#will post rvb soon i promise

[churchyaoi]

kind of obsessed with this new oc. he's so babygirl

[the-silentium]

What if - Alternate Ending

Masterlist

Pairing: Wrecker x OC.

Words: 12.5k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Gore, swearing, halo canon violence, RvB characters, major character death.

A/N: And I am finally back with the promised alternate ending. I've been gone a while, a lot happened since I last posted a chapter here. Mainly, I got a spine surgery and struggled with writer block. Fortunately, I had this chapter 90% done already so I forced myself to finish it, so at least I could share what would have happened if Layla went back to the Halo universe. Please enjoy ~

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Echo had seen some bad missions in his time under General Skywalker's command. A couple of times, the thought that he wouldn't make it out had crossed his mind and urged him to do more; run faster, shoot more droids, watch more closely his and Fives' backs. It had worked fine until the Citadel where he lost everything. Then he was found again and the Batch showed him that there were crazier plans out there that he had yet to experience. He was certain he had felt the caress of death twice as often as he did in his first battalion. Surviving this many times had been a feat he dared not dwell on too much. 

He didn't want to dare the odds to get back at them for winning so often. All the time, even. Then again, faith always had a cheap trick up its sleeve. Be it a surprise battalion of droids blocking their escape route or a particularly complex encryption, the Batch was no stranger to those last-second complications. 

They pulled through no matter what. 

They had to.

Sweat ran down Echo's spine when he hit an unbreakable firewall. He had taken way too long to get to this point and he wasn't even close to accessing the files needed. Who knew hacking into old Republic databases would be so hard for him, a former soldier who dedicated his life to the Jedis and their war. It shouldn't have taken this much time. Every other Republican file he had previously hacked had been rather easy since he knew the configurations and standard structure of the files and encryption. 

This one was particularly hard to crack. Impossible even. His concentration wasn't optimal with his brothers fighting the enemy a few feet away, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. Cid had been quite vague about the information she was after, she only told them where to hack and requested a whole unencrypted file. 

Sure, he had tried to export the data onto an external drive to work on the encryption later, however, the security system interlaced with the requested code made sure that everything would be deleted as soon as he moved, copied, or even open a single file. 

"Better be worth the credits." He mumbled under his breath. Infiltrating a top-secret Republic base that was coincidentally deep within Empire control was nothing to take lightly. She better pay them well on this one. 

He forced his way through another trail in hope of finding something that would satisfy their employer. Bits and pieces of research passed through his fingers like sand. He saw the information passing through his mind but could never get a hold of it. That device had been an extremely important asset for the Jedis to put so much effort into hiding every drop of information about it. 

Spatial manipulation. The words disappeared out of his reach before he could focus on them. Frustrated, he pushed again, opened doors, and forced his way in by destroying firewall after firewall. 

Teleportation. He nearly got a grasp of this one, but the file erased itself before he could disable the security protecting the data. 

Echo groaned. He felt like a pawn being pushed around. Played and mocked. That is until he found a back door. A breach in the security system. He smirked. Finally, he had found it. 

//Activation? 

The question floated through his brain and the clone felt a new wave of adrenaline rush through his veins. 

//No. 

He couldn't know for sure what he would be activating.

His curiosity on the matter was crushed when a door behind him closed abruptly and all members of the Bad Batch formed a barrier between him and the sealed-off door. 

"Disconnect yourself." Hunter turned to face him momentarily. Echo could hear the strain in his voice. He had taken too long to fulfill his goal. "We're leaving." 

Echo hesitated. He was torn between obeying orders and letting go of the only progress he had made. It wasn't only their bounty that they were abandoning, but important Jedi research. Those findings could perhaps help the fighters who dared face the Empire. The soldier deep within his genes wanted to fight that oppressing enemy, even when they clearly couldn't in their actual situation, not with Omega amongst them who could get hurt at every corner. 

With a heavy sigh, Echo disconnected from the system and joined his brothers. 

"We have to shoot our way out." 

He could hear Hunter's inner conflict. They had all agreed that Omega should remain with Cid, but she had another idea in mind. How the kid avoided Hunter's detection was still a mystery. One thing was certain, the sergeant was beating himself over it and they were all worrying for their younger sibling's wellbeing. 

Echo moved behind Omega whose sheepish expression had long ago morphed into a focused one. She was ready to follow orders. If only she had done the same hours ago. 

"Perhaps we won't have to." Tech frowned when he analyzed the security feed displayed on his datapad. "They are retreating." 

"They are?" 

Dread filled Echo at the possibilities a strategic retreat could mean. None of them were good. 

"It would seem that they used our defensive position to their advantage. While we were here, another squad trapped the power supply room with explosives." 

"We have to lea-"

"I'm afraid we don't have time." He showed them the live feed of the generator room, the detonator showing a meager six seconds. 

Frenetically, Echo jumped and connected himself back to the systems to force his way back to the only thing that his mind could think of. 

//Activation? 

Spatial manipulation. The typed words flashed behind his eyelids. Teleportation. 

Echo swallowed the lump blocking his throat. Please take us back to the ship.

//Activation?

//Yes. 

_______________

Echo groaned when fingers poked him in the face. He felt sick. Not that sickness he got when he ate something bad, but the kind when Tech was piloting like a madman on spice. Motion sickness.

His ears were slightly ringing. He could hear Omega's voice over the noise. She called out to him in such worry that his eyes shot open in alarm. He looked at her upside-down figure, noted the tears gathering in her eyes, and immediately forgot the stiffness in his muscles to pull her into a reassuring hug.

"What did you do?" Crosshair walked up to them. He nearly sounded accusing, which didn't sit well with Echo. 

“I activated the program.” He explained with his eyes still closed in the hope to chase away the ache growing in his skull. “I don't know what it was, but the files mentioned a teleportation device. I thought it could get us out of there.” And if Crosshair was still there to jab at him, then it must have worked, right?

A short sense of relief washed over him at the thought that he managed to save his siblings from their imminent death. Slowly, the clone opened his eyes and took in Omega’s state. She still clung to him, her own eyes shut tightly and a hand pinching her nose. He thought he felt her shake, but that could also have been Crosshair nudging him. 

"So you activate anything you can touch? Guess we're stuck in the middle of nowhere because of your amazing plan, Echo." The sniper remarked with a sneer. 

"Better that than being dead." He shot back, annoyed. This was another obstacle, nothing they didn't usually deal with. Sure, with the Empire lurking around everything was one thousand times more difficult, but not impossible. 

“Cut it off.” Hunter’s voice lacked any real command. It sounded like he was entranced, focussing on something else. Curious, Echo looked over Omega’s head. 

His stomach fell. 

Skeletons lingered on the ground in sickening puddles of what Echo assumed once was their flesh and organs. It soaked up the fabric of torned clothes and broken armor. The armor was a simplistic design and offered way less cover than the clone's armor. It reminded him of the armor worn by the Kota's militia. He also could recognize a human skull under the sideways helmet. His heart jumped in his chest at the thought that a Jedi General could have been here, or could still be around. 

The overall atmosphere was heavy. Heavier than what they were used to on the battlefield or on Kamino. Whatever device the Jedis were working on was either dysfunctional or came into use too late. Surely, they had entered specific coordinates into their programming with a purpose, one that the clone was certain was good. 

"I would say that the battle occurred years ago," Tech informed them, still leaning over the closest dead body. He tapped away at his vambrace, analyzing the data he recorded. "The threat is long gone." 

"What's that?" Omega whispered under her breath, catching everyone’s attention. 

Echo’s stomach rose to his throat. 

Unknown aliens lay on the floor in dry, blue puddles, their mummified bodies surrounded by small cylindrical objects and what looked to be an unknown type of blaster. Never before had he seen species looking like those. 

One of them was tall, bipedal, and had blueish armor covering its lizard-like body. Four mandibles formed its mouth, their sharp teeth in full display. Four digits were closed around a purple item that looked very much like a weapon of some sort.

Others were smaller, more or less reptilian-like. One of the species had a thicker build, its skin a dark purple shade. Some of them had masks over the bottom half of their faces while others didn’t, showing a series of sharp, pointed teeth. Their arms seemed oversized compared to the rest of their bodies, and full of small barbs that Echo was certain were sharp enough to cut flesh. 

The last specie he noticed was lean and muscular, their bodies covered by scales and feathers. Their avian-looking mouth was full of sharp teeth and ended on a hooked beak. 

Tech approached the tallest alien, scanning it over. Instinctively, Echo waited for Tech’s imminent info dump of the unknown species. He remained silent.

Echo frowned. It was unusual for his brother to keep quiet on unfamiliar knowledge. He was always keeping them as informed of their enemies or environment as possible to keep the drawbacks as low as possible. This was a first. Was it possible that his know-it-all brother was at a loss?

With a quick look around, Echo noticed that the room was filled with bodies. Way above a hundred of them, humans and aliens alike. What looked like ships were stationed not too far from them, their class foreign to him. 

"Karking hell…" Crosshair's whisper gave him goosebumps. Something was seriously wrong if Crosshair of all people was taken aback. 

Added to Tech’s unusual behavior…

"I…” Echo’s head snapped in Tech’s direction as soon as he heard the hesitation in his voice. A cold sweat ran down his spine. “Don’t think we are in the right universe anymore." 

His heart skipped a beat. What could Tech even mean? Did he mean systems? The silence following the statement was deafening. Echo didn't understand why no one was correcting Tech or even asking for clarifications. What he said literally made no sense.

"Those are Covenants." Echo frowned at Tech’s words. He couldn't recall ever hearing this term before. 

"Covenants?" He asked, at a total loss.

Tech hesitated and looked at Hunter. Echo didn’t know if it was for guidance or confirmation, but he received none from the sergeant who remained fixed on the alien laying at his feet.

"Aliens from another dimension. Layla's dimension." Tech briefly looked at him before returning to look over the body of the imposing alien. 

Even though his brother had said it like it was the most logical thing in the universe, Echo knew that Tech often overlooked that not everyone was well-versed in random details and specifics. This fact was accurate the majority of the time. This time around though, Echo couldn't stop but notice that only he and Omega were confused about the whole another dimension thing. 

Also, the name was familiar. He knew he had heard it before. Was it during one of their many nights at 79s? Or from the GAR? Deep within himself, he knew the name belonged to someone powerful. The word impressive also came to mind. He heard Fives calling that name in his head, his voice full of amusement. I've never seen the General as close to a heart attack as when you've slashed that spider droid down, Layla! 

"Wait. Layla, the freelancer with a light sword?" He hadn't thought of her in forever. She had left their battalion and soon after he got caught at the Citadel. 

"Yes." Hunter snapped out of it and scratched the back of his neck. "A space-traveling device sent her to our universe and the Jedi repaired it to send her back. Must have been the same program that you activated." To Echo's relief, there was no anger in his voice, only worry which was not much better. 

He would have believed that his brothers were playing an elaborate plan on him if only there weren't litteral bodies and unknown aliens scattered around him at this very moment. Space-travel was a crazy concept, but he also couldn't explain how the Force worked. 

"So, those Covenants, what are they?" 

"Aggressive species that are at war with mankind,” Tech explained. “I, unfortunately, don't have much information on them other than the very basics." He grabbed a device from a nearby alien body and stood up. It looked awfully like a droid-popper. 

"The basics?" 

Tech glanced momentarily at Omega. A flash of worry quickly disappeared behind the glare of his glasses and he moved his attention back to the purple sphere in his possession. 

"We should avoid them as much as possible in order to remain… whole. And alive." That he had figured out by himself. "Our best chances of survival would involve finding Layla." 

Hunter hummed. "I agree, but eh last I heard, her coming back here meant a near-death sentence." His sergeant approached Tech and reached out to the round device. Right before he managed to take the item from Tech's hands, the engineer pushed a button on the side of it. The device was instantly engulfed in blue fumes and a high-pitched noise filled the room.

“Tech!” Hunter’s yell covered Echo’s sharp breath intake. He might not know what this device was but a word rang in his head. Explosive.

In a heartbeat, Tech threw the device as far as he could while Wrecker grabbed Omega to hide her behind his body. In a crouch, Echo looked as the device bounced on top of a crate, stuck to the side of a ship, and exploded in a flash of blue-white light, charring the metal and the bodies within its detonation zone.

“This was unexpected.” Tech matter-of-factly broke the stunned silence that fell onto their squad. 

“Was it? This is a battlefield!” Hunter yelled, his arms open to his sides to show his surroundings. 

“I meant that the grenade stuck to the ship, but not to the crate. Or even to my hand.” He further explained after sparing a quick glance at his hand. “But back to Layla. Your assumption is accurate, although she did mention that this universe was desperate to win after more than two decades of war. I am almost positive they would not dispose of a capable soldier like her. She might have been reconditioned– in the literal sense of the word, not the Kaminoan way. Or even sent to another hopeless mission." 

With a groan, Hunter dropped it. 

"Let's assume that she theoretically is still alive, how do you plan on contacting her?" Crosshair asked from his spot at the back of the group, his eyes trained on the upper levels of the hangar.

"Our comms are void of any outside signals, so we cannot reach her through her GAR-issued channel." While using his scanner, Tech ventured farther away from them and away from the ships. 

“Could we try to reach her through their comms?" Wrecker wondered.

With a move of his head, Hunter ordered them to follow Tech’s lead. Wrecker moved Omega into the crook of his elbow to keep her as free of the gore as possible. There was no way she could escape the smell even if she had closed her eyes to keep from seeing more remains and pressed her face to Wrecker's neck. The least they could do was to make sure she wouldn't come in contact with any of it. 

Echo walked behind the two of them, his blaster at the ready. He managed to calm down his mind when he noticed that their feet were the only marks left on the sticky, gory crust caked on the floor. It reassured him to think that the enemy was long gone. 

“It wouldn’t be a good idea to send a comm-wide message in the hope to get to her. Many things could go wrong. She mentioned that she had to learn Basic, which means that the only thing others would understand would be her name, drawing attention to her. Additionally, we could be perceived as a threat for having infiltrated their comms or even-” 

“We got it Tech.” Hunter cut him off. “You sound like you have a plan.”

With a nod, Tech stepped over a skeleton. “This is because I do have one.” 

“What is it?” Crosshair pushed.

“I might be mistaken, but if my theory is correct, we should find the remains of Layla’s squad in this complex. Squads share a closed line, which would be a safer way to attempt communicating with her.” 

“Oh.” Wrecker’s step faltered. Echo frowned in worry. 

“And if your theory is wrong?” Crosshair asked. 

“Then we’ll have to go comm-wide and hope for the best. But do not worry, I am fairly certain that this battlefield is the result of Operation: LEVIATHAN.”

“How do you know?” 

“Kai told me more about it.” 

Tech took them into a hallway, his steps careful, but definite. How he managed to look over the scene without faltering made Echo wonder if he had not already seen this very place.

"Alright. I don't sense anyone around here but let's stay alert, boys." Hunter cut to the front line and with a shake of his head to clear his mind of all this carnage, he walked deeper into the compound. 

They soon reached a junction and followed Tech's directions through the left corridor, toward the nearest power source he could detect. The battle must have been heavier here. Sections of the walls were missing, pink shards covered the floor and creaked under their boots, dark stains covered the standing walls and they had to step over an alarming quantity of bodies. The more they progressed, the more Omega had to press her hand to her mouth and nose to keep the smell away. 

Echo looked into the nearest hole in the white wall. His eyes recognized more human remains and transparisteel covering the floor. Some skeletons, Echo noticed, didn’t have any armor or blaster, leading him to the conclusion that those victims were civilians. The clone could count at least a dozen in the hallway. 

They looked for what felt like hours, up a few floors then down again, until Hunter brought them outside through a hole in a wall. Green grass greeted them. The field wasn't level, a clear clue that a battle once raged. The multiple craters in the dirt were akin to heavy artillery damage, the buildings they just exited seemed like they had subsided some damage with their burned spots marked into their cream-colored exteriors. A majority of the broken windows and vehicle wrecks were beginning to be claimed by the environment. 

Echo heard wiggling before he saw Omega jump off Wrecker’s arms. 

"Stay close." He warned, still unable to trust this place even though Hunter didn't detect anyone around. 

She nodded and latched onto Wrecker's hand who was busy looking at the scenery around him. The sun was shining high in a clear blue sky. The soft waves of the nearby ocean lapped at the beach, offering some calm to the carnage site. Omega grabbed a handful of golden sand before letting the grains fall between her fingers with wide, amazed eyes. 

A sudden sound drew the clones' immediate attention. Every blaster turned to the source, a column of water that leaped from the ocean fell back into it. Following the water jet, a set of gray-blue tails breached the water, sweeped into the air and returned to the depths. 

"What was that?" Omega asked, her eyes even bigger than before.

"An aquatic creature of some sort." He answered as best he could. Judging by the size of the tails, the beast must be humongous. 

"Wrecker, Echo!" Hunter's voice sliced through the comms. "Stay closer." 

Sure enough, the other half of their group had ventured farther ahead and were now standing before four floating objects. In a jog, Echo joined his brothers with Wrecker and Omega in tow. Now closer, he noticed that the objects were in fact helmets held on top of weapons shoved into the ground. Graves.

Tech already had one helmet in hands and plugged into his datapad. The engineer typed away in concentration while Echo analyzed the rest of the scene. He didn't want to touch any of the helmets, feeling like this would be disrespectful to the fallen. The grass had already grown back over the graves, however the length did not match his surroundings, letting him know that bodies were now resting beneath their feet. 

In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Omega holding one of the helmets. He was tempted to ask her to put it back, but the softness of her fingers as she lightly traced the heavy damage fracturing the visor and metal as well as the deep sadness in her eyes pulled him to a stop. She knew what she was doing and did not take any of it lightly. He then remembered that despite being stuck in a lab on Kamino, she knew war too. Only, her angle was different than theirs. 

Omega turned the bucket and grabbed a colorful flimsi from within. She wowed and showed them a picture of five humans in weird blacks. A black-haired woman stood behind three men and a woman. She had them all in a hug from behind while they all smiled. The red-headed woman showed her fingers in a V motion, a blond man hit his fist to the palm of his other hand while the two remaining men sat relaxed, one holding a knife while the other held a box with a big, red cross on it. 

"It's not holographic." Omega pointed out while rotating the picture in all angles. "The colors are nice." 

Without a word, Wrecker slowly took the item from her hands and turned it over to analyze it further. 

How his brother handled the picture caught Echo’s attention. There has been only a handful of times when his brother has been that cautious about anything. Even more curious, he was not looking the whole picture over, he was focussed on a single spot. 

"Wrecker? Are you okay?"

His brother blinked like he just woke up from a dream and looked at him. "Eh.. yeah. I mean… not really. But I'll be fine." 

"Are you sure, big guy?"

"Yeah…" The way he trailed off was so uncharacteristic of his usual cheery attitude that Echo had a sudden urge to touch him in hope to convey his support. He was still pondering about the significance of the picture for his brother when Wrecker carefully folded the flimsi on the existent fold line and safely tucked it in his own helmet, leaving Echo dumbfounded.

________________

Tech examined the side of the helmet and sure enough, the cards with the triangle in the middle were painted in white over the deep blue shade of the armor. 

They were Layla's teammates. She had been here and had buried them herself. A quick look around confirmed that no other graves were dug and it couldn't be a coincidence that these were all members of the same team. Her team. He remembered her breakdown and wondered if being thrown back where it all happened, seeing their bodies and burying them had broken her all over again. 

Tech remembered the carnage they saw earlier and wondered if that was why she had kept them at bay so long. He had noticed her effort into keeping walls around herself, walls that they ultimately tore down because solving impossible tasks was what they did best. They were witnessing the outcome of the worst day of her life and some small part of him understood where she came from. 

He got to work on the electronic panels of the helmet, connecting it to his vambrace to access the comms system. It was harder than he remembered without Kai translating the unknown language for him. He hoped that the communication channels were coded the same as back then, he remembered the way to gain access to the correct network and which channel he had to connect their own to in order for Layla to hear and talk with them.  

"I'm in," Tech informed the team. He couldn't help but glance at Wrecker in wonder at what would happen next. 

________________

It had been a while since she last saw this planet. Last time was when she had used the cube to flee the despair ever growing in her chest. She couldn't say that she missed it one bit. Not after everything that happened there and everything that followed. 

That planet was tainted with blood and haunted by painful memories. 

"Did you fucking hear what I said?" The accusatory voice next to her was way too loud for her to possibly ignore. 

She looked at Gates without a word. 

"Of course not, since when do you listen to me?" Gates scoffed in offense. "Do you fucking know how often the spaghetti meatballs is on the menu in that damn army? Once in a blue moon, that's how often! I'd almost forgotten how that damn sauce tasted like and lemme tell you, it wasn't as good as my mom's cooking but compared to the other shits they give us to eat, it was like a fucking filet mignon." His finger pointed at her accusingly and Layla briefly wondered if he was able to shoot with his left hand. "Only had one bite when you fucking showed up and ordered us after you. Whatever we're doing here Regan, it better be good. Like killing-those-Covenant-fucks-for-good good."

At this point Layla couldn't tell if the fire in her blood was originating from Gates' tirade, her first trip back to Bounty after her cowardly escape from her heartbreak or the fact that Kai intercepted a weak incoming signal from the Deltas channel. 

She couldn't even believe she had once appreciated that soldier. Now, all she could think about was different ways to shut him up. 

War changes everyone, she soberly thought. 

It has never been said explicitly, but Layla knew he was part of ONI's plan to keep a close eye on her. He wasn't the one reporting abnormal behaviors to the higher ups, Ortez was, being the silent observant and extremely by-the-book soldier that he was. It only turned out that those two survived a crazy amount of crazy missions together and for this reason were never separated. She had tried to have them transferred to another squad, but they were now a trio until death did them apart. 

So far Ortez had had an easy job. She never did anything out of UNSC's standards. She killed Covenants, ate and slept when needed and attended briefings. She had destroyed the cube as soon as she had regained consciousness on Bounty and became aware of her surroundings, and never talked about it again. In order to protect the Galaxy that offered them shelter, Kai had gone ahead and wiped every bit of information about the last two years. The knowledge of another conquerable universe was safely hidden within Layla's mind, where ONI could never access it. As far as ONI knew, she had survived two desolate years on Bounty, living off the meager rations of the compound until her AI managed to fix a comm channel strong enough to reach Command and request an evac. 

The pelican wasn't fully grounded, yet Layla pushed the button to lower the ramp. Her body stiffened in anticipation of a worrying hand that would reach out and stop her from jumping the last meters separating her from the surface, but it never came. She ignored the pain pinching her heart and jumped. 

She forced her body into a false sense of clear determination and made her way through the street separating her from the complex. Memories tried to destabilize her with their vivid screams and scarlet tints. She could faintly hear the Marines following her steps, plasma bolts raining all around them. She reached the back corner of the building and stopped. 

Red. So much red. 

"Take your time." Layla's breath deepened as she acknowledged Kai's words. The Spartans weren't with her yet, she had time to settle. The DMR in her hands stopped shaking, her jaw ached when she released the tension, the tingles in her feet faded away and her mind cleared of all the fog keeping it hostage. There was nothing she could do now to change the scenery on the beach.

With a final grounding breath, she turned the corner. Four graves stood out from the peaceful nature, every helmet in place like the day she left them. Cautiously, Layla made her way to them, fully expecting to find an elaborate trap set up by a Zealot with the help of a Huragok, their favorite engineers. There was nothing but untouched helmets and guns. 

She kneeled before them while keeping an eye out for signs of trouble. The grass around the graves had been crushed recently. Someone had been here and sent out a signal using one of the helmets. Why, she had no idea. The only thing she knew for sure was that it involved her personally, the comm line that was used was closed to anyone that was not a Delta. 

Her finger tensed on the trigger. Three yellow spots entered the radar's field, followed by two red signatures. Allies with enemies. 

Yellow spots didn't make any sense with Gates and Ortez still behind, but she did expect enemies. 

"Could those three use the Delta's signature to alter their own?" She wondered under her breath. 

"Negative. I looked deeper into their signatures and the allies are identified as 99-1, 99-2 and 99-4, not Deltas." Kai informed her. 

Layla's heart stopped. Was she dreaming?

She glanced up and ghosts looked right back at her. She didn't dare blink, in fear that they would fade or not, she was not sure which. 

Multiple things happened when the Bad Batch came into view. Layla's eyes widened in surprise, a weak, fluttery feeling bubbling in her chest. Her joy was quickly crushed by a more gripping feeling that left her nauseous. Guilt gripped at her stomach and threatened to topple her over at the sheer intensity of it. 

That was, until Gates and Ortez who had jogged after her the whole way lifted their weapons towards the clones. 

Out of pure reflex, Layla's arms shot up to lift both guns towards the sky, her own clattering to the earth. Gunshots exploded into her ears, along with the soldiers' surprised gasps, a high-pitched yelp and Gates' colorful language when both guns slipped from their grasp due to the speed of her intervention. Out of fear she did put more strength into her move than necessary, she had to give them that. 

"What the hell are you doing Regan? That's fucking Insurrectionists!" Gates hissed.

She grabbed his wrist when he reached for his pistol. This time she put some effort into controlling her strength. 

"Lower your weapons." Her snarl surprised even herself. "They're not Insurrectionists." 

"And how would you know that? Civillians don't walk around in fucking armor." He fought to pull his arm out of her grip. She momentarily tightened her grip in warning before releasing him. 

"I fought with them before. They're on our side." 

She looked back at the clones, took in their defensive stances, their weapons pointing at the ground but ready to aim at them at any moment and sighed. She could already feel the heartache creeping in, burning her as fiercely as the tears streaming down her cheeks.  

The urge to turn on her heels and walk away was also becoming more prominent with every passing second. Like the coward that you are. Her teeth sank through the tender flesh of her lip and drew blood. Man up and face the consequences of your actions.

"Stay here." She ordered her men before crossing the space between her and her old team. She could not flee this time. She still remembered the reasons behind her departure and the Spartan still suffered every time she thought about them. A borderline painful heartbeat squeezed her chest when her eyes landed on a particular clone. 

She forced her gaze away and noticed a new soldier amongst them, one of the two that her armor detected as enemies. She took in the kama and the cybernetic arm. No clone she had met before had those attributes. Was he a new defective clone? A sad kind of joy spread through her, he was in the right team, she personally knew it. 

And they overcame your departure. Because you are expendable. She swallowed hard. 

Despite the thick layer of titanium covering her body, their gazes burned holes into her like she was bare before them. All the feelings she had felt that night when she held the cube in her hands for countless hours came back in a swing. Uselessness. Shame. Despair. Disapointment. Now, she had to add nervousness to the list. How had they taken her betrayal? Despite asking herself that question every day for a majority of a year, she never got an answer. Right at the moment, she found that she might have been better without knowing at all. 

But fleeing wasn't an option anymore, was it? She couldn't run. Not again. Not this time. Maybe if she had forgotten all about them she wouldn't have thought more about shooting them down as Insurrectionists, but she knew who they were. They once shared a bond and Layla had let herself care for them. Deeply. She might be as nervous and scared as the day the Covenant invaded her home planet, but she wasn't about to let another of her friends die. Instead she pushed down the lump in her throat and stopped at a more than reasonable distance. 

"What are you doing here?" 

She mentally winced at her own words. She hadn't intended to sound so harsh. Or bothered. Her choice of words was even worse. All her brain could think of was are you all okay or I'm so glad to see you all again, because she was relieved to know that the Clone War hadn't claimed their lives even though it still could. 

She had been worried. She had also been fighting every second she had been back, be it against the Covenants or ONI– not that this was the Batch's fault, the final choice had been hers after all– but she was exhausted and their presence here meant complications that she would have to deal with. 

"It's good to see you again, Layla." Sergeant Hunter moved his gaze from Ortez who didn't need to be told twice to lower his weapon and settled on her, his own trigger finger relaxing slightly. 

Her mind stopped for a second. A blissful second where her worries faded away and she could almost see herself back at the Marauder's entrance, marching up the stairs after another successful mission. Oh how she missed that ship. If she was honest, the crate in the Marauder's hangar was way better than sharing a bunk room with Isaac Gates. 

Her fist closed on thin air. She couldn't get distracted. Not during a crucial moment like this one. 

Although…

"Likewise." She replied, her eyes darting on the Sergeant's right to find a familiar helmet staring right back at her. "I take it that the Jedis lied then? They were supposed to destroy the cube's data." 

It was a blessing that the Spartans beside her couldn't understand Basic. An even bigger one was that she hadn't forgotten how to speak the otherworldly language after not using it for a year. 

"They had it stored in a securised archive room. Nearly killed us to get the info." Sergeant Hunter explained. 

She raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You stole from the Jedis?" 

"That's a long and complicated story. The Jedis are dead." 

Time stopped completely around them. This couldn't be possible. It didn't make sense. She thought back to the Council who welcomed her into their world, to the alien Jedis who patiently tried to coax her into being comfortable around them, their mind tricks and their knowledge and their wisdom and everything! General Kenobi and Tano and Koon and all of those cute apprentices and for God's sake, even Skywalker! Were they really dead? She deeply hoped that they were not. 

And Crosshair? Where was he?

"The Clone War is over then." Was all she managed to say. She could not acknowledge more loss. Not right now. At least she could rejoice that the clones' lives were not put at risk anymore, soldiers without war and droids to hunt them. 

"So Regan, what's happening?" Gates called from his spot 12 meters away. "Not everyone speaks whatever language you're all babbling. Seriously. I've never heard that kind of shit before." 

Layla ignored Gates' questions, he could use his equipment to listen in and speculate all he wanted. Although she had to admit that his intervention was exactly what she needed to get her head back in the game. 

"So the cube's data sent you here? Do you know how to get back?" She sure hoped they knew although she was also aware that should they have a plan to go back, they would have done it by now. It seemed that they needed her to do it. 

"We were hoping you could get us back." Sergeant Hunter breached the tight formation with a single step forward. 

She swallowed hard. "I destroyed the cube. There's no way out of–" Layla frowned at the sight of a young girl peeking behind Wrecker's form. "Here." 

Why they had a kid with them was a mystery, one that she wasn't certain she wanted uncovered. Maybe the clones were in the middle of a rescue mission when it all happened. That must be it. A weird rescue mission that also involved stealing data from an archive room. 

She forced herself to drop it. This was not important. 

"We got here without it. Could Kai use the program Echo activated to send us back?" Tech wondered. 

Her eyes widened. It had been so long since she had heard that name. She remembered the kind clone who offered her an opening for her escape of 79s; she had once considered him something close to a friend. What she didn't remember was the cybernetic arm. She bit her cheek in an effort to keep herself from asking what happened. 

"It could be possible depending on the program, the tools required to make it work and whether or not Echo remembers the coding." She told them. Tech sorted through his pouches to find the AI connector he developed back then.

"I got my name, but nothing else." Kai popped up into her HUD. "Did I know them?" He wondered, curiosity written all over his face. 

"You did." She confirmed.

"What did I do exactly?" Tech asked, frowning in confusion. 

"Sorry, I was talking to Kai. He had to wipe his memory to keep your world off the radar, so he's a lil' lost." She explained to the clone as she pulled the AI chip from her helmet and Kai appeared in her palm. "Override command: Plan 99." 

Kai's holographic body pixelated for a few seconds, the wave of locked information now crashing over him. He stilled with a hand on his head and a frown. His eyes moved from the ground to the men before him and a smile stretched his lips. 

"Tech! Hunter! You're all alright! Wrecker! Hi!" He beamed and Layla felt a weight she was not aware was there lift from her shoulders. "Oh. Is Crosshair ok?" He worriedly looked around their ranks to find the grumpy clone. 

"He is fine." Tech reassured him. "Although I can't say he is pleased by our current situation." 

"That's understandable." The small AI grinned when she handed over the chip. 

It was curious how she hadn't hesitated to surrender the AI to the clones when she had once felt betrayed by those very same men and yet she would never pass him to Gates or Ortez, not even for a second. 

"Hey! Regan! The hell are those guns and what the hell is he doing?" Gates nearly shouted as Tech plugged the other end of the connector in Echo's helmet. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and curiosity. 

"None of your business, First Lieutenant." She called back. 

He pursed his lips, a glare burning in his eyes. Ortez grabbed his partner's shoulder when his mouth opened, a clear warning to watch his words. He didn't listen and shook him off. "Is that what weird shit ONI warned us of? Maybe we should just shoot you down for sympathizing with the Insurrectionists." 

Layla gnashed. This was a bad situation as it was, she did not need Gates to throw gasoline on the fire. The clones were out in the open and had nowhere to get to cover while she dealt with the threat that was her chaperones if need be. One wrong movement and Crosshair would open fire, starting a shooting mess that she was right in the middle of. 

"The Pelican detected three Phantoms entering the atmosphere." Layla cursed at Kai's warning. Why did everything have to go South? 

"Three Phantoms incoming." She relayed to her men. Gates cursed loudly. 

"We might have triggered some sensors." Ortez pulled Gates back a few steps and put himself between the two. "What are your orders Captain?" 

“We’ll take cover in the peripheral buildings to-”

“Her orders? I’m not-”

"First off, they're not Insurrectionists." She advanced towards the daring, orange trimmed Scout who took the tiniest step back. "Second, if you think you can manage three troop drops on your own, then be my guest and shoot me down.” She challenged. 

She knew he was aching to do as she said and probably would have if it wasn’t for the fact that three drops were too much for two men and Ortez who grabbed his partner before pulling him towards the nearest exit, groaning and cursing. 

With a sigh to let out some frustration, Layla turned towards the GAR soldiers who looked positively on edge. 

"Enemies are incoming. I highly recommend that you stay back and let us clear the area. And please, take care of Kai." 

"You know us. You know we won't let you fight alone." Hunter crossed the distance separating them, his team in tow. 

"I do know you. And, no offense, but I also know that you're outclassed by the Covies. They're not droids, Hunter." She turned her back to them. "And I'm not alone." 

A heavy hand fell into her shoulder, preventing her from walking away. 

"Let us help." 

She gulped, her gaze straight ahead. "What about the kid? You'd put her in danger." 

"She's sturdier than she looks." The grip did not waver, nor did it tighten. 

With a sigh, Layla relented and motioned them to follow her with a move of her head. "Guess you'll need a small briefing then." 

She heard Hunter call for Crosshair on their comms and inform him of the situation. He also ordered his brother to join them as fast as he could, no need to put him at risk of getting jumped by Covenants while alone. 

"Your blaster bolts can kill them, however it might require more than one bolt. Keep your stun mode off," She glanced at Hunter out of the corner of her eye. He looked right back at her, a memory of a conversation passing between them. "They won't hesitate to kill you, so you shouldn't either. If you see a small, flashing, purple ball, duck or jump away. That’s a grenade. Don’t try to catch it or kick it, it will stick and blow you to bits.” 

Tech hummed. "We encountered this particular explosive. It is interesting that it does not stick to the thrower or certain objects, like it has a mind of its own."

Bewildered, Layla's steps slowed momentarily. "You threw one of those?"

"Yes." 

"Were you… attacked?" Kai hadn't found any sign of Covenant activity in the area prior to their landing and she knew that the UNSC had abandoned Bounty for the time being. 

"No, I simply desired to test a theory." He pushed his glasses up his nose. 

She resumed her pace, following the beacon that was Gates’ rant. "Okay. Well. Eh… a venting coolant keeps it from sticking to the thrower so the person to prime it is safe, but after that, anything made of flesh or metal that gets in contact with it will be stuck. Also, it might not happen, but some troops have a camouflage device like mine. So if the air starts moving, shoot it."

"If they really have the same technology as you, then we'll be fine." Hunter assured her and only then did she remember the effect the camouflage had on him. 

They arrived at a crossroad, where the ground was in the process of being trapped by Ortez’s expert hands and a bunch of charges. Gates was occupied scanning the sky. 

At that, she showed them the street opposed to Gates’ position. The clones slowly positioned themselves before looking up to get a better look at the Covenant forces gathering in the horizon. 

"And why would we listen to you?" Crosshair spat as soon as he joined their ranks, inches away from her face. The venom and disdain in his voice were welcomed by the Spartan. 

"All I'm trying to do is keep you alive. I've lost my whole team here once. It won't happen again if I can help it."

"We're not your team, now, are we?" He shot back and despite his face being covered, she knew he was shooting her down with his eyes.

"No you're not." Facing the consequences of rash decisions was always a pain. "Doesn't change that I don't want any of you to die." 

She turned around, DMR in hand. Footsteps followed her on her way to the facility's hangar. 

"I'm sorry." 

She flinched at Wrecker’s tone, so soft and pained. She would take Crosshair’s verbal abuse anytime and would even accept physical retribution with open arms for the pain she put his brothers’ through, but this tone was beyond what she could take.

From experience, she knew it hurt worse than an energy sword stab wound. 

"It was my fault, right?" He looked at the ground, his voice wavering slightly. 

"It was not." She refuted quickly. "I left because my place is here." Or that’s what I thought.

He groaned. "That's not true, your place was with us. We were a squad and a squad stays together." 

Her throat closed. How many times had she hoped to hear those words before she decided to use the cube?

"Now, that's not true either, Wrecker. I remember a time when all of you avoided me whenever we were off duty. I didn't really belong and I thought I'd save the time of asking for a transfe-" 

"That's what you thought?" He cut her off, dumbfounded. "It wasn't- we were not avoiding you! We were protecting you! From diseases! We were told to be careful." He walked up to her to the point where her weapon almost touched his chest plate. To the point where she saw her fingerprint on the side of his helmet. 

"I got vaccinated." She sighed and forced herself to step back and reach the closest Warthog. "I was protected." 

"But Tech said vaccines were not always effective. They helped, but you could still get sick." 

She looked back at him and noticed his heterochromic eyes filled with guilt. His helmet was now up on his head, holding perfectly still and Layla had an unconscious thought to pull it down to keep him as protected as possible. 

She knew her decision had been rushed and despite the long hours she spent with the cube in her hands, her decision had been half-thinked through. She had acted on emotions. She was a true Regan, her Mama once told her. As impulsive as they came, she had said. One would have thought that she would make good impulsive decisions since it was literally her last name, but as it turned out, it was a warning. Impulsive decisions would be her downfall.

"I-" 

The ground shook under the impact of an energy mortar, cutting her off. Layla ducked into the Warthog and tried the ignition. The vehicle roared to life on the third try. 

"Jump in!" She pointed at the passenger seat and he promptly joined her. With haste, she reversed out of the hangar and turned them around to regroup with their comrades. Wrecker wowed at the sight of the battlefield awaiting them. 

Together, the Phantoms managed to bring a little less than a regiment in addition to three Wraiths. She swallowed hard. Could they defeat 400 Covenants? A Spartan team would be fine, but they were clones from another universe. They were trained soldiers, but they were not trained to kill Covenants. She swallowed hard. They will have to do. They must. 

“So, what’s your genius plan, Captain?” Gates asked through the comms with the highest level of sarcasm he ever used with her. Not that she cared. She was more bothered by the quick English-Basic language transitions. 

She stopped near their position and got out, Wrecker following her lead. 

“Those guys will cover our backs." She pointed at the Bad Batch with her thumb. "We take the Warthog and you drop me as close to those tanks as you can and I'll take care of them before they collapse the buildings on our heads.”

"Wh- a- That's three enemy tanks!" His voice raised in disbelief. 

"I can see that." 

"Three! We are a recon and infiltration team! Not first liners!"

"Gates-" Ortez tried to calm the man but as expected, it didn’t help much. 

"You're batshit crazy, you know that?" Gates cut him off and moved slightly aside to keep eye contact with her. "I mean, Spartans have always been fucking crazy, but you-! Something's very wrong with you! It's like you're actively trying to die and fuck if I'm going to let you take me down with you. I have a fucking family Regan, one that I want to see again and if I fucking die because of you, mark my word I'll haunt your ass 'til you blow your brain out." He ranted, his face going more red with every second. 

She looked at him, unamused. Irritation itched at her fingertips. "You're done?" 

"No. I fucking hate you." He slammed his helmet back into place. 

"The feeling's mutual." 

_____________________________

It was pure chaos. He was used to chaos, but this was new. Despite Wrecker being the tallest out of the Batch, a lot of the enemy were towering over him. It was scary. Although it was way scarier to look at Layla fight the aliens head on while he was ordered to fight from the cover of the buildings line.

His feet were tingling in an urge to vault the window and run where she fought mercilessly to protect them. He had a need to join her side and help, and each time he felt the pull getting too strong he had to remind himself of Hunter's warning. 

You'll hinder her if you go. It could get her killed.

He knew it was true, that he severely lacked knowledge of this world and in the event that he did join her side, she would be focused on protecting him and not herself. 

It wasn’t that she was doing a bad job a protecting herself, she was tearing through the enemy lines like a hot knife through butter, but after a year passed staring down at her fingerprint staining the side of his helmet and hearing her laugh in his dreams, he desperately wanted to fix what his inaction broke. 

“Sniper deployment in the left building. The blue-gray one. Fifth floor.” Kai warned them, allowing Crosshair to take down the aliens before they got time to aim at the clones. 

Kai had linked the Batch's comms to Layla's so the AI could keep her updated on the aerial space traffic while working on the cube's code along with Echo, amongst other things. 

From the comms Wrecker could hear Layla dispatch what sounded like orders to her comrades and unlike earlier, it didn't sound like an argument.

It might have helped appease his mind to know that she was not alone on the front line if only he believed that her teammates would help her in case she needed it. It didn't look like they worked well together when all the orange armored guy did was to constantly snap at her. Even though they fought side by side flawlessly to take down two of the three tanks trying to shoot them down, Wrecker couldn't help but not trust them. 

All he could do to offer his support was kill aliens before they could get to her. 

He shot down a frenzied alien running towards them with two round devices in hands. An explosion resonated through the air, taking a few aliens down with it. Along with his brothers, they made quick work of the Covenants trying to flank the Spartans. 

"Two banshees will be on the battlefield in forty-seven seconds." Kai reported in both languages. 

"What's a banshee?" Crosshair and Hunter asked in sync.

"Enemy air support." He explained while Layla was already commanding her troops into what Wrecker thought was a new plan. He heard some resistance over comms which made him hyper aware of the scene before him. 

Layla grabbed a weapon off an alien's corpse and ran towards 'Gates'. As warned, two ships flew towards the battlefield, firing at the Spartans as best they could. The weapon in Layla's hand glowed green before she swiftly aimed behind herself and shot the incoming ship. Wrecker's stomach churned as Layla jumped on a shield generated by Gates' armor and using her momentum, he propelled her into the air towards the falling aircraft. 

His knees nearly buckled underneath him when she somehow opened the aircraft, pulled an alien out of it and took its place at the commands. 

"Wrecker! Focus on the fight." He should have been embarrassed at the fifth reminder to keep focus, but he truly wasn't. His focus, despite his best effort, was constantly drawned klicks away. 

In her stolen aircraft, Layla shot some troops until the other ship took chase and managed to land a few hits despite her maneuvers. 

“Crosshair.” Wrecker turned to his brother, his heart tight in his chest. 

“Already on it.” Came his reply and a few bolts precisely hit the back of the enemy ship. The fourth bolt caused an explosion of the left reactor which allowed Layla to loop around and finish the banshee. 

“Thanks, Helljumper.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Your rear is fuming.” Hunter warned. 

“I know.” Wrecker could hear the grin in her voice and found himself grinning back. “Watch this.”

The purple ship sped forward until she reached the active battlefield and it plunged down towards the remaining tank. Wrecker’s grin faded. A last bolt was shot towards the tank, right before Layla’s form jumped out of the vehicle in a free fall. Wrecker heard the tank and aircraft explode, however he couldn’t find any joy in them yet. 

“Are you okay?” He asked with worry. That fall was pretty high. 

“I jumped from higher, remember?” She reassured him and just then he spotted her running to cover. “I’m fine. Kai, how’s that code going?”  

“We’re progressing. I estimate the code to be completed in twenty minutes or so.” 

“Great job bud’. Tell me when you’re done.”

“Will do, Captain.” He nodded. "Just to let you know, in order to activate the coding to send them back, we will require a powerful energy source.” 

“Any ideas of a suitable power source?” She grunted as she punched an alien that got too close. 

“One that will not please Gates and Ortez.” 

She scoffed. “Let me deal with them.”

“Then our pelican will do just fine.” 

She chuckled over the comms and the hair on Wrecker’s arms rose. How he missed the sound. He realized that the laugh that resonated through his dreams was less endearing than the one he could hear while awake. 

As it happened many times that day, Wrecker’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Layla ducking under the swipe of an energy sword before being tackled and sent flying a few meters back. He heard her breath cutting under the impact and a groan leave her lips when a tall, blue-armored alien materialized out of thin air and kneeled onto her abdomen, snarling at her face. 

Wrecker jumped out of the building before he knew it. He ran while shooting at the beast, his mind solely focused on keeping her safe. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears, all he could see was the sword shining high into the air, ready to strike down. And then all he saw was blue. Blue blood coated his visor, the sticky substance spurting from where his vibroblade connected to the alien’s neck. He removed the blade and his arm became warm. 

He had never been so glad to see blue in his life.  

“Are you okay?” He dropped to his knees to assess her condition. 

Her hand grabbed his outstretched one and he quickly pulled her up. For a short moment all he could think of was her hand in his, how right it felt. Then a bullet flew past his head and he let go to duck under cover with the Scout. 

“Yeah. Thanks for that.” She was already shooting back at the enemy, prompting him to copy her movements. “You should go back to the others.” 

“I should. But eh I’ll stay here.” He hoped she wouldn’t order him back. 

“I’m sure your Sergeant wants you back, Wreck.”

A long silence stretched the comms line. 

“All things considered I think he’s better with you.” Hunter replied. A relieved breath escaped his mouth. He could stay. 

“If you say so.” She reluctantly let go and ushered him after her. 

Together they cleared a section of the battlefield while the two other Spartans worked half a klick away. Wrecker’s attention was fully captured by the fight, he wouldn’t let anything go wrong, not if he could help it. 

It was easy to go back to old habits. He was made for war, to fight on the front lines, not search around for bounties. He was in his element and to add to it, he fought by her side again, the place where he felt he truly belonged. 

Less and less enemies shot at them, a majority of their numbers covering the ground, unmoving. 

Until a yell came over the comms.

“Hunters!” A gruff voice warned. “Two of them incoming from the North-West.” 

Layla groaned. 

“You guys take one down, we’ll manage the other.” She ordered. “Wreck, follow me. We got a big guy to settle.” 

“A’right!” He dutifully followed her, his blaster at the ready. 

“Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll draw its attention while you shoot it in the back. Aim for the tender part, not the armor. They are resistant, so shoot like there’s not tomorrow. And if it turns to you, you take cover.” Her last words were hard. “I mean it. You run and you hide. That cannon will kill you in one hit. I’ll get its attention again and then and only then you come back out to shoot.” 

He wasn’t a fan of her being the bait out of the two of them. He would prefer it to be the other way around, but knew better than to voice his concerns. A scene on an explosive field could quickly mean death. “Got it.” 

“Let’s go!”

Farther up the street, two beasts marched towards them, their heavy armor gleaming under the sun. Two green spots suddenly glowed from their arms and Wrecker got ready to duck behind a nearby vehicle. One of the two beasts got distracted, multiple shots bouncing off its body. Its attention turned to engage the two Spartans who did a similar tactic as Layla’s. One bait and one shooter. 

Wrecker ducked behind the abandoned vehicle, safely avoiding the green plasma bolt flying his way. With small peaks over the metal carcass he waited until the Covenant followed your movements and turned its back on him, exposing the soft part of its body. 

Instantly, Wrecker opened fire like instructed. Blue bolts rained on the soft flesh of the alien causing it to stumble slightly and misfire the charging cannon bolt, missing Layla by far. Content with the result, Wrecker rained hell on the beast until it turned around to face him and fired a bolt. The metal body pressed against his back jerked under the impact, sending the clone to his knees. He hurried a look behind and found that Layla had already baited the alien to shoot at her instead. 

As he did before, Wrecker jumped back in position and fired. It took several repetitions until the creature fell to its knees and clattered to the ground, unmoving. He couldn’t rejoice in the small win as the enemy troops still crawled around, shooting at Layla like she was the Plague. He gladly returned the shots. 

“The code is complete with a coordinate modification.” Kai informed them over the line. “All I need to send them back is a connection to the power core of the pelican.”

“Then lead them there. We’ll join you soon.” Layla ordered as she pulled him after her right as a grenade flew past their heads. The explosion muffled Kai’s answer and caused Wrecker to stumble lightly. He kept as close to her side as he could. 

Their earlier conversation kept repeating in the back of his head, how crestfallen she had sounded. She truly believed that she wasn’t one of them and it hurt him more than any wound he subsided during the Clone War. She was important to him and he drove her away without even noticing. He hated his weakness that allowed her to leave them that night. He should have talked to her like he had planned to. Instead he had chickened out and she left. 

He swore to never shy away from talking to her. He swore to bare his honest feelings and not hold back ever again. Too much time had already been lost and he doubted he could survive another heartbreak. 

So he listened to the small voice that kept telling him that it was now or never. 

“You’re coming with us, right?” 

She spared him a glance, her weapon still raining shots onto the enemy. 

“To the Pelican?” 

“Home.” 

She paused, frozen for a second. He took over the cover fire. 

“Wrecker. My home is-” 

“With us.” He assured her. “Always was.”

He saw her hesitate in her movements. His heart leaped in his throat when plasma beams missed her by a hair, and a bolt crashed into her armor’s shield. He pulled her behind some cover. 

“I should have told you that before. I wanted to! Really badly! I just- it was- I- I got scared that I would screw up and destroy what we already had and well, it happened anyway. But I realized that you needed me and I let you down and I won’t ever let you down again.” He scrambled to explain.

“We should have this conversation later.” She whispered and moved away from him, causing his heart to leap in fear to lose her again. 

“I thought that too a year ago and then the next day you were gone. I need to say that I loved you then and I still do now. I missed you every day and the Marauder hasn’t felt like home in so long because home is you.” 

He almost felt out of breath. His heart was beating wildly, his thoughts were scattered everywhere and nowhere at the same time, all he could really think of was whether he had said enough or not, had said the right things or not, of she would leave or not- 

“She’s right, Wrecker.” Hunter grunted. “You should have this conversation later.” 

“R-right.” Heat flared up his face at the thought that the whole team heard his rant. 

“For what it's worth Layla, the Marauder definitely hasn’t felt the same without you sleeping in the cargo hold.” Hunter’s smile could be heard in his voice.

That jolted her out of her trance. She snorted in amusement and her shoulders shook lightly in what Wrecker was sure was silent giggles. Tension eased out of his muscles in response. 

“I also missed having someone who truly listens to my informative chatter and who doesn’t cut me off mid-way.” Tech chirped in. 

A low grunt filled the line. “Wrecker started pushing us around again.” Crosshair supplied in annoyance. 

“Okay, okay, I got the point.” Layla looked around at anything but him, her feet shuffling a little. 

Despite his initial embarrassment, Wrecker was glad he blurted everything over the squad comms. He knew his brothers also felt grief over her sudden departure and despite Crosshair’s gruff behavior, he knew for a fact that his brother rumminated on what went wrong. They all did. And now they all followed his lead and offered reminders that she was a part of Clone Force 99 and her presence amongst them was wanted and appreciated. 

“The enemy forces are fairly low. We better join the others now before the guys get suspicious of the others lurking around our transport.” 

He nodded and followed her lead to join his brothers and sister. Oh. Now that he thought about it, Layla never met Omega. He will love presenting her to his little sibling. 

He could now see his squad, Omega safely tucked away in the belly of the ship alongside Crosshair. Tech and Echo worked on the underside, their hands lost within the metal beast. Hunter kept guard, his eyes trained on the horizon. 

Layla cursed. “A sensor was tripped. That’s probably Ortez keeping track of me. They’ll be rallying here any second now. Kai, what’s the status?” 

“Another minute and I can activate the protocol.” He assured her. 

“Good j-” “Cover!” 

Wrecker only had a second after Crosshair’s warning to duck. A sniper shot grazed his arm. 

“Wrecker!” 

An explosion hurt his ears, way too close to his comfort. The blast disturbed his running momentum and sent him tumbling on his hands and knees. He recovered quickly, his blaster aiming to the orange blur exchanging blows with Layla. Both dodged and retaliated in quick succession, staying way too close to one another for Hunter or Wrecker to offer support fire. 

If blasters were useless then his fists would do fine. 

With a war cry, he charged the duo, fully intending to neutralize her aggressive teammate. Layla ducked under a right hook, leaving a perfect opening to him for a left hit. His knuckles hit a solid light shield instead of a helmet. With a grunt, Wrecker pushed through and hit the shield with powerful blows after powerful blows. Gates spat curses, his feet digging into the dirt in an attempt to keep his ground. He pushed him back, keeping him occupied on him instead of Layla. 

He saw her creeping around to attack Gates from the side. Before she could attack, a sniper shot hit her in the leg, earning a cry of pain. Her leg buckled slightly. Gates used her pain-induced hesitation to reach for her and stick a device on her chestplate. She recoiled until her movements stopped completely, her arms stuck mid-air and legs ready to pounce. 

“Fuck! Wreck! My armor is locked. I can’t move!” He heard the light panic loud and clear. 

“Don’t worry. I got this.” He reassured her. 

“I’ll get her.” Hunter added, already running to their position. 

Swiftly, Wrecker delivered a kick to the shield, sending the soldier tumbling on his ass. He followed with a punch to the face which connected and broke the black visor. A kick to the abdomen pushed him back from the UNSC soldier who rolled to his feet, a knife in hand. 

The blade flew around and Wrecker did his best to avoid it. He grabbed Gates’ wrist in a firm grip, pulled him closer and delivered a left hook. The scout stumbled to the ground, his body going limp for a second. He was about to get back up when a stun shot hit him and he fell back down. 

“Time to go.” Hunter pushed him towards the ship, Layla in tow. 

Wrecker followed right next to her, close enough to feel slight hits of her elbows as they ran. They came to an abrupt stop before Crosshair who kept looking out for more trouble.  

“Ready to go back?” Kai asked loudly, but his eyes were on Layla. 

Wrecker held his breath. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” She sounded confident, her own visor trained on his. He knew there was a smile hidden under helmet, one he was eager to see again. 

“Alright. Please remain calm, keep your head and arms close to your body and enjoy the ride.” The AI clapped his hands and the same feeling of free-falling took over his senses, making him panic instantly. Through the daze of it all, a hand grabbed his and squeezed tightly. He squeezed back, the small movement offering him tremendous comfort. Everything would be alright as long as they stayed together. 

The free-falling feeling stopped and he found himself on his knees. His eyes moved to her hand still encompassed in his, moved up her arm to find her face. As soon as she met his visor, he pushed his helmet over his head and slowly reached to do the same to hers. Her eyes had turned shy, looking at their hands instead of his eyes. 

“I loved you too. And well, I still do.” He could only hear her words because he was so close. Their breaths almost mixed. 

“Welcome back.” He lowered his forehead to touch hers. Her eyes fluttered close, mirroring his. 

“I’m home.” She whispered and his smile hurt his cheeks. 

20 YEARS LATER

“You know, I don’t think I ever thanked you for not giving up on me when I kept making mistakes. I did some really bad ones and you never turned from me. It's crazy to think that it took you to travel universes for me to understand that my place was truly with you. I know it was by accident, but don’t you think it sounds romantic nonetheless? If not by your own doing then even the universe wanted to reunite us.” She chuckled. “That's so cheesy. But I’m grateful it happened. So thank you for pulling me back to you and for staying at my side no matter what. 

“You’ve always been the strongest out of the two of us and I’m really trying to take a page out of your book here. I know you hated how your body aged so much more quickly than mine, and I hate it too because that karking gene took you from me too early, but I also try to see it from another angle, you know? I think it helps me cope. And its damn impressive when said like that, so here: you fought for a good part of your life, against droids, the Empire, you fought to ensure that we had a future together and then it all stopped. Well, more or so. Then came the small problems of life; finding our home, keeping it upright, dealing with my mind playing tricks on me, all those time you helped the village despite your aging body– I was always happy to give you those massages and you know it– and so many more that we overcame. 

“What was I saying again? Oh. Yeah. What I meant is that all your life you fought in one way or another and you came back every time. Maybe injured, but alive. You were so strong that the only thing that managed to stop you was time itself, the only thing you had no power against. You were so strong, my love. I’m sure that if time was a droid, you would have trashed it in minutes. 

“Now, am I as strong as you? I know I’m not. But I promised you that I’d do my best to be happy and that’s what I’ll do. After all, I have Aedan to lure me out of bed each day with that carefree smile of yours. I’m also grateful that he looks so much like you, but I told you that so many times already. He helps me heal a lot and I think that it's also a reason why you were so relieved when I told you I was expecting. You didn’t want to leave me alone, didn’t you? My strong and smart man. You’ve always known me more than I know myself. 

“I miss you every day.” Her throat tightened. “My life became so much better because of you and I cannot thank you enough for it. I wish we had had more time, but I guess that will come later, when I find you again. Aedan and I will care for each other like you cared for us, with so much patience and love. Were you aware that our boy now has high standards in love? He’s only 13 and already talks of soulmates. That's all on you. You did that, you amazing man. 

“Okay. I’ll let you rest for now. Take care of yourself wherever you are. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

A smile stretched her lips despite the salty tears falling down her cheeks. The tip of her fingers carefully stroked the plastoid of the helmet before her, her touch lingering on a familiar fingerprint. She had always been bad at goodbyes although she knew that this time, she would see him again. She had no doubt about that, after all he traveled universes to find her again. He would find her anywhere. It might not be tomorrow, she still had things to do, but when the time was right Wrecker would reunite them. He was the strongest after all.

[blueberrythefrog]

Happy almost new year, everyone! I will be inactive for the remainder of 2023, but I hope ya'll have a good new years! (Though, the last post I will make will be on sunday!, stay tuned for it!)

Though, my plans for 2024 will surprise you! and although I want to keep most of these updates secret, to kind of keep ya'll on your feet.. I can share a sneak peak! Soon I will be opening a Ko-fi!, since I noticed a lot of inflex of people liking my art!, so if you like my art, you can pay for exclusive behind the scenes stuff, including art I am working on for fandom related content!; I.E; welcome home, DHMIS or RVB! Which means, stuff that won't instantly be uploaded to tumblr, will be exclusive to my Ko-fi instead!, (Though, luckily I will post on both platforms!) So if you want to support a struggling artist, and to see more art of my OC Thimble, Andrew, or even work in progresses, my Ko-fi next year, will be your stop! But I promise, any art that I do finish, will be uploaded to Tumblr!, so I won't leave all of you, who can't pay for a Ko-fi in the dark! Stay tuned!

[mokuknight]

MiStA BLUe sKyYyYy

I wish this project was finished soooooo badly, I love this. <3

So many Wheatley related stuff stuck in my mind so sorry to my followers who don't follow me for my Portal stuff 😅

I'll post my Halo/RvB and HK again soon enough I promise hang in there

[agent-murica]

Ok so, normally I'd be embarrassed to share this, but I feel bad constantly bleeding through on this blog when I like to keep things organized, so-

If anyone is interested I have two other blogs other than this one, my main cartoon side blog (@/gayspacecaptain) where I've already posted things, and while I haven't posted on this one yet, @/spacecadetmurray is where I'm gonna post any fics for my cartoon fandoms ._.

So yeah, trying to keep organized is all ;w;

[rubykgrant]

My RVB Secret Santa gift for @copperphysics106 ! I hope you like it~

Thanks to the @redvsbluesecretsanta group for putting it all together and getting us going~

I did two picture; a soft and cuddly one of Doc and Donut together, and also used my little “chibi dress-up dolls” to put them in some funny holiday shirts! (if it is hard to read, Donut’s says “Don We Now Our GAY Apparel” with a picture of a Christmas tree shape that has the red/orange/yellow/green/blue/purple pride flag. Doc’s says “Naughty & Nice” with images of two happy faces, one looking sweet the other looking mischievous).

I had fun with the outfits, so I wrote a short fic to go with it too~

(below the cut)

“Wait, wait- I want to go see what’s over there!” Donut stopped, pointing off to another corner of the store. Doc was forced to pause mid-step, because their arms were linked together.

“No, Donut, come ON, we’re one our way to the check-out line...” Doc attempted a feeble argument, which he knew was useless. Donut was already leaning away from him.

“I PROMISE, I’ll be right back, I just need to know what kinda shirts they have. Go ahead, get in line, I’ll be back before it’s our turn!” Donut momentarily stepped closer to Doc, giving him a brief little kiss on his forehead (right where his hair began), and then dashed off to look at the bargain shirts. Doc sighed, looking at the long line ahead of him.

“You’re a push-over. You know that, don’t you?” O’Malley was kind enough to point out. “Am not,” Doc argued, though in truth he wasn’t even arguing exactly. This quiet exchange between the two of them was really just a playful way to pass the time.

“With HIM you are,”

“So are you... and you’re a sucker for Caboose’s puppy-dog eyes,”

The response he got from O’Malley for that comment wasn’t vocalized, and Doc had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“OK, I’m back!” Donut ran up, standing next to Doc and hooking their arms back together. “See? Didn’t take too long at all!”

“You went and got something for yourself, didn’t you?” Doc gave him a suspicious look.

“Um...”

“Donut! This was a shopping trip to get gifts for EVERYBODY ELSE! You promised not to splurge on yourself, and you did! You splurged!”

“... is that what I sound like when I accidentally make an innuendo?”

“Don’t change the subject. What did you buy?” Doc tried to look into the basket Donut carried on his other arm.

“HEY! Don’t worry about it, alright?” Donut held his arm far away, blocking the view.

“Mm-hmm... because you don’t want me to see what you got for yourself...” Doc rolled his eyes. “By the way, O’Malley says your butt looks cute when you do that half-skippy thing when you run,”

“WHAT!?” Donut didn’t even realize he did a half-skippy thing.

Doc suddenly leaned his face down and buried it against Donut’s shoulder.

“You weren’t supposed to TELL him that!” Donut heard O’malley grumble, and he couldn’t help but start giggling.

They got through the line, paying for their purchases, and made their way out to the dark parking lot.Tucker and Grif were supposed to swing by and pick them up soon, so they waited near a light post, easy to see.

It was cold out here, but in a promising way; the sky had been full of dark clouds all day, and the chill in the air was hinting at snow. Too much was certainly a hassle to deal with, but it was always nice to get a little bit in the winter. It completed the picture for the season.

“Come on Donut, just tell me what you got for yourself...” Doc asked him once more.

“Oh, you know what? FINE! It’s Christmas Eve, we can do a couple early gifts...” Donut dug something out from his bag. “HERE. This is what I got, for YOU!”

It was a shirt. Just a t-shirt, dark in color. Doc raised an eyebrow at Donut as he set down his own bags to unfold the shirt ll the way.

He could now see that it WASN’T a pain shirt; it had text, and a little picture. Two little smiling faces, one looking sweet and the other looking mischievous. It read “Naughty & Nice”.

“Well? Do you like it? I mean, do you BOTH like it? I got other stuff for each of you last week, but I wanted something that would be fun for both of you, and this seemed-”

“It’s perfect!” O’malley exclaimed. “I love it! Thank you, Donut!” Doc added.

Doc threw his arms around Donut’s neck, and the two embraced, sharing warmth and happiness for a moment...

“I’m glad... so, maybe you won’t give me a hard time for buying one for myself?”

A few minutes later, Grif and Tucker arrived. When they pulled the car up to the curb, they saw Doc wearing a darker t-shirt over his red and white stripped long-sleeved shirt. Donut had a different sweater on than the one he had left with earlier; this had a little picture of a Christmas tree on it, and the tree had the red/orange/yellow/green/blue/purple pride colors on it. The sweater also had text, which proclaimed “Don We Now Our GAY Apparel”

[itslight-ishred]

Valentine’s Day Dance

Okay, so I’m a couple hours late on this, but I made it through all the distractions to finally bring you my first completed fic in over a year! This is my gift to @mlm-benvolio​ for the RvB Valentine’s Day gift exchange and first time posting one of my works to Tumblr. Enjoy. (will fix formatting if needed) @rvbgiftexchange Ship(s): Grimmons w/background Docnut and Locoboose and mentioned Tuckington 1,800+ words    "Dude, if you don't ask him out, I'm not talking to you ever again."        The lanky red-head gave out a sharp, fake gasp at those words, closing his locker and holding the non-robotic hand to his chest and faking a hurt expression. "You wouldn't. Who else would I talk to?"        "Wouldn't I?" This led to a full two minute stare-down between them both before a taller boy came by and picked up his older brother, squeezing him tight.     "Tucker! I just asked Loco to the Valentine's dance!"        "Okay, if Caboose can ask Loco, you can totally ask Dex," Lavernius gasped out, struggling to get out of his adopted brother's tight grasp. "Seriously, though, what's taking you so long? We all know you like him. Well, except maybe Dex himself."    

   Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, Richard just thought this over a bit as the three headed for the student parking lot. Passing through the commons, they noticed Franklin hugging Frank tight, but not nearly as tight as Michael had done to his brother. The blond noticed them and quickly broke the hug, dragging his boyfriend over to them. Before he could even say a word, Richard stopped him.    "He just asked you out to the dance?"        "Yes!! Has Dex asked you yet? Cause then we could go suit shopping together!" As usual, his younger brother was way too excited about these things than anyone had a right to be, but Franklin had always loved dressing up and going to parties.         "Dude, you don't need to go out and buy a whole suit for this. Not like it's prom," Lavernius told the junior. "Just pick something nice you already have. And can someone please tell Rich here that there's no way Dex would turn him down?"        Franklin's head perked up at that, looking his older brother dead in the eyes. "Rich, if he doesn't say yes, he's an idiot and in denial. He's been over for dinner more this year than the last three combined."        "I rest my case. Now c'mon, I've got a baby who's probably driving my dad up the walls."        Once out in the parking lot, Richard looked around for Dexter's old beater that was in this horrible, bright orange with the doors painted an even brighter yellow. Apparently having sensed his rising anxiety, F.I.L.S.S. started playing music from his relaxation playlist through the headphones around his neck that were connected to his prosthetic arm. "Thanks," he muttered to the AI before speaking up to get his younger brother's attention, giving the keys an underhand toss. "I'm gonna go find Dex. I'll be home in time to make dinner, promise." All of the other teens smiled at him as he jogged off, going up and down the rows to hopefully beat Dexter to his own car.        Thankfully he'd made it just a couple minutes before the shorter senior came over, drinking a soda that he'd gotten from one of the vending machines. "Oh, hey, man. Not goin' home yet?"        "Told Franklin I'd be back to start dinner. Wanted to hang out with you a bit." Dex raised an eyebrow at this but just shrugged, unlocking the car and getting in. It didn't take long for Richard to realize they weren't going to the middle school to pick up Kai. "Uhh. . . ."        "Relax, she's spending the weekend with some friends at a sleepover since our parents are out of town."        "So you're staying home alone? All weekend?"        "Yep."    Somehow this felt like the perfect opportunity to finally suck it up and ask him. No Kai around to spy on them, and nothing embarrassing to try explaining to their adopted parents. So far, so good. When they got to the Grifs' house, both teens kicked off their shoes and put their backpacks by the door, Richard setting up Halo 12 while Dexter went to the kitchen to grab some drinks and some chips. He made sure the red head was getting a thing of carrot juice, while he grabbed another soda for himself. "So, what's up? Normally you give me a heads up before showing up at my car."     "Eh, just didn't wanna hear Franklin talk my ear off about matching suits with Frank or whatever. Also hoping to avoid having Tucker call me to complain how stupid it is that he can't invite Wash to the dance. Pretty likely he'd also complain about Caboose not shutting up about asking Loco out."     "Are those two actually dating or . . . . ?"     "Dunno. But they're definitely going to the dance together." They sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to play a couple practice games of capture the flag before deciding whether or not they wanted to do an online match. "So, uh, are you going with anyone? If at all?"     "Maybe? No one's asked yet, and I'm not sure anyone would really wanna go with me. You going?"     Richard just shrugged before recoiling a bit at a sudden, sharp pain in his arm. "Ow! F.I.L.S.S.!"     "My apologies. I must have hit a wrong nerve trying to move the fingers."     The taller teen glared down at his metallic arm for a second, going back to their game and attempting to continue the conversation. "Been thinking about it. Had sort of an idea who to ask. Besides, Sarge'd want me to go to keep an eye on Franklin anyway."     "Good ol' Sarge."     Feeling the AI in control of his arm in the back of his head and ready to send more shocks up his arm, Richard took a deep breath. "Do you wanna go to the dance? With . . . . me? Maybe? You don't have to, y'know, but if you want, it'd be nice. But you don't have to!"     "Dick?"     "Yeah?"     "Course, dumbass. Who else would I go with?"     About an hour later, the lanky teen found himself back home and in-between on steps in cooking dinner, Franklin bouncing in place as he sat on the counter, watching impatiently. "So?"     "So what?"     "Did you ask him?"     "Did Rich ask who what?" Sarge asked, coming into the kitchen to see what his boys were talking about.     "Richard asked Dexter to the dance this Valentine's Day," F.I.L.S.S. spoke up for the boy, knowing he was too nervous from earlier still to hold any sort of conversation.     "Bout dang time, son. You been fawnin' over him for the last four years now. How late's the dance s'posed ta go?"     "11:30 the latest," the blond teen answered back, their dad just nodding, knowing he could trust them both to not stay out too late.     Later that night, Franklin had texted Lavernius the good news, and the two proceeded to gush over this new development together, the older of the two saying he was afraid they wouldn't ask each other out until well after they graduated in a few months. The next few days were then spent with both of them trying to pick out a classy outfit to the dance, Lavernius saying he'd probably have to take Dexter shopping if the man had any hope of looking decent. So by the time the dance was there, their entire group showed up dressed in black slacks(minus Franklin who was in white with Frank), and they all had their own solid-color button-ups.     Loco and Michael tried splitting their time between the dance floor and eating snacks, while Franklin couldn't sit down from sheer excitement. Richard was too awkward to even attempt dancing, so he was glad to hang back and have some snacks with Dexter, making sure the shorter male didn't get the shirt or pants Lavernius had bought too messy. Speaking of which, he hadn't seen the darker skinned teen since getting into the main hall. This wasn't going to end well. . . .     "So, probably brought this up sooner, but why did you ask me here? I mean, we're not dating or whatever Loco and Caboose are."     "And you call me the dumbass. . . . I kinda thought it'd be obvious? I asked you out to the Valentine's Day dance. Should be pretty self-explanatory."     Dexter nodded a bit, eating a few more bites of his snacks. "True. But I wanna hear you say it."     Now Richard's face was starting to turn a similar shade of red as his hair, if just a shade darker. It wasn't a nearly full-body blush like Wash was known to get from time-to-time, but it did make his freckles blend together a bit. Just as she had last week, F.I.L.S.S. threatened to shock him again if he didn't speak up soon. Her personality had been really weird since Thanksgiving, he'd have to talk to Dr. Church about that.     "I- I like you, okay? I missed you a lot after you had to leave, and then you came back and I thought things'd be like when we were kids again, but it wasn't, and it still isn't, which I think is okay, y'know? We still bicker a lot sometimes, but it's not like when we were little. And you're always there for me when I need it, and you didn't hate me when you found out about me being a boy. Still can't believe you outed me in bio, though. I know, it was an accident. But you're my best friend, and I don't think I would've wanted to ask anyone else to come with me." Taking a deep breath, he started calming down a bit. "Honestly, it was probably a good thing you had to leave cause I think even when we were kids I had a crush on you. And I don't think I could've sorted that out on my own if you were still living with us."     "Huh. Good to know. I like you a lot, too. Thought about you the whole time I was gone. I mean, hard not to, considering you're why I was able to get my skin grafts. So even though you weren't around, you kinda were?" Side-eyeing the other, Dexter noticed the blush had gotten darker "So . . . are we dating now?"    "I think so? If you want to, anyway."     "Cool, guess I can finally do this," the heavier teen said, more of to himself, before leaning over and kissing his now-boyfriend, able to feel the heat radiate off his face from how flushed he was. It was at that moment that a bright flash got their attention, making them look up and see the overhead balcony where one Lavernius Tucker Church stood with his phone out, cheering in triumph.     "Finally! I've waited four years for this!" he cheered before running off to find his younger brother for safety.     "Wha- Tucker, no, I wanna dance with Loco more!" the younger boy tried telling him, as he tried climbing up his back and onto his shoulders. Lavernius just reassured him it'd just be for a little bit, to protect him from Dexter.     "Okay, Tucker's officially the group dumbass now."

[aestheticsandwriting]

One-Shot a Day, Day 1: “Hold Me.” RvB

Link to read it on ao3. 

Summary: (RvB Season 12 spoilers.)  After Tucker is released from the hospital post season 12 (after being stabbed by Felix) he's feeling a little vulnerable and wants his boyfriend to hold him.

Tucker makes his way through the halls slowly, trying to avoid the more traveled routes in favor of the back ways and using storage rooms as shortcuts. It’s not that he didn’t want people knowing he was out of the hospital or that he didn’t secretly -or not so secretly- enjoy the attention, he just had a very specific place that he wanted to be. And he needed to be there fast, he only had a limited time.

When Dr. Grey told him he could leave, assuring her that he would come back every morning for bandage changes and wound check, he was ecstatic. As ecstatic as a person could be while semi-high on not-quite-narcotic painkillers, but ecstatic none the less. As soon as she had walked out to get his discharge papers -merely a formality that she insisted remain despite the fact that this hospital had stopped functioning like a normal hospital years previously and become a war recovery zone- Tucker had immediately grabbed his datapad on the side table and typed out a quick message, asking Wash if he could slip away from whatever he was doing and meet him in his -their- room.

He had just been walking out of the hospital when his boyfriend’s reply came through, telling him that he had managed to snag a two-hour reprieve from Kimball before having to go back to work, likely having a late-night before getting back to their bunk anyway, and asking if he wanted him to come walk with him back. The teal soldier had to remind himself not to jump for joy when he read the message, tapping out quick response telling him to just meet him there, armor off and in his civvies.

He finally makes his way into the barracks building, thankful he doesn’t have to be as cautious of other people now. Almost everybody in the building at this time are the men and women on night shifts and they’re asleep, he makes his way slowly to his and Wash’s room, a strong ache in his abdomen by the time he reaches the door. He pauses, taking a deep breath before opening it, stepping through to see Wash just pulling on one of his favorite t-shirts -an old one from his early days in freelancer that’s grown slightly thin and soft with wear- and that simple sight makes his eyes water slightly before he realizes what’s caused it.

“Hey, T, sorry I didn’t come up at breakfast this morning, Kimball had plans that she needed me to go over ASAP for a mission that left earlier.” The blond turns, taking in the sight of his boyfriend from his feet up. Clad in an old pair of shoes, some sweats, and a t-shirt that somehow perfectly matches his armor color that Wash had taken to him for whenever he was released, his armor having already been brought back to Tucker’s officially assigned room.

“Tha-” Tucker coughs, clearing his throat and wincing at the pain in his gut. “That’s fine, don’t worry.” His voice is still rough, and he silently curses himself as a single tear slips down his right cheek.

“Tucker, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No. I mean, yes, I have pain, but it’s minimal. I just… will you hold me, David?” Wash has to strain to hear the end of his sentence, it coming out muted and directed towards the floor, Tucker not looking him in the eye.

“I don’t want to-”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I promise, if something hurts or I’m uncomfortable, I’ll tell you. I just need to be held right now.”

“Come ‘ere.” Wash jerks his head, motioning to the two beds they had pushed together to form a bed big enough for the both of them before crawling in, moving to the far side so Tucker has room to settle in without too much movement, hopefully lessening his chances of hurting himself. The younger man sits gently, turning to curl into the taller man’s open and waiting arms, face buried in the blond’s shoulder, sniffling slightly.

“Thank you.”

There’s a silence that stretches between the two of them, interrupted occasionally by a sniffle from Tucker, becoming more frequent as the time goes on. “Hey.” A kiss to the top of his head. “You’re not in pain, are you? Incision’s okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… Wash, I thought I was never going to get to do this again.” Another sniffle. “I thought I was going to bleed out before the guys could get to me. And I thought, ‘I am never going to hold him or be held by him again. I’m never going to kiss him again. I’m never going to get to tell him I love him again.’ And,” a sharp exhale, “fuck, it scared me. It scared me that I might never be able to do those things again, and it scared me that I thought I was going to die alone, with nobody there.”

“Shhh. It’s okay, I’m here.” The older man feels droplets of moisture on his arm that’s snaked under his neck and drops another kiss to his head. “I love you too, T. You’re not alone in working through this. It was a traumatic experience and it’ll take a while to get through it, but I’m with you the whole way, yeah?” A small nod from the smaller man, and a squeeze from the larger’s arms, careful not to tighten too much. “Good. I love you so much. I was so scared I was going to lose you. Not sure what I would’ve done if they hadn’t gotten to you. Thank fuck for Lina having the healing unit.”

It goes quiet, but Wash knows Tucker isn’t breathing deep and smooth enough to be sleeping, so he makes himself content with holding his boyfriend and allowing him time with his thoughts and emotions, confident he’ll talk if he wants to.

After some amount of time, Wash really isn’t sure how long, Tucker’s breathing does even out, and the blond hopes it’s a nice sleep he’s fallen into, not worrying about looking at the clock, knowing his alarm he set will go off when he needs to get up, armor up again, and head back to the war room for more assault tactic lookovers to finalize and confirm before upcoming missions, and he finds himself dozing on and off during the time.

“Mmm, Tucker?”

“Hm?”

“Gotta get up; my two hours is almost up; I have to be in armor and back in the war room in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either; this is one time I’d be perfectly content to lay here with you until tomorrow morning, but I gotta go.”

“No, Wash, that’s not what I meant. I don’t know if I can handle being alone right now.”

“Go hang out with some of the other guys, there’s bound to be one of them that isn’t busy, or is just running drills and you can sit there with them.”

“I’m sure Carolina’s going to be in the war room with you, which means Church will be there, too, I can’t Caboose wrangle right now or I’ll open my incision and hurt myself worse. Simmons will bore me to death, Sarge will try to kill me, and Grif is disgusting. And I can’t take being around anybody else right now, it’s just…”

“Too much?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell you what, if you let me up right now, I’ll let you come to the war room with me and we’ll see about convincing Kimball and Doyle to let you sit in there, yeah?”

“That sounds fine.” Tucker starts to shift, wincing slightly as he does. “Ah, shit, I gotta take my pain meds too before we go up there. You start working on your armor, I’ll do that, and hopefully we can get there before they make me crazy tired like they did last night.”

“Hopefully.”

Tucker grabs his datapad that he had laid on the side table as the two head out the door, knowing he’s going to be bored at some point, slipping his other hand into Wash’s as they walk through the halls of the barracks, releasing it as they near the door. The two had officially been in a relationship since right after they were reunited but had yet to tell anybody except Carolina. Wash suspected a few other people had ideas about their relationship, but nobody had had the guts to come out and ask, and they were perfectly content with leaving it under the radar for as long as possible.

Wash reaches up, knocking on the door to the war room and waiting for the following ‘enter’ to open the door, Tucker closing it behind him. “Captain Tucker,” ‘that’s Kimball’s voice’ his subconscious reminds him through the slight haze of his medication starting to kick in, “good to see you out of the hospital, but what are you doing here?”

“Didn’t want to be alone.” He supplies before Wash can interject and say it in a more tactful way.

“I see. Please pull up a chair and feel free to spend as much time here as you want.”

“Thanks, ‘Nessa. I mean, uh, Kimball.”

“Sorry, Kimball, he took his pain meds right before we came, I think they’re taking effect.”

“I see,” an amused tone. “Now, back to the business at hand. Doyle, Carolina, and I were just discussing some plans for our assault on the small northern outpost.” A paper is slid across the table to the gray-and-yellow-clad soldier. “Here’s what information we have so far.”

Ten minutes later Tucker is snoring lightly, head lolled back and propped on the wall, and Wash rolls his eyes at his boyfriend before turning his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Nearly seven hours later the group is finished, helmets and gloves discarded around the room as they grew tired and started rubbing at their eyes. Tucker having gone back and forth between napping, playing around on his datapad, and picking at the small food supply that Kimball had brought to them around dinner time. Doyle grabs his armor pieces and leaves the room almost immediately, Kimball, Carolina, and Wash staying behind to talk a few minutes longer, both asking the freckle-faced man about Tucker’s wellbeing.

“He’s okay. I’m glad Carolina had the healing unit when she got to him, Dr. Grey doesn’t think he would’ve survived without it.” He glances over his shoulder, insuring that the dark-haired male is still asleep. “He’s at the point now that I’m sure he’ll be okay physically given time, but it messed him up a bit psychologically. That’s why I needed to leave for a while when he was released and why he came with me. He’ll be okay, I think, it’ll just take a while.”

“This… might be a sensitive question, but… Will he be okay at night? We don’t need him landing himself back in the hospital because he’s ripped his incision open during a nightmare.”

“It’s taken care of.”

“Okay…” Wash can see the question in her eyes, but is glad she doesn’t ask anything. And then Tucker ruins it.

“Babe? Why aren’t we in bed?” The slightly slurred question leaves Tucker’s mouth as he blinks back the light from the still harshly lit war room, trying to regain his bearings as to where he is.

“We’re in the war room, remember? Don’t worry, we’re about to go.”

“Okay.” Tucker struggles to stay awake through Wash’s explanation, snuggling back into the wall. Wash looks back over his shoulder, Carolina smirking at him, Kimball with a dark eyebrow raised.

“Agent Washington, I’m assuming that’s what you meant when you said ‘it’s taken care of’?”

“Yes, it is. Is there a problem with that, general Kimball?” The blond man is immediately on edge, posture straightening and stiffening, fight or flight response readying.

“Stand down, Wash, there’s no problem, I actually thought there might’ve been something,” there’s a softness to her dark eyes as an ever so slight smile graces her lips. “I’m happy for you both, I really am. I take it you already knew, Carolina?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Officially? Since right after we reunited. Though you could argue that we were basically in a relationship before the ship crashed.” Wash relaxes as the most genuine smile he’s seen from her graces Kimball’s dark tan skin, and he thinks briefly that he wishes for her sake she lived in a time or place where that smile could be used more often and her features not be hidden under a helmet, though he guesses one could say the same about all of them.

“I am happy for you both. Now, please, everybody get some rest tonight.” The three lean down, all picking up their discarded armor pieces. “And Wash? Tucker is welcome in here with us any time while he’s recovering.”

“Thank you, Kimball.”

By the time the pair get back to their room, Tucker is a little more cohesive than he had been, and Wash bumps his shoulder lightly. “Kimball knows.”

“Knows what?”

“About us.”

“What? How?”

“You half woke up in the war room and called me babe. She already suspected, though, and it’s not a problem.”

“Ooops, I’m sorry, I know we were trying to keep this under the radar.”

“It’s okay, Tucker. I’m actually kind of glad she knows. Doyle doesn’t yet, though, he had left already.” The two step through their door, Wash already pulling off more of his armor pieces, Tucker slowly pulling his clothes off, stripping down to his boxers like always.

“Wash? Will you hold me again tonight while we fall asleep?” Wash sees the unspoken ‘I need that reassurance’ in his eyes and smiles a gentle smile -one reserved strictly for Tucker and extremely rare times that Carolina sees it- and nods.

“Of course. It was very comfortable earlier.”

“Thank you.”

The couple crawls into the bed after Tucker takes another dose of his painkillers per Dr. Grey’s orders, finding a position that’s both comfortable for Tucker, but also close enough for him to feel the safety he needs and they drift off to sleep, each man having a peaceful night’s sleep being held by the other.

[narkinafive]

fic draft for a sw/rvb au i have w @evaceratops​; i’ll post it here to get it out of my system, then clean it up and put it on ao3, so comment w your thoughts if you want!!!!

ghosts that linger, 3k, gen, ft. ezra, kanan, and kallus

Not for the first time, Kanan regretted saving Kallus’ life, if only because the man forced them to change bars every time they met. Kanan had really liked the bartender at the last one. 

Tonight’s bar was cleaner, classier, a hell of a lot more expensive. Crowded, too--women and men with dangerously low cut tops and glossy lips hang off the arms of their increasingly drunken patrons, identical smiles painted on their beautiful faces, delicate fingers drawing patterns in the sweet, fruity smoke that permeated every corner of the room. Kanan knew that smoke well; just one pack of Shento cigarras would cost him about a fifth of a good smuggling run. He preferred the cheap shit, not because it tasted any better, but he didn’t refuse the one the tall, pretty Togruta boy offered him, flipping him a fifty-credit chit and a wink in exchange. Kallus already had his lighter out by the time he turned around to face his dinner guest. 

“I was under the impression you were trying to quit,” he said, one blond eyebrow carefully raised, a familiar opening to a familiar routine. Normally Kanan wasn’t one to back down from a verbal fight, but tonight, something felt… off. The air was thick with more than expensive smoke and pheromones; there was an itch between his shoulders that he just couldn’t reach. Beneath their table, his leg was bouncing so violently you could almost see it in the glow of the cigarette, vibrating despite his steady hands.

Kanan took a long, long drag of the cigarra, held it, then released, and it did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. “Any word?”

Kallus hmmed, thoughtfully. Usually a bad sign. “Down to business, I see?”

“Got a girl at home for a few days,” said Kanan, flicking ash into the crystal tray in the center of the smooth, dark table. “She doesn’t want me to stay out too late tonight--said she had a surprise for me if I made it back in time.” He grinned a leering, toothy grin, one he had perfected over years and years of sexual conquests, though he and Kallus both know full well that he hadn’t slept with anyone in months. “So, any reason you insisted on seeing me tonight? You wanna join us?” He felt himself smile wider, baring his teeth.

Kallus rolled his eyes, Kanan detecting a hint of sincerity behind the action, then slid him a thin, beat-up data pad he had pulled from his jacket, a silhouette of a pretty young thing painted in black, scuffed in that telltale way of repeated re-recording. “Far be it from me to encourage your predilections,” he sneered, “but here: the video file you requested.” 

And only now did Kanan finally understand the reason for tonight’s setting: Cinisia Club was one of the last places on the planet that didn’t regulate the sale and exchange of sensitive or explicit information. Hiding extremely confidential Imperial data in a porno-vid? Honestly, it was genius. Kanan groaned appreciatively, loud enough that even the eavesdropping droid would be convinced. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed, “the little miss and I are gonna enjoy this one.” The droid, satisfied for the moment, turned its attention elsewhere.

But as Kanan made to slip the datapad into his pocket, Kallus stopped him with a hand. “As much as I disapprove of your little hobby,” he said, each word perfectly shaped, perfectly chosen, “might I suggest enjoying this one without your, ah, little miss? I fear it may be a bit too… much for her, seeing a family member like that.” 

Kanan froze. A split second, but he froze. Kallus’ face revealed nothing, perfectly composed as he sipped at his drink. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means,” said Kallus, “that this video might upset your lovely date, and then who would warm your bed for the night? Certainly not I.”

His heart beat so hard in his chest that he thought it might pop out. He knew. He knew about Ezra. He knew what they were looking for. “Anything else?” he asked, mouth dry enough that he was surprised he could even get the words out.

Kallus shook his head. “Enjoy.” And with that ominous blessing, Kallus returned to the remains of his drink, dismissing Kanan without so much as a second glance. 

Sliding out of the booth, Kanan thought for a second that he might faint, then thanked the god he no longer believed in as the lightheadedness passed without incident. But he was sure everyone could see his pale face, his trembling hands, his sweaty brow. It was like every set of eyes in the club tracked his every step as he made his way to the exit, each mocking smile haunting him with the question: do they know, too?

He took his speeder to the opposite side of town, ran a loop around the back alleys, just in case someone decided to follow. No one did, as far as Kanan could see. The lights were always on in this part of town, illuminating the unceasing river of sentients crossing into and over the space port, leaving very little shadow to hide in. Imperial propaganda sounded triumphantly from every corner, an overlapping cacophony of music and commands, screens cheerfully brandishing shuttle times and wanted posters. Helmet on, he waited in a dim corner, eyes fixed on the screen as it worked through its roster of suspects. Senator Mon Mothma, it read. General Jan Dodonna. Saw Gerrera. Admiral Gial Ackbar. Travia Chan. Cham Syndulla. Fulcrum, real identity unknown. 

No “Kanan.” No “Caleb” either, for that matter. No other names.

Though who knew how many names there would be tomorrow.

He watched it cycle through again. “If you see something, say something!” Chirped a woman’s voice from the loudspeakers, her words echoing across every surface, broadcast as far as it could possibly go. Kanan could still hear her as he sped away, twenty minutes later. He heard her even as he got out of range, her words ringing in his ears as loudly as any alarm.

Kanan had docked his ship in the bad part of town, but he hadn’t been worried. The Kasmiri wasn’t anything too flashy; spacious quarters had been sacrificed for smuggling compartments long ago, and Kanan had had her repainted as soon as he was sure Janus Kasmir wouldn’t be able to track them down again. Still, his heart lifted somewhat as he approached, lowering the ramp to reveal the soft, warm glow of the cargo bay. Despite her rough exterior, she was still home, a home he hadn’t had in a long, long time.

As Kanan ascended the ladder to the galley, he found that Ezra was still awake, and apparently helping himself to a late night snack, pilfered from Kanan’s emergency stash. “Where were you?” he demanded, perched on the dejarik table, mouthful of a half eaten ration bar.

“Out,” was all Kanan replied, even knowing full well that such a vague answer would do absolutely jackshit to nip Ezra’s curiosity in the bud. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Ezra swallowed. “Were you out with Fulcrum?”

“You, bed. Now,” he ordered at Ezra’s glare.

“Did you get any info?”

“What part of ‘bed’ was a little too hard for you to understand?”

Hopping off the table, Ezra followed Kanan to his bunk, dogging his heels the whole way. “You reek of Shento smoke, and the only place on this dirtball high rolling enough for cigarras like that is going to be the Cinisia Club, which I know for a fact that you refuse, on principle, to even go within three blocks, so the only reason you would go into Cinisia would be to meet with your contact, and the only reason you would actually physically meet Fulcrum instead of just comming them would be because they have something really important to tell you!” He was practically jumping up and down, pacing the very short length of Kanan’s cabin. “Am I right?”

The kid had been hanging around him for way too long. “Not even a little.” Ezra harrumphed, crossing his arms. “Seriously, you should get some sleep. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, be ready at 0500, sharp.”

Eza groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “And now we’re running away!” He turned on his heel and stalked out, heavy footfalls and bitter muttering echoing off the walls.

Kanan almost thought about calling him back. He had promised the kid to keep him in the loop, and if this file was what he thought it was… but Kallus’ warning surfaced in his memory. A family member. 

How in the hell did Kallus know that he was looking for information on Ezra’s father? Moreover, how in the hell did he even know Ezra existed? How the fuck had Kanan let that happen? He thought he had been so clever, so careful, and he had failed, and it was only a matter of time before--

He shook his head. Kallus wouldn’t betray him, Kanan’s leverage was too strong, at least for now. Once again, Kanan regretted saving the man’s life: even if having an ISB agent in his back pocket was ridiculously useful from time to time, he was certain that, eventually, the secrets he knew would cease to be a good enough threat to keep Kallus from talking.

The ancient datapad booted up agonizingly slowly, heat radiating off the back of it. The screen was scuffed and distorted, laser-pixels clumped together at the corners, but the picture was as clear as it could be. The dark windowless room, the slanted table with attached restraints, the sharp, yellow grin of the Grand Inquisitor, it was all a horribly familiar scene to Kanan. “Prisoner Oh-five-seven-seven-four,” he said, his back to the struggling man on the table. “Ephraim Bridger, is it? I understand that you and your wife once had a son. Ezra, yes?” The man--Ezra’s father--Ezra’s father--spit at the Grand Inquisitor in lieu of an answer. “According to our records, he died in the riots at the age of seven. A shame, really; he showed remarkable aptitude in his Academy exam. With the right training, he could have been a great asset to the Empire, had his mother not foolishly chosen to--”

Ezra’s father swore in his native language. “Don’t you dare talk about her! Don’t you dare!”

Kanan paused the vid, listening out for footsteps around his door, and heard nothing. Good. Ezra couldn’t keep quiet to save his life, usually. He did not want the kid to see this. Hell, he hardly wanted to watch it himself.

He hadn’t been on the assignment, but he remembered the incident well. Kanan had been twenty-two, and so green, relegated to desk work while his superiors thought of ways to fix his “problems,” but he had been called out to the scene anyway. Sometimes he could still picture the scene in his mind, perfect in his memory: the dark night, the wet, hard ground, Mira Bridger’s body. The way her arms had been outstretched, like she was reaching for something. The tear tracks on her face, the slackness of death unable to hide her terror and despair. 

And he remembered his orders. Sit on this one, Dume, the Grand Inquisitor--then the Counselor--had coldly informed him. And then, The Director sees no need to include that information in the incident report. And then, You have been taken off this case. Moving forward, this will be handled by more qualified agents. 

Ephraim Bridger’s face snarled at him from years ago, eyes blazing. He’d seen that same look before, on Ezra’s face as he saw Troopers harassing those street kids on Garel.

Kanan pressed play again. 

“Very well,” said the Grand Inquisitor, “What would you like to speak of, Mr. Bridger?”

“I know you took my son,” Ephraim growled, weak, defiant.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled, thin as the interrogator droid’s needle, and just as sharp. “Mr. Bridger, your son has been dead for years.”

“You lie,” he said. “We knew you wanted him for your little cult, and when Mira and I wouldn’t simply lay down and let you take him, you killed my wife and stole him!”

The needle moved, and Ephraim writhed on the table, the twitch of his jaw as he struggled to hold in his shouts evident as the clenching of his fists. “You are mistaken, Mr. Bridger.” 

And on it went, for forty-eight minutes. Forty-eight minutes of torture, and lies, and the strength and ferocity of Ephraim’s will, unyielding against the Grand Inquisitor’s attempts to break it. “Don’t lie to me,” Ephraim gasped, face thunderous. “Why did you take my son?”

“Your son died in the riots, Mr. Bridger.”

“Where is he?!”

Kanan paused the vid, scrubbing a hand over his face. It just didn’t make any sense. The JEDI program had been dissolved when Palpatine took control, so why would the Grand Inquisitor be looking for new recruits? And if they were looking for new soldiers, why didn’t they take Ezra? The kid was smart, quick on his feet, great with machines--he should have been a prime target for the JEDI. Could they just have completely missed him?

No, Kanan decided, this was deliberate. Maybe it was because of his parents, but he didn’t see how leaving alone the child of two known insurrectionists would have benefitted the JEDI; if anything, it would have made him even more of a prize, a big fat slap in the face of the movement. So why leave him alone? And why, if you’re going to leave him alone, go through all the trouble of relocating him?

Too many things didn’t add up, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for any of this, and outside his cabin was the telltale shuffle of someone listening through the door.

Sure enough, he palmed open the door, and Ezra was there, jerking away from the hole where the wall used to be. “Did you say my name?” he asked, smiling like he hadn’t just been attempting to eavesdrop.

“No.”

“I heard my name. What were you watching?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Ezra was a right terror all the time; a tired Ezra even more so. “I told you we had an early start tomorrow.”

The transformation was startling. Where once had been an obstinate teenager, a kid who enjoyed glaring daggers at him from across the dinner table, disobeying orders in flight, and refusing to come to blaster practice, stood a repentant child, his eyes wide in that rarely-seen puppy-dog way that he never outgrew from the street. “Look,” he said, arms raised, placating, “I’m sorry for snooping. You’re the boss, and your business isn’t mine. You’re entitled to your secrets, and that includes not telling me what you were up to tonight, even though you promised not to hide information from me if I thought it was important. Right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay,” said Ezra, unperturbed, “but I just think--”

Kanan groaned.

“I could really help you out!” 

“Ezra--”

“I’m still pretty small, I’m quiet, I’m awesome at pick-pocketing,” he counted off, “I could be a really great spy!”

Kanan sighed, the telltale signs of an Ezra-induced headache beginning to manifest, a subtle throbbing beneath his temple overcoming his need to stay as rational as possible. “We’ve been over this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and under no circumstances will I use you as a spy. You are not getting involved!”

“I’m already involved!” Ezra said. “You think if you got caught then they wouldn’t arrest your ‘mechanic’ for treason, too?”

He was right, of course. “Ezra,” said Kanan, bringing his hands down on his shoulders, tilting his head up to look him in the eye so that he could see, so that he could understand, “you listen to me. If there is the slightest chance that you can get out of this with your nose clean, then you take it. Do you understand?”

“Kanan--”

“Ezra!” He shook him. “Do you understand me?!”

“Fuck you!” Ezra roared as he shoved him off, nearly knocking Kanan into the strut of his bunk. “Just, fuck you! They were my parents, and I have the goddamn right to know why they died!”

“I know!” Kanan shouted back. “Of course you do.”

“Then tell me what’s going on!” Ezra advanced, hands balled into fists, jaw clenching with barely contained rage. Just like his father.

He couldn’t keep this from him for much longer.

“I don’t--” He broke off, willing the right words to come, “I don’t want to be wrong about this.” Ezra faltered at that, his shoulders losing some of their rigidity as his anger started to bleed out of him. “I have my suspicions, but that’s all they are right now: suspicions. This isn’t just a simple matter of corruption. What I’m--what we’re investigating might involve people so far up the chain of command that they could take us out in broad daylight and walk away without a single scratch on their reputation. These people,” for Kanan knew them well, knew them so intimately it still made him sick sometimes, “these people don’t care about right or wrong, or justice, or anything like that. And they certainly won’t think twice about killing you for what you know.” 

Heavily, Kanan sat on his bunk, the lumpy bed sinking even further under his weight, under the weight of the goddamn world. He was so goddamn tired. 

The mattress dipped as Ezra sat beside him, never taking his eyes off of him. “I can’t sit by and do nothing, Kanan,” he said, softly. “They were my parents.”

Something tried to crawl its way up Kanan’s throat, sitting heavily. This kid. “I know. And I promise, I won’t keep anything from if I think it’s important enough for you to know. But right now, the less you know, the better.”

His mouth twisted, but, eventually, he nodded. “Can…” he looked away, arms coming up to hug himself, the scrape of fabric on fabric seeming to center him. “Can you at least tell me what was on the vid?”

Kanan’s stomach plummeted. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of recycled air, dirty laundry, the lingering stench of Shento on his skin. When he opened them, Ezra was looking at him again, the bright blue of his eyes somehow dimmer in the low light of his cabin.

He would rather have the obstinate teenager than this.

“It was an interrogation archive,” Kanan said.

“The Grand Inquisitor?” 

“Yeah.” Ezra shuddered, and one hand rubbed at his wrist, almost subconsciously. “I thought it might have some new info, but… he was just torturing the prisoner. Trying to make him forget something he had seen.” Which was true. Nothing in that vid was news to Kanan.

Beside him, Ezra dipped his head, dark hair in his eyes, and tilted slowly until it could be said that he was leaning on Kanan. Kanan’s shoulder twitched, but he knew better than to try to hug the kid. “And the prisoner?” he asked. “What did he know?”

“He knew…” Kallus’ voice in his head, again. “He thought he knew why they were targeting your mother.”

“Did he?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” And the truth was, he didn’t. The Rebellion, the JEDI, the Grand Inquisitor, the Bridgers, and their son; every answer to every question revealed a whole new web of entanglements, of money and power and depraved individuals, and Kanan was still so lost, adrift in the void of space without a heading. “There’s so much that just isn’t adding up, and I want--I have to be sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, before I can go any further with this.”

He felt, rather than saw, Ezra’s nod. He wondered what Ezra could feel from him, if he could tell that Kanan still, despite his promises, was lying to him. 

[supercasey]

RvB Warrior Cats AU

I have no excuse for how long this took to post (other than moving houses and getting caught in a blizzard this morning). I know I made a post with this concept several months ago, but I’ve since then rewritten quite a bit of it and added more story ideas, so... go nuts I guess. Putting this under a readmore to spare the rest of my followers.

Blood Gulch Clan / Blood Clan / Gulch Clan Leader: SpiteStar (Church) Last Leader: FlowerStar (Flowers/Florida) Deputy: CrimsonFur (Sarge) Last Deputy: SpiteEyes (Church) Medicine Cat: FixCoat (Doc) Clan Members: TuckTail (Tucker) HeavyHeart (Caboose) CinderStalk (Tex) SpeckleBelly (Simmons) SnailFoot (Grif) RabbitWind (Donut) PoppyFox (Sister) TuckFrost (Junior) Freelancer Clan / Mother Clan Leader: JaggedStar / Leo (The Director) Last Leader: ShadowStar (Allison) Deputy: EchoBurr / Aiden (The Counselor) Last Deputy: JaggedWhisker (The Director) Medicine Cat: None (kinda FlowerCreek???) Clan Members: ThunderSpot (Washington) TinyWhisper (Connecticut) QuickStalk (Carolina) LostEye / Tawnypaw (York) ((He hates his name)) HollowJaw / Quietpaw (Maine) ((Also hates his name)) WindStone (North Dakota) WildStorm (South Dakota) OwlFur (Wyoming) FlowerCreek (Florida) The AI Clan / Alpha Clan Leader: ThistleStar (Sigma) Last Leader: None Deputy: PigeonFeather (Gamma/Gary) Last Deputy: ThistleMask (Sigma) Medicine Cat: MousePatch (Theta) Clan Members: WitShimmer (Epsilon) LizardStrike (Omega/O'Malley) SwiftDapple (Delta) SongLeaf (Eta) SmokeLeaf (Iota) Chorus Clan Leader: BraveStar (Kimball) Last Leader: Shystar (Doyle) Deputy: BadgerHeart (Andersmith) Last Deputy: BraveFlame (Kimball) Medicine Cat: GreyBird (Dr. Grey) Clan Members: CherryPelt (Volleyball) DoeFlight (Jensen) PounceTail (Palomo) BitterFang (Bitters) MinnowLeap (Matthews)

Unaffiliated Cats / Rouges WeaselTuft / Felix (Felix) LocustMist / Locus (Locus) Vic (Vic)

[BASIC BGC PLOT] ((AKA if I write a fic this is gonna be the beginning))

Starts out with Tucktail going on a patrol with Heavyheart, who he ditches in favor of hunting on his own (and maybe to search for any available mates because he's unabashedly horny at all times no matter the AU), only to run into a kittypet named David. They hit it off right away, but unfortunately David's twoleg shows up and nabs him before he can run away. Tucktail relays this to Spitestar, who initially dismiss it as nothing to be concerned about, but Cinderstalk is curious. She corners Tucktail later on and asks more questions, until she discovers that Tucktail unintentionally found Thunderspot, a warrior from her old clan. Cinderstalk then goes into detail with Tucktail about her last "clan", although it was more like a group of rogues. It apparently all fell apart after a few warriors went rouge (no pun intended) and started an internal war that took several cat's lives. Thundersport had been unaccounted for most of the battle, but was hit by a monster on the thunderpath and was taken away by twolegs. After hearing all of this, Tucktail goes back to the twoleg place to help David escape, bringing Spitestar and Heavyheart with him for backup. They manage to save David, and the four of them return to camp to officially welcome him to Blood Gulch Clan (David has a bit of a panic attack when he sees Cinderstalk but he'll be okay).

[THINGS THAT HAPPEN/INFORMATION]

FAMILY SHIT (FOR THE BGC)

- Jaggedstar and Shadowstar are the parents of Quickstalk and Spitestar (Spitekit goes missing as a kit and ends up getting taken in by a rogue). Later on they also have Thunderspot (although they didn't raise Thunderkit, as Shadowstar died not long after birthing him, and Jaggedstar refused to interact with the orphaned kitten). - Flowercreek is Tucktail's father. He’s trans, and arrived at Blood Gulch Clan pregnant and injured from the PFL fight. It’s implied that Owlfur is the other parent. - Crimsonfur is Snailfoot, Poppyfox, Rabbitfoot, Windstone, and Wildstorm’s father (Snailfoot and Poppyfox made up one litter, the others made up the second one). After Windkit, Wildkit, and Rabbitkit were born, Crimsonfur took Rabbitkit back to his clan, as he was the runt of the litter, and raised him himself. - ((Also, both litters are from separate mother's and were born around the same time. Snailfoot and Poppyfox’s mother died giving birth, while Windstone, Wildstorm, and Rabbitfoot’s mother was not affiliated with Crimsonfur’s clan and had no interest in joining it, leading to her eventually agreeing to give up her undesired runt to Crimsonfur to make him go away while she kept the other kits to herself; Crimsonfur laments the fact that he didn't take all of his kits home, but what's done is done)). - The AI aren't related (save for Songleaf and Smokeleaf) but they refer to themselves as brothers and sisters. They act like a fucking cult and it’s Creepy. - Tucktail is trans fIGHT ME. - Flowercreek is also trans and so proud of his fucking son. - Tucktail has had exactly one litter; only one kit was born and that kit grew up to be Tuckfrost. Tucktail loves his son so much, it's ridiculous.

PROJECT FREELANCER ORIGINS LORE

- Long ago, a newly apprenticed Shadowpaw was patrolling her clan’s border by herself, when she came across a young kittypet named Leo. The two play-fought for a little while, but Shadowpaw had to go home, so she promised to come visit him again soon. - This escalated to Leo and Shadowpaw meeting every day, until Shadowpaw convinced Leo to come join her clan. Upon returning home, however, Shadowpaw was scolded by her leader and clanmates for befriending a kittypet, and was given a rather harsh ultimatum; either kill/chase away Leo, or never return. - Stubbornly, Shadowpaw chose Leo over her clan, and together, the twosome left the clan’s territory. - It was incredibly hard at first, as Leo struggled to learn how to hunt and Shadowpaw was still a young apprentice, but the two soon found an abandoned cabin on the edge of the forest. At first, they avoided going inside, but during a storm they grew desperate and took shelter inside. - Finding the cabin truly abandoned, it became their new home. Soon enough, other cats came to live with them, one of which was even Leo’s old housemate; Aiden. - They all soon went to the Moon Stone, and were given warrior names by Starclan. Shadowpaw became Shadowclaw, Leo became Jaggedwhisker, and Aiden became Echoburr (there were other cats but they’re unnamed NPCs so fuck ‘em). - Seeing as they had Starclan’s approval, it soon became clear that they needed to form a fully fledged clan and elect a leader. There was much debate, in which Echoburr insisted that Jaggedwhisker become leader, but Jaggedwhisker denied the offer, deciding that Shadowclaw would be a much better leader. - Again, they went to the Moon Stone, and Shadowclaw was gifted her nine lives, and formally renamed Shadowstar, dubbing her the leader of Motherclan. - Together, Shadowstar, Jaggedwhisker, and Echoburr kept the peace. It’s debatable whether or not they were all each other’s mates (they were), but nonetheless they soon produced their first litter (with Jaggedwhisker sitting in as leader while Shadowstar had her litter). - The first litter was Quickkit and a stillborn. Shadowstar was really broken up about losing a kit, but she still adored her daughter (she also lost a life during the birth). - Soon after, Shadowstar got right back into being leader, even taking Quickkit with her everywhere she went as she went about her clan duties. - By the time Quickkit became Quickpaw, Shadowstar had lost a lot of lives. She’s very headstrong and rebellious, so she ended up leading her clan into a lot of unnecessary fights, leading her to lose several lives. As one last ‘hoorah’, Shadowstar became pregnant a second time, and soon gave birth to Thunderkit and Spitekit. She died during the birth, barely given enough to name Thunderkit before she passed. - Jaggedwhisker ended up naming Spitekit, but in the same breath ordered the kit to be taken into the forest and killed by Echoburr. Feeling sorry for the poor thing, Echoburr took the kit out of the cabin and into the forest, where he quickly ran into a rogue. The rogue commented that Spitekit was adorable, to which Echoburr offered to give him to her. Not passing up the chance, the rogue accepted and adopted Spitekit. - This was the first of several corrupt decisions that Jaggedwhisker- now Jaggedstar- would make. After burying Shadowstar, he gave Thunderkit to one of the queens in his clan, ordering her to never tell the kit who his true parents were. - Quickpaw grew up knowing Thunderkit was her little brother, but was unable to tell him due to her father forbidding it (she never even knew about Spitekit). Still, she became very closely bonded to him, and regardless of her father’s orders, treated him as her younger brother. - Not long after Shadowstar’s death, a young black shecat appeared on Motherclan’s doorstep. At first, the clan cats warned her to run away, as Jaggedstar seemed unhinged, but upon meeting the young cat, Jaggedstar allowed her to join, naming her Cinderpaw. - Quickpaw and Cinderpaw were best friends as apprentices, as both were very similar personality wise. However, Jaggedstar’s clear favoritism for Cinderpaw became more and more blatantly obvious, causing a rift between the two cats. - As if to rub dirt in the wound, at their shared warrior ceremony, Quickpaw and Cinderpaw were named Quickstalk and Cinderstalk. When questioned by his daughter as to why they were given the same name, Jaggedstar claimed it was to “inspire you two to be better”. This led to even more tension between the girls. - ((I’m not gonna get too into Jaggedstar and Cinderstalk’s relationship because it’s… very creepy. He even apprenticed her and had her sleep in his nest some nights because he loved her and Cinderstalk was too intimidated to tell him no)).

PROJECT FREELANCER FIGHT LORE

- After the Freelancer Fight, a lot of things happened: Flowercreek joined Blood Gulch Clan and became Leader soon after, but lost most of his lives quickly as a result of being inexperienced in fighting/hunting due to once being the Freelancer's makeshift medicine cat (he was also considered to be too docile of a leader, leading many to believe his death was staged, although nothing has been proven). - Thunderspot and Tinywhisper were both hit by cars on the Thunderpath and taken to an animal shelter, and while Tinywhisper didn't survive the crash, Thunderspot did, and he was soon adopted by a twoleg and moved to coincidentally live near the forest where Blood Gulch Clan resides. - Quickstalk was thought to have been killed by Hollowjaw, but she secretly escaped and began wandering. Who knows? Maybe we'll see more of her in the future… ;3c - As apprentices, both Losteye and Hollowjaw (at the time named Tawnypaw and Quietpaw) were injured while out hunting, causing them to be renamed after their new injuries/scars. Everyone in the clan was against it, but Jaggedstar was determined to make sure that the two toms never forgot their mistakes. - Losteye, Owlfur, and Cinderstalk all ran into each other after the Freelancer Fight and got into a brawl, ending in Losteye dying while Cinderstalk chased Owlfur into Blood Gulch territory, where he was finished off by the rest of the clan (Tucktail was the one who killed him and had no idea he was his other father). - Windstone and Wildstorm traveled together for a long time, but during a fight with Hollowjaw and the AI Clan, Wildstorm left Windstone to die and attempted to live on her own, but eventually ended up in Blood Gulch territory and got herself killed by a vengeful Thunderspot, who believed her to be responsible for her brother's death. - The whole internal fight in the Freelancer clan is revealed to have been caused by Thistlestar all along, who wanted to seek out power by destroying other clans and taking the strongest warriors left alive. However, he’s later killed in an all-out war between the Blood Gulch Clan and the AI Clan, where he’s struck down and killed by Spitestar (who unfortunately also dies in the fight soon after killing Thistlestar). - Tinywhisper's death was 100% not an accident; she found out what was happening in the clan and had every intention of telling her clanmates. Unfortunately for her, the fight had already begun while she and Thunderspot were out hunting, resulting in them returning from their hunt in the middle of the fight. Before they could help, however, an unknown cat (Witshimmer) took the opportunity to shove both unsuspecting cats onto the thunderpath, just in time for a truck to hit both felines, killing Tinywhisper instantly while Thunderspot was left horrifically scarred by the incident (both physically and mentally. He has panic attacks if he hears a car horn and can't go near the Thunder Path without panicking).

RANDOM LORE

- Tucktail and Thunderspot eventually become mates, but it takes awhile because Tucktail isn't sure how he feels and Thunderspot is afraid to form bonds with other cats (also Tucktail doesn't want to ever be pregnant again and he's worried Thunderspot might want kits. This leads to them talking and agreeing to not have kits together, and just adopt instead if the opportunity comes up (Poppyfox offers to birth them some kits and they may or may not accept her offer)). Then again, they’d probably be fine not having kits. - During the Blood Gulch VS AI fight, Spitestar is killed, leaving the leadership position empty. There's a debate over who should become leader, as Crimsonfur is very old to become leader and was only meant to be Deputy until someone else stepped up to the task (namely Cinderstalk or Tucktail), but no one did (seeing as Cinderstalk is dead at this point, she’s out of the running). They offer it to Thunderspot, but he's very much against the idea. ((I actually can't decide who should be leader. I like the idea of Thunderstar or Tuckstar, but I dunno. Maybe just go with Crimsonstar??? Fuck))

CHORUS CLAN LORE

- Chorus Clan is a motherfucking Mess. It was formed by a bunch of rouge's that couldn't agree on a leader, leading to a full on war. The survivor's agreed to a truce, and the oldest survivor- Shyshiver- became the leader, dubbing the most capable warrior- Braveflame- as his deputy. - Seeing as Literally No One had any idea what to do (Shystar never even got his nine lives) the leader made a tough decision and agreed to house two rogues in the clan. In exchange, the rogues would train apprentices and help them get started. - This led to betrayal, as the rouges assassinated Shystar in the night. No one knew it was them at first, and Braveflame became Bravestar. - Bravestar immediately began trying to investigate into the death of her old leader, leading her to get help from Blood Gulch's clan cats, who offered to assist after being rescued. - (I'm thinking the BGC deals with some kind of disaster, like twolegs invading their territory, requiring them to leave. The few that managed to outrun the twolegs settle in Chorus Clan for awhile. This also takes place directly after the AI fight, meaning Spitestar is dead and there's no new leader yet). - Tucktail, Heavyheart, Specklebelly, and Snailfoot agree to apprentice Badgerpaw (Badgerheart), Doepaw (Doeflight), Cherrypaw (Cherrypelt), Pouncepaw (Pouncetail), Bitterpaw (Bitterfang), and Minnowpaw (Minnowleap). They’re also the ones to suggest their warrior names, as Bravestar thought it appropriate that they help. - Tucktail and Pouncepaw do NOT get along, at least on Tucktail's end. Tucktail is constantly reminded of his own terrible behavior as an apprentice, and he hates how clingy Pouncepaw is. It doesn't help that he feels responsible for two other apprentices dying (the kids who died in season 12). - Specklebelly is scared shitless of his apprentices, as they're both girls and he's nervous around them (his mother was rather abusive and he's low-key scared of shecats because of it). They're both patient though and Doepaw even starts seeing Specklebelly almost as her father. - Snailfoot is kind of neglectful with his apprentices’ training, having them just practice stalking and hunting instead of actually teaching them to fight. This actually ends up working out, as Bitterpaw and Minnowpaw both end up being excellent hunters and teach the others how to set up a proper ambush. - Heavyheart is… trying??? He's never been trusted to apprentice a cat before (neither has anyone else but whatever) and he keeps unintentionally seeing Badgerpaw as being his “new Spitestar”, which makes things semi awkward. This eventually gets resolved, with Badgerpaw sitting and talking Heavyheart through his grief. - Specklebelly and Snailfoot low-key see their apprentices as “the kits they never got to have together”. This even leads to Bitterfang and Doeflight jokingly (and sometimes honestly) referring to each other as “bro” and “sis”. - Bitterfang and Minnowleap are from the same litter. Their mother died when they were kits, and Bitterfang became very protective of Minnowleap, as he was very fragile as a kit. - Doeflight and Cherrypelt are also related, being sisters from the same litter. As kits, their father abandoned the clan, taking their other littermate (a tom) with him. The sisters are incredibly close, although they're very different personality wise. - Despite more or less losing both of his brothers on the same day, Pouncepaw acts laid back and unaffected. This leads to Tucktail sitting with him and getting the kid to open up about his grief, also leading Tucktail and Pouncepaw to mature. - Throughout all of this, the BGC keeps trying to discuss who should be leader. Seeing as Crimsonfur, Thunderspot, and Rabbitwind are missing (taken by twolegs), it's unclear who should be leader, as Crimsonfur was deputy (but he's old) and Thunderspot was the most experienced. - ((BTW, Poppyfox and Tuckfrost have both gone off on their own at this point. Poppyfox goes between wanting to be a kittypet to escape the warrior lifestyle and living as a rogue. Tuckfrost has been chosen as a “prophecy cat” and has been on a quest concerning his destiny, although he longs to return home and reunite with his father.)) - Everyone is of the opinion that Tucktail should become leader (Specklebelly argues that it should be Crimsonfur until Snailfoot convinces him to give up), but Tucktail refuses to, as he believes Thunderspot is the only sane choice. - After much deliberation (and a lot of bullshit) Tucktail finally agrees to go get his nine lives. - Accompanied by Fixcoat and his Chorus Clan apprentice (a way too excited Graypaw), Tucktail visits the Moon Pool and gets his nine lives from Starclan. - While he gets to see Spitestar (they have a tearful reunion), Tucktail can't find Thunderspot anywhere (he was scared that he had died during the twoleg attack). While he's relieved that Thunderspot isn't dead, he's now afraid that he'll never see him again, at least until Thunderspot passes away and joins Starclan. - Right after getting his nine lives and becoming Tuckstar, the new leader is given a prophecy by a puny cat he doesn’t recognize (Tinywhisper), who tells him “When the traitors are revealed and the river runs red with blood, only then will lightning strike, and the lost will return to where it all started”.

((I don’t have much else and for that I’m sorry, but I’ve become invested in this AU. Feel free to hit me up with ideas/questions, and I’ll do my best to respond!))

[phantomwarrior12]

Fic Statistics Game

I was tagged by the wonderful @thewhiterabbit42, I do apologize for how long it’s taken to answer this. :)

Author Name: Phantom

Fandom(s) You Write For: Supernatural, Red vs Blue, willing to attempt others just haven’t yet

Where You Post: Tumblr, AO3, I have like...3 fics on Wattpad

Most Popular One-Shot: The One It was actually the first Gabriel x Reader I’d ever written

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: My most popular was my Broken Promises series, I had high demands for a continuation even after it was finished lol 

Favourite Story You Wrote:  My favorite story...it wasn’t SPN, it was actually my Red vs Blue AU series: Saudade. I was really quite sad that it didn’t get as many reads as I would have liked, I spent the better part of a year on it, pouring my heart and soul into it, and it is by far the best series I’ve ever written.

But, my favorite SPN fic I ever wrote was Trickster Gets Tricked. I’m quite proud of how I wrote Balthazar (especially since I hadn’t ever written him before).

Story You Were Nervous To Post: Save It For The Living It’s really angsty and the reader dies and I just didn’t know if anyone would like it.

How Do You Choose Your Titles?: ...usually they’re based on the song that inspires them, or at least start that way until the fic is done and then I decide if the name fits anymore.

How many of your stories are…

In-Progress: ...do I gotta answer this? About six with stories started, but 20+ with prompts and concepts written down (some for RvB, some for SPN).

Coming Soon: Chapter 3 of Dark Returns! I’m wrapping up the chapter and it should be up in the next week or so! Also, some one shots called Time Traveling Cupcakes and Kill Me (names subject to change, but they’re for the Gabriel Bingo).

Do You Accept Prompts: Absolutely! :)

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: Heh, the thrilling conclusion to the Dark Returns series. There’s gonna be a whole spectrum of emotion that I might get yelled at for. xD

Tagging: @heaven-hell-imagines @mamma-dragon @bofa-deans-nuts@spoopyghostgirl @booksonlyburninhell and anyone else who wants to do it! :)

[oreramar]

The Freelancer Problem

A Red vs Blue ramble, written in an attempt to get these scattered little ducklings of impressions and thoughts into something resembling a coherent line. This one’s about the Freelancers, and the ways the writers of RvB have had to get around them and their established skills at times in order to present the Blood Gulch Crew with challenges that A) allied Freelancers can’t or don’t solve for them even though they would probably normally be able to, and B) won’t kill them even though the Freelancer that is that particular challenge should, again, probably be able to. 

The Freelancers of Red vs Blue were established as super-competent soldiers pretty much right out the gate. Admittedly, the only Freelancer seen for a long time was Tex, and admittedly the comparison was primarily against the Reds and the Blues, so the data could be a little skewed there. Still, the words and actions of the script mostly pointed that way, and were elaborated further in that direction as the series went on, so that by the time the story was expanded further starting in S6, it was a pretty solid fact: the Freelancers are badass super-soldiers, and the protagonists of the story mostly beat them in conflicts through a combination of luck, tenacity, teamwork, the occasional odd but impressive specialized skill (i.e. Donut’s throwing arm) and being fatally under-estimated by the Freelancer(s) in question.

This worked well as a means to compare/contrast the way the Blood Gulch Crew did things against more traditional battle protagonist methods (via Tex) and to provide them with powerful but still human-level antagonists (via Wyoming), but once we got to Washington (and, later, Carolina) I think that pedestal started to present some problems the writers had to find ways around...or, if possible, over.

(Long-ish post, continues under the cut.)

As I said, Freelancers were pretty well-established as being some of the best of the best soldiers, at least in this particular story. S6 Washington didn’t exactly disabuse anyone of the notion, single-handedly bringing down a Hornet with a very precise trick shot while avoiding getting shot himself, on top of a few other epic little moments. Sure, the Meta did keep escaping him, but that was easily put down to the Meta having much better armor tech and enhancements allowing him to escape, plus him once being a Freelancer himself. And, of course, the narrative required it in order to have that climactic finale - one in which the BGC actually didn’t face down the “final boss” themselves, actually. 

Then we hit S7/S8, and Washington became an antagonist to the crew, working alongside the Meta for his own ends. At that point the writers had to deal with a character who had already been shown to be very competent in combat - and perfectly willing to shoot to kill - going toe to toe with the show’s protags...without actually killing any of them. Granted, as far as anyone knew at the time Donut and Lopez had died, and it was a combination of sheer luck and robotic immortality that brought them back later, but that’d be tough to pull off with too many (living human) characters. So, as a result, certain things got a little bit...toned down...at necessary points.

That super precision shown by that trick shot (even while being shot at) Washington pulled off before? The moment he got hit by a warthog he couldn’t shoot Grif even at point-blank range across multiple attempts. You could write some of it off as being due to the discombobulation of getting hit and then balancing on the hood of a fast-moving vehicle, but it does seem to be a bit of a stretch, especially given Grif’s extremely limited range of movement and cover and all the times (admittedly mostly seen later in the series, though some of them set chronologically earlier) where Washington took hits and still managed precise close- to mid-range shots even while falling. I still love watching the scene, but whenever I think about it I’m sort of aware that it was written more for the requirements of the plot than for the realities of demonstrated character abilities. The plot would run into some trouble if Wash managed to shoot and/or kill Grif in that sequence, after all.

Tex’s return is similarly toned down, but only if you stop and think about it and realize that she could’ve killed every character present easily. We all know she could. She’s punched through solid metal and caught/stood up under a massive, filled warehouse crate dropped on her from a height; there’s almost no way standard-issue body armor would actually stop her. There’s not really any explanation given for how (or why?) she didn’t just cave everyone’s skulls in and go, aside from her one attempt at shooting someone failing due to the shotgun being out of ammo. Maybe you could theorize there being some familiarity with them causing her to pull her blows and/or a desire to play a bit rather than simply kill and run, as her verbalized reasoning for flying into the fight would imply. Again, it’s a brilliant fight scene and I love watching it, but damn, how did they survive? (Answer: plot armor standing up under a barrage of Rule of Cool, that’s how. Love it.)

The finale of this arc demonstrates this again, though perhaps to a lesser extent, in that a lot of it is pretty clearly justified one way or another. A good chunk of said finale is taken up by Tex vs Wash and Meta, after the latter two get blown up and the former has had who knows how many hours to seed the battleground in her favor, and even then it’s a close enough fight. Wash again demonstrates both great accuracy (shooting a fleeing Tex through the leg and laming her in her escape attempt) and...not (shooting repeatedly at Tex as the ice fell and seeming to miss every shot, though admittedly there were some pretty extreme issues with the battlefield, footing, and a great deal of motion involved. Plus plot requirements. She couldn’t get shot yet.).

Anyhow, Tex is fairly justifiably defeated after getting shot through the leg, caught up to by the Meta, and - as is soon established - being an AI effectively cursed with failing just when it matters the most. Then the Meta turns on Washington and he and the BGC have to team up. Wash is also justifiably taken out of the fight by his multiple implied injuries and perhaps fatigue finally catching up with him (blown up once with the jeep, fighting Tex, having to climb up a cliff, fighting the Meta and getting blown up one or two more times in the process...kind of a wonder that he survived, too, honestly), allowing the underdog protagonists to finish it. And they do, but not by overpowering the powerhouse; once again, they prevail by going outside the box, and it’s great.

Of course, from that point on Wash is on their side, and the writers have a new problem: it’s one thing to have a somewhat fickle Freelancer who occasionally does little things with or for them in exchange for promised payment or one who drags them along on his own mission (Tex and Wash, respectively). It’s one thing to have a Freelancer oppose them, probably underestimate them, and be defeated by them via creative and unusual means (Wyoming, Meta/Maine, Washington, Tex if you count the grenade incident at least). It’s...kind of another to put a Freelancer on a team with them in an invested and permanent way, because at that point the power imbalance becomes something you have to deal with all the time. The show is Red vs Blue; the main protagonists are the core Blood Gulch Crew; the entire thing has been the relatively-incompetent underdogs getting into shenanigans and silly nonsense and occasionally taking on a bigger problem in creative and unusual ways. You can’t just throw a serious, hyper-competent super-soldier in the mix without coming up with a way to mitigate all those things, because otherwise how do you explain Washington not solving all their problems?

So you kind of see these elements of him dismantled piece by piece in the next couple of seasons, mostly through the flashback episodes and sequences. 

Wash is serious? Let’s show him way back when the Freelancer Project was in its prime, and he was the silly, boyish rookie of the team, prone to goof-ups and foot-in-mouth syndrome and keeping rubber duckies and cat pictures in his locker. This isn’t a bad thing in itself; it’s actually pretty humanizing and the contrast alone between ‘Before Epsilon’ and ‘After Epsilon’ really helps drive home how damaging that incident was, not to mention how seeing some of that silliness creep back into him as he sticks with the crew implies a healing process. It’s just that you can kind of tell that it was inserted (and maybe a little extra-emphasized) at least partially in order to mitigate a personality element that stood to become a potential narrative obstacle.

Wash is very competent as a soldier and an operative? Okay, sure, he’s still shown to be a really good shot in unusual circumstances (often while in free-fall or while being knocked to the ground by an opponent), and he’s consistently seen on the Freelancer leaderboard (sixth or better out of an unknown number, theorized max 50), so you know he’s skilled in what he does, but he’s also verbally referred to as “the worst fighter on the team,” called a rookie, generally treated in dialogue at least as being barely competent - to the extent that I’ve actually seen it written in a couple of fics that Washington’s skill level as a soldier is actually only equal to that of the marine-wash-out Reds and Blues themselves, and nowhere near “real” Freelancer status. Again, showing him as the rookie once upon a time isn’t necessarily a bad thing, except perhaps that you’ve got a certain disparity of show vs tell, and the tell seems to be the loudest in this case. That, and it’s sort of sad to think that this has probably imprinted itself in his self-esteem, as he later tells Tucker outright that he really was the worst fighter on his squad, whether it was objectively true or not, and without taking into account that his squad was the best of those selected for the project anyhow. Worst of the best? That should still be pretty damn good.

Wash the super-soldier? Again, dismantled somewhat by the above notes, and further by the fact that not only does he not have an AI, he actively refuses to accept one, the brief time he carried the Alpha in S6 a single exception. He doesn’t have specialized equipment, weapons, or fighting styles; he used an armor enhancement exactly once in S9 and otherwise relies on his battle rifle, a very standard weapon, however good he is with it. Occasionally he uses a pistol. In fact, the knife throw in S8′s finale and the dodges/catch/throw in S13 are about as specialized as he ever gets. His close-combat style, the few times it’s come up, has been simple, direct, and pragmatic (though kudos to him managing to steal a rifle right off Tex’s back in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment in the S8 finale). In short, while he’s skilled he’s also nothing like most of the other Freelancers we’ve seen fight: Carolina and her proficiency with multiple unique weapons and acrobatic martial arts; Tex’s heavy powerhouse boxing and apparent invincibility (as well as invisibility); Maine’s mastery with the Brute Shot and power and durability near if not equal to Tex’s, with enough enhancements to power a small army; Wyoming’s sniping and time distortion; North’s shields and gumanship; South’s brawling capabilities...

Basically, in the course of a couple of seasons, badass-with-occasional-bad-days Freelancer Agent Washington comes down a level or two toward normal - someone who maybe fits in better with our team of misfits and goofballs, though there are a few more stumbling blocks along the way, of course.

Then Carolina joins the group - despite a rocky start - and we reach the Chorus Trilogy and see how the writers continue their game of keep-away in order to prevent these Freelancers - one a definite established top-rank fighter, the other a little toned-down but still demonstrably capable of holding his own at the least - from just solving things. 

They have Carolina leave, chasing her own leads and finding her own battles to fight, which puts her neatly out of the picture for a while without requiring the writers to find a way to compromise her far-above-average abilities in order to save opponents for the Gulch crew. Washington, in the meantime, mainly has to deal with things that don’t have to do with fighting off enemies, and when the enemies do come they take him by surprise and/or show up in numbers overwhelming enough - and with technology specialized enough - that between that and a calculated move of self-sacrifice on his part, he’s also removed from events for half a season.

And then, once the story progresses enough that the Freelancers return to the main group, we notice an interesting new theme in their fights with the main Mercenaries: the plans involved largely requiring them to either retreat or, if they engage, to hold back for some higher purpose. They encounter pirates at Crash Site Alpha? They’re caught in a defensive game, standing their ground, hopefully long enough to gain the manifest they came for, and when that fails their best option is to teleport away (not to mention Carolina’s recent leg wound hobbling her both then and later). They fight Locus and Felix at the radio jammer? They can’t go all-out; they need to make the Mercs overconfident in their ability to take them on, so that Felix will leave them to Locus and go blab all their plans on camera - their best shot at stopping the war altogether. Wash runs into Locus on a battleground? He prevails over Locus not by martial ability, outgunned as he is by Locus’ twin advantages of long range and active camouflage, but by pulling a tactical mind game that results in Locus leaving that part of the field rather than continuing to fight, then by taking part in an overall retreat that the tactic bought time for. The Freelancers fight the Mercs once again at the Temple of Destruction? Once again, they’re not fighting to win; they’re only fighting to delay, and the mercenaries each live to see the start of redemption (Locus) or their defeat at the hands of the Reds and Blues themselves (Felix).

(The Sharkface vs Carolina encounters don’t fully count toward the terms of this ramble, as Sharkface isn’t an enemy of the Blood Gulch Crew as a whole, and therefore the narrative didn’t need to ‘save’ him for them to ultimately take down. He was Carolina’s antagonist alone; the writers didn’t need to hold her back from him, and his initial victory over her was mostly there to drive her own character arc on the side and to increase tension for her and for Epsilon.)

So basically, the Chorus Trilogy solved the Freelancer Problem by taking the Freelancers out of the story for a while and by adding external factors to fights against the main antagonists that made it difficult if not impossible for the Freelancers to really lean into said fights as hard as they might’ve been able to. S15 continued this trend, as first the Freelancers followed their own path separate from the crew, then they were incapacitated for a time by Temple’s armor lock, and then - still incapacitated to a degree by hallucinations and physical weakness - Washington was severely injured and rushed off separate from the main group again, while Carolina (also incapacitated but not hallucinating or directly injured at least) took something of a backseat in the fight that followed, participating but not stealing the show in terms of combative action. That was for the BGC to do, in their own varying ways. 

I’m not sure where the story is going from where we are now, but I suspect that these methods - separation, incapacitation, and perhaps the deliberate throwing of fights - will continue to be used. They’ve been pretty handy so far, after all. They’ve just become...a little predictable because of it, I guess.

[redvsbluesecretsanta]

Hi! are you guys planning to do secret Santa this year?

Well now, Anon Friend, Santa is so glad you asked~!

It is my pleasure to announce to you...

**~RvB Secret Santa 2017~**

Here’s what you need to know:

November 27~December 2: Applications OpenDecember 2~December 7: MatchingDecember 7~December 25/26: Make Some Presents!!December 25~December 26: Posting

And now for a refresher course on what we do here at RvBSS!

But what the heck is a Secret Santa?!

A Secret Santa event is where you sign up to receive a present, simultaneously promising that you’ll give a present to someone else!

What kind of present can I get?

You can give and receive fanart, fanfiction, or a playlist this year!For fanfics, we request that you keep the length between 2k and 7k, just to keep things fair! In the same spirit, please make playlists somewhere between 10-15 songs.

Stay tuned, fair folk of RvB! The application to this year’s gift exchange is coming soon, ho ho ho!

As always, feel free to shot us an ask if you have any questions or concerns!

Santa’s Elves,

@hakanakiki & @freshzombiewriter

[arse-blathanna]

Rvb prompt ideas: “and then everything just disappears.” Caboose “and where do i go?” Locus post Chorus

For the Caboose half of this prompt because I haven’t done it yet. This is kind of an older prompt, but I really like it and am finally getting around to it. Thank you for sending these, they’ve both been fun. I hope you like it!

Caboose was sitting there, looking as cheerful as he always did. Blue team had decided that it was time for a meeting so that they could at least figure out what they were doing. Washington wasn't exactly looking forward to that sort of meeting, but he recognized it for what it was: necessary. "If we're going to use a high-power cloaking unit on the base during the next round of capture the flag, then how do we know that it won't backfire on us?" Wash asks, looking over at Carolina because at the end of the day, she still is boss. Even with Project Freelancer years behind them that's never changed. "We don't." "I dunno, Carolina." Tucker groans, stretching out a little too far and making himself comfortable. "The reds are pretty fucking stupid, but I think they'd notice if our base just disappeared." "It would give us an advantage-" Carolina was prepared to rebut Tucker’s claim, but then it was Caboose interrupting.  "I think that we should put it on their base." All of the others in the room's attention snapped over to Caboose because not a single one knew what he was talking about. Already Washington was sure that it was a bad idea, but maybe it wasn't a bad idea to hear Caboose out. "What do you mean, Caboose?" Carolina asked, her voice a little more gentle than it normally would have been. None of the Blues could pretend that they didn't have a soft spot for Caboose, despite everything. "Oh, well you know-" Caboose squirmed in his seat, his permanent smile plastered across his face. "It's just that if we're going to make everything disappear, I think we should make the reds disappear because that way we will win." Carolina hesitated and gave Wash a look that just screamed 'help.' Realizing what it meant, Washington sighed. "Do you think that they would forget where their base is?" "Oh, well, I don't know about that." Caboose said, seemingly off in his own little world. "I just think that if we made our base disappear it would make me very sad because I really like our base." "Dude, our base is a piece of shit." Tucker groaned. "Why are we listening to this idiot?" "He's part of blue team." Wash explained, looking over at Caboose. "You do know that it wouldn't be going away forever, right?" "But we don’t know that!” Caboose cries. “What if we use the special disappearing magic, and then everything just disappears, and I never get to see you guys or stupid Tucker or Freckles ever again?”

And that makes Washington go quiet, if only because he knows that there isn’t a good way to answer for Caboose’s concerns. He sighs and takes his seat next to his friend and reaches out, placing a hand gently on Caboose’s shoulder.

“Caboose, nothing bad will happen to our base, I promise.” Washington glances over at Carolina and Tucker, silently begging them both to help back him up when he needs it. And he’s very sure that it’s coming soon.

Caboose sniffles, and he sounds a little like he’s about to cry. He picks his head up and looked over at Wash with wide, scared eyes. “You promise that I won’t have to lose you?”

“I promise.’ Washington repeated. “We all do. If you’re that worried, you can stay with me during the game, and then you won’t get lost or lose the base. Okay?”

And that seems to calm Caboose down easy enough. He smiles wide. “I think that could work very good, Agent Washingtub!”

“Alright, then.” Wash sighed. “So we’re cloaking Blue Base?”

“If this backfires, I’m blaming you.” Tucker groans.

Carolina’s quiet for a long moment before finally speaking up. “Yes,” She starts. “We’re cloaking Blue Base during our next match of Capture the Flag.”

Want to send me a prompt? Send me a character, ship, or surprise me along with your prompt and I’ll be happy to fill it!

[mlynar-nearl]

Little White Lie

Some of Leonard Church's high school problems include:

Having a crush on one of the guys from athletics, Saying he actually knows things about said crush's athletics, and lying, And being believed.

Me? Posting RVB fic? It’s more likely than you think.

This was a dorky little fluff request for some of my discord buddies who asked me to post it. I haven't posted much rvb stuff before, but I have a few domestic AUs in mind, and there’s so little good good churchwash shit anyway.

So take this.

("I don't know anything about sports but you play sports and I have a big crush on you so I told you that I love sports" AU)

[on ao3!]

"Dude, just fucking talk to him."

Leonard Church, sixteen, groans, dragging one hand down his face. Next to him, leaning on the lockers lining the halls of their high school, is his friend and resident dweeb-who-thinks-he's-cool Lavernius Tucker.

"It is not that easy."

"Sure it is, I do it with chicks all the time."

"Yeah, and you haven't gotten a date in ever."

Tucker shrugs calmly. "But I have gotten laid."

"As if I believe that," Church mutters, shutting his locker.

"Dude, listen. You've had the hots for this guy since the first day of sophomore year, right?"

"Don't remind me."

The guy in question happened to sit next to Church in sophomore english, perfect position for sneaking looks at when the sun by the window would highlight the bleach-blond of his hair.

His name was David Washington, Wash to friends, star goalie for their school's soccer team.

He was also popular and ran with the most famed athletes in the school, which didn't help the nerves involved with actually speaking to the guy on a more common basis.

"He's like, the nicest guy in the room at any given time. Just ask him out for burgers and I'm sure he'll say yes."

"It's not like that," Church mutters, embarrassed. "He's a jock, dude. What the hell do I talk to a jock about."

"Hey, listen. It's the first day of junior year, right? Hit it off with the guy. Ask him about what he does for the soccer team, or whatever. He's a goalie, even you know what that is."

"Okay, yeah, but-"

Tucker grabs Church's schedule out of his hands.

"Look. You have math first period, right?"

"Yeah, and?"

"You know who else has math first period with Mr. Sarge?"

"Oh, no."

"Ohhh, yes. So get in there and talk to him."

"I hate you," Church groans weakly, and Tucker grins.

"Let me know how that goes."

With Church's luck, he ends up sitting next to Wash in math, as well.

Wash looks next to nothing like Church, except in maybe height. Wash is athletic, of course, so toned that it makes Church's mouth go a little dry. Wash is tanned from all the time he's spent in the sun. Wash has freckles across his face and neck and even shoulders- Church knows because last year in spring Wash had worn a particularly revealing tank top that had distracted Church for hours on end. Wash has bright green eyes that shine with wit and intelligence and his hair is bleached blond with a perpetual touch of black roots. Wash is probably some kind of angelic being.

Church, on the other hand, is more fat than muscle anyway. He's not unnaturally pale, but pale in comparison to Wash, with messy dark hair that never quite stays where it should. Patches of stubble are growing in on his jaw, and the bags under his deep blue eyes make it look like he's always pulled an all nighter playing HALO. (So maybe he did the night before. Sue him.)

And Wash is wearing some kind of soccer jersey Church doesn't recognize, and Church is wearing an old zazzle shirt Tucker bought him as a gag gift and a worn blue hoodie and jeans, and Church wants to melt into the floor on the spot, if only that could happen.

Wash looks up as Church approaches his seat (and shit, why are his smiles even perfect?)

"Church!"

Church isn't sure if he's died and gone to heaven, but Wash acknowledging him by name would be one of the signs of that.

"Hey, Wash."

Church isn't even sure how he sounds so casual when he's pretty sure the next five minutes of his life involve him running out the door.

He sits down, though, and Wash gives him another one of those perfect, adorable smiles.

"How was your summer?"

Filled with video games and late nights at Tucker's house to avoid dealing with his family.

"Fine. Uh...yours?"

Wash's eyes light up. "Pretty good. Took a road trip to Disney with some of the guys."

"You did? I, um...didn't think that's what jocks would get up to over the summer."

Wash laughs, and Church swears that no other sound has been so rewarding to hear.

"We're not like most jocks, then, I guess."

"Are, uh...are you doing anything for soccer?" Church asks. "Since it's a spring sport?"

Wash leans back in his seat a bit.

"Well, we're doing some stuff, but nowhere near as intense as when we're in season, obviously. You...like soccer?"

Church has never liked sports. Never seen a game of soccer in his life. Too shy to even go just to watch Wash play.

"Yeah-! Definitely!"

Church wants to kick himself as soon as he hears his traitor mouth trying to impress this boy without his consent.

"You should come to a game sometime, then," Wash says, and Church thinks he might keel over on the spot from how damn excited this boy sounds.

"I'll see what I can do," Church says, weakly, then the bell rings and he has the whole period to watch Wash out of the corner of his eye and regret opening his dumb, gay mouth.

-

"How'd it go?" are the first words out of Tucker's mouth as soon as Church sits down at their bench in the quad.

Church groans, putting his head in his hands.

"That bad?"

"I told him I liked soccer."

"Technically, that's a half truth. You like him."

"I don't know anything about soccer!"

"So you can just come over to my place tonight and watch a bunch of games with me. How hard can it be?"

"He asked me to come to a game."

"That's practically like inviting you inside after a date, dude."

"Shut up."

-

It's spring before Wash pressures Church into making good on his promise to see a game, which gives Church a lot of time.

Church has absolutely never understood why people watch sports. He's begrudgingly respected it since his cousin runs track, but he's never understood it.

"He asked me to come down to the pitch after the game. He's gonna ask me all these soccer questions and I won't know what to say."

"You know how the game works, what's the problem?"

"I'm gonna forget what to say!"

"Compliment. Him. Jesus, you're gone for this dude."

"Shut up."

"Seriously, just-- pick out a few things he did in the game, and compliment him for it. 'Oooh, Wash, you looked so sexy blocking that ball.' That's it."

"I am not saying that."

"Whatever, dude, that would totally get you laid, though. Put your own twist on it, I don't care."

Church splutters.

"You're not even coming with me, are you?"

"Nope!" Tucker grins. "Family's riding me-- bow chicka wow wow- to have a nice family night. So I'm dropping you off and you're on your own."

"You're leaving me to die."

"Absolutely!"

"For the love of god, Tucker-" Church says, interrupted by the car screeching to a halt and Tucker reaching over him to open the passenger door.

"Yeah, Church, for the love of god." Tucker undoes the seatbelt and shoves Church out. "Have fun!"

Church curses as Tucker's sedan peels out of the parking lot.

"That son of a bitch."

-

The game is about as confusing as it's always been, for Church, but the most important thing is that Wash is there. Wash looks good, even better than usual, he looks in his element, really.

Church feels like someone kicked him in the chest.

He's so fucked.

It's late, and it's chilly, when he finally makes his way down to the pitch. The team won, 2-0, Wash a star blocker the whole time.

Church waits at the edge of the astroturf for a few minutes as Wash talks to some of his teammates, before walking over and removing his gloves.

"You came!"

Church's stomach does a backflip.

"Yeah, of course I did." Because I'm head over heels in love with you and would do anything to impress you.

"What'd you think?"

"It was, uh, really good-- nobody even scored against you, uh..."

Church blanks upon making eye contact with Wash, who laughs, leaning in and bumping his shoulder against Church. Church stiffens.

"You know nothing about soccer, huh."

Wash is wearing one of those grins that say that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"And you thought being here tonight would impress me."

"Why'd you think that?"

"Because your cousin told me you have a huge crush on me."

Church lets out a high pitched squeak.

"That bitch!"

"Hey, hey." Wash grabs Church's hand, tugging him closer. "Do...you want me to get you burgers after I wrap up here?"

Church nods, bright red.

"Oh, and Church?"

"Yeah?"

The next thing that runs through Church's mind is that Wash is kissing him, the faint smell of his sweat in the air, and Church feels his hands reaching to grab Wash's.

And it feels like an eternity, an incredible, pleasurable eternity, before Wash pulls back leaving them both panting softly from how long they had spent in contact.

Church looks at Wash with a gaze that he's sure is unguarded, betraying a year's worth of affection and longing.

Wash gives him one of those beautiful, perfect grins.

"I'll be right back."

"Okay," Church says, dazed, but sure that Wash would keep his word.

[Text to: Fucker]

[Don't need to pick me up]

[I have a ride home]

[Text to: Jurch (Jean Church) 👖]

[Oooh, does that mean what I think it does? ;3]

[Text to: Fucker]

[Tell you on Monday.]

[mercenaryg]

Announcement Time!

Alright...so there’s a lot to cover right now, which means I’m going to try to make this as clean as possible, but no promises, this might be a bit of a mess.

First, tomorrow is my birthday, blog included, which means I’m letting you guys kind of ask me anything, if you guys actually want to do that or not, but if you got questions, suggestions, or anything else of that nature, feel free to send me it, I will answer it as quickly as possible.

Second, with my birthday came the season premiere of Red vs. Blue Season 15...which I didn’t know was happening until three days ago, so I’m just going to be posting RvB music along with the normal stuff every weekday for the rest of the month of April. 

Third, I am making a second blog, a sort of ask blog for a story I started writing, one I wanted to have finished by the end of March, but between work and other things, I’m not even halfway done yet. The story itself is called ‘Scattered Petals’, a RWBY AU of my own creation that’s got some pretty crazy stuff going on in it, and I will start taking questions on it as soon as Volume 1 of my stuff is finished...hopefully that will be sooner rather than later. The new blog will be linked later.

Thank you guys for being here for me through this first year of my blog and hopefully I got many more to come.

Your DJ, MercsG.