms. Carmody’s cooking a lot better.”

She watched curiously as Mercy went to work, fiddling with the hospital machinery in a way that made absolutely no sense. Then, she went about taking the vial of phoenix tears and injected them into Arthur’s blood. It was different, watching the tears work on someone else, seeing the effects show minutely on Arthur’s body. “I remember the feeling,” she murmured, thinking about the warmth and how the pain had, almost literally, melted away. “He saved my life with them, once.” A million and one years ago, when cursed chests and giant lobsters had been the biggest of her problems. Now, there were giant squids and friends getting possessed by unknown evils and mimes. So many mimes. How did mimes become the biggest evil in her life?

“Right, that.” He leaned back into the pillows that propped him up letting his eyes fall closed for just a moment as he heard Mercy get up, the sshick of the curtains and door shut. However, he opened his eyes after a moment when Nadia spoke “hey now, Star Wars was revolutionary. I was eighty five when the first one came out…” Arthur shook his head regardless, “one’ll do, you keep the rest… Also, don’t say shit like that in this town you’ll jinx it.” Who knew what might happen. Better to know she at least had a few of the vials handy. A small frown appeared on his features as he looked at her more intently, even in hospital Arthur was more worried about other people than himself “what’s been up? Other than…” he gestured in a vague motion that could be interpreted as everything. “You okay? Nothing hurt you right?”

After a moment his eyes returned to Mercy now that she’d come over to his bedside. “You know…” he remarked thoughtfully as Mercy started fiddling with the IV lines “s’about this time in like every TV show that it turns out you were the double agent all along, dramatic reveal level shit that enrages… everyone.” Arthur could have a habit of rambling, which when on drugs was apparently amplified.

But he huffed at talk of bologna, “oh I’ve eaten it. Disgusting stuff. And it’s jam, not jello.” With a resigned shake of his head Arthur’s mild bemusement settled into a softer expression. “But thank you, I appreciate the sentiment.”

It took a few moments for the IV to filter, but gradually Arthur felt the simmering heat seeping into his veins; a warmth that radiated through weary bones and bloomed new life into them like a sun rising over a spring orchid. Ounce by ounce colour began to filter back into his previously pale complexion, and he breathed easier than he had in the last forty-eight hours. It would take time for the full effects to be had but it was better. “Guess that debt’s repaid now, I save your life… You save mine huh?”

Mercy gave a small huff of amusement at the moniker. “You need to up your beard game a bit, Professor.” Her amusement turned to a look that said she agreed totally about the mimes. And that they should all die. Though Mercy wasn’t looking to go out on some headhunt at the moment. Or anytime soon. If she did anything, there would be planning involved. She wasn’t the only one that wanted those fuckers dead. Nadia did. Mercy gave her a surreptitious glance, hoping she wouldn’t mention the explosion to Arthur. And least not yet. Especially as he asked about Nadia’s well-being. Leave it to Arthur to worry more about others than himself. Even from the confines of an ICU cubicle.

His comment earned him a snort of laughter, and a sideways glance beneath a raised eyebrow. “You must’ve watched some really bad cop shows then. And I’ll have you know I haven’t been a double agent since…” Mercy made a thoughtful face. “When did the Cold War start? Meh… I don’t remember,” she shrugged casually, flicking the syringe to get out any air bubbles. “And you should also know that the only thing needed-” She injected the tears slowly. “- to enrage everyone in the room-” She finished and put the needle and vial away. “- is my mere presence. No double-cross needed.”

Her task finished, Mercy moved to stand beside Nadia, giving her a curious look as she mentioned Arthur saving her life. She wanted to ask, but perhaps another time. The tears slowly started to work their magic, and Mercy grew quiet as she watched the healthy pink flush move across Arthur’s skin. It was very much like watching a grey, foggy haze disappear beneath the warming rays of the sun. Mercy breathed easier as well, and some of the tension left her shoulders. She gave Nadia’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she told her quietly just before Arthur spoke again.

“You were eighty-five…” Nadia trailed off, and for a moment, it was real, this thing she was having to wrap her head around. The man before her had lived lives, countless lives, and if Mercy, or Frey, or Frey, was the same or something similar (they both had that mutedness to them, that otherness that made them what Nadia was beginning to recognize as not human). It was weird to think about, to know it was real. She shook her head. “I’m not gonna get into anymore trouble before you get out of the hospital.” She gave Mercy a glance, hoping the other woman knew how serious she was. “Me? I’m all good, boss. Nothing big going on.” She did try to blow up a mime restaurant, but best to save that for when he wasn’t in the ICU. “I’ve just been trying to avoid the bull shit.”

“Cold War,” Nadia murmured. Welp, yep, Mercy was definitely something. She didn’t look like a day over thirty-five, and she was a double-agent in the Cold War? But she couldn’t be a phoenix, or she would have healed Arthur herself. She was something else. Nadia didn’t ask. “Yeah, that’s been over for awhile. I don’t think she qualifies for double-agent status anymore, Arthur. I hate to break it to you.”

Mercy was definitely right about him being picky. “Jelly, not jell o,” Nadia teased. “Trust me, wasn’t good enough to be called jam.”

Watching Arthur grow healthier was an incredible experience. But when he said their debt was repaid, Nadia just shook her head. “Nah, you got me a job, and you and Mercy both helped give me my life back. Which I should… explain to you. Eventually. But I still owe you, Arthur. For a lot of things.” As Mercy squeezed her arm, Nadia gave her a smile. “It’s no problem, seriously.” Quieter, so that Arthur couldn’t hear, she leaned in and said, “Keep the rest of the tears. He can give me more when he’s better.”

"Hey now, last I checked you liked my beard," Arthur muttered with an insolent roll of his eyes as if he couldn't believe what it was he was hearing. But as with everything it was in good humour. Though hearing Nadia trail off he glanced over to her, he'd seen that look before. Multiple times. He lightly nudged Freyja's hand dropping his voice briefly not sure what they could do to help ease the blow that came with really coming to terms that this was real "reality setting in..."

Though he frowned at Nadia's insistence of not getting hurt, "I'll worry if you don't have something. Take one... I won't need all these to get out of here..." his expression grew a tad more serious. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"You're a really bad cop show," he grinched with a side-eye towards her while she worked. Having no qualms about poking the fury's pride just a little. It could be deadly, but Arthur liked to walk the line, always had. "For Odin's sake you two are no fun," his eyes flickered between Nadia and Freyja for a second shaking his head mournfully "what are we gonna do with you both?"

There was nothing quite like phoenix tears when it came to fixing up issues, the molten warmth seeming to melt away any and all pain that might previously have been present. "Like I said before... When you're ready. I'll be here to listen."

“I do like your beard,” Mercy said idly as she worked. She caught Nadia’s eye, giving her a small nod that said she believed her. What reason did Mercy have not to? Though she looked over as Arthur nudged her hand. Her eyebrows raised, and she glanced back at Nadia, who now had The Look. Mercy hummed, giving Arthur a look in return that said the girl was handling it rather well, all things considered.

“Has it been that long?” Mercy asked of the Cold War. “Fuck. It all starts to run together after… well. A few years,” she said, tone full of wry humor.

She was quiet as Arthur and Nadia talked, but snorted again when his comments once again turned to poking fun at her. “And you, sir… are high as a kite right now. So your opinion is null and void. But… I was a very good cop, I’ll have you know.” Mercy gave Nadia a small nudge with her elbow, nodding that she’d hold onto the rest of the tears, before giving her a smirk. “And a very good double agent. So I’m tons of fun.” Mercy moved to perch on the foot of Arthur’s bed. “And something tells me Nadia is too.” The Fury subtly tipped an eyebrow at the younger woman. Because blowing things up was fun, right? Not to mention whatever had caused her to need a new identity. Which Mercy would love to hear about one day. Though she agreed with Arthur that there was no need to tell anyone anything until Nadia was ready.

But until then, since they were all here, perhaps there were things Nadia would like to know. Or even needed to know. “In the consideration of current circumstances, is there anything you’d like to ask? Arthur’s obviously drugged into a talkative mood, and I’ll tell you pretty much anything you wanna know about myself. Unless I don’t want to, of course.” Her tone was mostly full of humor, but she was also serious. If Nadia had questions about Mercy or… anything else… she had earned an honest answer.

“Arthur, really, I’ll be fine,” Nadia said [meta: but she was not fine!]. “Besides, without you around to get me into trouble, I doubt I’ll need the tears,” she joked a bit, even though the reality was she tended to get into far more trouble when Arthur wasn’t around. Half the time, all they did was drink coffee and bemoan how little information there was in town about the town.

Looking between Mercy and Arthur, she had to laugh, just a bit. “I mean, the Cold War ended before I was born, so I’d say it’s definitely been more than a few years.” Her smile grew. “Oh, yeah, I’m tons of fun. Used to be considered the real life of the party. My old Shakespeare professor actually called me a “hoot and a half, possibly even two hoots.’ That’s how you know you’re considered a real party animal.

She turned thoughtful, for just a moment. She looked at Mercy. “You’re not like Arthur, not,” she made sure the curtains stayed closed and no nurses were around but still lowered her voice, “a phoenix. But… you two have known each other a very long time, haven’t you?” She knew, in the end, she’d tell them both about all of it, the possession, the criminal record, the empathy. She owed it to them for helping her, even if they didn’t know what for. She just didn’t know if this was the time or place for it.

“You don’t seem to understand that arguing isn’t going to work.” If anything could be said about Arthur it was that he certainly had a stubborn streak that when he set his mind on things they weren’t about to suddenly budge.

“Ah ah,” he waved his finger at Mercy’s statement seeming to find error in her choice of words that in his slightly distracted mind didn’t fit. “I’m actually right here in bed. And I’ll never be as high as a kite because I don’t even have wings. Just… useless feathers...” It was an eternal sore spot and really added insult to injury to have feathers and not even be able to use them. “Is this the old professor you said I was better than ‘cause I don’t wear tweed?” He blinked for a moment, a little more slow on the update than usual “I mean if you hoot any more than twice you’d be an owl...”

“A long time… Ha,” he snickered softly reaching out to poke Mercy softly in the ribs now that she’d settled on the edge of the bed. There was a fond affection in the action, as annoying as Arthur liked to be around Mercy - winding her up and pushing her buttons until he got a response that entertained him. “Hear that? We’ve… known each other a long time...” That said his smile grew a little more, a devious glimmer in his eyes seeming to have regained some of his strength with the infusion of tears “ooh not like me no… She’s the hag that Deirdre woman always whines she gets mistaken for online.”

“At least you’ve got feathers. I don’t even have that,” Mercy groused. Not having real wings was one of several things she was eternally salty about. “And you were a pilot, so you’ve actually been higher than a kite. If you wanna be specific.” But she couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face at his comments. Arthur could be quite funny, though oftentimes he didn’t even mean to be. Which to Mercy was even funnier. She turned to Nadia and gave the girl a nod as she speculated on her and Arthur. But before she could answer, she was being poked in her ribs. She dipped away with a small squeaking sound, swiping half-heartedly at his hand. “We have, yes,” she laughed. But it turned to a look of mock (mostly) insult as Arthur called her a hag. “Oi! You better take that back. Unless you want that old Civil War nurse with the mustache to come give you a bed bath.”

She glanced at Nadia. “I’m not a phoenix. I’m what’s called a Fury. A Valkyrie, to be precise. I was born human… and somewhere around my… 35th or 36th summer… I became what I am now. So Bird Boy and I have known each other since we were children. Give or take…. Oh… 1200 years or so?”

“No, arguing’s not going to work at all,” Nadia told Arthur with a bright smile. He might have age on her, but Nadia had been stubborn from the day she was born. Arthur struck her as more of a mild-mannered type unless pushed.

She laughed at Mercy and Arthur’s antics. Yes, he was certainly high right now. Relaxed and easy going and yet still so grumpy. It was funny to see. She wondered what he’d be like on weed. “I take it feathers and wings are a bit of a sore subject,” she asked. For both of them apparently. “And, yes, the very same professor. He was one of my favorites, despite the tweed.” Any other time, and she might have made an owl joke, but she was too busy trying not to laugh at Mercy and Arthur poking fun at each other. They were cute together. She did perk up at the mention of the hags Deirdre went on about. Irish mythology was something she knew relatively well. “Right, a bean-nighe. Washer women.”

Nadia also knew her Norse mythology, and she grinned widely at the mention of Valkyrie. “Really? That’s incredible! Like, one of Odin’s handmaidens! Well, obviously, like, a little different than that because you’re not a spirit and you said you were human before that. That’s so fucking cool, holy shit.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed in response to Nadia’s words, a silent stand-off occuring in the moments that followed. “I’m not taking them, because I can make my own batch now. You’re going to keep them. That’s that.” If Arthur chose to dig his heels in then there was little that could be done about it, but it was admirable for Nadia to try. Mild-mannered he might very well be, but there was a bull-headedness that could often come on out of the blue when it came to situations he didn’t agree with. And he didn’t agree with Nadia giving up her stock just to get him out of hospital faster regardless of how much he might want to get out.

“Semantics.” he flapped his hand vaguely, “that was in the 40s it doesn’t count.” Nadia’s mention of feathers though earned a sour look, that his mind naturally amplified his thoughts on the matter. Typically he wouldn’t be so liberal with his point of view on the matter, but apparently there was a lot to say on the topic. “The feathers are ridiculous, it’s a joke. This whole… thing, is a big bad joke. Cosmic level joke. A thousand years of bird bones and no flying. I don’t even get wings but I get the hollow bones that exist to allow for it? Pointless. Fucking pointless. Who thought oh yeah, let’s combine immortal life cycles, fire, instant death, broken bones and occasional feathers that don’t do shit? Can I not get one more perk to balance the death stuff?! I mean flight is the whole point of birds! They fly!” Gods he was so bitter about that. He side-eyed Mercy at her mild threat, “low blow, and you know that’d actually kill me. But sure, go ahead.” Bluff called. He knew she never would.

“A part of me wants someone to send her Hercules.” He was more interested in what Nadia had to add to the conversation, something that resulted in a hearty laugh and slight wince by far less so by comparison to earlier. He laughed until there were a couple of tears he had to wipe away, “oh by the Gods, handmaid! Hey handmaid get me… Get me a drink.”

Mercy gave Nadia a subtle shake of her head and a grin that said it was best just to let the argument lie. They’d sort it once Arthur was asleep later on. But that didn’t make it any less amusing to watch the two go back and forth. “Feathers not so much for me… since I’ve seen how much pinfeathers itch when they come in…” She gave Arthur a small smirk. “-but wings…” Mercy nodded. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Arthur chose that moment to set off on a tangent, and Mercy just waited until he was done before adding her two cents. “First of all, they have this thing called dry shampoo, so try me…” Arthur was right, she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. “Second of all, you don’t get the entire trump card on cosmic jokes. Though… I agree with like… 99% of what you just rambled about.” Mercy turned to Nadia again, the girl’s comment on Mercy’s true nature making the Fury grin. “Thanks… it… has it’s perks.” But the look turned to one of mock insult as the word ‘handmaiden’ was thrown into the mix. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… I am not, nor have I ever been, a handmaiden.”

She gave Arthur A Look as he had a good laugh at her expense. Mercy didn’t mind, since it was good to see him laughing, though she did ask him if he was quite finished after a moment.

“Anyway… the whole reason I even chose this-” Mercy gestured to herself, still side-eyeing Arthur. “- in the first place was so I could make sure this grumpy gander got into Valhalla. Since he was always so set on the idea that he wouldn’t. Because that’s what Valkyrie’s do. We - or should I say they - choose the souls of the fallen that are worthy of entrance. But as it turns out, I’m not that sort of Valkyrie. I don’t have real wings, so I can’t fly. I don’t have the power to reap souls, let alone take them anywhere… and this one reincarnates.” Mercy gestured to Arthur. “So even if I could take him to Valhalla… it’s not like he needs me to.”

Nadia rolled her eyes at Arthur, but, seeing Mercy’s look, decided not to engage any further. “Whatever you say, bird boss.” She gave him a wide grin, attempting to keep her facial features school to just a bit too innocent.

“I suppose it’s a bit of give and take,” Nadia murmured, thinking about what she knew about phoenixes, both what she’d read and what Arthur told her. “You get reincarnation, the whole rising from the ashes bit, and you get tears that can cure wounds, even life threatening wounds from giant lobsters. There’s got to be downsides to it, unfortunately. Hollowed bones and feathers without fight seems to be those downsides.”

At the handmaiden comments, Nadia ran her fingers through her hair, a bit embarrassed. “Right, shit, sorry. Not a handmaiden. I, uh, only know what I know about half this shit from books. But valkyries. Wicked cool, dude.” Serious fucking cool. If there was one thing Nadia had always loved in college, it had been sagas and mythology about the Scandinavian culture. To be standing here, with these two people that lived through it… It was incredible. “You chose it? That’s, like, a thing that you can choose?” Fucking incredible. She looked over to Arthur, one of the kindest, bravest people she’d ever met. “You’d have made it in, I think.” She looked back at Mercy. “It’s fascinating how much of it is different from what I know is in the sagas than what you actually are.”

“It’ll be any time now,” he mumbled briefly glancing up to his hairline. “I’ll have to get my hats out.” It was a righteous and painful mess if you tried to pluck them too early. Blood everywhere. Not something Arthur wanted to deal with, so he found ways to work around the issue. Mostly the solution came in the form of hats.

“That’s the same thing,” he circled his hand in reference to her first two points, “the downsides aren’t even the antithesis of the perks.” Sometimes tangents simply couldn’t be helped, but he was far more taken and entertained by the handmaiden comment. “Hoooo boy,” that look could bring a man to his knees, but Arthur only took the glower in his stride. She’d killed people for less. “Such a handmaiden.”

He grew quiet as Mercy told a fraction of her story, his eyes drifting closed enough that it might seem like he’d drifted off if not for the monitors staying steady. Even now, listening attentively to the conversation at hand though as she wrapped up he opened his eyes and it was his turn to side-eye her. “Well, the criteria was to be honourable, a warrior, take perilous sea-faring voyages to distant lands, die gloriously for the Valfather and I can’t do three out of four of those…” His brow furrowed a fraction, as he held up four and then three fingers. “It didn’t say chop trees, build boats, make people better and stay at home when everyone else went off to battle.” If anything people tended to not be all that appreciative of being healed because it meant they couldn’t go to the eternal halls should they be injured in battle. “Always need you, don’t be ridiculous,” he grumbled softly half-heartedly reaching to punch her arm with affectionate familiarity. “I also didn’t know the full details about reincarnation, alright?”

Mercy could only hum as Nadia surmised that all the good that came with being a Phoenix had to have a downside. Because despite her wing rebuttals, she was of the mind that Arthur had gotten the lion’s share of problematic addendums. Though she’d always found his pinfeathers adorable. “I’ll help you with them once they're in all the way,” she told him, giving his unruly hair a small fluff with her fingers. At Nadia’s look of embarrassment, Mercy gave her a small grin. “It’s alright. A lotta stories get things wrong. For instance, the goddess Freyja - who my mother named me after - had Valkyries too. She received half of those that fell in battle, and housed them in her heavenly field, Fólkvangr.” When Nadia asked about her choice, Mercy glanced at Arthur for a moment. “You can choose if it’s offered by one of us. Furies. Mine was offered to me by my maker… Another like myself…” A small frown passed across the Fury’s face, but was gone a moment later. “... and… I chose it.”

Mercy’s former mood returned, and she rolled her eyes playfully at Arthur. When he’d noted off his points, Mercy proceeded to make her own. “You’re probably the most honorable man I know, you’ve literally crossed the seas dozens of times… flown over them in a war… as a soldier, and you just survived getting pincushioned.” She held up her own fingers. “Without those boats, there would’ve been no battles or journeys across the sea for anyone…”

She knew she was fighting a losing battle. This had literally been a point of debate since they were children. Mercy had yet to win. Her countenance softened as he said he always needed her, and she gave up the debate after that, not wanting to tire him out. “Me too…” she told him quietly. “Maybe you should write a book about it then? Since it seems to be something the world is lacking.”

Nadia felt herself soften, watching Mercy and Arthur interact with each other. The care they felt, despite her not being able to feel the full extent of it, was great, something that was honest and real. The teasing, the eye rolls and soft glares, all of it was soft, laced with caring and love. Maybe not romantic love, not at the moment. Or maybe it was. Who was Nadia to say? But it was sweet. It was something that she envied, just a bit. The closest she’d ever gotten to a relationship like that… well, it was a long time ago. It didn’t feel like it, but it was a long time ago.

Mercy talking about Valkyries, Furies. It was fascinating. “I’d love to pick your brain,” Nadia told the other woman, “about anything, really. Both of you, actually. About living so long ago, living sagas that I’ve only read about.” She looked back at Arthur, a bit more serious. “And, I hate to talk about work while you’re in the hospital, but as soon as you’re back on your feet, we’re hitting the books. Are you teaching any summer courses? I’m hoping we can continue to utilize the college’s resources to investigate what’s going on around here.

There was little point in trying to get Arthur to agree to anything Mercy said, regardless of how logical and rational the arguments happened to be. He’d been set for this long, convinced in his mind that Valhalla and those tales weren’t something he was destined for. But he didn’t argue, the events of the last few days starting to catch up with him. “Maybe, not sure anyone would believe it… A nice story though hm? That’s all we are in the end… A story.”

Nadia’s request was met with a faint but present smile, tired but there despite everything. “Sure, next time… I’ll answer whatever you want to hear... “ In a way, it would be nice to talk to someone about it. It was one of his biggest pet peeves some of the misconceptions that tended to happen because of modern media. “I’ve got a couple of classes lined up, but my time will be pretty open otherwise… I didn’t want to take too much on in my first year here.” But the prospect of doing more research brought a brightness to his eyes, “sounds good. Might get Rio involved. The Archive would be pretty useful for learning more I think.”

Mercy knew what she felt for her friend, and nothing had ever been able to change that. But she wouldn’t speculate on Arthur’s feelings. Other than she knew he cared very deeply for her. It was all very complicated. But right now, it took a backseat to getting Arthur well and getting him home. “A very nice story,” she agreed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“And anytime,” Mercy told Nadia, glancing at the younger woman. “Some things are… foggier than others. But the big things are still clear.” She glanced between Nadia and Arthur. “If you need some help with your marking, I don’t mind. I even promise not to leave condescending remarks in the margins.” Mercy tipped a brow at the mention of Rio. She’d met the kid before. When he’d tried to break into her archive. “If that doesn’t pan out for you… archive-wise, that is…” Mercy mentioned, gesturing vaguely, “... I might know a guy.”

“It’s as nice of a story as you choose to make it,” Nadia murmured. “You’re the writers, after all.” History, mythology, literature. Truth or fiction, she was learning that everything was just one big story for them to decide, as people, not just humans or supernaturals but people, how it proceeds. Perhaps there was some cosmic, divine force out there. Nadia believed there was. Maybe there wasn’t. Whatever the case, she believed in their own agency, their own ability to make choices and decisions. And stories like Arthur’s and Mercy’s… Those would be nice stories to hear.

Nadia laughed a little at Mercy’s words. “I’m certain that whatever you’ve got’s better than anything I’ve read.” She nodded, though, thinking about the best course of action for their research. “As many people helping as possible would be amazing. I’ve got an awful feeling that something big’s coming and… and I think we could use all the help we can get. My friend Alain also mentioned something about helping. This is more than just a two person job, though.”

“That’d be a Game of Thrones level shit then if it’s us writing them,” Arthur laughed quietly, folding a hand over his stomach already feeling better than he had done. The tears certainly had worked their magic. Everyone had their beliefs, Arthur certainly had his own. He’d seen things over the centuries that he could only explain as something far more cosmic than he might ever comprehend. Such as the Old Gods that he and Mercy occasionally referred to or invoked upon in times of need. Who could say what was real and what wasn’t in a world such as theirs?

Arthur gave Mercy a curious look as she mentioned something about an archive, that was the first he’d heard of it. “Then… get word. We’ll sort it out once I’m out of here then… The more people on this the better.” But for now, he needed time to recuperate his strength and after a moment he gave Nadia a tired smile. “Thank you for coming… I appreciate it.”

[thesummerstorms]

Rev Recaps Hard Contact (Chapter 4)

CW: Main character directly killing someone, some implications of food insecurity, animals destroying a corpse. LONG ASS POST beneath the cut.

TL;DR Recap: Niner regroups with the rest of Omega, and is upset by Atin’s perceived callousness towards Darman’s fate. (Although the callousness is actually heartbreaking if you know the entirety of his backstory.) Etain observes the crash site and realizes Republic forces have landed. Darman has his first negative reaction to killing someone.Also, the blogger begins the Kal Count (tm) in this post. 

Starting Kal Count: 0. Ending Kal Count: 2.

So we start off right after Darman’s crash landing into some trees with Niner’s reaction to Darman literally shoulder charging him off a crashing airplane space ship. Rather than being (rightfully) angry, Niner sees the transport they had been on explode, and his immediate thought is that Darman must be dead. But he’s in sergeant mode, so he hurries to gather up what equipment he can and regroup with the rest of Omega.

The g’dan (which again are supposed to be like a foot tall but I’m still imagining as venemous, furry, sharp-teethed gizka because that’s the imagery my brain decided on) do attempt to eat him in the process which gives me one of my favorite small/throw-away lines:

It is really interesting to me how quickly Omega makes character judgements about each other. Niner decides here that Darman would have found the g’dan fascinating (not knowing of course that the g’dan are trying to eat Dar, too). Later Atin tells Etain that Dar is fussy about the wiring on his explosives, which is likely accurate, but also comes after a very short window of association. You could dismiss Niner’s line as projection, but together I think it just kind of drives home how closely clones are able to read one another and how attuned to very small behavioral clues the have to be, having grown up on Kamino the way they did.

Anyway, Niner is slightly distressed by the fact that he’s just lost another squad member, so in what’s going to become an unfortunate pattern, he flashes back to the Words of Wisdom of Kal Skirata. Hard Contact is the only Republic Commando novel not to have a Dramatis Personae, but if it did, it would have to list Kal Skirata even though he physically is elsewhere and uninvolved in the plot. 

Thus begins my Kal Count. We currently stand at 1 Flasback/Words of Wisdom. The immediately after we get:

I wasn’t sure to count this as a separate entry in the Kal Count. But it is a separate memory and topic, so I went ahead. We currently stand at 2 Flashbacks/Words of Wisdom. Also, incidentally, google says that Niner is carrying “nearly” 165 pounds at the moment. The commandos could pick me up and carry me, I’m just saying.

Anyway, Niner is pissed about the grey armor’s lack of disguisability in a rural setting. He meets up with Fi and Atin, and updates them about Dar.

Notice Niner stressing that he didn’t see Darman jump but he didn’t abandon him either. After his conversation with Fi and given his worries about being abandoned in True Colors and Order 66, I really think this is a major hang up/fear of Niner’s.

But Atin is a good deal less... emotional, I guess? about the situation that either Fi or Niner are comfortable with. It’s all an act, but we’ll find that out later in his arc.

Seriously, Niner has a thing about abandonment.

On the other hand, if you’re someone who’s already read Triple Zero and knows that Atin was raised by Vau and knows what Vau did to Atin immediately before this mission and that Atin lost a squad in training as well... this is kind of heartbreaking.

Because he just lost everything, again, his sergeant cut his face open for not being good enough and “wallowing” about the loss, and he remembers what happened when his squad tried to rescue him. The guilt from both incidents has to be terrible- and this is his attempt to deal with it, because what if Vau was right? But neither Niner nor Fi know that yet, so they’re upset with him and he’s not getting the firm shake on the shoulder he needs to let him know that it’s Vau who’s wrong.

Anyway, after that upsetting realization I just had, we skip to Etain with Birhan investigating the crash site of Omega’s transport. 

Today in worldbuilding things that annoy the shit out of Rev: this is the only time Qiilura having its own language ever comes up, and all the characters speak perfect Basic for the rest of the novel. 

“starved”. I’m just saying, Etain is called “gaunt” and “starved” repeatedly through out this book, so... whatever happened in the three months she was on Qiilura before Omega got there, she probably still needs some therapy for it. But at least it makes some sense here, unlike when she’s back on the planet as a General in True Colors and only weighs 100 lbs while pregnant.

Again with the mention of food. Also I 1000% do not blame her for being paranoid at this point, but I’m just saying, Qiilura is probably the place she goes back to in her nightmares. Also probably not the best place to send her while already anxious/afraid/pregnant, even just looking at it from a mental health stand point rather than a “it’s an active fucking battle field” pov, but what do I know.

She sees the remains of the commando’s R5 droid with its republic markings and knows Birhan was right: it’s the Republic. The scene then cuts to Darman, who is waking up from the first of many unfriendly landings involving trees. :)

He’s survived his hostile arboreal encounter and chased off the g’dan who want to eat him, but is realizing that he tore a muscle or tendon somewhere in the leg above his right knee. I am unduly pleased by this specificity because I headcanoned him having a leg injury later in life and now I can just headcanon it as him re-injuring this same spot. I don’t know why that pleases me.

Minor quibbles here: why is it Kilo and Delta first using the HUD with live ordinance when Darman was Theta squad, and he’s recounting his own experience with learning the system? Also, I’m not sure whether to read this as “they got the HUDs and later were trained with them using live rounds which is when it sunk in” or “they got the HUDs and got shot at with live rounds on the same day”.

Anyway, Darman is trying to hide off the side of the road, but the path made by the g’dans who wanted to eat him gives him away, so injured and disoriented, he’s forced to kill two of Hokan’s Weequay militia. I’m not going to screenshot the actual death, but it is important to know that while he head shots the second one, the first he initially attacks by shoving the vibroblade in the Weequay’s throat. The g’dans start eating the second Weequay’s body, because the g’dans are just a thing at this point. Like the sewer smells KT is so fond of in this book.

But anyway, the chapter ends with this fairly emotional scene:

“And he hadn’t managed a clean kill. It was wrong. They had drilled him to kill, and kill, and kill, but nobody had thought to teach him what he was supposed to feel afterward. He did feel something, and he wasn’t certain what it was. He’d think about it later.”

There’s a lot of really great characterization and thematics in this scene. It’s very quietly heartbreaking, but not in a way that calls attention to itself. It also really mirrors a scene Darman gets in the third novel, True Colors, which kind of drives home that this is an ongoing struggle for him.

What I don’t get is why it also directly contradicts a scene later in the book where Etain is struggling emotionally after sending Guta-Nay to his death. In that scene, Darman asserts that he’s already killed people as part of his training (which... really isn’t consistent with the timber of this scene?) and that he’s never had time to think about it. I guess you can handwave it to yourself as Darman refusing to acknowledge what he felt upon killing the Weequay, even to himself, as a result of fear/the values reinforced on Qiilura.

 But Darman is the viewpoint character in that scene, and even though he’s immediately protective of Etain, he doesn’t empathize with her, and it comes off as the narrative yet again being harsh towards Etain and all her failings.

I don’t know. We’ll see if I have more thoughts when we actually get to that chapter.