#zero two emerges with a smile and a halo

[sibillascribbles08]

Feel like I'm on the edge of doing nothing but painting 80 pictures of dark matter from kirby

[dmcfsstory]

Also available on Ao3: [link]

Full Proofreaded by Hotspot-the-626th(@ deviantart)​

Partner Artist: @wikimb​

Word count: 14552

Trigger Warning: Violence/Gore description, Depression/PTSD cases

Back to September 13th - Hell

At the most obscure depths of Hell, loud fight noises could be heard. Many lesser demons and even strong demons were trying to hide from the fight range.

Mundus, the former Demon King, who still carried scars from his fight against Dante and Trish, was getting an ass-kicking from an unknown creature. The being had three pairs of wings, a snake-ish body, and two pairs of arms holding two silver swords within one set and a longbow with the other. Its body was covered in snow-white feathers with golden details so finely detailed that it seemed to be hand-draw. It had a female humanoid face, with an owl beak in the middle of the lips, and very long blood-red feathers came from its head, looking like hair. Finally, it had a bone formation over the head that looked like an angel's halo.

The being wasn't having trouble fighting Mundus. It was having fun. It threw him really hard on the ground, making some scars open and showing a bit of Mundus' true form under it.

"What… What are you doing here?" Mundus asked, out of breath and terrified.

The creature took their top left hand to cover their mouth while it was laughing out loud. "Hahaha, isn't it simple? you still own me!"

"No! I-!" Mundus barely could reply before having his face buried into the ground by the creature's hands, which were only half his size.

The smile on the creature's face vanished, and now it was a furious look as if someone clicked a button on its mind.

"Listen here! You piece of shit!" it shouted, "You had one job! ONE FUCKING JOB! And not even with two powerful weapons on your side could you make it work!"

Mundus couldn't respond. His shame for losing to a Sparda ascendant was more significant than his courage to face the white creature.

"This is a two-part deal, remember?! You got the coolest part! Mine was so fucking boring!" It continued to scream at him.

"What… do you want…?" Mundus asked, very ashamed.

The creature gave a very questionable smile and then said, getting closer to Mundus' face, "let's remake our deal…"

??? - ??:??

It was a humid, dark, and cold forest. There was a rain scent in the air. The treetops were dense that the grayish sky above could be barely seen, and just a dim light illuminated a few spots around. Through the dark paths between the tall trees, a loud and desperate crying of a human child could be heard.

Vergil found himself in this odd place. He looked around confused; what happened? Wasn't he just at the Qliphoth base among Dante?

But he felt like the child's crying was calling him; that sound gave him an odd urge to follow it.

In a sprint, he began to run the fastest he could. The more he ran inside the forest, the more the man felt he was being watched by not just one, but countless presences as if he was in the middle of a big city.

Still running, he looked to his sides and behind himself, but he couldn't see anything else aside from the deep darkness within the forest.

That didn't stop him from following the child's crying.

He continued to run the fastest he could, but he started to abnormally get tired quickly. Once he began to lose his breath, the scenery around him began to look different. The trees assumed a distorted shape, the bark turned white with screaming faces carved on them, and the branches looked like arms and legs. There were no leaves anymore. He could now see blood veins connecting the trees, and it was getting dimmer and dimmer. The place was getting hotter and the air heavier.

It was getting difficult for him to breathe properly and his legs burning tired as if he was climbing a mountain. He had to stop to catch a breath, or his body would do so by itself.

When he tried to stop, he nearly stumbled on his feet. The man had to hang his hands on his knees, and he was sweating and breathing heavily.

"Just a quick pause, I need… air," he thought.

*Crack*

The sound of crackling wood came from much closer than the child's cry.

*Crack crack* again.

When he noticed, the trees' arms and legs moved, trying to stretch and reach him out. The faces started to move, and blood began to come out of them. The trees also began to make loud noises as if they were screaming, muffing a bit the child's cry from Vergil's hearing.

He didn't have time to watch that grotesque scene; he had to find the crying child. He didn't catch enough breath, but he started to run all over again.

The heavy and hot air wasn't letting him run at the same efficiency as before. But as he continued on his path, the trees were shaking more aggressively. More blood dripped out of it until he was stepping in large pools of blood, making running much more difficult for him.

The lack of oxygen started to make him dizzy. His vision blurred, not letting him see a white crystal-shaped stone in the ground that he stumbled over.

He fell flat on the blood-soaked ground. His body was weakened, and he could barely move. But even between the screams of the trees, he could still hear the child crying, this time much closer.

With all the strength he had, he directed it to his arms. It was like a heavy stone was over him. He did everything in his power to get up. He eventually started doing so but slowly.

Suddenly, he felt his body being dragged down; he looked back in a hurry to see what it was. Human-shaped forms were coming from below the blood pool. To be precise, the figures were the humans from Redgrave City that the Qliphoth had turned into - empty and dried, dark bloody red carcasses.

He tried to Devil Trigger in a desperate move, but none of his demonic magic responded, and then all of his legs were taken under the blood. He wasn't sinking fast, but very slowly, fuelling his panic.

He didn't have Yamato with himself either, and neither could summon it.

Looking around, in front of him, he could spot many black and white crystal-like formations. He extended his left hand, reaching a white crystal, but it was fragile and shattered the moment he'd put his hands on it.

More of the Qliphoth's victims emerged from the blood, this time coming entirely out of the pool. They walked towards Vergil and began to step on him, making him sink faster.

He tried to fight them, but his body was weak. He had zero strength to even break the thin material of the moving carcasses.

One of the carcasses above the blood raised their feet and straight-up stepped on Vergil's head, sending him ultimately down the blood.

More of the victims started to appear under the blood and began to drag him down faster. He could do nothing except to drown in the freezing cold blood.

When everything seemed to be lost, a child's hand came from above the pool, grabbing Vergil's left hand.

The child easily brought him up.

Once his face met the air, he took a deep breath and regained all his strength.

"You okay, Sir?" the child asked.

Vergil quickly took off the liquid from his eyes. It wasn't blood anymore, just normal cold water.

The first thing he saw was the kid: a little boy, around six years old with peach skin and silver hair like his, as well as sky-blue eyes. He was wearing worn-out clothes, something he probably found in the trash or something.

He concluded that he was in a fountain with a statue that resembled Sparda in the middle after looking around. The water wasn't so deep; it was around his belly as he was in a sitting position. The buildings around were very familiar, a Victorian style of construction, much like how he remembered Fortuna. It was night time; the only illumination was from the lamp posts.

"Sir?" the little boy called Vergil's attention.

Vergil took a better look at the kid; he felt his heart being stung by the boy's eyes. Something about him appeared to be different from all the other kids he had seen through his time. He got mesmerized by the gleam in the kid's eyes, it had so much life in it, but the rest of his body was so messed up and dirty.

The kid looked at him, confused. He was totally lost in what Vergil was doing in that fountain. Why was he staring at him like that?

"Who are you?" the boy asked, snapping Vergil back.

As he got up, he presented himself, "My name's Vergil. And you?"

The kid stepped back as Vergil got out of the fountain; still a bit confused, the kid said low, "Mah… mah name is… Nero."

Vergil took a delay to process the name in his mind.

"Thank you for hel-… Nero?!" he yelled, surprised, looking at the boy.

Nero got a bit scared and stepped further away from Vergil.

Understanding the boy's reaction, Vergil took a breath to calm down. He then kneeled to look at Nero at his eyes' height. He extended his right hand to call him closer and said in a tender voice, "Nero… This may sound sudden… but… I'm your father."

Nero's scared face turned into confusion and skepticism.

"You? My Daddy? That's not funny," He said dryly while he pointed at Vergil with all the sassiness of a legit Sparda.

Vergil didn't expect such a reaction, and he replied a bit embarrassed, "Yes… your biological father… I made you with your mother..."

Nero kept staring at him confused, he didn't want to get closer either. He looked at Vergil as if he was crazy or drunk.

"Nero? Who's him?" another voice, practically the same as Vergil's, came from behind.

Vergil got confused just by the voice, but when he turned back, he got thousand times more confused: There was a man in fancy winter clothes that looked almost like him, just a bit older, with a very short beard and his hair was part silver and part black, brushed backward like Vergil's but just a bit messier. His right eye was blue like his, but his left eye was of a bright caramel color. He also had a freshly cut wound crossing his right cheek, and his face and clothes were all dirty from some sort of a fight.

Vergil could also notice a katana in its scabbard, tied to the man's waist. The guard had an odd moon drawing. The white cord wrapping and handle had black paintings similar to a tiger's stripes. And the pommel had a keychain with a jewel very similar to the Perfect Amulet's golden part Vergil once had.

Vergil had to keep his guard on; that guy probably knew how to sword fight.

"Daddy!" Nero yelled with the purest happiness and ran towards the man.

Vergil got up slowly, staring confused at the man, not understanding what kind of doppelganger shit was happening.

"Hehehe! Hey! My baby!" The man yelled happily.

He got Nero up to his arms, and they hugged very tightly. The man even gave a few kisses on the kid's head, making him giggle happily.

"Who the hell are you?!" Vergil demanded.

The man gave a very suspicious smile at Vergil and responded calmly with a bit of sass in the tone, "Haven't you heard? I'm Nero's dad… but you can call me 'Shooting Star Man.'"

"What the…?" Vergil blurted. "I am Nero's father! Who the hell are you, again?!" he yelled out of patience.

"Are you tho?" Shooting Star Man replied with a mocking smile on the face.

"I don't like him... He's scary," Nero said low, hiding his face on Shooting Star Man's shoulder.

That was like a headshot from a bazooka. Vergil barely interacted with the child and already gave him a bad impression.

"Nero…" Vergil whispered disappointedly.

"Are you really his father?" Shooting Star Man asked.

Vergil answered without thinking twice, "Yes! I am!"

The man started to walk around Vergil's right side slowly, giggling in a mocking tone. Vergil didn't dare engage in combat; the man began to release a very intimidating aura, pretty much like Vergil's but many times more potent. His eyes also turned bright green, and his scleras assumed a four-pointed star shape. He had not just demonic magic, but another Vergil couldn't identify what it was, except that it wasn't demonic at all. He already looked like a formidable opponent just by that.

"So…" the man began, now sounding rather serious. "You seriously call yourself this child's father… when you had ripped off his arm?!"

The man turned so Vergil could see Nero's right arm; he didn't have his arm from the elbow below anymore. The amputated area was all covered with lots of bandages. The child was now crying in pain, shocking Vergil even more than the apparition of a modified clone of himself.

Vergil couldn't speak, only stutter in shock and confusion.

"How could you?!" The man accused while trying to comfort Nero.

"But…" Vergil didn't know what to say to defend himself. "I didn't know he was my son back then!"

"That's no excuse, and you know that." Shooting Star Man retorted but remained composed.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the place was Nero's sobbing and sniffing.

"You knew you had other options to help you in that situation. Why did you choose the Qliphoth one?"

Even with the man threatening Vergil, he couldn't stop looking at Nero. The kid was really in pain about the lost arm, and Vergil never felt so guilty about something he did before.

"Stop…just... give Nero to me...please," Vergil begged.

"Just for power? To fill an empty space inside you?!" Shooting Star Man continued.

"Stop!" Vergil yelled.

"You allowed your fears to blind you! You were looking for something you always had!" The man shouted with confidence

"STOOOOOOP!" Vergil screamed at least and, blinded by rage, he sprinted to attack the man.

He was able to summon Yamato midway, and he swung his sword with all the strength he got when he was aiming precisely at the man's right arm.

At the last second, the man parried the attack with his sword. Vergil didn't even see the movement of his arm to get the weapon.

Shooting Star Man's katana's blade seemed to be made out of diamond. Apparently, blue and golden magic energy was flowing inside of it, resembling a space nebula.

Tsukuyomi

Category: unknown

Type: unknown

User(s): Shooting Star Man

Description: A beautiful sword that shines like the clearest night sky filled with stars and galaxies till where the eye can see.

Vergil didn't have time to admire the opponent's weapon. He was too focused on getting Nero back. The man continued to swing his sword in many attempts to wound Shooting Star Man. Still, he was able to entirely deflect and parry every single attack.

Over the head, to the waist, knees, feet, it didn't matter; Vergil couldn't make a single scratch. And the man was using only one hand to swing his sword, while the other was holding Nero - that was watching everything.

In one last attempt to cut the man in half, Vergil put all his strength in one swing. Unfortunately, he was parried once more, and this time the man threw him and his sword backward, almost making him stay down on his knees.

One thing Vergil only noticed after the last attack was the diamond sword's blade form: the blade was smaller, the length of a dagger by now, the rest disappeared.

As he paid more attention to his surroundings, he could see countless little diamond pieces floating in the air around him.

Shooting Star Man turned to Nero and whispered tenderly, "Don't look at it now, my baby."

Nero gently covered his eyes with his left hand and hid his face on the man's shoulder.

Vergil was out of action. He couldn't channel his magic for what he wanted to use it for - he could only use Yamato as an ordinary sword… if he had it in his hands.

"You have made your choices…" the man said.

"...now let the stars judge you..." he said, pointing the broken sword at Vergil.

Everything happened in a matter of half a second or less. The diamond pieces glowed in bright white light, and faster as lighting, they slashed and pierced Vergil through every part of his body.

He felt like he received his own finishing move - Judgment Cut End - many times but as smaller cuts.

He fell to the ground, bathed in his blood. He didn't have any more part of his skin and clothes in one piece, and his internal organs were like swiss cheese. Luckily, only his head didn't receive such severe damage. And since his brain was intact, he was still conscious.

The Man got slowly closer to him and didn't let Nero watch that horrific scene. The small pieces of the blade quickly returned to the handle and formed the sword again as if it never had shattered.

Vergil's blood began to form a vast pool around him and the same human carcasses from inside the blood from before started to rise, using his blood as material.

There were countless more, probably all the victims from the demonic tree, under and deep down the pool.

"Their blood is your blood now," the man said stoically.

Vergil couldn't move his body, but he could see and listen to what was happening.

"What are you gonna do about that?" The man asked.

When the man's presence got closer, Vergil saw Urizen, and he was now V - wearing Vergil's clothes.

They were both now at the dead and dry place inside Vergil's mind.

Urizen kept staring at V's bleak picture in the bloody ground.

"How long will you insist on this?" Urizen asked, his voice sounded sad instead of the usual confidence.

V could do nothing except stare at the demon. He barely could keep his eyes open.

"All of your ideas only brought pain and sorrow to this place. You know we don't deserve friends… a family…" Urizen said with grief.

-a pause-

"Love…"

Urizen got very close to V and raised his right foot over V's body.

"Enough of your human fantasies," he said slowly...

...And went to step on V with all his strength.

Hell - Next day - Day time… probably…

Vergil woke up in a blast. His heart was racing insanely; his arms and legs were shaking like thin branches in a storm. He was so nervous he had difficulty catching a breath; he was breathing heavily, and his body was stiff.

That dream was so vivid that it looked like it was real.

He didn't even pay attention to what was covering him. He just dragged the supposed blanket over his shoulder, cuddling himself tightly in an attempt to find some comfort and calm down.

Until a robust putrid scent snapped him back to his senses: he was covered by Dante's leather coat.

He may be on alert all time, but something he never stopped to pay attention was his and Dante's scent; his brother hasn't taken a bath in a month… or more. Now him… What was soap like? It's been years since he cleaned himself good enough to call it "bathing."

The smell was twisting his stomach. He had to take in some air, but he noticed a magical barrier when he looked outside. The energy from it seemed to be from Dante, which was also nowhere to be found.

A few minutes later...

Vergil didn't take off Dante's jacket from his back to keep himself warmer. He kept long minutes thinking about that dream: why Nero rejected him like that? The Qliphoth's victims were angry at him… and his… doppelganger? Clone? Shooting Star Man's image and power level were too scary to think about it without losing sanity.

"Hey! You woke up!" Dante's voice came from the other side of the barrier, bringing Vergil's attention back to reality. Surprisingly, he was dragging a dead Riot by the leg with him.

"I brought lunch!" He yelled with a smile, raising his prey's dead body.

Void - next day - 08:37AM - Victor's laboratory

Victor, Kyrie, and Nico took Nero, still unconscious, to Victor's laboratory to examine him better.

The place was located on the city's outskirts, in the middle of the remaining natural forest near the town. The building loosely resembled a Port's shed; made out of concrete, the first floor had a very high ceiling(around ten meters high). The second floor had an average height(nearly three meters high).

The first floor seemed to have come out of an old horror movie about some crazy scientist. The walls were painted dark gray that even with the white LED lights, the place still looked dark - there were only a few small windows at the top of the walls that barely could let some sunlight come in.

A top-notch air conditioning system was keeping the huge place fresh.

There weren't walls to make rooms. It did have countless high shelves and glass cabinets with many demonic samples arranged like a small labyrinth, taking up three-quarters of the place. Many had orbs, stuffed little demons and heads or just a random piece of bigger ones. On the shelves were also bottles that held demon appendages and/or organs in a conventional liquid. There were also countless blocks of papers and books.

Sharing space with the labyrinth, there was a shiny ironed, steampunk-like scientific machinery that created a contrast with the multi-colored demonic things. The equipment didn't look modern aside from the computers and giant screens at the remaining quarter of space left. All that could be used to do experiments with whatever demons it had.

Kyrie was only able to help take Nero to that place thanks to her surprising physical strength. After that, she could only observe Victor and Nico trying to examine and take care of her boyfriend.

For some reason, Victor gave the day off to all his assistants. So he had to take care of Nero alone with Nico only.

Nero was sleeping like a rock, and Victor was very thankful for that. He could use the energy readers on his chest and head to better examine his magic without worrying about some sort of rebellion. Visually, the readers were precisely like a Holter Monitor's electrodes.

Nero's physical health was worrisome as Victor suspected: he was underweight, his ribcage was clearly visible, but fortunately, he wasn't anorexic… yet. It was impressive for Victor how Nero could still fight demons. However, Nico pointed out that his efficiency in battles dropped significantly.

Victor theorized that it was because of his desync problem. It is incredibly stressful on the body. But Nico also thought that Nero's mental state could also be its cause because, since the Orphanage Incident, Nero's behavior changed drastically.

Unfortunately, nothing could be pointed as the real reason until the exams are concluded.

While Victor was waiting for some programs to do their job, he turned at Kyrie using his office chair. He looked at her earnestly and then asked, "Please, be honest… Are you a demon? Or a hybrid?"

Kyrie stared at him, confused and at the same time worried. She honestly didn't know how to answer anymore. The last time she checked, she was human, but she wasn't sure anymore after the previous night's events.

Nico was closer to Victor, who was apprehensive, but she decided to let Kyrie tell the story.

Having noticed Kyrie and Nico's apprehensiveness, Victor asked calmly, "so… you don't know?"

Surprised by the doctor's sharp eyes, she couldn't do much except stare at him with eyes wide open. She knew lying wouldn't help; the only option was to tell the truth. "Yes… I don't know anymore," she said in a confused yet sad tone.

Victor took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "Well… let's go slower then... -ahem- how did you get your demonic magic?"

Now that question was more challenging than the previous, making Kyrie more nervous. She started to stutter and scratch her head as she looked away, trying to come up with answers. Nico wanted to respond, but she was able to contain herself for now.

"I guess… it was right after I woke up from the coma a few weeks ago..." she responded with a bit of confusion.

Victor's eyes filled with curiosity; a human turning into a hybrid or even a complete demon without dying a short time after was quite rare.

"Why were you in a coma?" he asked.

"Demons… some kind of 'smart demons' attacked the people of the orphanage I used to work… They severely wounded me when I tried to protect the children." she tried to explain.

"What do you mean by 'smart demons'?" Victor asked curiously.

But Nico had to interfere this time, "That was me that called them like that, Uncle. They were very different from anything I ever saw or studied. They worked like a human team would, and they were even willing to make sacrifices for whatever it was their objective or to protect each other…"

Victor was indeed surprised by Nico's statement. Such description about demons wasn't standard, but that was a discussion for another moment; Kyrie was the focus.

"That's really odd, but let's talk about that after this…" he said calmly. "So, they used some magic on you?" he then asked Kyrie.

"No… only their claws and chains," she replied with a bit of unease to remember that event.

She was thoughtful and quiet for a few seconds. Then gently, she took off the feather from Nero's wing off her hairpin, undoing her look. "But… I can feel my magic acting strange, and sometimes it's even a bit painful when I stay away from Nero's magic for too long."

That last statement made some gears start to work on Victor's brain. However, on the other side, Nico was getting nervous knowing how her uncle would react after getting the knowledge about a particular fact.

"Wait… what?" Victor blurted with confusion. "So… your magic has some relation with Nero's? He did something with you magically?" he asked, worried about the incoming answer.

"No…" Kyrie said with a bit of confusion. "Well… aside the Orbs he tried to use on me while I was in a coma."

Victor massaged his nose bridge nervously, raising up his glasses a bit to do so while making some grumbling noises. After that, he said between pauses, but keeping his composure, "Only demons… can use orbs… it was before that then…"

Nico had enough of holding her anxiety. She couldn't wait anymore for the scold she knew she would get. Slowly, she tried to get into the conversation, but speaking very apprehensively, "She… she received blood transfusion.. from...Nero a-after the attack on the or-rphanage, Uncle V-Vic..."

He kept in dead silence for a moment. Nico was already squinting her eyes and clenching her jaw nervously; her body was stiff while she waited for his reaction. Seeing Nico's behavior, Kyrie started to get nervous too. Still, in her case, without knowing why she just felt like something terrible was coming.

If Victor was a computer, a sound of dial-up internet loading could be heard coming from him. He was thoughtful yet scared; he was staring at the void, trying to process that information.

Nico felt Victor's pressure over her soul already without looking face-to-face yet, the man was quiet and immovable.

By only moving his feet, he made his chair turn in Nico's direction. The more he turned, the more the girl was cold, sweating nervously. Victor's reaction wasn't a surprise, she was already waiting for that, but she didn't want to see it.

He was staring at her intensively, looking straight at her eyes.

"Did you let them do a blood transfusion from a hybrid to a vo-void? And blo-blood from a-a Sparda?" He hadn't yelled but spoke in such a severe tone that it made it seem Nico had killed someone.

"Do you know the consequences?" Victor asked, keeping his posture.

Nico moved her head slightly to the sides with a bit of reluctance, denying her uncle's question.

"S-So do I!" He finally yelled; tension and confusion were clearly noticeable in his voice. "Who knows w-w-what can happ-pen as a consequence of a blood tran-transfusion! And from such a strong being! A Sparda's ascendant! They can't e-even breed with a Void! for bein a-a H-Hybrid!"

Kyrie's world stopped during the last lines from the scientist; it was true then? She and Nero can't have their own children because of what they are? Unfortunately, most of what happened during her so short pregnancy was starting to make sense, the pain and uneasy out of time... the miscarriage…

"They can't what?" Nico interrupted Kyrie's desperate thoughts with a blurted question to her uncle.

"You didn't know?" he asked back, a bit confused but not so surprised.

"That's why… we can't have children?" Kyrie said without looking at the doctor; she already had red-ish teary eyes. Her hands were sweating cold as her heart was racing just to remember the painful day of the miscarriage.

"Oh no..." Victor whispered when he saw Kyrie's depressive image. "Have you two already tried?"

"Th-they tried once…" Nico said a bit awkwardly, holding her stuttering.

Victor felt sorry, but he couldn't do much to help Kyrie in that situation, aside from trying to explain why such an unfortunate event happened. "I'm sorry, but that's how nature works… hybrids can only breed with other hybrids. The same goes for 'pures,' they can only breed with other pures. If something happens outside of this rule, it's because it had some interference… like…ritual spells, scientific experiments, etc."

Kyrie didn't respond, just continued to stare at the void. Her face was the perfect description of sadness and despair. As some tears started to form in her eyes, she quickly took them off using the sleeve's end of her jacket. That information was quite hurtful, she and Nero were planning to have a child of their own for nearly a year, and suddenly their dream was shattered into small pieces. They had names planned, bedroom designs, how they would do when Nero had to leave to work, lots of money saved, and so on… but nothing of that mattered anymore.

A freezing chill suddenly rose up on Nico's spine. She remembered her talk with Nero before the incident, making her very worried about the boy more than she already was. Nero was already in a terrible mental state. If he discovers that his suspicion was correct, he definitely will drop dead in despair. That left her in doubt if they really should tell him that after he wakes up.

But what nobody expected was that Nero was listening to all of that final part of the conversation. He just hadn't spoken or moved because of the heavy fatigue over his body and mind.

Nero let go a cracking snort out, loud enough for the others to hear it when they stopped talking. They all turned at him at the same moment, everyone staring with eyes wide open. Nico even jaw dropped scared; she barely thought of the possible incoming problem, and here it was, kicking the door with both feet.

Nero could feel all of his muscles very stiff as he slowly tried to sit up. His body was in total stress because of his unstable magic. It was like he hadn't moved in a month. He couldn't even imagine doing stretches. If he tried so, probably his muscles would break out of their strings. He could snap a joint or two; his neck and shoulders made loud noises as if they actually had broken. During those cracking sounds, he'd let go very tired and annoyed grumbles.

It took a significant delay, for he had noticed the electrodes all over his chest and head. He looked at them with confusion; his face clearly said, "what the fuck is this?" and with zero caution, he took them off, nearly invalidating the apparatus. Loud error beeps came from Victor's computer screens at the same moment. Nico rushed to shut down the program and stop the ear-hurting noises.

Victor couldn't contain his annoyance and blurted out loud, angry words, "What are you doing?! I was doing critical exams on you! Get back in there!"

Nero turned his tired gaze at him, his eyes squinting of so much fatigue. He didn't say a thing, he only slightly moved his right hand up, and with shaking fingers, he raised the middle finger to Victor. He let go a subtle, muffled giggle with a mischievous smile, mocking the man for no reason.

The doctor didn't get offended; instead, he stared at the ill boy with confusion. He wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he knew he wouldn't get an answer. Nero's mind obviously wasn't where it should be right now.

For a brief moment, Nero stood quiet in place, head down, his upper body was -visibly- softly swinging back and front with his own breath. At the same time, his arms were thrown down like a plush doll's and his back arched forwards. He barely could keep his eyes open. They were dry, blood-red, and empty. He honestly looked like he was having a hangover and could throw up or faint again at any moment.

He was indeed in a lethargic mood.

"Nero…?" Kyrie said in a grievous whispering.

Nero began to giggle again in response to Kyrie's call, low and drunk-ish giggling, slightly choking with his own saliva between a few pauses to breathe.

"I had...a dream…" he began to speak in pauses, his voice fading weak. "My dad… was beating… Vergil's ass… hehe..." he finished with a broken smile, without taking his eyes out of the void.

"What?" both Nico and Victor said together.

"Shooting Star Man?" Kyrie let go without thinking twice.

"Yeah…" Nero said with a smile on his mouth, but his eyes were clearly showing sadness.

"Nero… Shooting Star Man was-" before Kyrie could even finish her phrase, Nero quickly interrupted, aiming an angry gaze at her.

"Shooting Star Man was not a dream!" he yelled with a trembling, almost crying, voice. "He exists! And he's my real dad! Not…the fucking… Vergil…" and a tear rolled down on his cheek.

"Foolishness…" he mumbled, returning his eyes to nothingness.

Hell - Daytime apparently - "same moment"

The twins were still at the same place, inside of a made-up cavern on a huge dying root of the Qliphoth. Dante's magical barrier was still up. A simple but very effective spell he learned with Trish, closing the entrance for other demons don't come to annoy them while they eat their lunch.

They weren't talking with each other. They were quietly eating the meat from the demon Dante had hunted down. Each of them had roasted their parts the way they like it using fire magic.

At every bite Dante did, he made a face of total disgust, squinting his entire face as if eating a pure lemon. The meat tasted awful; it was definitely the worst food he ever ate. He was swallowing every bite almost wholly because he couldn't stand the taste.

On the other hand, Vergil was eating like a savage. Using his teeth from his (standard)Devil Trigger form to eat, he looked like he was barely chewing his food and more like swallowing it whole. The man had barely cooked the Riot meat; there was demon blood dripping down his chin and hands. It looked like he hadn't eaten in days, if not weeks. He was almost done with his part his share, while Dante wasn't even at half of his yet.

Dante couldn't believe in his eyes; never in his head passed the idea of his brother, a person so collected and disciplined, to be acting like a wild beast.

Although, he had folded his coat's arms until the elbow and had taken off the gloves to avoid dirty them while he eats. But there was a detail that gained Dante's attention: Vergil's lower arms looked too skinny, very likely how he remembered V's arms. That made him think that his brother wasn't in good physical health, but he wouldn't ask his brother to just simply take his shirt out to confirm that.

He decided to talk about that another moment, having in mind what happened last night.

"How… how can you eat this food like this?" he asked instead, still dumbfounded while staring somewhat scared at Vergil.

Vergil suddenly stopped eating and looked at Dante with a surprised face. His mouth was so full that his cheeks were puffed up, lots of blood around his mouth and dripping down his chin and hands. He had a quick look at Dante's food. He wasn't paying attention to it and was surprised that his brother hadn't eaten, not even half of it.

Dante couldn't help but stare, scared at that odd and savage image of his older brother.

Vergil gave a big swallow to put everything in his mouth down. He then said stoically, looking at the big piece of meat in his hands he was holding by the bone. "You get used to the taste of it… there will be a moment your tongue will start ignoring it," and he took another bite.

That was a bit unexpected, but at the same time, it wasn't. After last night's story, Dante was more aware that Vergil had a though life trying to survive the consequences of his own acts. But still… used to eat raw meat? Vergil was so focused on his demon side like that? Or was it something else?

"I'm starting to envy you, to be honest," Vergil suddenly broke Dante's thoughts.

Dante turned his gaze from his piece of awful food to his older brother. Vergil had left his ordinarily stoic face and was staring emotionless at his piece of meat half-eaten.

The younger brother's silence made it clear he didn't understand what his older brother just said.

"You have friends… a cool job... -a pause- you didn't have to worry about… surviving all the time…" Vergil said with a bit of sadness in his voice. "You had a family by your side…"

Dante takes a moment to realize what he meant by that last line, "You mean Nero?" he asked just to confirm.

"Yes… I envy you for that… I don't think I ever will experience such moments…" Vergil said with grief as he recalled the dream he had earlier.

Such a statement did sting Dante with suspicion. He really didn't like how that sounded. He started to look for words to describe his feelings towards that, but he was too confused to make up something at that moment.

He couldn't speak, only look at random directions as if searching for some inspiration.

Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything, and they spent the following minutes of their lunch in silence.

After finishing his share, Vergil licked his fingers and hands, not because the food was good, it was just to clean them out before wearing his gloves again. To clean his face from the demon blood, he did very like how a cat would do; by licking the side of his hand and passing thought where he wanted to clean: his cheeks, chin, and mouth.

Meanwhile, Dante couldn't eat all of his shares and just simply tossed, with no difficulty, the leftovers very far to outside their hideout(without vanishing the magical barrier). He cleaned his hands on his coat anyway.

There was dead silence between them once again, that same awkward silence from the previous day.

Dante was finally coming up with something to ask his brother. Still, he was a bit reluctant this time because of how much Vergil scared and worried him talking about his life. He had to find a way to touch the wounds with more caution than before.

He pretended he would start talking a few times, opening his mouth to speak and turning to look at Vergil, but he ended up giving up.

Vergil only stared at him with suspicion and waiting for a conversation to start, but it never came.

Finally, when Dante moved to start a conversation for real, something called the attention of both at the same time:

"Dante…!"

"Vergil…!"

A weak and tired voice of a woman echoed in their heads out of nowhere.

They both stared at each other scared, they didn't need words, only their look exchange told each other that they heard the same thing.

The voice called them again, but this time a bit louder and clearly in a panic:

"Dante! Vergil! I need your help, please…"

They jumped out of their place and stood up. Vergil looked around the area for some demon that was possibly messing up with them, but Dante stared at the void; that voice was somewhat familiar.

"Kyrie?" he asked in the air.

"Nero's girlfriend?" Vergil blurted, remembering that Nero told him her name back when he was V.

"Nero is gonna die… help! Please!" she said in a sobbing and panicking voice.

Void - same day - 09:00 AM - Victor's Laboratory

Among Nico, Victor was trying to put the electrodes back on Nero for the exam to restart. But he didn't want to collaborate. The man was waving his arms towards them to shove them away every time they touched him or just got closer. While he did so, he was groaning like a stubborn child that didn't want to do what the adults were trying to make him do.

Kyrie tried to talk with him many times, but he wasn't listening to her too. He was avoiding eye contact altogether.

They could only put two, out of the eight, electrodes on Nero the moments before he -inexplicably- started to act like that. One in his right temple and the other at the left side of his chest.

Such behavior was quite shocking, especially for Kyrie. Nero was behaving like a sad and scared child. He was curling up in himself, an attempt to look smaller. His arched back let his spine be more visible under the skin of his skinny body, giving him a more decaying image than before. He got his left arm wrapped around his belly and his right arm over his head, trying to hide his face from the others. He was sitting over his left leg, and the right one was bent up for the knee to help hide his face. He was breathing heavily and pacing fast between groans of a supposed crying being held with all of his mental strength left. He was shivering entirely, almost like he was feeling super cold.

Victor took a step closer to the boy with an electrode in hand. Nero could see him through a small opening between his arm and knee.

"Stay away! Stay away!" he begged in a crumbling voice, curling up even more.

Victor said nothing and stepped back cautiously, only to look at the girls and face anxious looks. After all… they saw a loved one in front of them in a terrible mental and physical situation. Kyrie was on the edge of a panicked crying.

Feeling defeated, Victor asked the ill boy, "okay… what do you want for you to cooperate with us?"

Without leaving his fetal position, Nero's breath accelerated a bit, cold and big tears went down his cheeks. "I want… I want my… dad… my dad… the… Shooting Star Man..." and he started sobbing.

Victor let out a long sigh. He shook his head and took off his glasses. He pressed his nose bridge between his eyes and closed them hard, trying to contain himself for not responding to Nero as if he was sane.

Both Kyrie and Nico couldn't move their eyes away from that decaying person they always knew as a tough and prideful man. Such a situation made them think, "he has been hiding those feelings all this time?", "that's how he truly feels inside?" and "why did he never tell us about that?"

Kyrie let a tear escape thinking about it, but she cleared it quickly. She must be strong; otherwise, she wouldn't be able to help Nero.

Victor put his hands on his waist. Sounding a bit impatient, he asked the girls, "Well then… this totally looks like it is a serious PTSD case, is there something I don't know yet? I have a friend that's a renowned therapist. She can help him out too."

The girls exchanged thoughtful looks, thinking about something they could reveal so the doctor can have a better north about what to do next.

Meanwhile, he walked towards a shelf near the computers. Nico accompanied him with her head only and saw him taking off a sedative glass bottle out of an aluminum box.

She gasped silently and walked to him quickly. "Are you sure this is necessary?" she almost whispered, astonished by her uncle's decision.

"Do you know a better option?" he whispered in a nervous yet worried voice. "He's definitely not in the mental state for this, but I need to finish those exams so I can know how to aid him until Vergil and Dante come back."

Nero could hear them talking with his demonic super hearing, and once he heard "Vergil," his heart raced insanely.

Kyrie could hear them too, but not so clear like Nero. She couldn't understand what was going on, but it wasn't good.

Without leaving his position, Nero began to look in front of him for a way to escape: he'd spot his coat in a hanger and his boots under it near some kind of automatic double door. But how would he run away quickly? Victor surely would know how to stop him.

Only if he could touch him, he realized. He then had an idea that would make them all probably mad, but he *had* to get it out of there in his mind.

He heard their steps on the cold concrete floor getting closer. One thing he couldn't see was the syringe in Victor's hands.

He couldn't wait any longer.

In a second, his hair and all of his body hair turned black. Everyone noticed that an instant before the computer began to make very loud emergency warnings, taking the attention off him for his luck.

Sounds of crackling flames called out the others' attention back. They could see a large red flame passing through a small gap in the middle of the exit door for just a few seconds.

Both Nero and his coat and his boots had disappeared; only the electrodes were left in the chair.

"OH SHIT! NO!" Victor yelled, presuming the flames he saw were Nero.

Nico had stopped the machine's loud noises in a hurry, just to finally read the message on the screen that said: "MAGIC SIGNAL LOST."

The living red flames flew through the woods behind the laboratory, going in the direction of the city. After a minute or two, the fire gained a precise shape, and Nero materialized himself out of it, with his coat and boots in hands.

Not only his hair and body hair were with a different color, but his eyes also changed. They went from the typical sky blue to a bright emerald green color.

He was breathing hard and out of energy, his eyes swollen and red, eyebags dark like Vergil's, and his face tired like never before. He couldn't stand up and threw his body over his knees, but his arms faltered, and he kissed the grassy ground.

He cursed in a whisper and slowly got up, squinting his face at every move because of the pain. His body was so weakened, so exhausted, he wished he just could lay there and cease to exist.

At a slow pace, he wore his jacket, zipping it to feel a bit warmer and then wore his boots. Then his hair and eyes' color returned to the usual silver and sky blue, respectively. Thanks to upgrades on his weapons made by Nico, he summoned Devil Queen and Carnage Rose from the van to his hands as if they were Devil Arms.

He heard his name being called by Kyrie far away in the woods, he couldn't let her find him, or she would bring him back to Victor; he opened his spectral wings in a rush and flew away with a single flap.

Kyrie could spot him flying in the sky as soon he got very high. She became much more apprehensive, realizing she would need to take more drastic measures to contain Nero. Unfortunately, she was the only one around that could do that.

She called her staff like Nero called his weapons and activated the flying mode. She rose to the sky very fast, trying to reach the altitude that probably Nero was. That was her first time going so high, but she calmly stabilized.

By wearing a headphone in her left ear- connected to her phone- she could call Victor. "I've found him! But I will have to chase him!" she told the doctor.

Victor instructed in a hurry: "Oh shit! Well… get Nero and stick that thing I gave to you on his skin. Anywhere is good! But give preference to his chest and head. This is a prototype of a remote magic reader! It's not as efficient as those ones I have here, but it will help a lot already!"

"Okay!" she yelled confidently.

She then looked at a small device Victor gave to her, a gray and round button, smaller than the palm of her hand, with a little red LED light in the middle. She put it back in her pocket and accelerated to catch up with Nero; she couldn't waste more time.

Getting closer to the city, she noticed that she was high in the sky as the megacity's tall buildings. The growth was quite remarkable; the vast gray ocean of buildings till the eye can see. The people and the vehicles' noisy sound in the streets and large avenues, the dark line on the horizon due to the heavy pollution created a total contrast with the shining blue sky with fluffy white clouds above.

She wanted to stop and admire such human creation. She thought she would never leave Fortuna and witness that kind of thing, much less that way.

But that wasn't the time for that; she had to find Nero.

The loud sounds from the city were an annoying buzzing in her ears due to her new demonic hearing and the terrible pollution scents in her nose.

She was flying the fastest she could, turning her head to the sides looking for Nero in a hurry, but how would she find him in such a gigantic place?

She had to think, think! She knew Nero better than anyone else… At least she thought she did. The bitter feeling of Nero never having told her about his grieves made her quite sad, but also, on the other hand, she could understand why he did that...

"Got something?" Victor called her in the phone call, giving her a little jumpscare. For a moment, she forgot she was on a call.

"Not yet… he blended with the city…" she said, worried.

She heard some thoughtful hummings coming from the other side of the call for a moment and then Nico's voice from the background.

"Yeah, that may work," she heard Victor talking with Nico.

"You know the feather you must wear?" He now asked her. "Focus on it. It's still connected to Nero. Spectral objects stay magically connected to their creators until it's vanished by them or when they die."

"Okay, I will try that!"

Kyrie stopped in the air and closed her eyes. She laid her hand over the feather in her hair clip for better focusing. She began to use some meditating techniques she knew, giving her complete focus to the feather's emanating energy.

Slowly, she could feel a magic string leaving the feather. The more she focused, the more she could see the line in her mind.

The line grew… and grew… and grew…

Until she saw Nero at the end. His energy was a mess and aggressive, like a vast hurricane moving out of control and ready to destroy everything in its path.

"I think I found him!" She yelled confidently.

"Amazing!" Victor shouted with relief. "Hurry! Every second, his condition gets worse!"

She left her place in a blast, going full speed. Following the energy path, she didn't know she had that sixth sense now.

Swinging between the buildings quickly and precisely, she noticed the enormous windows of them; there was a problem if she flew so close to ordinary humans? Humans may know that demons and devil hunters exist, but it was okay they see a human doing demon magic like that?

She started to have flashbacks back to the orphanage's attack and felt better fly above the city.

The altitude was very frightening. Death was certain if she fell off - as if the previous height wasn't already - she was a bit demon now but not demon enough to survive such fall like Nero would. Still, she kept herself under control, not looking down, only in front.

Nero's energy was starting to descend towards the city's asphalt. He was probably going to land. The closer she was getting to Nero, the more turbulent the signal was getting.

Now she had to follow the signal in the middle of the giant mass of people; only in an intersection of avenues looked like it had more people than Fortuna's population. That gave her goosebumps, but bringing back Nero to safety kept her motivated.

There were dozens of scents and different energies from the large mass, so filtering Nero's magic out of it would need more concentration than before.

Inside Nero (figuratively)

Much like Vergil's mind, the place was nearly dead, dry soil, and a small pool of water in the middle, but the difference was the tree. Nero's tree was frail at the bottom, and it got a bit stronger at the top, making it look like it was upside down. Devil Queen and Carnage Rose were by the side of the tree.

There were three entities there:

N (Nero's human self), a boy visually the same age as Nero with a face similar to V's, long hair like Nero's Devil Trigger itself - but it was part black and part white -, and yellow eyes. He was also wearing the same clothes Nero was in reality.

Hintkurt (Nero's demon self) was a demon visually similar to Urizen but half its size with a rigid scaled body. It had a few extra eyes through its chest and a large one where it would be his forehead. His shoulders had big mouths with sharp teeth each.

Then there was Hintchack (Nero's unknown self), a sleek and snake-ish creature with four arms and four wings, a humanoid owl face with long feathers that resembled hair in his head, and a third eye like Hintkurt. His body was all white with some red paintings so detailed that it looked hand-painted. He wasn't big like his magical partner; he was the same size as a human.

The three of them were fighting against each other, but the two monsters mostly focused on the human. There were countless markings around the place; scorched areas by fire and other magics, big crackings and holes, claw markings, and so on.

Hintchack used his long tail to slap N on his back, sending him a few steps away. The hit was so strong that N couldn't react to get back on his feet, and his face was slammed against the ground.

"You stupid shit! When you'll learn that's a fucked up idea?!" Hintchack shouted harshly, his voice high pitched and cracked.

N, already wounded from previous hits from the bird-snake-ish creature, tried to get a bit of strength to rise up, but he was out of breath already. He was struggling to lift his head up, "What if...I'm right? Stop judging the others -cough cough- by the cover!"

"Are you serious?!" Hintchack shouted furiously. "No jackshit, Vergil can't have a good side! AND HE'S NOT MONSTER! MONSTER IS DEAD!"

Entirely the opposite from the screaming avian, Hintkurt, with his deep demonic voice, spoken calmly, "The parrot is right. Let go of this stupid idea that Nero will have parents. That's illogical. We're all grown-ups! Adults do not even adopt pre-teens, much less other adults!"

"But… what if…" N stuttered, the sadness on his face was evident, but he wasn't going to give up.

Hintkurt let go a long and annoying breath while Hintchak was close to plucking the feathers of his head out of anger.

"'If I beat Nero… I won't lose next time!'" Hintchack mimicked Vergil. "You really think that's how a father would sound? You idiot!"

"He was even going to kill Dante!" Hintkurt added.

"Another scum…" The bird blurted angrily.

"Dante is not bad!" The demon retorted.

"Oh really?! What… 'uncle' hides the truth about your bloodline for five fucking years?! He was willing to keep it secret if I haven't pressured him!"

Hintkurt didn't know how to respond; deep down, he agreed with that point.

"He… must have… a good reason.." N said between exhausted breaths.

"ARGH! Spare me of this family-care bullshit! He didn't want to have official responsibilities!" The avian shouted, flying closer to N.

"Only visiting to have lunch, making calls just to ask for money or pass a demon hunting job!"

"Help with sword fight training, helped create a devil hunting branch… he even sold some devil arms to gave Nero money for the van's fixes… and…" Before the demon could continue, Hintchack attacked him, cutting his chest using his wings' long sharp feathers.

"ENOUGH!" He shouted, pissed.

"What is wrong with you?!" The demon yelled, confused, stepping back.

"We all know Nero won't be able to have a happy family! Can't we all agree it's a lost case?!" Hintchack shouted out loud.

"We… are not… a lost case…" N said, his voice still weak, but he could stand on his feet now. "You are just paranoid!"

"ME?! PARANOID?! HAHAHA!" and he flew towards N, sending him back to the ground using his four hands.

Holding him still, he shouted in his face, "Who keeps crying and killing Nero's image is not me! You! YOU are the big kid here waiting for irrational wishes to come true! GET LOST! Nero will never have a daddy or a mommy!"

"We always knew this…" Hintkurt added. "Since we lost Monster… the last person that…"

"But! Shooting Star Man!" N interrupted.

"That motherfucker isn't real!" The bird yelled, a vein almost popping in his forehead.

"HE IS! He just won't come back!" The demon shouted, quickly taking the bird off of N, holding him by the tail.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" He shouted and again used his feathers to hurt the demon that released him at the same moment because of the pain from the severe wound.

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" The demon shouted, very pissed off with the stubbornness of the avian fellow.

They both started to fight using their magics, a fight so aggressive they were beginning to destroy the place again, heavy dust began to rise due to the dry soil.

"Stop! STOP! You're hurting Nero!" N shouted with all his strength left, but the magical beings didn't listen. They continued their fight without caring about him or the place.

The human could do nothing but whimper in grief. He continued to stay down on the ground and put his head between his crossed arms. There's nothing he could do… he needed help, and he knew that.

"Vergil… Dante… help me… please…" he whispered in agony.

But the two creatures could -surprising- hear his praying and stopped the fight almost immediately.

"YOU SAID WHAT?!" They shouted in synchrony, looking at the helpless human on the ground.

Back to reality…

Nero was sitting in the shadow of a small alley, hidden from the noisy and agitated crowd. He was in a fetal position, holding his head in pain. His two magics were fighting inside of him, and he barely could keep them under control. He was being hurt from the inside out. It was like small ghostly daggers were stabbing him. He was bleeding a little through his nose and mouth. In his eyes, the blood was mixing with his tears of agony. His skin, however, was starting to show up signals of a crackling similar to dry soil.

His mind was in complete chaos. At the same time, he wanted to call help...he didn't. He didn't know what to do; he just wanted to stay there, quiet, letting his internal struggle consume him.

But then, Kyrie found him. At first, she just observed him from far away, figuring out what was going on. When she got closer, she soon could feel his two magics fighting.

He was immobile.

She slowly walked to the middle of the alley, stepping softly so as not to make a noise. But her focus on the man was so intense that she didn't see the broken glass on the ground.

The soft cracking noise called Nero's attention, and he immediately looked at her.

Noticing who it was behind his foggy and red-ish vision, he quickly got up, using his leftover strength. When he attempted to sprint, Kyrie called him desperately, "NERO, NO! Please! Don't go! I just want to talk!" almost deafening, Victor was still in the call.

He stopped with her calling, but he didn't turn to look at her.

"Nero… please… tell me what is going on… I just want to help you..." she begged.

"HELP?! There's nothing you can help with!" Hintchack yelled furiously.

"Stay away, it will be better like this…" Hintkurt said with a bit of sadness.

"Kyrie… help…" N then cried in a helpless whisper.

"SHUT UP!" Hintchack yelled at him.

With a weak and sad voice, Nero almost whispered, "Just… leave me… please… I don't want to hurt you again..."

"Hurt me? When have you done that?!" She said quite incredulously.

"Lost memory or something?" Hintchack blurted.

"If you're thinking my coma and the exil-" before she could finish her sentence, Nero turned to her. His expression was an incomprehensible mix of sadness, anger, and pain. His face was all dirty with his own blood and tears.

"OF COURSE THEY'RE MY FAULT!" He shouted, his voice fading and muffled due to the fatigue of so much crying.

"All of the shit that happened to us… to your family… it's all my fault! I...I'm cursed…" he said with an ashamed and defeated voice.

Kyrie made a quick connection to what he was talking about. Fortuna's people never liked him because his demon magic attracted demons to him. People used to call him a "demon-magnet" and bully him as hell because of it.

She took a deep breath before continuing to speak. She didn't want to make the man run away again and slowly, she was trying to get closer, they were meters apart.

"Nero… You're not cursed… you're not like everyone always told you…" She tried with the softest voice she could do.

"How could she never notice?" Hintkurt said low and sad, holding N with one hand to make sure he couldn't say anything.

"Yes… Yes, I am!" he yelled between sobbings. "I honestly always envied you and Credo, you always had a family, had loving parents… you were -sob- respected..."- pause to take a breath - "but… but it was just me get in your life… and everything went down the hill -sniff- your parents died… Cre-Credo…" And he once again began to hold back a desperate crying. He did not want to in front of Kyrie.

"Stop, Nero! You can't blame yourself for that!" she tried to call him a little back to his senses.

"Please… let's go back to Victor so he can help you clear your mind and body… please," she begged.

"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Hintchack screamed with rage.

"HOLD UP! We must not hurt her!" Hintkurt interfered quickly.

"You seriously think I would hurt her, dumbass?!" the bird yelled incredulously.

"I don't trust you." the demon responded harshly.

Nero shut down his eyes and put his hands on his head. He was in panic and pain at the same time. The man began to hurt his scalp with his nails, and the bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth started to get worse. He had to cough out the blood from his throat.

Kyrie was panicking, but she was able to keep her composure. Still, when she tried to open her mouth to talk again… an eruption of desperate and panicking human screamings echoed around them.

Kyrie gave a quick look behind her just to see what was going on. Countless people were running in a panicked hurry from something, very likely to be demons.

Unfortunately, when she turned to look back at Nero, he had disappeared. Her heart raced in panic; she had no idea from where he could have gone. Once again, she would have to follow his energy track, but the more she saw people running, she began to feel the presence of other demons. It was hard for a newbie Devil-Magic user to concentrate on Nero's magic with all the nearby monsters' interference.

In a sprint, she ran outside the alley just to meet face to face with a demon, but it wasn't any demon: it was the same wolf-skull head ones from yesterday's morning.

Instinctively, using her right hand, she casts a lightning spell that blew up the demon's wolf-skull helmet, revealing a human mummy-like head that was under it.

The demon fell backward, wholly stunned, while she kneeled, holding her right hand in pain. She could feel her magic pulsing like an insane heartbeat in her hand; she thought her hand would literally explode.

'You idiot! You must use the staff… always!' she told herself madly.

"Kyrie? Kyrie?! What happened?!" Victor asked because of the loud, bomb thunder noise he heard on the other side.

"I'm fine… I just… didn't use my staff.." Kyrie said in a tense voice.

"KYRIE!" Nico yelled, a bit incredulous.

"I know… I know!" Kyrie yelled too, but impatient.

“Thunder Rose”

Category: Human-made

Type: Magic Catalyst

User(s): Kyrie

Description: A magical staff made by Nico. It helps Kyrie learn how to control her recently owned demonic magic and since it’s made of a very resistant material, she can also use it as a blunt weapon.

She got back on her feet quickly, and when she stopped to look at the avenue, she almost lost her breath. Jaw dropped; she couldn't count how many demons were there; they came this time in a massive hoard. They were attacking humans and killing them.

But when she paid attention to one that had already killed its prey, she saw that it wasn't eating the human's flesh. Instead, it was taking it away, running against the direction of the attacking ones.

She couldn't handle them by herself alone. It was too many for her.

"What's with all these people screaming?! Where is Nero?!" Victor yelled, his voice very worried.

"There's a bunch of demons here! And Nero ran away from me…

"What?! You MUST find him!" Victor said almost in a demanding tone.

"Take! Take it! Take to the Sin!" one demon that passed close to her caught her attention.

"The Sin needs flesh!"

"The great Sin will revive!" Many of them were shouting in a demonic language she could understand.

Until one of them yelled, "Dragon! Dragon!"

It called her attention that one wasn't attacking humans. It was utterly ignoring them all.

"Get the Dragon!" others yelled.

Some were strangely blabbing, a similar thing the ones from yesterday were.

Dragon? Could they be talking about Nero?

Those demons certainly could tell the difference between demon-magics better than she, and she decided to follow them. She rose up to way up over the panicking crowd riding her winged staff.

She could observe all of those "dragon-seekers" going into the same point. She accelerated to go ahead of them. The more she advanced, the better she could feel Nero's magic apart from the other demons'.

Not even half a minute of flight, she spotted Nero in the middle of the avenue. He was fighting against the same demons, but his condition wasn't letting him fight like he used to. He had to rely on his spectral arms and gun.

Those demons weren't ordinary; they were using teamwork to get close to Nero.

They were all around him, shooting their arrows with chains close to him, trapping him, but Nero knew the only way to leave was flying IF all of them missed their chains. But Nero didn't have the strength -physical, mental, and magical - to fly away so perfectly, they would get him.

Kyrie quickly dived towards the demon horde; in a swift move, she took her staff from her feet, and the wings rolled together to form a ball shape. With all the strength she got, she slammed the demons using her staff as a giant hammer, killing and stunning a few that were in front of Nero.

The wolf-skull-helm demons even dismantled their formation for a brief moment because they didn't see her getting close.

Nero felt some relief in seeing Kyrie again, but at the same time, he got scared, he wanted to leave as fast as possible, but that was a distant wish by that point.

"Kyrie… you…" he mumbled between painful groanings.

"Quiet!" She yelled, mad at him. "Just focus on getting out of this. We talk about that another moment."

Nero got briefly stunned. Never had Kyrie raised her voice towards him like that. He got quiet and decided to listen to her for now.

His legs weakened, and he kneels on the ground. His magics were starting to fight inside him again. Kyrie didn't think twice when she saw him like that. She slapped Victor's device on his nape in one swift move.

"What the hell?!" Nero yelled, confused.

"Don't even think about taking that off! I dare you!" she threaded him.

"YES!" Victor yelled victorious at the other side of the call. "Those readings aren't perfect but will help a little already!"

The demons got furious with her interference. The ones in front of her raised their body quickly and shot their arrows at her.

She swung her staff and blasted an electric discharge at the arrows, sending them away. More demons started to do the same from different directions right after.

She kept blasting energy to send the arrows away. From behind, her left, right, she was circling around and sometimes even jumping over Nero. The man still was kneeling on the ground, trying to catch a breath while blood was dripping from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

During the middle of that situation, she and the demons took a quick pause to breathe, and she could blurt something: "If only… Dante and Vergil…"

"We… -cough cough- don't need… them," Nero said with his trembling voice.

Kyrie's blood boiled that moment; she couldn't stand Nero's stubbornness anymore. He was passing the limit of irrationality.

"SHUT UP!" she shouted, scaring him and the demons around. "Listen here! You're not in the condition to make decisions yourself! So, stay quiet and listen to what I say! Okay?!"

"Oh wow… that was hot", Hintkurt blurted.

"Is that what you're thinking about in this situation?!" N yelled incredulously at him.

"She's… scaring me…" Hintchack said, hiding his head under his wings.

Nero didn't know what to respond to. He just kept quiet, staring at her, his eyes wide open of both surprise and scare.

"Good!" She yelled, returning her gaze to the demons. She couldn't believe she had to raise her voice at Nero like that. She didn't want to, but that was a matter of life and death. He had to cooperate.

Quickly, all the demons coordinated to shoot their arrows at them at the same time. It didn't have how to avoid that attack if not flying.

Kyrie didn't know an area spell to help in that situation either.

Suddenly, the programs on Victor's computer started to give emergency warnings of "magical signal lost" again.

"What the?!" he yelled. "Kyrie?! What happened?!"

No response.

"Kyrie!" He shouted, but she was stunned in place, staring at the small protective red bubble around her and Nero.

Nero had his arms extended, his hair was black, and his eyes green once again. He quickly cast that shield to protect them, sending the arrows away.

He couldn't stand it much longer and dropped tired to the ground. Then, the protective bubble exploded, sending the demons not so far away from them and stunning them in the process.

"KYRIE!" Both Victor and Nico shouted, trying to call her attention. They made it but almost gave her a heart attack.

"I'm here! I'm here!" She replied, scared.

"What happened to Nero?!" Victor asked, quite worried.

"Did he switch magics?!" Nico asked right after.

"He what?!" Victor blurted, now confused.

"Yes, he did," Kyrie replied. Simultaneously, she quickly kneeled to check on him: he was heavily breathing, sweating like crazy, and, unfortunately, but fortunately, he was unconscious.

Still staring at the monitor, Nico explained, "That's the other thing we came to ask you, Uncle Vic. Nero recently discovered he has a second magic type. I couldn't get readings with any device I had… and apparently, yours can't read it too…? Oh shit…"

Victor stayed silent, trying to process why that other magic of Nero couldn't be read by their devices and why he had another type within him?

He then gave a quick gaze to a specific painting he had on the same computer station wall. Noticing the peculiar look, Nico turned to look at the picture too, but she couldn't understand much: it was an image half white in the top and half black in the bottom. She couldn't clearly see the details because the painting was a bit far and wasn't that big.

Victor returned in silence to his computer and started to do something on his programs. Nico saw that something snapped in his mind, and she would not question him about it now.

"Kyrie! Is Nero okay?" Nico asked instead.

"He… he just dropped... unconscious… urgh," her voice sounding as if she was doing a lot of strength.

"What are you doing?" Nico said, worried with her tone.

Kyrie was trying to take Nero to an alley while the demons were stunned, using her staff's magical wings. She pulled the staff with all her strength while the wings formed a basket shape under Nero.

"Trying to… find a safe place…" she replied, breathing heavily.

The demons were starting to snap back to their consciousness when Kyrie entered an alley and could hide her and Nero between large trash containers.

Nero's magic was dim by now, but the demons could still sense it; they barely woke up and already started to flow his weak signal.

Kyrie fiercely stood nearby the place she left Nero. The demons couldn't enter all at once in the area.

They began to menacingly enter the alley, ambling with their four members. The path was dark, cold, and stinky. Only their shiny orange eyes were visible among the shadowy shape they had in the dark.

That vision sent a chill down Kyrie's spine. Her hands were sweating cold inside her gloves, she wanted to take Nero and run away, but that wouldn't be easy to achieve. She had to fight, fight not just for Nero's safety but also hers.

Unfortunately, that was the first time she didn't have Nero's aid to help her when something went wrong. She was alone, entirely by herself only, giving her the same sensation Nero always had when she was in danger.

She positioned herself ready with her staff. There wasn't space for the scythe blade to swing by. The only option was to use brute force and her smaller electric spells.

"Give… the...DRAGON!" the one front-most yelled and jumped towards her.

She could smack the demon's head against the ground, killing it in one quick swing before it could touch her with its scrawny fingers.

Another one fired its arrow to pierce her body, but she spun her staff really quick and rolled the chain on the top side of it. In a decisive move, she pulled the demon at her, and, using the staff's bottom end, she pierced against the demon's head.

She then sent it away against the other ones in an air kick with all her right leg's strength, breaking its chain. Only one got hit by the flying body and sent out of the alley.

Another two climbed the walls in a sprint and jumped over her. With the staff free, she turned the engine on with her magic and blasted the demons away.

But another one was already in a jump towards her right after and threw her against the ground. She held the creature's hands with her staff, as well as its neck.

She was fighting with everything she got. The demon was trying to push her staff against her throat. But her strength wasn't enough, the demon was slowly winning, and she could see its sadistic smile on its mummy face.

KABOOM

The demon was blasted away in a loud and robust light blast.

Kyrie got blind and deaf for a moment; she could only hear a lousy beep. Her head was inexplicable, spinning and hurting from the light blast.

Victor and Nico had a heart test when they heard the loud blast through the call.

While trying to recover her senses, she used her staff to help get support to get up. A bit dizzy and deaf, the first thing she looked after with her partially white vision was Nero. Fortunately, he was in the same place and position she had left him; she could support his back in one of the big trash containers, but his body was stiff. His arms and legs sometimes jumped with little spasms. He wasn't desyncing yet, but his magic definitely wasn't okay.

Looking outside the alley, some demons were killed, and others were just lying down unconscious. They simply vanished away. The ground was temporarily covered with electrostatic energy, making Kyrie a bit reluctant to move out of the place.

"Hey! Those are no demons for noob'ing around!" a strange young voice came from far outside the alley.

Kyrie tried to see who it was; her vision was almost recovered by now. She could only identify a tall human figure, in a scarlet red coat, white hair with a single hair clump of a different darker color. They were holding a tall and shining Spear, probably a weapon for fighting demons; strangely, she could also feel demonic magic coming from them.

"Get out of here!" the person shouted and ran away.

"NO! Wait!" But the person was already far.

"What's up?!" Nico asked right after.

"There was… another… Devil Hunter, I guess…" she replied with confusion, not so sure of what she saw just now.

"Anyway!" she regained all her senses back again. "I need your help, please! I can't take Nero like this by myself. There's too many demons here too."

"No need to worry, pal! We were already getting out stuff together here!" Nico yelled confidently, but deep in her tone, Kyrie felt her worry.

"Thank you!" She said with a bit of relief.

But that wasn't the moment to relax. The demons were still there. Kyrie used this opening to kill the closest demons and to collect some green and red orbs. It was easy to kill them standing still, just blasting their chest and cutting their heads off with no effort at all.

It took her less than 5 minutes to do so, but for a brief moment, she contemplated how much she changed in such a short time. In the end, she shook her head to regain focus. It wasn't the moment for that.

She quickly absorbed the red orbs around and held onto as many green orbs as she could. In a hurry, she brought them to Nero, who absorbed them in his sleep.

The muscular spasms stopped, but he didn't wake up.

The only thing she could do was wait for Nico.

"Dante… Vergil… Where are you? Nero needs your help…" she begged in her thoughts.

The ground began to shake inexplicably, and the demons that she didn't give the final blow began to wake up. It was time for her to fight again? She barely had caught a breath from the previous fight.

The small earthquakes began to get stronger and paced, like quick steps, giving her a chill down her spine. Flashes of Lightning also started to roar in the sky. That wasn't normal; it surely was some demonic thing.

Suddenly, around fifty meters high, a colossal creature falls down in the avenue corner, a few meters ahead of the alley she was.

The demons that woke up ignored her and ran away, but she heard them yelling, "IT'S THE GREAT SIN!", "THE SIN LIVES!"

So, that was the Sin they were talking about earlier? That boss-looking demon?

The colossal creature got up the faster it could. It was incredibly visually similar to the small demons. It had a wolf skull as a helmet, a skinny body with animal legs and human arms. The few differences were it had a black mist-like tail. The one coming from the head was also covering its torso, neck, and, probably, face ultimately.

A person comes jumping from where the demon came. It was that one that told Kyrie to run away. They were surrounded by electricity, and it went straight to the enormous beast, pointing the spear at its chest.

But the beast dodge rolled to the side, and the hunter carved the spear in the ground. But the electricity exploded and got the arms of the best.

The enormous creature howled in pain. An instant after, it tried to swing its claws towards the hunter, who easily avoided it by jumping away using an energy blast.

"Leave me be, you monster!" The creature shouted, not in demon language; it was in human language.

"Me?! The monster?! Look who's talking!" The hunter replied angrily but with a sassy tone under it.

The creature suddenly stopped; his eyes totally showed surprise, and it looked straight at Kyrie.

Witnessing that tremendous stare, Kyrie froze in a cold sweat; her hands got stiff in her staff.

"Dragon? The Dragon?!" The monster said low and surprised.

That was it. Kyrie was dead now. No way she could face that thing. Nero could, but not in the state he was. Her arms and legs got weak of so much scare, and she kneed in despair, but she could feel her inner magic starting to storm inside her like a defense response.

"Dante… Vergil…" she whispered in panic, tears forming in her eyes.

"Wait… THE dragon is here?" the hunter whispered astonishedly, looking at Kyrie too.

"Dante! Vergil! I need your help, please…" she yelled in her thoughts.

"Nero is gonna die… help! Please!" She closed her eyes and held on tight to the staff while the monster was getting up. It had its eyes on her.

Time stopped.

The only thing that she had in mind now was Dante and an assumption of how Vergil would be. They were twins, right? And they should be together in Hell by now.

"Kyrie?!" She heard Dante's voice in her head.

"Nero's girlfriend?" she heard another voice, an unfamiliar voice, but she assumed to be Vergil's.

She thought it was her imagination for a moment, but she could feel her magic inside her acting quite differently. The wish to have the twins there was provoking something on it.

"PLEASE! I need you two here! Nero is sick and can't fight! There's a huge demon looking for him!" she thought in an instant.

"How?! We are here, and you are there!" Dante said, worried.

"Can we trust this voice?" Vergil said quite distrustfully.

"Yes, man! I know this energy! It's definitely Kyrie!"

All that happened in a fraction of a second.

An inexplicable feeling dominated Kyrie that moment; her magic was acting differently like never before. A new instinct awakened in her. She assumed a fierce and intimidating expression.

She strongly hit the ground with her staff's end, carving on it, scaring the giant demon and the hunter.

She embraced that new feeling and let her magic follow it; she could feel it growing stronger inside her. Still, it wasn't out of control. All that seemed quite natural already.

She began to charge the staff at its limits. It looked like the metal plates from the gear would fly away. A large jolt of energy blew up out of it and formed the pink spectral wings.

The staff would be able to hold all the magic she was channeling. She made the terrible decision to conduct her magic by herself.

That was a deadly move.

Barely a second after summoning, the wings disappeared from the staff and quickly reappeared in her back, but this time double in size. Both of her eyes were glowing white, and the sclera turned black. The small white hair clump she had in her fringe hair quickly grew out to have more strands.

The demon began to step back, afraid of what was coming. But the hunter didn't move out of his place.

"DANTE! VERGIL! HEAR ME OUT! FOLLOW MY VOICE!" she shouted in her thoughts while she began to scream out loud due to the heavy magic channeling.

At the end of her wings, two large demonic magical circles formed an azure blue and a crimson red.

"Fuck! She's summoning something!" The hunter yelled.

"DANTE AND VERGIL! I SUMMON YOU!" she shouted with all her lungs' strength.

Vast flames from their respective circle's colors began to blast out from them, and human shapes started to form.

Dante then jumped out of the red circle, and Vergil jumped out of the blue one.

Kyrie's wings immediately dissipated, and the staff did an emergency stop. She had to kneel on the ground; she had never been so tired before. She had to take many deep breaths, she was sweating profusely, and she looked like her heart would jump out of her mouth.

"WE ARE BACK, BITCHES!" Dante shouted as soon as he stepped on the ground.

But Vergil quickly noticed a problem with them, which shocked him for a brief moment.

To be continued...

[justabstractthings]

Scrubs and Combat Boots Part II | Bakugo x F!Reader

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Female!Reader

Warnings: Non-stop swearing of said explosion boy. 

Part One

A/N: In honor of Nurses Week, I wrote part 2 to my Bakugo x Nurse fic. This piece holds a special place in my heart because I’m also a nurse. I’m dedicating this fic to health care workers dedicating their lives to serving their community, before and during this pandemic. I hope you all stay safe and enjoy this piece. Let me know what you guys think!

Word Count: 2.8k

The second time you met Bakugo Katsuki you thought it was a total coincidence. 

You were a nurse working in the ER and you always noticed the same frequent flyers would come at least three or four times per month. They never left much of an impression on you. Well, except Bakugo Katsuki. The loud-mouthed hero always seemed to pop into your train of thought at least once during your shift. So, it had to be a coincidence when you saw him again two weeks later. 

That is until you found out he’s been harassing the other nurses and techs on the floor.

You had just finished transporting a highly critical patient to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). You’ve worked a total of eleven hours now and you were a measly hour away from being able to go home and sink into your very comfortable bed. Just the thought of the soft covers wrapped around your exhausted body had you melting on the spot. 

Unfortunately, all of that changed when you heard the familiar explosions and aggressive shouts coming from the ER. When one of the other nurses gave you a pleading look, you squared your shoulders and marched right into the noisy trauma room. 

To say that the room looked like a war zone was an understatement. 

Your clean and organized trauma room had gauze bandages haphazardly decorated all around the room as if they were Christmas lights. Expensive pieces of equipment were knocked over as if a tornado flew in for a nice holiday.  Doctors, nurses, techs, and security were running around and yelling like chickens with their heads chopped off. 

Chaos. Total chaos.

Your eyes zeroed in on the culprit as he kept on swatting and growling at your coworkers. You let out a big sigh as you wiped some sanitizer on your hands and grabbed a pair of gloves from the wall. 

Just one more hour. That’s it. One hour.

“Touch me one more time and I’ll fucking blow your hands off!” 

Yep, that’s it.

Everyone kept their distance as they looked worriedly at the injured hero. They knew the kind of strength the young hero possessed. The wild look swimming in his carmine eyes promised danger.  They were hesitant to approach him any further. But you weren’t. You pushed your way to the front of the crowd until you stood face to face in front of the growling hero. 

“Ground Zero, I’ll be your nurse this evening. What seems to be the problem here?” 

As a medical professional, you were trained to assess your patients during the first sixty seconds of interaction. You noticed Bakugo’s breath hitch with every inhale, the strain of his muscles as they trembled with each explosion, and the visible blood pooling by his left hip. Bakugo didn’t seem dazed, which was a good sign to rule out any emergent head trauma. But you needed a more thorough examination to help your patient.

“I told them to back the fuck off,” Bakugo growled. “I don’t need any help from these shitty extras.”

You sighed as a pounding headache reverberated through your head. It was either due to your lack of sleep or the explosions that kept going off. Either way, one of them needed to stop. 

“I really don’t have time for this. Can you guys give us some space?” Your co-workers looked at you in disbelief and hesitantly left the room. One of the security officers stayed behind outside of the room. You scoffed. As if you couldn’t take care of yourself. “Now, are you going to let me help you or not?”

Bakugo glared down at you but said nothing. He watched as you smiled at him and gestured towards the hospital bed. The memory of you pinning him against the wall left a bitter taste in his mouth. Bakugo compliantly climbed onto the bed. He does not need another repeat of that incident. 

“I’m gonna need you to take off your shirt so that I can take a look at your injuries, Ground Zero.” You grabbed Bakugo’s chart from the counter as you looked over the notes from the other nurses. Just as you had expected. It seemed that the hero was sent to the ER after another nasty fight with a villain, but why come to this hospital when the villain attack was broadcasted from the other side of the city? You shrugged and left that thought for a later time. You had other pressing matters.

“Ground Zero, why don’t we-.” Your breath hitched as if an invisible hand constricted your throat that prevented the rest of your words from spilling out of your gaping mouth. In a snap, your mind went completely blank. You couldn’t process the image right in front of your face. You forced yourself to blink and look away, but it was impossible. 

You’ve seen hundreds of people without a shirt on before. It never bothered you because you were a nurse, for crying out loud! You’ve seen everything. You’ve probably seen more naked people than a prostitute. The human body was nothing new to you. 

But he can’t possibly be human.

Jagged scars and discolored bruises visibly littered his golden-toned skin, evidence of his grueling work as a pro-hero. The largest scar traveled across his chest, from his right shoulder to the bottom of his left rib cage. His toned abs rippled with each breath, taunting you for even having the audacity to look at them. When Bakugo leaned back on his hands, you swore his biceps noticeably grew in size with each flex and movement of his upper body. You tried to overlook the scars and burns that traveled up his muscular arms, but it was as if you were in a trance. 

Definitely not human.

The room felt noticeably warmer even though it was just you and your patient occupying the space. You clenched the clipboard in your hands as you tried to keep your palms from sweating under the blue gloves. The hammering against your chest made it impossibly harder for you to focus as your eyes traveled up and his scared body. 

Everything came to a halt when you noticed the teasingly satisfied smirk on Bakugo’s sharp jaw. “Something wrong?”

If it wasn’t the cherry red blush across your face, it was definitely how quickly you turned your back to him that made your thoughts plainly obvious. You cleared your throat and said, “Nothing. Just reading your chart.” 

The slight stutter in your voice didn’t escape Bakugo’s trained ears. He frowned when your attention wasn’t solely focused on him. When did he start caring about one nurse’s attention? He forced the thought to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. 

Bakugo watched as you continued to clean the room, inspecting each supply and deeming if it was usable or not. His eyes trained to your figure that fluidly traveled all across the room, caught in your simple trance. You held yourself in such a confident manner that the usually callous and vulgar hero was awestruck into silence. Similar to your first encounter, Bakugo found that he could not look away from your scrub clad figure. 

“Sorry about earlier.” Bakugo scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “They shouldn’t have cornered you like that.” 

“Damn right they shouldn’t have,” Bakugo barked. “I would have blown their faces off.”

You hummed as you gathered the supplies needed to treat Bakugo’s injuries. “I’m sure you would have, Ground Zero,” you said teasingly. The annoyed glare focused on your back only made your smile widen.

When you were finished, you faced the eternally glaring hero. “Alright, Ground Zero. I’m going to take a look at you and then afterward, the doctors will come in and see you, okay?” You took his silence as an understanding. “Now, take deep breaths for me.”

When you placed the stethoscope on his chest, you could not focus on the sounds of his breathing. Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the sight of the rise and fall of his toned chest. You also made the mistake of taking a deep breath as you inhaled the intoxicatingly sweet scent of caramel.

As you continued your examination, you noticed more of his features than the last time you saw him. A quick flash of light showed a light halo of gold around his pupils that would normally be overwhelmed by his distinctive vermillion irises. His nose was slightly crooked, most likely from being broken too many times and improperly healed. There was also a small scar at the bottom of his right stubbled jaw. 

You prayed the pro-hero could not hear the distinctive thumping on your chest. This was a bad idea. He was your patient. You should not be enjoying his presence as much as you were. Any other patient would not affect you as much as Bakugo did. The exhaustion of working for nearly thirteen hours must have weakened your resolve. You did read that exhaustion can play tricks on the mind. That must be it. You were tired and that’s it. It definitely wasn’t Bakugo.

After concluding your assessment, you wrote down your findings on Bakugo’s chart. “Good. I’ll call in the doctors and they’ll take care of you for the rest of your stay.”

“You’re not staying?” Bakugo pursed his lips as soon as those words left his mouth.

“As much as I would love to hear you swear at my colleagues, I have a nice warm bed waiting for me at home. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure they take good care of you.” Before you stepped out of the room, you gave Bakugo one last smile, “Do you need anything else from me?”

Bakugo could think of a million questions he wanted answered but he shook his head and said nothing as he watched your retreating figure. A quick feeling of sadness enveloped him as you disappeared from his sight. 

The explosive hero growled as he was left more puzzled than the last time he was at this hospital. How can one woman have such control over him in the short amount of time you interacted. Was it your quirk? It had to be. You must have had a powerful quirk to affect him this much. More than ever, Bakugo was determined to see you again. 

And destroy whatever power you had on him. 

~

The next day, Bakugo trudged into his hero agency. He ignored the high pitched greetings the secretaries practically screeched at him. Bakugo welcomed the soft hum of the elevator as it carried him to the top of the building. After a dissatisfying visit to the ER, all he wanted to do was get some mindless paperwork done, maybe punch a villain or two. 

Or he could also find Kirishima and use him as an indestructible punching bag.

Speaking of Kirishima, when Bakugo entered his office, he found him lounging on one of the couches with his usual shark-toothed grin.

“Bakubro!” Kirishima leaped off the couch and went to greet his life-long friend. “Where were you last night? After the fight, you just disappeared.”

“None of your damn business, shitty hair,” Bakugo growled as he slammed his bag onto the desk. “The fuck do you want?”

“Damn, a little grouchy this morning.” Kirishima skipped towards his friend’s threatening figure. “Did Princess Bakugo not get enough sleep last night?”

Years of being best friends with said explosion hero taught Kirishima one crucial thing. It’s that if he was outright teasing the man, he better activate his quirk before Bakugo blew his face off. But that never stopped Kirishima from constantly pushing Bakugo’s explosive buttons.

Kirishima merely grinned as he noticed Bakugo seemed to relax a little bit better after letting off one explosion. The hardening hero plopped himself in front of Bakugo’s desk as he watched his friend furiously typing on his laptop. “Answer my fucking question, shitty hair.”

“Only if you answer mine first, blasty. Where were you last night?” Kirishima raised a brow, wondering why Bakugo has been a bit absentminded these last few weeks. Never has Kirishima seen Bakugo so preoccupied especially when it comes to hero work. When Bakugo answered him with silence, Kirishima sighed and decided on a different approach.

For better or for worse, Kirishima knew there was one thing that would help his best bro.

Kirishima grinned and stretched out his neck and back. “You leave me no choice.” Before Bakugo could even glance at Kirishima, the red-haired hero smashed his right fist into Bakugo’s cheek. Bakugo snapped his head towards Kirishima and glared daggers at him, a clear communication that death would be approaching said best friend. 

The explosive hero jumped out of his seat, not caring that his leather chair toppled against the hardwood floor. “Die!” Bakugo aimed a large explosion directly at Kirishima’s face. It caused the large windows to shatter and crumble against the sheer force of his explosion.

Thankfully, Kirishima anticipated Bakugo’s attack and hardened his skin to protect against the explosive impact. Before Bakugo could counter with another attack, Kirishima aimed his hardened punches for Bakugo’s face and torso. His grin widened as his anger-management-needing friend was backed into the corner of his office. 

Bakugo was quick to dodge but he found that Kirishima had become increasingly quicker by the number of knicks and cuts on Bakugo’s skin. He could not be on the defense for any longer. His pride refused to back down. Bakugo aimed a quick explosion right in front of Kirishima’s face to block his line of sight. In succession, Bakugo dropped down to the ground and swiped his legs from under him. With a victorious grin, Bakugo pressed his knee against Kirishima’s chest and grabbed Kirishima’s shirt. 

“You feel better?” Kirishima wheezed as Bakugo pressed his knee further against the red head’s lungs. 

The explosive hero glared down at his friend and released his shirt with a huff. “Fuck off, shitty hair.” Bakugo plopped himself on the one couch that wasn’t destroyed and stretched his legs out. The ash-blonde watched his friend practically skip towards him and sat on the table in front of the couch. He looked like a puppy waiting for his promised treat.

Bakugo groaned and wondered how the hell was he still friends with the spiky-haired idiot. “I was in the ER.”

“Like, out of your own free will?”

“Do you want me to fucking tell you or not?” Kirishima zipped his lip. “I was investigating a nurse that I think uses her quirk on unsuspecting patients.”

“For good or for evil?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Bakugo groaned and covered his eyes with his arm. He hated admitting any weaknesses he had, especially when he couldn’t figure out what was going on. “All I fucking know is that the ER nurse used her damn quirk on me twice-”

“Wait, wait, wait. YOU, Bakugo Katuski, Ground Zero, Lord Explosion Murder, went to the ER TWICE.” 

Bakugo let off threatening explosions from his hands and growled at the redhead, “Can you fucking shut up for once in your damn life, shitty hair? Do you want me to tell you or not?” Kirishima raised his hands in surrender and motioned for Bakugo to continue. “Yes, I fucking went to the ER twice.”

“Well, then what happened?”

Ground Zero lifted himself off the couch and paced around the destroyed office. “I don’t fucking know! Every time I see her I get this damned tingling feeling and my shitty heart starts racing. One second, I’m fucking yelling at all these damn extras, and the next, I’m not. Like all the rage and anger just fucking disappears and I don’t know what the fuck she did. I don’t know if her quirk is tactile, olfactic, or if it works like Aizawa-sensei’s quirk. So I need to fucking figure out what her damn quirk is and how powerful it is.”

As Bakugo kept working himself up, Kirishima merely observed his friend as a sly grin slowly grew on his face. 

Kirishima has been friends with Bakugo Katsuki for years. When something is wrong, Bakugo knows how to fix it, albeit mostly through violent means. He is quick to use his brain and his brawns to come out victorious in a battle. However, Kirishima watched his explosive friend yell and rant about a nurse. Unfortunately for Bakugo, this was unfamiliar territory. Fortunately for Kirishima, his friend was as dense as their fellow icy-hot hero. The outcomes were unknown, but Kirishima would be damned if he didn’t get to aid his friend’s “investigation”. 

“The next time she fucking uses her quirk on me, I’m gonna kill her!”

The redhead stepped in front of Bakugo and placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the explosive glare directed at him. “Whoa, dude. Calm down. Look, why don’t we talk about this more over lunch? I have the day off, so we can go to that curry place you like. What do you say?” The hardening hero flashed a shark tooth grin.

With a grunt and a roll of his eyes, Bakugo shrugged Kirishima’s hand off and stomped out the door. 

This was going to be interesting. 

[roman-writing]

the spectres vain (1/2)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton / Jamie / Viola Lloyd

Rating: M

Wordcount: 5,553

Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. 

Content Advisory: spoilers and horror. Also (eventual) ghost sex.

read it here on AO3 or you can read it below the break

“What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be

alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

A painting, for instance. An abstraction.” 

    - 'landscape with fruit rot and millipede’, Richard Silken

 -

For as long as Jamie had known her, Dani had never liked having her picture taken. Whenever a camera would be pointed in her direction, it were as though the lens were the long blued barrel of a rifle. She would flinch and try to cover it up with a laugh or cough or some other small action -- like scratching at her neck -- even as she continued ducking her head to one side. 

Jamie lowered the polaroid. The flash had already gone off and the print was sliding out. She grabbed the end and yanked it free. “Sorry,” she said with a grimace, even as she waved the film like a fan in a futile attempt to make the slip develop faster.

“It’s okay,” said Dani.

“I’d just like some more pictures of us to go around the apartment, you know?” 

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I get it.” 

Jamie stopped fanning herself with the square slip of film and was now squinting down at the image that was beginning to take form. “Christ, Poppins.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dani asked. And despite her earlier camera-shyness, she had lowered her hand from her throat and was now peering at the film with a look that was equal parts curious and apprehensive. 

Jamie flipped the film between her fingers to show her. “You move too much,” she said with a grin, followed by a recriminating cluck of her tongue. 

With a furrow of her brow, Dani shuffled over and leaned forward to get a better look. Jamie sidled closer so that they could study at the photo together, their shoulders brushing so that Jamie could feel the scratchy wool of Dani’s jumper against her upper arm. 

The film took form slowly. The grey mistiness parted like a veil being lifted over a bride’s head to reveal the Dani of just moments ago. She had been caught mid-motion. The effect was that of two figures blurred together -- one standing straight, the other ducked down and clutching her hands to her chest, arms lifting to ward off an incoming blow. In the odd half-light of the morning, she almost looked like two entirely different people, their faces smudged beyond all recognition.

Jamie sighed and handed the photo over. “Ah, well. I tried.”

Dani took the film in both hands, pinching the white edge between thumbs and fingers. “I’m sorry,” she breathed down at the image. 

“Nah. It’s alright.” Jamie nudged Dani’s shoulder with her own, and winked. She waggled the camera in her other hand. “Just means I’ll have to take loads more.”

Lowering the photograph, Dani rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

 -

They went on a honeymoon. At least, that’s what they called it, though there was no official wedding per se. Just a party, a gathering of their scant few friends and none of their family. The moment Jamie had mentioned her own shithead family in relation to the party, Dani’s face had gone pale as a sheet, and that was that. No family allowed. Especially not Dani’s. 

Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. There was nobody to make a fuss. Nobody to ruin the reception party -- no more than a private dinner affair with too much wine and champagne and cheap yet filling finger-food. The kind she could always make room for even after she was full. The perfectly boring not-wedding, to be honest. And Jamie was always unflaggingly honest. 

The honeymoon wasn’t more than a mountain retreat to a cabin nestled in autumnal woods. A small place. No sprawling manor house here. Just a private retreat where they could be alone together for a week or two.

Driving up to the cabin, it wasn't much, but it was still exactly what Jamie had imagined.

Except for the lake. They hadn't mentioned that in the brochures.

"Fuck," Jamie swore, slaming on the brakes and throwing the car into neutral, where the engine idled. "Shit. I'm so sorry. They didn't say -"

"It's fine," Dani insisted, but her eyes were fixed upon the body of water.

"We can go somewhere else. C'mon. I'll take us back to that town an hour back, and we can -"

Dani grabbed her hand where it gripped the steering wheel and squeezed. "Hey," she said softly, and she pulled her eyes away from the lake so she could look over at Jamie and offer a reassuring smile. "It's okay. Really."

In this light, her mismatched eyes were even more apparent. The early afternoon sun slanted across her face so that she was haloed by the gold of her hair, and her eye was blue and clear as water. The other was another matter. Jamie tried not to look too hard at that one. That wasn't her.

Breathing in deeply, Jamie nodded. She looked back out over the dash and through the windscreen. Their interlocked fingers were reflected in the tilted glass. She could feel Dani stroking a cold thumb across her knuckles. Her hands were always cold these days. Not like before. Now, Jamie had to be heat enough for both of them.

"Alright." Jamie grasped Dani's hand, lifted it up, then brought it gently back down atop the steering wheel. Then she slipped her hand free and turned the key in the ignition. The engine puttered to a halt. Jamie whirled the keys around one finger so that they clicked snugly against her palm. She offered Dani a puckish grin. "Let's go, then. I'm dying to see what mediocrity awaits us inside."

Dani gave a huff of laughter. "I'm sure it'll be lovely."

But Jamie was already kicking open the door and stepping out of the pickup. Leaves crunched under the worn soles of her boots. The air was brisk but the sun was warm. The lake steamed in the afternoon light. Licks of white curling from the smooth glassy surface. Jamie glared at the picturesque scene in suspicion as she began hauling their luggage into the cabin.

Water was trouble. And trouble was the last thing she wanted on a trip like this.

 -

As it turned out, she had worried herself over nothing. She never so much as caught Dani staring wistfully over at the nearby lake, only a stone's throw from the steps leading to the back entrance of the cabin. They didn't talk about the water at all, and it was too cold at this time of year to be so bold as to venture for a dip.

Indeed, the only things Dani seemed to want to do was relax and eat and fuck, which -- all things considered -- Jamie was not going to complain about. 

On the second day she wandered into the cabin after a walk to find Dani lying in the sunshine draped across the floor of their little cabin. Dani arched against her clothes, as if luxuriating in the feel of fabric against her skin. When she heard Jamie's footsteps, Dani opened her eyes and tilted her head back against the rug to look at her.

Awash in light, she was magnetic. Like something painted. Jamie could feel her own hand drifting to the camera hanging from her neck from when she had been taking pictures of the local flora on a short walk outside. She snapped a picture, the camera reeled noisily, and Dani blinked muzzily at her.

"Come here," Dani murmured, stretching out her arms.

And, well. Jamie couldn't resist an invitation like that. She set the camera aside and let herself be drawn down to the floor for a tumble. Dani tasted like warmth and sunlight, and Jamie was so caught up in the feel of her skin that she didn't even remember she had taken a photo. 

It wasn't until later that evening, when she emerged from the only bedroom to fix them the dinner they had forgotten to eat -- wearing naught but a long flannel that brushed her thighs -- that Jamie saw the square slip of self-developing film forgotten on the kitchen table. She changed route from the fridge and wandered over. Tilting her head to one side, she plucked up the picture and tugged it free from the polaroid. 

The picture had long since developed, but still the image was slightly out of focus. It was light-drenched and overexposed. The brightness had washed out any distinguishing features, until Dani was a mere human shape sprawled across a patch of pale glass, like a body floating on water. 

Lips pursed, Jamie chucked the picture into the bin and got on with making eggs and beans on toast for dinner. The scent of food drew Dani out. Like a sleuthhound she was. Her hair was glorious and sex-mussed. She was wrapped in nothing but a blanket. She came up behind Jamie and draped her arms over Jamie’s shoulders. 

Jamie flipped an egg in the sizzling pan. “You’re going to set that blanket on fire.”

“Mmm,” said Dani, kissing at Jamie’s neck, pressed all up against her back. 

Tilting her head to one side, Jamie set the frying pan onto a cold burner and turned all the dials to zero. Her smile faded. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She could clearly see Dani’s hands clasped at her collarbone, yet Jamie could feel another set of hands settling over her hips. Cold fingers dug in and gripped her into place.

Dani dragged her teeth against Jamie’s neck and whispered, “Come back to bed.” 

There was no denying her when she used that voice. Jamie felt herself being pulled away from the stove top by two sets of hands, like an unwary comet being sucked into a wicked undertow by some greater body’s gravity.

 -

It was on a night when it was Dani's turn to cook that Jamie pulled out a box from their luggage. It was an opulent navy blue with a gold logo emblazoned across the top. She hid it behind her back as she approached the cabin's little kitchen. The sound of sizzling greeted her, and a great bubbling of vegetables or perhaps a cauldron. Dani had her shirtsleeves haphazardly rolled up beyond her elbow. Her back was to Jamie, and she didn't so much as glance around when Jamie approached.

"Dinner will be ready soon. I promise," Dani said while stirring the pot. "Just a few more minutes. Hey, can you set the table for me, please?"

"Can't. Sorry. My hands are full."

"Huh?" Dani shot a distracted look over her shoulder at Jamie, turned back to the stovetop, then did a double take.

In Jamie's hands the box was nestled, held out like a propitiation. Dani nearly dropped the wooden spoon onto the ground, and had to turn back and fumble with it and all the dials to turn everything off before she could whirl back around, gripping the front of her oil-flecked apron in both hands.

Jamie opened the box to reveal a golden watch with an ivory face and gold-link chains, and Dani sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

"Oh, you shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should've."

"But I -" Dani released the front of the apron and gestured helplessly around them. "I didn't get you anything."

"Sure, you did." Jamie held up her left hand and wriggled her fingers. The ring there was impossible to miss.

Dani laughed. "That's different."

"Maybe." Jamie took the watch out from its white velvet pillow and set the case aside. Reaching out, she gently lifted Dani's hand and began draping the metal links over her narrow wrist. "But you make me very happy. Every day. And sometimes -- just once in a while -- I want to give you nice things that I can barely afford. Because capitalism, probably."

At that, Dani snorted with laughter. Even so she had gone all flushed and pink with pleasure. She kept ducking her head and looking away while Jamie locked the links around her wrist, as though she were embarrassed to be receiving such an expensive gift. When Jamie was done and tried to step away, Dani grabbed her gently by the hand and pulled her back closer.

It felt like an unspoken dare, the first time they had kissed. This felt exactly like that. Jamie had already dared to love, and Dani -- well, Dani was bold as brass, really. Her hands drifted to Jamie's waist, pulling them flush together as the kiss deepened.

Smiling, Jamie pulled back just slightly. "What's the rush? I thought you were making tea? Or aren't you hungry?"

Dani nodded, but her eyes were transfixed. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Dani always seemed to be hungry these days. Hungry for food. Hungry for sex. As though she were eating and fucking for two appetites instead of merely  her own.

Jamie didn't complain when Dani brought their mouths back together. She stumbled backwards and allowed herself to be guided, step by step, into the nearby bedroom until the backs of her legs hit the mattress, and her knees buckled, and Dani was perched atop her.

Jamie tugged the apron strings free, while Dani fumbled with the button of her jeans. They had done this a hundred times before, and more even. Seven years since Bly, and still not enough time in the world. Still, Jamie could feel her heart race in her chest even as a familiar warmth pooled in her stomach as Dani's hand slipped beneath the waistline of her jeans. 

She was so caught up in the moment -- the shared gasp between them -- Jamie hardly noticed the way Dani’s touch seemed to linger even after she had moved her hands or mouth or tongue. The slide of her touch followed by a colder phantom caress. 

It must have been the glide of gold links. Nothing more.

 -

All through the week and the weeks following, Jamie would spy Dani running her fingertips across the gold watch in a somewhat nervous fashion. Until eventually over time her wrist gleamed with every turn in the light.

 -

Dani claimed to have never ridden a horse in her life, but it was clear from the moment she first swung herself into the saddle that she was a natural.

“Am I missing a strap here? And are my feet supposed to be so low?” Dani asked, shuffling around in the saddle and frowning down at the stirrups. “I feel like they should be higher, or something.”

“That makes two of us,” Jamie grumbled.

“Huh?” 

“Bloody western saddles.”

“Ah,” Dani said, though she still looked confused.

Sighing, Jamie explained, “English style has the stirrups a little higher. Especially if you’re jumping. That’s why you think you need an extra strap. To hold onto. You sure you’ve never done this before?”

Dani shook her head. “No. Never.” 

“Huh.” Jamie gave Dani a once-over. Her form was impeccable. She had shortened the reins to perfection so that the horse’s neck was arched for pageantry. Shrugging, Jamie tugged at the reins, her own dun-coloured horse reluctantly turning its head. “This way, then.”

Dani’s dark bay trotted after to catch up so that they rode side-by-side. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno. Anywhere.” Jamie ducked beneath a wayward branch. “The man said we would come across a split in the path in about twenty minutes. We can follow the trail on the left to a waterfall, or go right for a view of the hills.”

“Right.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“No, I mean - we should go to the right. On the right trail. I - I like mountains,” Dani added, and it was clear she was pretending not to see the look Jamie was giving her. “Reminds me of home.”

Jamie swayed like a drunk in the saddle as the horse moved beneath her. “Always thought of you as a city girl.”

“Well, yeah,” said Dani. She expertly switched the reins between hands so she could scratch at her neck. “But the northwest coast is never too far away from the mountains. Or the sea.”

“Feeling a bit homesick are we?”

Dani shook her head. “Not really, no. I just think they look nice is all.”

Jamie gave a non-committal hum in reply. 

The day was mist-shrouded and cool, but the morning sun was quickly burning away the low-hanging fog. The trees were a riot of colour, greens and reds and rich ochre golds the colour of Dani’s hair, which had been tied back high on her head. Jamie found herself admiring the way a curl fell against the wool of Dani’s dark-washed peacoat lapel. The surrounding countryside held little interest in comparison.

As surreptitiously as she could, Jamie dug the bulky polaroid from the pocket of her coat. She lifted it and snapped a picture just as Dani was passing beneath a low-hanging branch. 

“What about you?” 

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. “What about me?” she repeated. She tugged the picture free before tucking both it and the camera away once more without waiting to see how the film would develop.

“Waterfall or mountains?” 

Jamie snorted. “Neither. Home was always little towns and rolling hills stinking of coal dust. We don’t have nature where I’m from.”

Dani shot her an exasperated glance. “Oh, so we’re playing that game are we?” 

“‘Course we are! ‘Cause I always win. And I love winning.”

“You do not always win.” 

Jamie gestured to herself and said, “Completely fucked up family followed by a prison sentence.” Then she gestured to Dani. “Clingy dead boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” Dani corrected her. “And a runaway father. And an alcoholic mother.”

“Big deal. Everyone where I’m from’s an alcoholic. Even the wains.”

“You’re such a liar.” 

“Am not!” Jamie said with mock indignance. 

Dani fixed her with a square-jawed stare, then pointed to herself and said, “Possessed by an evil ghost.” 

Jamie scoffed. “Oh, now that’s cheating.”

“Yeah, I win,” said Dani triumphantly, turning her attention back to the trail their horses were ambling down.

“That’s not fair! How am I supposed to compete with that?” 

“Get possessed by a ghost,” Dani offered blithely, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fine.” Jamie pulled back on the reins, drawing her horse to a halt. “I’ll swap with you.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

Dani’s horse had continued taking a few steps, but she guided it sharply back around with nothing but a press of her knees. She stared at Jamie, her expression stricken. Her breath came in plumes from her mouth, and her cheeks were pink from exposure to the chill of the morning air. 

“Jamie,” she breathed softly. “You shouldn’t joke like that.”

Jamie jerked her chin up a fraction as though in a challenge. “Who said anything about joking?”

Dani’s hands tightened around the reins. Her knuckles flashed white and bloodless. “I mean it,” she said, and her voice grew stronger. “You don’t want this."

"That's for me to decide. Just as it was for you back at Bly."

"No. I - I don’t want to risk this. I don’t want to risk you. Or me. Or us.” 

“Have you never considered it?” Jamie asked. “Maybe we could swap her back and forth. Maybe we could buy more time. Maybe she would prefer it, having multiple hosts. Let me help.”

But all while Jamie spoke, Dani was shaking her head and biting her lip. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as though she were looking at something over Jamie’s shoulder in the middle distance. “No. No, it doesn’t work like that. We can’t just -”

“Why not?”

“Jamie, I’m serious. You shouldn’t -”

“Is there some law about supernatural possession that I’m not aware of? Hmm? ‘Can’t trade ghosts,’ it says, does it? Why don’t you even want to try something that might give us a chance?”

"Just -!" Dani had screwed her eyes shut. "Just because!"

"Because why?" Jamie insisted, a dog with a bone.

"Because!"

"Bollocks! Tell me why -!"

“Because she is mine!” 

A group of blackbirds launched into startled flight from the nearby trees. The horses nickered, stomping their hooves uncomfortably, their ears flicking to and fro. Dani’s voice still rang through the air like something dark and raw, hanging in twisted bloodied bits from the branches over them. 

Dani swallowed thickly. Her eyes were wide open now. Her face was pale. Her lower lip trembled. When she spoke her voice was small. “I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t - That wasn’t -” 

She inhaled deeply and shakily. Her whole face twitched, and her shoulders, and her trembling hands. It seemed as though she were slowly curling in upon herself until she was gripping the saddlehorn, shaking, and gasping for breath. The horse beneath her took hesitant steps backwards, its ears flat against its skull, as though trying to escape the person slumped atop it.

“Hey,” Jamie said weakly, feeling helpless as she watched. 

When Dani began to slip from the saddle and towards the ground, Jamie struggled to dismount, half-falling to the earth and then scrambling away from her own horse, which snorted and balked. It turned tail and dashed back the way they had come, jangling with tack. She rushed over and managed to prop Dani up just in time to keep her from toppling right over. 

“Hey, hey,” Jamie repeated. “I’ve got you. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Dani’s eyes were staring wide at nothing, and the reins had slipped from her grasp. “She’s mine,” she was muttering to herself. “She’s mine. She’s - She’s -”

“Okay,” Jame said, keeping one hand on Dani and snatching up the loose reins in the other so that the horse would not dart away. “Okay. She’s yours. She’s yours. Okay?”

Dani was nodding along desperately. She had grabbed onto Jamie’s arm to steady herself. Gradually she managed to straighten, but her shoulders remained hunched. All at once she looked like she had no idea what to do atop a horse, and she fumbled picking up the reins, leaving them slack. When she glanced around, her face fell.

“Oh,” Dani said. “Your horse -”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

Jamie patted her leg. “I’ll walk back.” For good measure, she grabbed a hold of the loose reins dangling from the horse’s bit, and began leading it round so they could make their way back to the rancher’s stables. “C’mon you,” she chided the horse, when it tugged its head slightly. “None of that, now.”

The ground was soft. Mud speckled the horse’s shod hooves and Jamie’s worn leather boots. Meanwhile Dani rode, utterly silent. In the quiet that descended over them, there returned the sound of wildlife, of chirping birds and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Jamie felt like a servant. Some sort of old timey stable boy, leading her mistress's horse back from a long ride. 

Above her, Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat.

Jamie cocked her head to glance over her shoulder, but did not stop. “Something wrong?”

“Apart from the obvious?” Dani asked dryly. Then she tugged the peacoat more tightly around herself. The lapels bunched up around her neck. “It’s going to sound stupid.” 

“I’m all for stupid. Love it. Can't get enough of it, in fact.”

Her attempt to make Dani loosen up, laugh a little, didn’t hit quite as effectively as it usually did. For a moment Dani made no reply. Then - 

“I wanted to see the mountains.” 

It was an almost petulant grumble. She was scowling down at the horn gripped in her free hand, as though the saddle had somehow wronged her. 

Smiling, Jamie shook her head. “I’ll take you tomorrow. We’ll drive. Fuck horses, anyway.”

"Yeah. Okay. That sounds good." There came the sound of a sniffle, and the rustle of cloth. "God, I'm hungry."

Truth be told, they had eaten not an hour ago. Quite a large meal, too. Still, Jamie dug around in her other pocket and pulled out a crisp apple, which she had been saving for just the purpose. She handed it over, and Dani took it.

"Thank you."

"No worries."

"No, I mean it. For everything."

"Like I said," Jamie shot an impish look over her shoulder. "No worries. Really."

Dani ate everything, even the core. She licked the juices off her fingers and chewed on the stem the whole ride back.

It wasn't until they had returned to the cabin some time later, when Jamie was emptying her pockets, that she came across the photo. Dani had waltzed off to the kitchen to make them a too hearty, too early lunch. Jamie cast her a quick glance, then turned the photograph over to have a proper look at it.

The Dani of an hour or so ago was poised in the saddle like a dressage rider. Mist and shadow clung to the edges of her. The leafy branch was half-cast across her face like an ornament, like an exotic hat, even. And from beneath the shadowy brim was a mask of a face with dark eyes that burned through the fog.

 -

The honeymoon couldn’t last forever. Sooner than either of them would've liked, they were back in their little apartment over the flower shop. There was nothing of the trip but a handful of cherished memories -- Jamie had kept none of the photographs. 

None of the photographs Jamie had taken in their years together had seemed to turn out quite right. And Dani had kept no photos of herself before Bly. They were, Jamie had been told, still back at her old home on the other side of the continent. 

It wasn't for lack of trying. Jamie kept a camera at hand most days in the vain hope that she might steal an image of her wife to hold and to keep after -- well. After. But she didn't want to make Dani uncomfortable, no matter how often Dnai told her it was fine, that she could take as many pictures as she liked. She tried to be discreet. 

The times she wasn't, when Jamie grew frustrated enough to ask Dani to stage herself for a quick snap and flash of the lens, none of those photos turned out right either. Dani wasn't herself in those. As though she were a plastic doll posed for her high school prom night on someone's arm. Somehow those pictures were even worse. Both Jamie and Dani would grimace and shake their heads, laughing in mutual agreement that it ought to be chucked in the bin.

Life went on. There would be time for other pictures. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after. When the time came, Jamie would be ready, camera in hand. 

 -

They were seated at a cafe, waiting for their drinks to arrive, and Dani was staring at a dark-haired child. The family of three was at a nearby table. Jamie watched as Dani's eyes would lose focus mid-sentence, and drift in that direction, her voice trailing off until the words hung crooked from her tongue.

Jamie cleared her throat, and leaned an elbow on the table between them. "Yeah. I don't have the right kind of equipment for that, Poppins."

Dani's gaze jerked back towards Jamie. She blinked. "What?"

"But we could try something else," Jamie offered with a shrug. "If you like."

Dani's jaw dropped, so that her mouth hung partially open in shock as the realisation of what Jamie was saying dawned on her. "Wha -? No! No." She laughed nervously and self-consciously rubbed at the side of her neck. "Thank you, but no."

"You sure? Because if you want it, then -”

“I’m worried about -” Dani interrupted, but faltered herself before tilting her head and saying, “- her.”

Lifting an unconcerned eyebrow, Jamie asked, “And what does Viola want, then?"

Dani started slightly at the sound of that name being spoken with such sudden irreverence. "I - Well, I don't think it would help. A child. I don’t think a child would help."

"No?"

Dani shook her head. Then, with a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the family, she leaned forward. Her gold watch clinked against the tabletop, and she spoke in a low voice, "Actually, I think it might make things worse."

Jamie frowned in confusion, but leaned forward all the same as though the two of them were having some clandestine meeting instead of talking right there in the open air of the cafe. "And why's that? I thought she wanted a kid or whatever?"

"Well, yeah, but -" The tip of Dani’s tongue darted out to nervously wet her lower lip. "I - I dunno. I just have a weird feeling about it."

"Bad weird? Or just weird weird?"

"I think -" Dani inhaled sharply and sat up straighter. She seemed to consider something in the middle distance, before coming to a conclusion and shaking her head, her nose scrunched up. "Mmm. No. Just weird weird. But also -- I mean -- she wants it. Really badly. But any kid of mine wouldn't actually -- y'know -- be mine."

"I don't follow."

Dani fixed her with a hard unblinking stare. "I'm saying: it would be hers."

Slowly the realisation of what she was saying hit Jamie, along with a corresponding image. Of a woman. Putting on a shiny new satin dress.

"Yikes," said Jamie.

"Yeah." Dani slumped back into her seat. She went back to chewing on her lower lip and staring over at the other table. Except that the waitress came by not a moment later. So, Dani jolted up straight again and said, "Oh, thank you so much."

The waitress flashed them both a brilliant smile. "No problem."

Jamie waited until she was gone before saying, “You never answered my first question.”

Dani had picked up a small silver spoon and was stirring milk into her coffee until it turned a shade of tan. “What do you mean?” 

“Do you want a child?” Jamie asked, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not her. You. You shouldn't let her stop you from doing something that you want to do."

Setting down the spoon so that it was balanced on the edge of the saucer, Dani picked up her coffee. "I know that.” She took a sip. When it was clear that Jamie wasn’t going to let this go, Dani set her cup back down but kept her hands locked around it. “I thought I did. Before. Back when I was -” She made a fluttering gesture with her fingers as though waving away a buzzing fly.

“Yeah? And what about now?”

Dani’s face slackened at the question. Her eyes unfocused. 

Jamie snapped her fingers. “Hey. None of that, now.”

Dani jerked. "Sorry. Uhm -" She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. Her hands gripped the porcelain cup tight. Then she shook her head, a small twitchy side-to-side motion. "No. No, I don't. No. Not anymore."

With a shrug, Jamie added a splash of milk to her cup of bag tea. "Well, all right, then."

Dani's eyes blinked open. "And what about you?"

Jamie made a face. "I've spent enough of my life raising kids. Siblings. My own mother. You know how it is. So, no. But if it was something you wanted, then sure. I would be all for it."

"But if you don't want it, then -"

"I'm perfectly willing to make a compromise. Fortunately for us both, neither of us have to. It's the best of both worlds, really," Jamie assured her. She took that first sip of tea, then made another face. "Ugh. Why can't the Yanks ever make a decent cuppa?"

Dani had picked up her own cup for a sip, and smiled around the brim. "Want a conciliatory muffin instead?"

Jamie set her tea down with a grimace. "Yes, please."

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” said Dani, already standing and leaving her coffee behind. She shuffled through her purse for her wallet. 

While pushing her tea away from herself in disgust, Jamie paused. She frowned. She gazed more intently at the cup Dani had left on the table. The coffee steamed faintly, yet there remained the imprints of fingers on the porcelain, as though she were still sitting there, gripping the mug between her cold hands.

Jamie’s head jerked around, and her gaze sought Dani. She found her at the till, exchanging cash for a blueberry muffin. Not taking her eyes off her, Jamie fumbled around in the pocket of her own coat, which was slung over the back of her chair. Finally, she withdrew the polaroid camera that never seemed to leave her side these days. She lifted the camera to her face, and peered through, pointing it in Dani’s direction.

Dani’s figure was distorted through the lens. She moved as though through water, turning and striding towards Jamie across the bottom of a lake. Her golden hair seemed to float. Or perhaps that was the breeze, a draught that had slipped benignly beneath the cafe’s front door. Every step lingered behind her; there were shadows in her footprints. As she passed by the table with the family of three, her attention drifted towards the child -- just for the barest of moments -- and through the camera lens her eyes were deep and dark as muddy waters. 

Jamie lowered the camera, and thought to herself that a change of strategy was in order.

[royalcordelia]

Summary:  Instead of leaving her confession letter on the table, Anne gives it right to Hazel to deliver to Gilbert. (A 3x08 speculation story of what would have happened if Gilbert had Anne’s letter.)

Notes: This story was inspired by this post by @mostlyfangirling​ and this ask I got from an anon friend! Please enjoy!

*

Anne emerged from over the hill with the same insistence of Avonlea’s morning sun, its same fuschia blush on her cheeks. Hazel nearly mistook her for the horizon as a golden halo turned her into a dancing silhouette across the yard. Yet the closer Anne grew to the house, the more the characteristics of a normal human girl fell back over her - a wasp’s nest for hair, a disheveled apron, a bottomless depth in the souls of her eyes.  She came upon the door, meeting Hazel’s inquisitive gaze with a friendly grin through the porch window. 

“Hello!” came Anne’s muffled voice through the pane. Hazel straightened her back, wiping her dusty palms on her dress before opening the door. The second the door cracked open, she was nearly swept away by whatever anxious, palpable energy emanated from the girl. Yet the girl’s presence was far from uncomfortable, and even bore something warm, almost on fire. Fumbling with her hands, Anne began to speak. “You must be Mrs. Hazel! I am ever so honored to meet your acquaintance. Every time our family grows by one member, I cannot help but be selfishly glad for it. I’m Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!” Anne peered around Hazel’s shoulder. “Is Gilbert in?” 

Hazel knew it was only a matter of time before the ladies would begin to come knocking after the young Blythe boy, no matter how many times Bash insisted he was already spoken for. She just didn’t suppose Gilbert’s suitors would be wildflowers popped up from the ground come to life in girl form. 

“He’s gone to town on some errands,” was all Hazel could think to say. 

Anne’s shoulders slumped as if something in her core had cracked. There had to be something that could be done. Agonizing over a solution, she tapped her foot to expel her nervousness and cut the silence. Maybe she could go to the train station to meet him, or wait here so that when he returned, she’d be the first thing he’d see. There were such wonderful blossoms along the way. What if she were to pluck a few for him? Would he even appreciate such a gesture? 

“Are you sick?” Hazel’s voice broke in. Anne’s face snapped up to hers, and suddenly she could feel her confidence draining from her from a hole in her heart. Was she sick? Anne supposed she was, in the worst way a girl could be. What was she thinking coming here?

But she wasn’t thinking - that was the truth of it. She was burning alive, and she always would be if she didn’t tell Gilbert that she loved him right now. Today. 

“Do you suppose I could write him a message?” she sputtered, startling Hazel with her urgency. “I have something to tell him of such importance that neglecting it would certainly be one of my life’s biggest regrets.” 

“Whatever it is, I could pass along the message.” 

“It really is something he should hear directly from me. I can’t risk him misunderstanding me twice.” From the doorway, Anne’s eyes caught Gilbert’s stack of paper and his homework pen sitting across the kitchen. “I’ll only be a second.” 

With the paper before her and the quill in her hand, Anne could feel the turmoil of affection bubbling inside of her, a hurricane of inarticulable words that begged for meaning. How fast could her hand write that she had spent every minute of their friendship admiring him with such a fury that she once misinterpreted it as disdain? That the thought of his smile and gentle support made it difficult to walk, to breathe? That she had been completely devoured by her desire for him, so much so that she couldn’t remember a time without it? 

Yet Anne wrote the simplest words she’d ever put to paper: “Dear Gilbert, I’m sorry I was confused before. I’m not anymore. I love you. -Anne.” There it was, immortalized in the paper, unable to be erased from existence. Was that truly all she wanted to say? Everything else, she supposed, could be explained in person. Then, with a jolt, she remembered to write one last thing down. “P.S. Could I please have my pen back ?”

Anne folded the paper with a gentle touch, writing Gilbert’s name across the front. Then, turning to Hazel, she said in a heavy voice, “Mrs. Hazel, please guard this letter with your life and ensure that it gets to Gilbert for me please. I would owe you greatly for such an imposition, but I’ve waited long enough to tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Hazel heard herself asking, surprising herself at her own prodding. 

Anne’s cheeks took the same color as azaleas, soft underneath her freckles.

“I’m certain you could wager a guess.” 

Hazel accepted the letter. It was weighty even to the touch, and for a split second, she wondered if there was more to Anne than what met the human eye. 

“Yes, I think I can do as much.” It was a promise between women, between alike souls that knew how to love. 

Anne pressed her lips together and nodded her appreciation, a praise of undying gratitude caught in her throat.

She was caught in the doorway when she turned to leave, eyes still fixed on the letter in Hazel’s hand. No part of her wanted to tear it away, toss it to the rambling wind to be forgotten. Gilbert would know, and whatever change to their friendship resulted, Anne was prepared to accept fate.

With one last glance of appreciation, Anne took Hazel’s hands and kissed the woman’s cheek. “Thank you, kind Hazel.” 

And then, seeping back into the horizon from where she came, Anne disappeared into the orange-haloed hills. 

*

Gilbert sailed into the house, laughing his way into the kitchen and right past the letter on the table. His lungs were sails full of air and his brow was damp from the hot summer. He collapsed into the chair on the other side of the kitchen near Delly, and the door opened with a fury, revealing an even more exhausted Sebastian. 

“Laugh all you want, Blythe, but any boy can win a sprint race. The real test is the endurance run, a man’s sport! Don’t forget you promised to help me with the fence repairs, then we’ll see who's got dead bones.” 

“Like you’d ever let me forget.” 

The young boy was too busy rolling down his sleeves to wipe away his sweat to see Hazel slip the letter from the table and hide it behind her back. She approached Gilbert with caution, and knowing that it bore such importance was careful not to crease the important correspondence in her hands. Gilbert looked up at her with his eyes the color of the the island - its blue skies, its red soil, its green tree tops. He cocked his head as Hazel kept her expression stone cold, hiding what she knew behind it. 

“Hazel, is something wrong?” 

“No,” she said shortly. “A letter came for you today.” 

He must’ve recognized his own stationary when it was placed into his hands, as well as the script across the front, because an immediate reverence softened his grasp. 

“It’s from Anne.” He stared at it in his palm. 

“Well, are you going to open it?” Bash exasperated. 

“I don’t know if I want to. The last time I saw her...” Gilbert ran the pads of his fingers over the paper for a split second before swallowing the lump in his throat and unfolding the letter.

Gilbert was all but brought to his knees. His eyes somehow zeroed in on the words “I love you” and his stomach filled with hurricane winds or butterflies, turning him a man seconds away from taking flight. He shot to his feet, his inarticulate mouth gaping to say something, but coming up blank. All that came out was a relieved, half-sobbed burst of laughter. 

Anne loved him! She loved him and she wrote it down with her own hand and left it for him to read. She loved him and she told him, even though he’d made her think he’d completely moved on to someone else because she loved him enough to hope. All the compromises in his head where he promised himself he’d grow to love Winifred were so terribly wrong, so impossibly hopeless. He knew what he really wanted, has always known, but now that it had been lit on fire by Anne’s returned love that, the truth could do nothing but burn brighter. 

He wanted to race out into the yard, throw up his arms, and spin around until he collapsed on the ground with dizziness. But first he had to see Anne!

“How long ago was she here?” he rushed out. 

“This morning,” Hazel replied. 

Gilbert beelined out of the door, jumping over his two steps and set to the ground running as fast as he could. Somehow the tall grass at his sides in the fields was so much softer than it had been, and the breeze comfortably cool as it whizzed in his ears. All of nature, it seemed, had begun to rejoice with him, sweeping under his feet and hurrying him along. 

When Green Gables came into view, all the wind in his lungs disappeared. He stumbled to a halt, gaze melting when he saw Anne sitting on the bench outside her front door. Her nose was buried into a book and one of her hands was reaching over the edge of the porch, moving slowly to catch some of the afternoon sun. The sight caused Gilbert’s heart to expand so fully in his chest that it almost hurt against his ribs. 

He crept forward slowly, reminding himself how to walk. The movement caught Anne’s attention, and she froze. Gilbert hoped he was smiling, hoped that he was giving her some indication that his arrival here was a good thing. But his expression was heavy with the better feelings of his heart, indecipherable to Anne, who looked like she was seconds away from fleeing inside. She set her book aside and moved to the edge of the porch, waiting for him to say something. 

There were a thousand different words on the tip of his tongue - Surely you must know how much I...You never said anything about...I was so sure that you’d never...Please accept me as I am, please please plea - but they remained unsaid. The longer he stood unmoving, the more Anne’s face fell. 

Then, Gilbert remembered the letter that hadn’t left his hands and the pen that he’d been keeping in his pocket. He turned the parchment over, and with Anne’s fountain pen wrote out the only  thing he could . He set both his confession and the pen in her shaking  hands, and watched her eyes fall upon the paper. There were only four words to read.

I love you too.

“So much,” he managed to whisper. Anne’s ice blue eyes were clear and glossy, but a small smile dimpled her cheeks and Gilbert released a small sigh. 

“Really?” she said softly. His throat felt thick, but he blinked the blurriness from his eyes and nodded. Anne lowered her forehead onto his, her presence a balm on every ache he’d ever felt, and he smiled as he leaned up to meet her. He wondered if a man could drown in happiness. 

“It’s always been you, Anne.  From the very first day, it’s only been you.” 

He was a split second away from closing the distance between them when Anne took a hesitant step back. She bit her lip, her gaze falling to the floor beside her feet. 

“What about Winifred?” 

Gilbert blinked. He hadn’t had a chance to think that far ahead. Once he’d read her letter, he was like a man crazed to get here, to see her. His heart sunk in his chest at the vulnerable hope on her face. He reached for her hands and squeezed them gently.

“I’ll have to talk to Winifred as soon as possible. It’s long overdue.” 

“What do you mean?” 

His thumb ran over his knuckles as he spoke. 

“In some ways, loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. In other ways, I’m profoundly inexperienced in the reality of love. I thought that because there was no chance for you and I, that I would have to grow to learn to love someone else. But the more time passed, the more I was hopelessly yours, and always would be. I should’ve known that real, genuine love is something you can’t just ignore.” He pulled her hand up to his cheek, then turned to kiss it. “I’m just relieved that I won’t have to pretend anymore.” He paused, meeting her eyes. “Will I?” 

“No,” Anne replied warmly. “I think you and I have spent long enough dancing around each other. I won’t lock up what I’m feeling either.” 

“So does that mean that when everything is cleared away you and I…?” 

“I hope so,” Anne confessed.

Gilbert’s smile was pure gold. Every ounce of desire he thought he had to marry into a wealthy family and go off to the Sorbonne disappeared, never having existed in the first place. There were only visions in his head of this his home on Canadian soil and the family he was unknowingly building with Anne for years now. Days of holding Anne, tasting her smile were finally within reach.

Yet, everything he wanted to do in that moment, he couldn’t. Not until he talked to Winifred. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew. Winnie was so kind, and had never given him any reason to complain. He’d wronged her so cruelly, and had ignored the truth of it. 

Anne was able to read his face like a book, and offered him a sad smile. 

“If you go now, you can catch the earlier train into Charlottetown so you won’t be rushing to make the last one. Take your time to say what you need to and hear what she’ll say in return,” she offered. 

Gilbert sighed. The more Anne spoke, the more he admired her, gravitated to her kind heart. Lovesickness had his heart in its unforgiving grasp, but it was best he’d ever felt. 

“Maybe when I come back, we can go for a walk?” he said hopefully. Anne bit her lip, a blush forming sweetly on her cheeks. 

“That sounds nice.” 

From the corner of his eye, Gilbert caught a glance of the curtains moving in the window. Marilla stood half hidden behind the wall with a tender expression on her face as she comprehended what was happening on her porch. He tipped his head in respect then turned back to Anne.

“I have a train to catch,” he said a bit sadly. Anne nodded in understanding, stepping back to make the separation easier on them both. Gilbert’s feet mindlessly carried him a few paces away, but he paused and glanced over his shoulder. Anne stood where he’d left her, bathed in ethereal, dusky light, the letter still in her hands. 

He crossed the distance in two short strides and took the letter from her hand. Then, as carefully as if he were harvesting a delicate flower from the garden, Gilbert tore his own confession off along the creased seam, and closed Anne’s hands over it. 

“So you doubt or forget,” he murmured. Affection filled her eyes, sending a thrill down his back. Anne then took the rest of the letter in his hands, folded it, and slid it into his breast pocket.

“So you remember what has always been true,” she replied.

Lighter and more radiant than he’d ever been before, Gilbert fixed one last lingering glance on the one face he loved best and made his way down the drive. 

*

Gilbert made good on his promise to come see Anne for a walk. Anne had seen him crossing the fields between the Cuthbert and Blythe-Lacroix farms from the window, and knew without asking that his talk with Winifred had gone longer and worse than he expected. But the moment he laid his eyes on her, his shoulders lifted and he sped up even more.  

They walked along the banks of the creek, watching dragonflies fly from one stepping stone to another and speaking the way new lover’s do - the whole world new at their feet. 

Later, when the sun shone directly above their heads, they settled underneath a crowned sycamore tree slowly venturing closer and closer to each other. Gilbert drew shapes onto the back of her hand as she spoke about her recent discoveries.

“-and apparently Diana knew the whole time, or at least she suspected, but as soon as she said it, I realized how foolish I’d been. It’s funny how one minute your entire life is veiled, and the next, all the colors are brand new.” She paused, catching Gilbert’s heavy gaze. “What is it?” 

 Gilbert said nothing. He only crossed into her space until they shared the same air, and waited for permission. Anne sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers finding his jaw and gently running over the dimples of his smile. Then, as reverent as a prayer, she closed the distance and kissed him. Gilbert dissolved under her touch, reaching for her waist and pressing her closer to him. 

When they pulled apart, Anne could still taste the apple sweetness of him on her lips and couldn’t stop herself from placing honeydrop kisses along his cheek. She felt his hand travel down her back and shivered. 

“This is different,” she admitted as Gilbert’s head fell against hers.

“Good different?”  

Anne grinned and kissed him again. When she placed her hand on his chest, she realized in the vaguest awareness of her mind there was a thin piece of paper all folded up above his heart. She pressed herself up close to him and hoped that maybe he’d feel hers in the same place. 

[avatar-the-last-jerkbender]

Untitled

- Zutara Week Day 5: Hesitancy-

AO3 Link

@zutaraweek

She sees him in a dark corner of the bar, with skin so pale it seems to glow and a worn black leather jacket. A casual observer may not have noticed him, with the way he seemed to otherwise melt into his booth but for her, his appearance practically screamed ‘vampire’.

Katara ran over the details of the mission in her head, before taking a deep breath and approaching him. A famed vampire hunter named Ozai had put out a hit on a vampire named Zuko. He would have killed Zuko himself, but apparently the being had gone into hiding and he was more focused on running his own vampire hunting organization. While she wasn’t a part of it, the bounty on Zuko’s head was a whopping 2 million dollars, and the promise of that much money prompted her to attempt finishing the job.

She patted at the stake and squirt gun filled with holy water in her jacket sleeves before approaching the man in the bar and tapping at the seat across from him. “Hey. Can I sit here?”

He looks at her suspiciously, golden eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Katara’s smile falters for a bit before she responds. “I want to, of course!”

The vampire continues to look at her before turning away and shrugging. She takes this as an invitation and slides into the seat across from him at the booth.

“I’m Catherine,” she ventures.

The man grunts in acknowledgement and glares at the surface of the table, sticky with the residue of spilled drinks and crumbs.

“Do you have a name?” Katara asks again, after a beat of silence.

“No.” His response is short and low, almost unintelligible in contrast to the background noise of glasses clinking and people chattering.

Katara felt a sudden rush of frustration and clenched her teeth. Usually vampires were easy to wheedle information out of and talk to, the supernatural creatures always looking to seduce and charm.

But this one wasn’t even trying to do so.

“Okay… can I just call you Lee then?” she asks. The name was generic enough to belong to anyone, especially in this part of the city.

“Whatever.” He looks at her for a second from under stupidly thick eyelashes before flicking his gaze away once more.

“Lee, then. I’d like to find a vampire coven around here. Maybe you know about one?”

She saw no reason to beat around the bush- maybe Lee’s bluntness would prove to be advantageous, despite his unresponsiveness.His posture stiffens, his former slouch completely gone.

“I don’t know anything about those.” While his voice was disinterested before, now it is absolutely frigid, simply daring her to ask more questions.

Katara smiles sweetly, tucking her fingers around the handle of her squirt gun, filled with holy water from a nearby church. “Are you sure?”

The vampire across from her stares deeply into her eyes, his own flashing red for a moment. “Yes.”

This time she full-on smirks. “You can’t compel me. I’m immune.”

Lee lets out a curse under his breath and slumps back into his seat. “Of course you are.”

“No one knows why, really,” Katara says conversationally. “My family thinks it’s genetic.”

The vampire rolls his eyes. “Is Catherine even your real name?”

Despite being even more suspicious of her than before, Lee was finally speaking in more than monosyllabic grunts. He’s intrigued, she realizes, and decides to press that to her advantage.

“Frankly, that’s none of your business. I’m actually looking for someone.”

“Who?”

Katara pauses, determining whether or not to tell him. Ozai had mentioned that Zuko was a loner, never associating with any covens even before he went into hiding. What were the odds Lee knew him? And what were the chances he was willing to tell Katara what he knew?

She chews on her lip, fidgeting with her sleeves. “Do you know a vampire named Zuko by any chance?”

Lee’s gold eyes flash at the name, but his expression is otherwise unchanged. “No,” he says shortly, once again clamming up. He crosses his arms and looks at her coldly. “I think you should go.”

“What?” Katara replies, startled. “No, I want to know what you-”

“Careful, Catherine.” Lee warns.

Katara shudders and glares at him, debating whether or not it would be worth attacking him in front of everyone. “Fine,” she snaps before hastily getting up and shoving her way out of the bar.

***

It was too easy to get ahold of Lee.

After unceremoniously being told to leave, Katara decided to simply wait.

She stood in an alleyway behind the bar, the stench of garbage lightly permeating the air and her fingers and nose almost numb to the cold.

Katara didn’t know how long she had been waiting. One hour? Two? Either way, it was around 3 AM when Lee finally came out of the bar, haloed by the golden glow of a street lamp.

A taxi whizzes by as she pulls Lee into the alleyway, joints aching slightly from cold and disuse.

“What the hell?” he hisses, fangs extended. Katara slams him bodily against the wall, one hand keeping his arms behind him and the tip of her stake poised over where his heart should be.

“You’re not telling me something,” she says bluntly, the time for being tactful and dancing around what she wanted to know long gone.

“Why would I?” He bucks against her grip, and Katara digs the stake in a bit further, almost breaking the skin.

“Tell me what you know about Zuko,” she pants.

“No.”

And then Katara’s flying to the floor, her head hitting the concrete with a crack as Lee twists and pushes her. Cold she thinks dully, as his knees squeeze her sides and he brings a fist up to punch.

Thinking on instinct, she bucks her hips up, causing him to lose balance as she whips out her squirt gun and shoots him with a stream of holy water. The stake has skittered away somewhere, hit by one of their flailing limbs, and she has no time to think as she leaps back.

The water hits just under his left eye, causing a sizzling sound and a low growl to emerge from Lee’s throat.

He lunges for her once again, knocking the gun out of Katara’s grip and sending her careening into the opposite wall.

Once again, her head smacks against a hard surface and spots briefly appear in her vision. She blinks them away, trying to focus on the vampire in front of her. In her brief second of hesitation, Lee rips at her jacket, roughly separating the teeth of the zipper and gets closer, his cold breath wafting over her neck.

Katara thrashes against his grip, panicking. I don’t want to die. She was so stupid. She shouldn't have tried to do this on her own, shouldn’t have gotten cocky, shouldn’t have-

The frantic train of her thoughts slows as she realizes Lee isn’t draining her of her blood. Instead he is frowning, raising a cold finger to poke against the ink at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “You’re White Lotus?” he asks, surprised.

“What do you care?” she spits back, using Lee’s distraction to bat his arms away and push him back. Katara zeroes in on her squirt gun and goes to lunge for it as Lee shouts, “no wait!”

Despite herself, she turns to see him pulling aside his jacket and the collar of his shirt. “I’m with them too,” he says.

Katara’s eyes narrow and she walks closer to Lee, practically climbing him trying to get a good look at the tattoo in the same place as her own. Sure enough, it’s a simple ink of a white lotus pai sho tile, almost impossible to find for anyone who didn’t know it was there.

“No way,” she mumbles.

“Uh… I didn’t know you were… sorry…” His previous aggression completely gone, Lee awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck and turns his face away from hers.

“It’s not your fault,” Katara replies, finding it hard to move her tongue. “I thought I knew everyone in the organization.”

“I’m a recent member. I only joined after I was turned, with the help of my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” She asks curiously.

“You might know him as the Dragon of the West. Or Iroh?”

Katara feels frustrated, as though she is missing the single piece of a puzzle she has every ability to solve. “Wait, so if he’s your uncle…” And then it clicks. “Then you’re Zuko?!”

“Yes…?” He sounds uncertain as she plows on.

“Your father put a hit out on you. He wants you gone,” she explains, feeling a twinge of pity at the sadness that crosses the vampire’s gaze. “I had no idea you were working with the White Lotus. I guess that explains how you disappeared so well. It took me forever to simply track you to this city.”

Zuko nods and sighs. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he’s trying to kill me. Everyone in my family is a vampire hunter and this is just… evidence of my failure.” He makes a vague gesture towards himself.

Katara vehemently shakes her head. “You didn’t fail. This job is risky. If anything, your father is the failure for wanting you dead.”

Zuko snorts, leaning heavily against an alley wall. “That’s basically what Uncle says, but I have no clue if he’s right.”

“He wouldn’t have let you join the White Lotus if he didn’t believe in you,” she responds confidently. “You know he always talks about you? About how amazing you are, and how you hate tea but drink it just for him.”

Katara sees the corner of Zuko’s mouth turn up in a smile. “I can’t believe you know that,” he mumbles bashfully.

They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the city around them. A car rushes by, and the streetlight flickers.

“Well,” she says, speaking once again. “This changes things.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow at her. “I assume you’re not going to kill me now?”

“I do like money,” Katara conceded. “But my loyalty is to the White Lotus first. I didn’t believe their philosophy of vampire-human solidarity at one point, but I try my best to uphold it now. ”

The vampire next to her sighs. “I suppose. It’s hard for me to believe that, even now. My whole life, vampires have always been the enemy.”

“Same for me. One of them killed my mother, and it took me forever to get closure on that.”

“How’d you do it?”

Katara wearily picks up her squirt gun, lets her eyes roam the alleyway to find her stake. “I found and killed him,” she says as blandly as possible, pushing away the memory of glistening fangs and the red eyes of a vampire too far gone.

She can feel Zuko’s eyes on her as she finally spots the silver weapon, and she bends to pick it up. “He hurt people,” she justifies, starting to feel a little defensive. “This is my job. Sometimes I feel regret, but… what can I do?”

“You’re doing just fine.”

Katara smiles at him for that, not the fake one she used at the bar earlier but a softer, real one. “Thanks Zuko.” She notices something at the corner of her eye, and turns to face the streaks of color starting to appear in the sky.

Suddenly her limbs feel heavy. She’s been out in the cold all night, and any adrenaline left from their encounter is starting to fade away. “It’s almost dawn,” Katara says.

Zuko tears his gaze away from her to look at the horizon. “We should go. Do you want to walk with me to headquarters?”

She shrugs, and goes to move out of the alleyway but Zuko stops her.

“Wait.”

He shrugs off his leather jacket and holds it out to Katara. She looks at him quizzically as he clears his throat and once again reaches up to scratch at his neck. “I ripped your jacket so… I don’t want you to get cold or anything.”

Zuko’s voice gets progressively softer until he awkwardly trails off, continuing to hold out the garment.

“Oh.” Katara finally registers that yes, she is cold. The wind seeps through even the thick shirt she’s wearing underneath her own ruined jacket and she lets out an involuntary shiver. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

She unzips the rest of her jacket and throws it to the side of the alleyway, among the rest of the garbage. Zuko’s jacket, while larger than her own, is comfortable and she wraps herself in it, tucking her weapons into the pockets.

They walk for a little bit before Katara breaks the silence between them. The quiet wasn’t tense like before- more tired and content. “My name’s not actually Catherine. I just use that so people don’t actually find out who I am.”

Zuko shrugs. “I figured.”

“It’s actually Katara.”

“Katara.” He sounds it out, the syllables disappearing into the slowly lightening sky. “That’s beautiful.”

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

Shiny Toy With a Price

Once again I have committed the fandom version of a hit-and-run by delivering a single story based on a Taylor Swift song and then fleeing the scene of the crime. This one is based on/around Cruel Summer and there are a few little hints buried throughout the story that reference it. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: That summer was particularly hot and cruel and it hadn't rained since May. (Or Bruce wants to label his relationship with Selina and she is adamantly against such an idea.)

If asked to describe the summer of Year Zero, Selina would immediately respond that it was the hottest summer of her life. Whether or not this was actually the case is up for debate, but it certainly felt like the hottest summer. And a lot of Gothamites agreed. It hadn’t rained since May and by the time July rolled around, any plant that hadn’t been tended to religiously was dead and people were desperately praying for any amount of rain. The streets were full of people in as few items of clothing as they could be, water with ice in it was treated like pure gold, and people would huddle in groups to be in front of one of the few working air conditioners.

What only a handful of people knew, and one of the secrets you couldn’t pay Selina to spill, was that Bruce and Alfred’s small apartment was one of the only places with a working, refrigerated air conditioning system. Bruce has claimed the apartment early enough after the bridges blew and Alfred has booby trapped it enough that no one was ever able to really vandalize the small 3-bed, 2-bath apartment. That apartment, with it’s pink wallpaper that Alfred and Selina had painted a deep blue in the early morning one of the first days she was able to walk and the doors that squeaked no matter how much oil she and Bruce poured on the hinges, quickly became her refuge during the Hottest Summer Ever.

The apartment was about four blocks away from the GCPD and a five-minute walk if you used the roofs (seven minutes if you used the regular streets). It wasn’t unusual for Bruce to get up before the sun and head to the police station, at which point Selina, who had usually camped out on the small fire escape outside his window, would sneak in and take her turn getting a couple of hours of sleep. It was a weird set-up, which seemed fitting considering how Selina had no idea how this year would be remembered once the bridges were back and Bruce lived in a mansion that wasn’t full of board games with mismatched pieces and her clothes and the truly disgusting alcohol that Alfred had gotten from Lucius that one time. But then again, things had always been weird for them and there was nothing to indicate anything would change any time soon.

Looking back on it now, years after the incident and years after Bruce left and years after she became Catwoman and a socialite and years before Bruce will return dressed as a bat, Selina doesn’t know if she regrets the night they stole Alfred’s vodka or if she just wishes it has happened sooner so that maybe they could have figured everything out before he jumped on a plane headed to somewhere Selina wasn’t.

Rule one of nights that Alfred was out was that Selina must always supply snacks. The rule had started when they were much younger and Selina had taught him how to get snacks out of a vending machine without paying. He had, of course, refused to try this more than once because it was all about the “research” and would be “irresponsible to steal something as small as a pack of potato chips”. Selina had found the sentiment to be one of the most ridiculous ones he had ever shared and then promptly determined that she would always have some stolen vending machine snacks on her when she saw him. That had quickly stopped meaning that she brought the food back to her squat where he’d be waiting and started to mean that she snuck Twinkies and gummy worms and flat soda into his mansion where the small offerings seems stupid and inconsequential in comparison to Alfred’s expertly-made quiches and chocolates from Germany and steakss that cost more than Selina wanted to think about. But the bridges blowing had changed things and once again she was able to offer a valuable commodity and she certainly loved that more than shyly passing Bruce a half-eaten oatmeal creme pie when he could have bought the factory that made it with his pocket change.

So, it was for that reason that Selina snuck through the window that July evening with her arms full of treats with enough processed sugar to kill a man. She had found a vending machine a few blocks away that was mostly full since it has been vandalized past the point of being recognized as a vending machine many years earlier. Bruce, who looked like he hadn’t even considered sleeping for at least a month, greeted her with an exceptionally jubilant smile.

“We figured it out!” he exclaimed as he helped her unload the snacks on the small table.

“The water?”

“Yeah! We just altered one of the old water purifiers and then added on... “ he paused, looking at her with a slightly resigned face. “We made a new water purifier from some old ones and some other tech.”

“Thanks for the dumbed down version. Do you want Twizzlers or Red Vines?” Selina asked holding up one packet in each hand. Bruce paused for a moment, considering, before grabbing the Twizzlers. Selina smiled to herself; Bruce hated Twizzlers and must have known the ones he had just taken would be as hard as a rock, but he also knew that Red Vines were her favorite. Even if that wasn’t the thought process that had gone into his candy selection, she was going to assume that it was. She was in a city full of criminals, cut off from the rest of the world and would probably die of heat stroke if the weather didn’t let up soon; she should be allowed to entertain some slightly romantic ideas.

“So,” she said as she plopped down on the couch with Red Vines in one hand and her arms and legs slung over every inch of the piece of furniture. “What now? You wanna lose another game of Monopoly?”

Bruce shot her a glare from the kitchen before he came and settled on the coffee table next to the couch. “I would have won if you hadn’t cheated and you know it.” (Selina rolled her eyes at that.) “But I actually have something much better.”

“Do tell…”

“Yahtzee.”

If Selina’s eyebrows could have risen any higher they would have touched her hair line. “Yahtzee?”

“Yahtzee. Plus some gambling.”

“Okay… Explain.”

Bruce laid out the rules. The game would play normally, but they would have to place bets on what they would roll. Each round they would bet something small and as the game went on, what they bet would have to increase in value.

By the time they had finished the first game (Selina won), the pair had discovered some issues with the rules of the game as they stood. Namely, they ran out of things to bet very, very quickly and it had reached the point where Bruce was betting Alfred’s things and Selina was trying to bet random items she found in Bruce’s room (she had bet a very pricey watch his father had bought him for his tenth birthday and her heart had nearly stopped thinking about the price what she likely saw as simply a shiny toy) and it had simply devolved into a very low-stakes game once it became clear none of the items would actually change hands at the end of the night.

Bruce, always one to try and fix any problem presented to him, searched around the apartment to find any way to spice up this game that was rapidly becoming boring when Selina threw a couch pillow at him.

“I’ve got it. You remember that vodka Lucius gave Alfred a couple months ago? The stuff they found in that raid?” Bruce nodded slowly, not entirely certain where Selina was going with this train of thought but pretty certain he would be regretting going along with it in the morning. “We play the game the same way, but, instead of betting objects, we bet how many shots we take.”

“That seems like a great way to get alcohol poisoning.”

“C’mon! It won’t kill us and we can come up with some excuse about, I don’t know, someone stealing it if Alfred ever notices that it’s gone. It’ll be fun.” Selina, who at this point was standing on the couch to talk to Bruce from his vantage point in the kitchen, did her best to give him a sweet face. Instead of a response, Bruce simply grabbed the vodka and rolled his eyes as the setting sun behind him gave him a faintly angelic halo. One day, Bruce figured, Selina would realize she wouldn’t ever have to try and convince him to join her in things. One day she’d figure out that he followed her not because he thought her ideas were good or because he was curious or because he had no other choice. Hopefully, one day she’d realize that he was ready to follow her off of a cliff not to figure out what was at the bottom of siad cliff, but because she was the one to walk off of it.

Another hour passed and as the sun finally set a cool breeze began to blow through the apartment. It was with all the windows open in the apartment and the faint sounds of music coming from the apartment’s kitchen that Selina screamed ‘yahtzee’ and emerged from the game victorious once again. Both teens laughed as Bruce finished the bottle in resignation. Neither of them were strangers to alcohol, but this was the first time they had actually been drunk at the same time. Normally they simply had angry confrontations where one was sober and the other was not, but this situation, with both more than a little high on each other’s company, the sinking temperatures, and the relief of having survived another day, was infinitely preferable to their other drunken encounters. Bruce swept the dice into the mostly destroyed box they had found them in as Selina laid back on the couch, playing with one of the die she had snagged at the end of the game.

Once the game was put away, Bruce came to sit down, lifting Selina’s legs and settling down on the couch before lowering them onto his lap. The two sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Bruce broke the silence.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Confused what would spark such a random question, Selina looked at him quizzically. “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

“I was just thinking that I really don’t know where you sleep and we have an extra room here and it just seems ridiculous that you’d be wandering around Gotham where you can get hurt when you could be here and with us and safe and I just don’t know why you’d risk everything just to avoid staying here-”

“You think I’m avoiding staying here? Why would you think that?” Selina was sitting up on the couch now, curling her legs under her to look Bruce in the face.

Bruce played with his hands and stared out the window, “I just figured you wanted to keep us a secret, like you did when we were younger. You didn’t like labeling things and I figured you stayed away and didn’t live with us because you were scared of being labeled.”

“Okay,” Selina held up her hands. “What exactly do you think we are? Because I thought we were just friends hanging out and friends don’t live with friends when they’re stuck on an island full of criminals and separated from the rest of humanity.”

“Really? You think we’re just friends? Then what on Earth was up with you kissing me in Haven or sleeping in my bed when I leave in the morning or coming over for a date whenever Alfred is out? Do you kiss all your friends? What are the rules here, Selina? Because you may not need to know them but I do.”

“Why do there need to be rules and labels? Can’t we just be us? We’ve never needed rules before.” Selina tries not to shout but this conversation was tired and pointless the first time they had it all those years ago and it hasn’t gotten any better in the intervening time. He knows that labels freak her out and he knows that setting rules freak her out and he knows all of this because they’ve been over it so many times that she feels like she could have this argument in her sleep.

“Are you kidding me?” Bruce stands up and drags his hands over his face. “I’ve always needed the rules and the labels! And I can’t figure out why you don’t want them. Are you ashamed of me? Am I your dirty little secret?”

Selina is up in an instant, glaring up at Bruce. “That is insane and you know it! Everyone knows we’re connected. I’m not trying to keep that a secret.”

“Then why can’t I call you my girlfriend?” Bruce’s voice is raised at this point and it’s becoming painfully clear to both parties that this has escalated from their usual labels conversation to a drunken argument.

“Why does it matter that you call me that? It’s not going to change anything!”

“It’ll change everything! I’m tired of keeping you a secret!”

“From who? Who are you keeping me a secret from?  Because I’m pretty sure everyone knows that we’re-”

“We’re WHAT? When Jim asks me about you, do I say you’re just my friend? My girlfriend? An alley cat that spends more time in my apartment than Alfred does? I feel like I’m carrying us around as a secret everywhere and I can’t keep doing that. If we’re going anywhere with this, I need a label. I’m not going to keep you if it means keeping you as a secret.”

“Oh my… Bruce what does that even mean?”

Bruce’s hands are in his hair as he stares up at the ceiling in frustration. “It means that this is the ultimatum.”

Selina snorts before biting her lip and replying, “An ultimatum. Really? That’s where we’re at? I came over to hang out with you and now you’re giving me an ultimatum?”

“Yeah because every day I’m dying over trying to figure out what I mean to you and I can’t keep doing it. If I’m just your boyfriend then I’m happy to do that and if I’m just your friend then I’ll be honored to fill that role, but I cannot keep living in a realm where some days you’ll kiss me and other days you just want to be friends and then the other days where you’ll ignore me. I just need to know.”

For a moment, everything is silent except for the sound of the crickets outside and the quiet ticking of the clock. Selina shakes her head ever so slightly and stares at the ground as she whispers, “I could be bleeding and you’d be the last to know.”

“What?”

Slightly louder now as the tears begin to well in Selina’s eyes: “I could be bleeding and you’d be the last to know.”

“That’s ridiculous. What do you mean? We’re together constantly and of course I would know if you were bleeding and-”

“No,” there’s a small flame in Selina’s eyes now. “No, you wouldn’t because you don’t know that every day I’m bleeding and lying and saying I’m fine when really I'm dying and trying to figure out how I feel and waiting for you to cut me to the bone.”

“Then why don’t you tell me? Selina, I just want you to tell me these things so that I can-”

“HAVE A LABEL? Bruce, you want a label so badly and I don’t have one! We’re both feel like we’re always trying to make it work but we’re never making any progress and me sneaking in here every day is just sealing our fates so now we’re tied together and you want to know how I feel and I can’t tell you -”

“WHY? Why can’t you tell me? What could possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me?”

“What’s so bad? Bruce, don’t you get it? I LOVE YOU AND IT’S THE WORST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME!”

Silence falls over the apartment again as Bruce sinks down onto the coffee table.

And then he looks up at her, meeting her eyes with his, and grins the most devilish grin she has ever seen and, for the first time since May, it starts to rain outside.

[mia-cooper]

J/C #38? Please? Rip my heart out if you want?

What would you do with those last few precious seconds?

Explosive

(Warning: major character death(s). Not that this should surprise you given the prompt, I’m just saying.)

“General, if you would just hold your fire for a minute and talk to us, you might discover we’re not your enemies –”

A renewed volley of torpedo blasts cut her off, Voyager lurched, and the captain stumbled to her knees. Chakotay was up in an instant, gripping her upper arm and helping her back to her seat.

“I guess talking is off the agenda,” he offered.

She sent him an absent, humourless smile. “Harry, report?”

“We took minor damage to the deflector array,” Kim answered smartly. “The main life support generator is failing. Switching to backup.”

“Tuvok, what’s our shield status?”

“Shields are at twenty-two percent.” Before she could ask the next logical question, Tuvok added, “Phaser power is down to twelve percent. We have three photon torpedoes remaining.”

She barely grimaced.

“Paris, can you get us out of here?” Chakotay demanded.

The pilot shook his head. “No can do, Commander. They took out impulse drive with that last shot.”

“Bridge to Engineering,” Chakotay called. “B'Elanna, how long until we have warp drive?”

Torres shouted to be heard above the mayhem in Engineering. “The plasma couplings to the intermix chamber are completely depolarised, Commander. We’re looking at two hours at best, and that’s only if we can keep the plasma pressure below three thousand kilopascals.”

Janeway cut in. “Lieutenant, I’m sending Seven to help you.” She turned to nod at Seven of Nine, standing at the auxiliary science console. “Do the best you can.”

Seven strode to the turbolift, and Chakotay tried to quell his sudden premonition that this would be the last time he saw her alive. As turned back to the viewscreen he caught the captain’s eye. The same sense of foreboding was written in the strain on her face.

He tried to bolster her with a smile and a brief touch to the back of her hand. We’ve faced worse odds than this, he told her silently, and was gratified by the gentle curl of her lips in response.

“Tuvok, ready torpedoes at full yield,” she ordered without taking her eyes from Chakotay’s. “Aim for their forward weapons array, aft shield generator and main bridge. Tom, prepare to initiate evasive manoeuvre omicron five. B'Elanna, can you hear me?”

“Here, Captain.”

“We’re going to need a burst of power to the thrusters. Can you divert energy from the main EPS relay?”

“Sure,” Torres replied, “but if I can’t control the flow rate it could blow out the power converters on every deck of the ship. There’s no way of keeping the plasma chamber pressure down if that happens. We’d be looking at a core breach.”

“Do the best you can,” Janeway said grimly. “Is everyone ready?”

“Aye, Captain,” three voices chorused.

“Initiate on my mark. Three – two – one –”

Phaser fire shot out from the alien ship’s bow, blossoming into crimson flowers as it impacted Voyager’s shields. Chakotay heard the screech of complaining metal as Voyager pitched to starboard.

“Shield are down,” Tuvok intoned.

“Captain, the port nacelle was hit,” Paris shouted, voice strained as he struggled to keep his seat.

Chakotay scrolled through the litany of systems failures lighting up the command console. “Hull breaches on decks five through ten, port side. Repair crews are sealing them, but we took heavy damage to the Jeffries tubes and turbolift shaft in section 47…” his voice trailed off and he looked up at the captain, horror widening his eyes. “Seven of Nine was caught in the breach. She didn’t make it.”

Janeway’s face almost crumpled, but she pressed her lips together. “Weapons status, Tuvok?”

“Ready.”

“Tom, are the thrusters still online?” Her fingers curled into the arms of her chair.

“Yes ma’am.”

“B'Elanna?”

“Captain, that last hit destabilised the power relays on decks ten and eleven. I can’t guarantee the converters will hold.”

“We don’t have a choice. Mark!”

Three torpedoes streaked out from Voyager’s aft array, their aim deadly and true, striking the three vulnerable points the captain had noted on the alien vessel. Chakotay’s view of the ship – fire racing along its hull – was lost as Tom punched the thrusters, dipping Voyager’s nose to avoid flying debris as the alien ship broke apart.

Alarms of varying tones rang out from every console on the bridge.

“Report!” Janeway shouted, feet braced against the listing of the deck.

“Secondary life support generator is failing,” Ensign Kim began. “The hull breach on deck five is widening and the Doctor is evacuating Sickbay. There’s a power spike in the –”

“Torres to bridge,” the engineer’s insistent voice cut him off. “Captain, the EPS relays on deck eleven are overloading and the power surge has reached the main converter. There’s a cascade reaction building in the intermix chamber. Core pressure is at four thousand kilopascals and rising. I can’t stabilise it…”

Chakotay’s stomach clenched.

“Try shutting down the antimatter inducers,” Janeway snapped back, head bent over the console.

“Kathryn,” Chakotay said.

“I’ve tried. They’re fused.” Torres paused. “Pressure now at four thousand eight hundred kilopascals. Captain, I can’t stop the reaction.”

“Dump the core,” Janeway said harshly.

After a moment the reply came. “I – I’m sorry, Captain. The ejection sequence failed and I can’t override. I estimate six minutes to a warp core breach.”

A workstation exploded on the aft of the bridge and Chakotay heard Harry Kim cry out in pain. Janeway swivelled to look at him and saw Sam Wildman bending to take his pulse. A few seconds passed before Wildman met the captain’s eye and shook her head silently.

Stricken, Janeway turned back to face the viewscreen.

“Kathryn,” Chakotay said again, urgently.

“Maybe I can override it from here,” Janeway murmured aloud. “Computer, eject the core. Authorisation Janeway pi one one zero.”

Unable to comply. Warp core ejection system is offline.

“Captain!”

She turned to him, her eyes bleak.

“We have to abandon ship,” he said gently.

A piece of alien debris somersaulted into view and collided with the hull just below the bridge. Chakotay heard Tom Paris swear as Voyager shuddered and the stench of superheated duranium filled the air.

“I can’t hold her,” Paris shouted. “I’m losing attitude control.”

Janeway briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again she fixed them on Chakotay’s understanding gaze and spoke clearly. “All hands, this is the captain. Get to the escape pods and abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship.”

Chakotay reached across the console between them and squeezed her hand. “I’ll go coordinate the evacuation,” he said. “Don’t get left behind.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” Her answering smile faded quickly as he stood and nodded, exiting the bridge quickly.

With only one turbolift and one transporter room online, it took precious extra seconds to load the able-bodied and wounded into the shuttles and escape pods, and the computer had just given the one-minute warning when Chakotay reached the ejection pad just behind the bridge, where escape pod alpha waited for the command team. He expected her to be there waiting for him. But the captain was nowhere in sight.

He tapped his combadge. “Chakotay to the captain. Our ride is ready and waiting, so I hope  you’re on your way.”

There was no answer.

“Captain …” he paused. “Kathryn. Please tell me you’re not still on the bridge.”

Her voice came through softly. “I’m here.”

“Kathryn …”

Alarmed, he let the pod’s hatch slam shut and started running along the corridor. He burst out onto a deserted, battered bridge, bathed in alternating red and black. She had silenced the alarms. Conduit hung from the ceiling, showering sparks into the hushed, electrified air.

In the centre of the bridge, staring at the devastated alien ship through the viewscreen, was Kathryn Janeway.

Chakotay stumbled down from the aft level and took hold of her upper arms. “Kathryn, for God’s sake, what are you doing? There’s no time!”

She turned her face to his, pale and sad. “No Chakotay. There’s no point.”

“What are you talking about? Everyone has evacuated. We’re supposed to rendezvous on the other side of that asteroid field we passed yesterday.” He shook her gently. “Come on, we have to go. They’ll be waiting for us.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Nobody will be waiting for us,” she whispered, and turned to point at the viewscreen.

Chakotay followed her gesture and saw two more of the alien vessels, swooping through the debris, phasers targeting Voyager’s escape pods and destroying them one by one. Sickened, he felt his grip tightening on Kathryn’s arms. She winced, bringing his attention back to her, and he loosened his fingers deliberately.

Twenty seconds to warp core breach, announced the computer.

They stared at one another.

“Chakotay,” she stumbled over the words in her haste to say them, “I know it’s too late – I wish we had more time – but I need to tell you…”

He shifted a hand to her face as her voice trailed off. A console exploded behind her and a halo of sparks lit up her face.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve always known.”

Ten seconds to warp core breach.

Her eyes spilled over, but she managed a smile. “I guess I’m not that good an actress after all.”

“No,” he smiled back. “I just know your heart, Kathryn.”

Five.

He tilted her face up and bent toward her. She caught her breath.

Four.

Their lips met, softly at first, but growing in hunger and urgency. Her hands found his chest.

Three.

He could no longer see the searing flash and eerie shadows of the emergency lights or smell the acrid stench of burning metal and fibre all around them. All his senses were filled with her: her smooth skin, her soft, sweet mouth, her trembling hands curving around his neck, bringing him closer and closer.

Two.

In their last moments, having lost everything but each other, they knew only peace.

One.

[brazenautomaton]

I got derailed and then rerailed onto something else, so the next bit of the fight was delayed

this part of the scene would almost certainly be cut from the movie because this is just a long-ass fight and the end is mostly “back to zero”, but I need it because my mission is to show off everyone doing cool things with their powers and tell a story with the fight choreography, and with eight of them that means a lot of fighting to go around

Thanos appears with the Space Stone, nearly on top of Sailor Mercury. In each hand he has a massive cylindrical, shielded chain gun clearly ripped off of the ship -- point defense guns.

Her gem is Searing, and a halo of delayed ice spears are hanging in the air all around him. As their timers go off and they strike the most obvious place for him to warp back to, engulfing him in an extremely localized, howling blizzard. Mercury smiles at him, says “Frozen Rhapsody,”  and steps backward off the cliff to safety.

Bombarded with frost attacks and encrusted in rime, Thanos and his gear are frozen solid momentarily, tinged blue. Venus throws her Love-Me Chain to the cliff and yanks herself upward, cresting it into a spinning flip. Her chain reforms into a giant sledgehammer, and she mutters “breakoffbreakoffbreakoffbreakoff…” as she comes in to a somersaulting strike at Thanos’s left elbow. It doesn’t. Her attack is deflected, but the hammer keeps going and she smashes through the left side cannon.

She mashes the head of her sledgehammer into Thanos’s left palm, where it melts and forms around his hand, forming a mold. She twists the handle out, and as Thanos thaws out, forms it into a spear.

Venus: “Don’t you know not to bring a gun to a magic fight?”

Thanos puts his guard up and she immediately starts jabbing toward his face with her spear. He divides his attention between protecting his face, and keeping her from lunging toward his remaining cannon -- he manages to shove it behind him. Venus and Thanos slowly circle each other, Thanos feinting, Venus jabbing into his face in between theatrical twirls and spins. Uranus crests over the ridge, storms raging around both hands, and begins shooting narrow cyclones at his head like lasers.

Thanos: “You think this is a game.”

This continues with Thanos on the defensive, circling, until suddenly he grabs Venus’s spear, yanks it from her hand, and slaps something behind him -- he’s circled around until the gun is pointing between his legs at her! A storm of anti-missile flechettes erupts from the cannon, and Venus flails and sputters like someone is spaying a fire hose into her mouth. She conjures a tower shield, which is shredded, the front of a steam train, which is shredded, and a car hood, which is shredded, as she is pushed back with her gem glowing brighter and brighter until it’s Searing.

“Cyclone cleaver!” Uranus shouts, conjuring a wall of wind to deflect the gunfire -- now the flechettes are flying EVERYWHERE. Venus manages to duck out over the ridge. Thanos now is able to pick up the cannon, mash the firing mechanism with his still-pinned Gauntlet, and aim it properly. He sprays a line of suppressing fire below him over the ridge, then turns his attention to airborne Uranus. Wind whipping through her hair and clothes, Uranus flies at top speed, darting into and through the floating rocks above them as she narrowly avoids the trail of gunfire. The finned heat sinks on the sides of the cannon glow red hot, white hot, until Thanos mashes the Gauntlet into it, and melts off the orcihalcum block in his palm like a stick of butter. Uranus vanishes from sight behind a large asteroid-like floating rock. Power! Thanos is enclosed by a purple dome of force. He takes a second to get his bearings. In the background, the same angle as before, we can now see Saturn off in the distance, on the ship, chopping the remaining cannons in half.

Venus and Mercury are underneath Thanos’s vantage point, in the shadow but pinned down. They look up, awaiting an overhead attack and Mercury has her finger to her ear.

Mercury: “...looks like a point defense gun. They, ah, they shoot lots of tiny flechettes, so they can blow up incoming missiles and asteroids…”

Further out, Moon, Jupiter, Mars, and Ceres are hiding behind a large rock outcropping as cover. Mars is spinning together fire spells, sticking them to her fingertip, and leaning around the corner to take pot shots at Thanos’s shield. Occasional bursts of cannon fire sweep over or at them. Next to her, Moon has her finger to her ear and is nodding and saying “uh-huh” a lot. Ceres and Jupiter peek around the opposite corner.

Jupiter: “One, two… I think he just activated all three, but he didn’t go anywhere. What did--”

As she is saying this, the Thanos Spectre flickers into existence. It looks like a 3-dimensional outline sketch of Thanos made of purple neon tubes, and its left eye is missing but its right one is glowing. It wastes no time announcing itself -- it dashes forward, grabs the unaware Mars and Moon, and HURLS them upward as hard as it possibly can. They go flying in Titan’s low gravity. It then mimes the position of holding and firing the cumbersome PD cannon, match cut to Thanos actually holding it, with his right eye closed. He begins to spray them with fire.

Moon conjures a silver bubble around herself with a cry of “Moonlight Protector!” Mars tries to regain her balance and rocket-dash away, but the air turbulence in the low gravity has her spinning too much, and her explosive burst sends her spinning out of control. The stream of fire from Thanos is erratic and jerky, but she’s nicked and grazed by several shots her magic doesn’t stop. As she flies across Sailor Moon’s position, they extend their hands to catch each other and pull Mars to safety, wind whipping their hair all about… and are too far apart, only able to graze fingertips.

Below, Jupiter and Ceres crack their knuckles. “Oh now this is amateur-hour magic,” Jupiter says before delivering a hammerblow to the Thanos Spectre’s gut. The Spectre tries to fight back, but as its attention is being split between two bodies and this form is Thanos without the Power stone, Jupiter and Ceres completely dominate it. Jupiter shoulder-throws it, sweeps its legs, and punches it into the wall; every time it collides with a surface, it’s impaled by Ceres’s summoned stone spikes, causing more and more of the lines that define it to flicker out. Its attacks are easily deflected and countered.

Falling, Moon grits her teeth and rips out one of her weird white hair barrettes, chucking it to Sailor Mars. Mars catches it, and clutches it to her body in the fetal position as Moon conjures another silver bubble shield around it, just as Mars gets fully targeted by the cannon and blasted with fire. Their barriers deform as they hit the ground, breaking their fall, and Jupiter and Ceres have the Spectre in an arm-hold when they do.

Thanos dismisses the Spectre and opens his eye. Looking down at the battlefield, he can see Mars, Ceres, and Moon advancing over the open ground, all underneath a large hemisphere force field. He sprays it with fire, but it just makes “water droplet into pond” effects. He looks up, no Uranus in sight, and Space! A twisty distortion appears in his field of fire. He fires into it, dragging his aim back and forth.

And below flechettes start raining from a hole in space onto Mercury and Venus. Venus conjures a pair of metal bollards to hide behind, deflecting fire away, but they dig nasty divots out of her shield, even though they can’t focus fire accurately. The Mars / Ceres / Moon trio speed up, approaching the cliff. Ceres trips and falls as she runs, taking Moon with her, dropping the barrier. Thanos stops firing to dismiss the Space effect, then aims down at .the undefended Moon, realizing a fraction of a second too late that Ceres’s arm is buried in the ground and a stone hand is now grabbing the barrels of his cannon. The weapon explodes with the barrels unable to rotate. Space! Thanos takes himself down to their level behind them--

-- where Mars and Ceres, holding hands, are shouting ”LAVA BLOSSOM!” the moment he arrives. A flower of molten lava emerges from the ground, not QUITE directly under his left hand, and engulfs the Gauntlet leaving it unable to open, encased in glowing lava.

Moon, Mars, and Ceres stand before him. “It’s clear I underestimated you.” he says. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but he lunges with his glowing lava fist. Ceres pulls up a barrier of stone, but she yanks it from the ground starting with Mars, and it isn’t to her when Thanos mashes the lava fist into her.Her gem glows, brighter, and shatters trying to hold back the damage; she is sent flying backwards and her formal suit coat she wore as a civilian bursts into flames.

She tears it off her, looks to Sailor Moon, and shouts “Finish the mission!”

[wickedlittleoz]

Steve is seriously sick, Billy doesn’t know, Steve needs to tell him before it’s too late!

I apologize in advancebecause this turned into a bit of a Walk to Remember AU, but the only thingthat came to mind when I read the prompt was ANGST. Thank you, though, nonny,no one’s ever sent me prompts and now I feel like an actual writer XD

It was getting worse.Had been, for the last five years or so, but the meds had managed to hold itback for a while. Not anymore, though.

He had days. Some ofthem he was perfectly fine, all smiles and disposition, laughing and singing (terribly out of tune) with Dustin in thecar, days in which you wouldn’t even know his body was self-destructing cell bycell, 24h a day.

But then came the dayswhere he could barely get out of bed, the very rise-and-fall of his breathingmade him sick, and he was so weak that his hand was shaking when he reached forthe phone by the bed to call Nancy and tell her he couldn’t make it to school.

He couldn’t even blamehis parents for not sticking around much. The treatments were expensive, thedoctors were states away. They had to overwork themselves to keep up with thebills – and now as it appears it was worth shit. Steve was getting worse andthe doctors were, all of them, hopeless.

At first he was toldhe wouldn’t make it to high school. Then he did. Freshman year they started anew treatment that worked wonders for a while. He made it into the basketballteam, played better than anyone else on the team, scored the most points in theregionals and brought the cup home. He became King Steve, life of the parties, masterof the basketball court, professional heartbreaker.

Then they told him hewas already stretching too far. He wouldn’t live to see college days, and Steveactually overheard a doctor tell his parents not to worry about saving money.

But he didn’t care. Hefelt that he was making the best of his life. Going to parties, bossing theschool, hooking up with whoever he wanted. He just wanted to be a normal teenager, doctor appointments andmeds were a secret he didn’t mind struggling to keep.

When Nancy came along,though, that’s when it really hit him. Steve had never been in love before. Shecrawled into his heart and into his life, and sooner than later, she saw one ofthe bad days. Steve had to tell hereverything. He cried and she held him, and when he thought she was going toback away out of his life, she did the very opposite.

His entire body hurtthat day, but his heart ached the worst, filled with so much love.

But he always knew shedidn’t love him as much as he loved her. Sure, it hurt when they eventuallybroke up, but she was better off with Jonathan, who had a long, promising lifeahead of him.

He thinks it wassomething to do with the Upside Down. Being down there must have messed withhis body in a way – air pressure or some expensive scientific bullshit – thatit simply stopped fighting. Bad days jumped from one every 15 days to once aweek. Halfway through the day he would suddenly feel his chest tighten, hisbreathing become erratic, his head begin to spin.

He actually passed outon the court twice before Nancy talked him into signing out of the team, healthfirst, she had insisted. Steve would rather leave than watch Hargrove win themthe championship from the bench, anyway.

It was a bad enoughday without said mullet-wearing asshole cornering him to ask what the fuck hethought he was doing, giving up the team. Steve gave him a generic excuse, hewas sick and couldn’t play anymore. When Hargrove insisted, told him to just“take some cold pills and a bowl of soup”, he nearly broke down crying, becauseSteve wished it was that easy.

Here they were,though, with Billy lying on his chest as the morning sun filtered in throughthe curtains. It was a Bad Day, capital letters, because while Steve knew hehad to get up and take his meds – and should get to it before Billy woke up –,he was dizzy just laying there and breathing.

He sighed, carding hisfingers through the blond curls, and felt the tears wet his cheeks before evenrealizing he was sobbing.

Steve wanted to tellhim. Had to, before he ended up in the hospital and someone in a white coat andzero intimacy to the boy on his chest told him Steve wasn’t coming back home. Billydeserved to know, because he didn’thave much longer. Steve felt it.

Ever since he andBilly had gotten past the fighting and teasing, they’d realized it was allsomething else. Electricity brewed and built around them for days followingSteve resigning from the team, until one night the storm just… Broke. Steve wassitting in his BMW, waiting for Dustin, and when he first caught a glimpse ofthe curly-haired boy and the blast of fiery color that was Max, Billy wassuddenly at his window. Meet me at thewoods tonight. Seven. Don’t be late.

He was almost late, acoughing fit taking the best of his nerves. But Billy made up for it, made himfeel good and wanted, and despite the physical exhaustion, Steve felt the healthier in days.

Their thing had grownquickly, at first just hot, needy fucks whenever Steve’s parents were away andhe had the house. But at some point (most probably when Billy showed up withhis face all fucked up and opened up about his dad) feelings got involved.

Now Steve realizedthat for the first time since this madness had started he actually wanted to live until graduation, andafter. Wanted to run away to California straight out of prom in Billy’s Camaro,blasting rock songs all the way up to the coast, making love in shitty motelbeds and just being young and reckless and inlove.

He feared, as hepinched his nose to stop the sobs, that Billy wished for that, too.

His finger came backred and gooey with blood. Steve sighed, suppressing a cough, and gently pushedBilly off his chest. Billy murmured something unintelligible, but continued tosleep, and Steve slowly teetered his way to the bathroom.

It took a while forthe bleeding to stop, so long that when he finally emerged from the bathroom,Billy had made them breakfast. He smiled, bacon grease smeared over his lips,making them look even plumper, and Steve’s stomach churned. He spun on hisheels immediately and braced the sink.

His body was shakingshallowly with the force of it. He’d had nothing to eat and it was just acidand blood.

Then Billy was there,a warm (clean) hand on his back, brows furrowed in worry. Steve couldn’t helpthe tears, but he washed his face before Billy could see them.

“You okay?”He asked, arm snaking around Steve’s waist when he pushed away from the sink.

“Yeah,”Steve responded – lied –, avoidingBilly’s eyes as he wiped cold sweat off his forehead.

“Sure you don’twanna–”

“No,” healmost jumped and definitely spoke too soon, because Billy’s brows furrowedeven further. So he gave his best attempt at a comforting smile and kissedBilly’s still naked shoulder.

He knew Billy didn’tbelieve him. But he just couldn’t face a hospital with Billy at his side, notyet.

So they spent the dayinside, going from the couch to the bed, with eventual stops at the toilet.Steve fed off salt crackers, OJ, and milk whenever it seemed that Billy wasgoing to comment on his lack of appetite. But mostly he just clung to Billy, asif trying to make the best out of their last moments.

It felt ominous.Imminent. As if he subconsciously already knew it was going to happen and when – soon.

Suddenly his chestfilled with a sort of warmth as he looked up at Billy, blond curls splayedaround his head like a heavenly halo. Steve felt happy, so happy, strangelyhappy that he’d had the chance to be loved.

“We need totalk,” he announced around eight, as they lay on the couch. Billy’s hand,where it rested on Steve’s stomach, grip loose around the remote, jerked intoaction, turning off the TV. He sat up, gently pushing Steve off his chest, andthey were suddenly face-to-face.

“What’swrong?” He was grinning, but Steve could see it in his eyes that Billy wasworried.

He stopped. How didone approach the subject of death? To Billy, of all people, who had lost hismom and found home in Steve’s arms, and given Steve so much love and will tolive. How could he have the courage to tell Billy that it was all going to endand there was nothing any of them could do?

He was sobbing, tearsleaving dark stains on his sweatpants, even before he started to speak.

“I’m sick,”he managed between sobs, eyes lingering on his hands. He heard Billy chuckle unamused.

“Yeah, Inoticed.”

“No Billy, youdon’t get it,” he sniffed, mustering the courage to look up. Billy’s facewas a mask of confusion, that quickly became worry and he scooted closer toSteve when their eyes met. “I'm–I’m dying.”

Billy was silent for aheartbeat. Then two. He watched Steve’s face, his eyes, as if searching forsomething that pointed that this was nothing but a tasteless joke.

But Steve’s wide, wet,dark eyes were truthful.

“What do youmean, dying?” He asked hesitantly, voice but a soft murmur.

Steve felt his throatclosing as he tried to speak. He choked, and coughed into his hand, and Billydidn’t miss the blood on his palm this time.

“I have leukemia,”he said, more to his hand than to Billy. They both watched the blood with asort of awe for a moment.

“When?”Billy asked darkly, the way Steve knew he did when he was trying not to cry.

“I don’t knowyet,” he said, wiping his hand on his pants, and Billy held it and lacedtheir fingers. “I’m going to see the doctor next week, but my body’sjust… Not fighting anymore.”

As if to prove apoint, another coughing fit shook his body. He wasn’t sure if the tears in hiseyes were his crying or coughing.

He felt Billy’s eyesscorching him. Steve remembered, then, a few nights ago, as they lay spent onSteve’s bed and Billy traced his ribs with the tips of his fingers, he hadlaughed and said he should probably feed Steve better because he was gettingtoo thin.

Steve had dropped 10lbssince then, hipbones jutting out sharp enough to cut or break, most likely thelatter. But Steve liked the idea of Billy cooking for him. Made him feel caredfor.

“And where thefuck are your parents?” Billy spat angrily, and Steve saw in him his 14-year-oldself, pissed at the world and whatever god there was that Steven Harringtonfrom Nowhere, Indiana had been chosen as the self-destructing time bomb of thedecade.

“These treatmentsare expensive, Billy,” Steve said tiredly, because his 17-year-old selfwas too far into acceptance to get heated. “Most of the doctors on my casearen’t even from Indiana. We can only afford these things because they’re always out working.”

“But–But thisisn’t right, Steve!” He stood suddenly, started pacing up and down like acaged animal. Steve knew the feeling, knew what it was like to feel like you’regoing to explode as you try to digest the information. “This isn’t right,it isn’t fair, you shouldn’t have to deal with all this… All this bullshit alone!”

“But I’m notalone. I have you and Nancy and the kids–”

“They allknow?” He stopped and stared at Steve, and he saw quick glint of jealously– he was the last to know.

“JustNancy,” Steve hurried to respond. He hadn’t yet been able to figure outjust how to tell Dustin. The boy had been through too much already for a kidhis age.

Billy sagged by hisside again, heaving a sigh. They were silent for a moment, the air heavy andtension nearly tangible, and the world around seemed to mimic them, suddenly tooquiet that he could almost believe it was a dream that he was close to wakingup from.

But Steve knew betterthan to cheat himself like that. It was no dream. It was very real, as real asthe weight and warmth of Billy’s hands between his two, his thin, pale fingersfeeling smaller than ever against Billy’s tanned skin. It was as real as theever-growing love he felt for Billy, the love that made his heart seem too bigfor his chest sometimes, and that had been his cure.

It was only because he’dbeen loved so deeply and intensely and honestly that Steve was not afraid.

They didn’t fuck thatnight, but neither of them slept, either. They lay curled into each other, as iftrying to mark the scent forever. Steve felt the tears Billy had been holdingback dampen his hair and pillow, and held him tighter.

Billy was right, itwasn’t fair. And as he gazed into those blue, blue eyes that had taken hisbreath away from day one, he wished someday Billy managed to get out ofHawkins. That he made it back to California, safe and sound, and started over.And that one day, when he sat on the sand to watch the warm and orange sun rise(nothing like the sad, cold and blue Hawkins sun), he felt the wind and heardit whisper in Steve’s voice, I love you,I love you, I love you.

[extrasteps]

Ignite

Chapter 1: Step One

Chapter 2: Step Two

The rest of the day dragged on, but finally the bell did go, and Liam almost ran to Mason’s car. He waited impatiently, tapping his foot as he leaned against the door, his eyes scanning the crowd for his friend. Eventually, he strolled up, hand in hand with Corey.

“Eager much?” Mason teased, pulling out his keys and unlocking the car.

“Shut up,” Liam said, ducking his head as he got in the car to hide his slight blush. “Are you coming with us, Corey?”

“Yeah, it will be good to see Theo again,” Corey said quietly.

Corey had once been a part of Theo’s pack, and even though he had been intimidated by the chimera, Liam knew that Corey had a bit of a soft spot for Theo. Unlike everyone else, he had always been able to see past Theo’s bullshit. He had only bailed on him because of his growing feelings for Mason.

Liam worried at his lip as he stared out the window, ignoring the conversation between Mason and Corey. He wanted so badly to be able to help Theo. He still felt so guilty for how he had treated Theo in the past, even if he had pretty much brought it on himself. Liam should have been smarter though.

Back then, he had still been getting the hang of the whole chemo-signal thing. It had confused him, trying to differentiate between physical and emotional scents.

He remembers stalking Theo through the preserve, Stiles getting frustrated when he replies that Theo smells nice. Liam smiles faintly at the memory, especially with had had happened when Theo confronted them.

“Why do I get the feeling this kid is tougher than he looks?”

Theo had always acknowledged him, even if it was to tease him and get under his skin. Even when he had been trying to get Liam to kill Scott, it had been clear that he knew just what Liam was capable of, how strong he was. His plan had nearly worked.

Liam was pulled from his thoughts, by Mason waving a hand in front of his voice.

“Hello, Earth to Liam, we’re here space cadet,” the other boy teased.

“Oops, sorry,” Liam chuckled, shaking his head.

Theo hadn’t arrived yet, so they quickly fell into playing Halo, laughing and yelling insults as they played against each other.

“Eat lead,” Liam chortled as Mason’s character fell to the ground, having come around a corner right into Liam’s line of sight.

“I’ll get you next time,” Mason vowed, growling at Liam.

The doorbell rang, and Liam disconnected his controller, launching off the couch to answer the door.

He opened the door to find Theo standing there, looking uncomfortable, both hands tucked into his pockets. He was rocking slightly on his heels, showing how nervous he was. The anxiety was coming off him in waves.

At least he turned up, Liam thought.

“Hey, you made it,” Liam said, smiling at Theo.

“Sorry I’m late,” Theo said, looking him in the eye and giving a shy smile.

“You’re not late,” Liam replied, standing aside to let the other boy pass, “we’ve only been here for about ten minutes.”

“Nice house,” Theo said, looking around as Liam lead him to the lounge room.

“Thanks,” Liam laughed, shooting a smile over his shoulder at the other boy. He wanted to make Theo feel comfortable here, like it was his home. “You want a drink?”

“Do you have coke zero?” Theo asked, standing at the door of the kitchen and leaning against the frame.

“Yeah, mum loves it,” Liam said, grabbing one from the fridge and handing it to Theo. He brushed past, his chest sliding against Theo’s as he did so. Theo’s heart skipped a beat, but Liam pretended to ignore it. Getting Theo used to casual touch was on the list that he and Mason had created during Biology.

They walked into the lounge room, stopping to watch as Corey scoped Mason from a tall building and shot him. He groaned, dropping his controller into his lap while Corey laughed at him.

“It is just not your day,” Liam teased, settling back in next to the other boy. The only other place free in the lounge room was next to Liam. He waited to see what Theo would do.

He approached cautiously, but instead of sitting on the couch, he sat on the floor, leaning against it, his shoulder only an inch away from Liam’s leg.

Not quite what I had in mind, Liam thought, but good enough.

It felt natural to include Theo, as they alternated between laughing and swearing revenge, chopping and changing teams regularly so that it stayed fair. Theo was pretty good at Halo, and Liam found he enjoyed being on his team the most. The other boy moved a bit closer, pressing against Liam’s leg, and the warmth of the contact radiated up Liam’s leg and into his chest.

Eventually, they settled on the two teams, with Liam and Theo against Mason and Corey. Theo moved up onto the couch so that he could hiss strategy into Liam’s ear as they worked together to bring the other two down.

Liam shivered at the feel of Theo’s breath on his face.

It started getting late, so Liam ordered a few pizzas and they put Halo away to watch a movie instead. Liam was pleased to see that Theo stayed on the couch, brushing against Liam’s shoulder as he laughed during the movie, and leaning in front of Liam to share jokes with Mason and Corey.

It was… nice. Contentment flowed through all four boys, and Liam was quietly thrilled with how well this was working.

By about eight o’clock, Mason and Liam decided to go home, and Liam waved them off, returning to find Theo sprawled on the couch, flicking through his phone. Liam smiled and flopped onto the other couch with a groan. They were quiet for awhile, both lost in their own thoughts.

“I’m glad you came,” Liam said, interrupting the silence.

Theo twisted so that he was lying on his stomach, looking at Liam. “Me too,” he said, a soft look on his face that made Liam’s stomach flutter with nervous butterflies.

“You should hang out with us more often,” Liam said earnestly. “It would be nice to see you when there isn’t some sort of emergency.”

“Yeah?” Theo asked.

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. They stared at each other, both smiling.

“It’s nice,” Theo said after a minute, looking down, suddenly a bit shy.

“What is?” Liam questioned, leaning forward slightly.

“I almost feel like part of the pack,” Theo said, sounding a little wistful.

Liam shook his head, and Theo looked up at him concerned, but Liam just gave him a rueful grin. “You idiot, of course you’re part of the pack.”

“Scott probably wouldn’t agree,” Theo muttered.

“Scott left me in charge,” Liam growled, “so I say who’s in the pack. You’re one of mine.” His eyes glowed yellow as he stared at Theo possessively.

Theo looked shocked, and then suddenly laughed. “Alright, calm down, big guy. I guess I can be in your little puppy pack if you really want me that much.”

Liam could tell he was trying to diffuse the tension with humour, and he moved forwards until he was touching Theo’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I mean it. You’re pack.”

Theo looked at him, uncertainty painted all over his face. His eyes searched deep into Liam’s, seeing only belief and acceptance.

“I’ve done so many bad things to you, Liam. Why would you want me?” Theo said quietly. He looked so ashamed, and he pulled away from Liam’s touch, sitting up and facing slightly away from him.

“You’ve changed, Theo,” Liam said firmly. “And you will always be welcome in my pack.”

Theo looked down, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. Liam gave him a minute as the other boy struggled with his emotions, happiness and sadness and shame swirling through the air around him. Theo sniffed, willing back tears, and rubbed at his eyes, frustrated. When he had calmed down, Liam got up quietly and went and got them both another drink.

“Thanks,” he said again, accepting the drink.

“You’re welcome,” Liam said.

You’ll always be welcome, Liam thought, watching the other boy from the corner of his eye as he put in another movie. I won’t ever let you feel worthless, or like you’re not wanted.

He turned off the lights and settled in next to Theo. In the darkness, Theo felt brave enough to rest against his side, leaning against him for support. Liam smiled, and his wolf rumbled in his chest, content.

[newamsterdame]

can I have a smol scene from the sci-fi tensemi AU? the one with Semi as an AI?

the shiratorizawa-in-space au: in which tendou survives an enemy attack, and meets a peculiar stranger. some elements shamelessly stolen from star trek, because i can. 

–

There are black spots in his vision and the world is swaying on an oddly-tilted axis when he wakes up, which isn’t ideal. Still, Tendou hadn’t expected to be waking up at all, so at this point he’ll take what he can get. He rubs at his temples, his fingertips coming away sticky with half-dried blood. Again, not ideal. But injured and alive is better than dead and floating in the void of space.

He pushes himself into a seated position, looking out over the bridge of the Shiratorizawa from an odd angle. Usually he’s off to the left side of the pilot’s chair, manning the shields. Right now he’s… sitting in the captain’s chair. His vision has cleared enough by this point that when he looks around, it takes him only a minute to realize that he’s alone.

The screens at the various console stations are smashed through, but that hadn’t been the worst of the damage. The dire alerts had gone off once the hull had been punctured, dyeing the entire ship in red light. Now, the lights are glowing a pale blue— emergency power, but not an active threat situation. That’s good, Tendou supposes. But something still doesn’t make sense.

“Why aren’t I dead,” he asks the empty space of the bridge. His voice come out rough— he’d been screaming when he was knocked out, for Tsutomu and Watatoshi and Reon.

He remembers that the ship’s AI is programmed to respond to all inquiries in the form of questions a moment later, when one panel of lights shifts from blue to mauve. In the next instant, an AI hologram materializes in front of him.

“You’re welcome,” the AI says dryly. Whoever had programmed them had probably thought it was cute to make them look humanoid, to dress them in the same regulation uniforms as the actual crew. So this AI is wearing straight-leg black slacks, polished black boots, and a maroon shirt marked with three arcing lines at the shoulder— the designation for systems management.

Tendou blinks at the AI, eyes narrowing finally. “That didn’t answer my question,” he says, giving the AI another chance to actually obey protocols.

“It was a stupid question,” the AI responds. The holograms are so advanced that they appear solid and human— the only real giveaway is the halo of mauve light surrounding the AI’s form, and the occasional flicker of digital disturbance that disrupts it.

“Wait a minute,” Tendou says, his eyes going wide again. “You’re not Kenjirou.”

The AI huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He presses his lips together, looking at Tendou sternly. His form is much taller and broader than Kenjirou’s is, and his hair is a pale color that grows darker at the edges. Tendou wonders for a moment what kind of fantasy his programmer was trying to play out— this AI has a long, sculpted nose and clear eyes, a distant expression and well-defined arms under the sleeves of his regulation uniform.

“No,” the AI says, “I’m not Shirabu.”

Tendou had never really formed an opinion on the entire AI concept. Apparently back in the day, when space exploration had first become viable, captains and engineers would input commands into a screen via text, and the AI would spit back an answer. Eventually, they’d been given voices, and finally, holographic forms. These days, the top-of-the-line ships have an integrated AI that monitors all systems, tracks communications, and acts something like a central hub for the ship and crew. The Shiratorizawa, the most advanced ship in the fleet, is usually maintained by Shirabu Kenjirou, who takes the form of an unaffected young man who’d lay down his life— such as it is— for the Shiratorizawa’s captain.

“Oh. Oh. Okay!” Tendou says brightly, lips pulling away from his teeth in a tilted smile. “I completely get it, now.”

The AI lifts one brow at him. “Get what?”

“I was captured by those assholes who attacked us, just like the others!” Tendou declares brightly. Others in his position might have panicked, but if he’s still alive, that means the others could be, too. He plants his feet apart and glances around. “And they’ve uploaded their own AI to the Shiratorizawa, because of course they would. And now I’m your prisoner. Did I get all that right?”

The AI refuses to be impressed by Tendou’s deductive skills. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, come on,” Tendou goads. “Who is it you’re working for, hmm? Can’t be Seijoh, Oikawa-kun would never tolerate an AI as pretty as you are. Last I checked, Itachiyama was a galaxy and a half away. Fukurodani’s got the power to break through our defenses, maybe, but probably not the guts—”

“Shut up,” the AI says.

Tendou frowns at him. AIs aren’t supposed to be able to talk back— even though Kenjirou had mastered the art of fake-polite, passive-aggressive retorts to Tsutomu’s never ending string of questions and brags.

“Just tell me,” Tendou croons. There’s never been an AI that can give no response to a question. “Who do you work for?”

The AI grimaces. Tendou’s last question had been hidden in a stream of other words, but this one is too direct. And sure enough, the AI’s programming kicks in a moment later.

“The Advanced Space Exploration and Defense Corps. Unit Zero-Zero-One, the ship Shiratorizawa. Under the command of Captain Ushijima Wakato—”

“Hold it.” Tendou jabs a finger towards the AI, lip curling. “That’s a lie. You’re not supposed to be able to lie.”

The AI regards him cooly. “I’m not lying.”

Tendou leers at him. “Of course, you are! You want to know how I know?”

“Not particularly.”

“Because I’m Second Officer aboard the Shiratorizawa! I’m the Captain’s right hand man!”

“Wouldn’t that be the First Officer?” the AI comments.

Tendou waves him off. “Reon can be his left hand,” Tendou says dismissively. “Wait, actually, Wakatoshi-kun is left-handed, so that should be me— anyway! The point is, our AI system in Shirabu Kenjirou. And he was compromised during the attack on our ship, and our hull was breached, and now I’ve woken up here with you! So, who do you really work for?”

The AI sighs heavily, a moment before his programming kicks in. “The Advanced Space Exploration and Defense Corps. Unit Zero-Zero-One, the ship Shiratorizawa. Under the command of Captain Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“How are you doing that?” Tendou’s brow furrows as he studies the AI. “How do you keep lying, like that?”

“I am not lying.”

The AI doesn’t explain himself further. Tendou scrutinizes him, getting up from the captain’s chair and walking all the way around him. His Shiratorizawa uniform is perfect, down to the rank markings and color. Even the best hacks couldn’t get this close, could they? Then again, whoever had attacked them had managed to take Kenjirou offline. That in and of itself was impressive, and a threat too real to be taken lightly.

“Where are the others?” Tendou asks abruptly.

The AI’s brows draw together. “Please specify.”

“First Officer Ohira Reon,” Tendou rattles off, “And Lieutenant Kawanishi Taichi. Ensign Goshiki Tsutomu. Lieutenant Commander Yamagata Hayato. Captain Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“They are not onboard the Shiratorizawa,” The AI says, after a moment.

“Well then, where the hell are they?” Tendou demands.

“I only have access to the ship’s systems,” the AI says. “They are not onboard the ship.”

“Then who is still on the ship?” Tendou asks. He’s afraid he already knows the answer.

“Lieutenant Commander Tendou Satori,” The AI says, looking at him pointedly.

“And?”

The AI shrugs. “No other living souls.”

Of course, Tendou refuses to believe him. Even on emergency power, he can access the ship’s systems himself through the console on the captain’s chair. And Wakatoshi really needs to reset his password, his father’s surname is entirely too obvious— but, no. As damaged as the ship is, it still has the ability to track those onboard. And according to the screen, no one else is here. But Tendou notices something else, as well.

“Where are the wings?” he yelps at the AI.

The AI shrugs, again. “I had to release them.”

“What does that mean?” Tendou asks suspiciously.

The AI smiles in a thin, insincere way. “The Shiratorizawa is made up of three component parts. The heart of the ship, including the bridge, is contained at the core. Attached to the core on either side are two wings, which house the engines and nonessential systems. The wings had been breached when I was brought online. The only way to maintain life-support was to release them from the heart.”

Tendou bites his tongue. “You shot two-thirds of our ship, the most expensive and advanced ship ever made, into space?” He’s not scandalized, exactly. Impressed, maybe, is the better word.

The AI blinks. “The wings account for eighty percent of the ship’s total mass.”

“And you’re really a Shiratorizawa AI?” Tendou says.

“Yes. Designation Zero-Zero-Three.”

Kenjirou’s designation is Zero-One-Zero, Tendou recalls. So he must be a later model.

“How’d you come online?” Tendou asks.

A darkness passes over the AI’s face, making him seem more human and less robotic for a moment. Then, his face clears and he continues mechanically, “My program was left in the system as a backup, should the current AI be compromised or taken offline.”

“What happened to Kenjirou?” Tendou asks.

“Unclear.”

“And what happened to the others, if they aren’t here, anymore?”

“Also unclear.”

“So what are you good for?” Tendou asks. “Other than shooting parts of the ship into space?”

“That was to maintain life-support,” the AI reminds him.

“So?”

The AI shrugs, again. “I saved your life.”

Tendou tilts his head back and laughs, a little hysterically. “Wow. Thank you. You got a name?”

The AI blinks, holding his eyes closed for two beats. Before opening them, he says, “Semi Eita.”

[thunderbirdcarebear]

The Measure of a Man - chapter 6

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

The day was a clear one. Clear, bright, with just the hint of a breeze which the Tracys were enjoying as they all sat down to lunch together. Or at least, mostly together.

John was sat in the corner of the kitchen, only half listening to the conversation his brothers were having about how much downtime they’d been enjoying.

“Forty-eight hours without a major global emergency,” he heard Virgil comment. “This must be an International Rescue record!”

“The record is fifty-one,” Gordon corrected.

“Ah, we haven’t just hung around the house like this since we were kids,” Scott said wistfully.

“Except you’re forgetting about that record fifty-one hours,” Gordon reminded him.

“I don’t think putting all our abilities to the test like we did constitutes hanging around,” Scott countered.

“It didn’t take the whole time to do it though,” Alan replied. “There was some sitting around afterwards.”

John smiled slightly. A few months had passed since they all put their abilities to the test. They’d all thoroughly enjoyed really stretching their limits for the first time and knowing they were in a safe environment to do so meant they hadn’t had to worry about who might see them. Growing up, Jeff had always encouraged them, but also always insisted they try to be discreet, meaning none of them had really had the opportunity to push themselves. And since leaving the farm and moving out to the island, International Rescue had tied up the vast majority of their time.

He let out a tired sigh, glancing up at the sky. “Well, this has been fun,” he said, getting up. He failed to notice Max right behind him, even when Brains’ robotic assistant beeped a warning to him. He was only just able to right himself as he tripped over one of Max’s wheel armatures before he fell fully on his face.

“Hey, John? Where are you going?” Scott asked, watching him.

“It’s hard to think with all of this…” He frowned, trying to think of the best way to describe what was bothering him.

“Noise?” Brains asked.

“Gravity,” he retorted. “I’m going to the office.”

The others watched him leave then turned back to each other. “D’you think he’s alright?” Alan asked.

Scott nodded. “Yeah, you know what he’s like. He focuses better back on Five. Even with the island running on minimal power, it’s still too much for him.”

Alan sighed, getting up and following after him.

Scott was about to go after him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Let him go,” Virgil said quietly. “We all know John will get changed and just go. Allow Alan that time to go see him.”

Scott looked over at him and settled back into his chair, reaching for his drink. “I wish there was more we could do for him.”

“I know,” Virgil agreed. “But we’re only running the essential systems. There’s nothing more we can turn off for him.”

“Hmm,” Brains said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

“You had a thought, Brains?” Gordon asked, gathering the empty plates and cups.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah,” he replied. “Come on, Max.”

The remaining three Tracys exchanged a look. “He does that a lot,” Gordon commented.

“Mmm hmm,” Virgil replied, smiling. “He’s obviously thought of something.”

Alan went down to the hangars and into the small locker room they had. For the most part, their uniforms were part of the gear up routine, but if they were going on a mission that involved travelling in a vehicle that wasn’t their own, they’d get changed in here. As John was doing so now. He had his suit on and was taking his sash down from the hook in his own locker.

Hearing a noise behind him, John turned and saw Alan stood in the doorway, shuffling his feet. “You really gotta go?” Alan asked.

John nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Kiddo,” he said softly. “I have to.”

Alan went over and sat on the bench in the middle of the room. “Does it hurt a lot?” he asked quietly.

The elder astronaut sat down next to him, sighing. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I wish I could stay longer, but I just can’t.”

Alan shifted closer to him and John let him wrap his arms round his waist. “You can call me every day, you know that.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as having you here. But if it means you’re hurting, I don’t want that.”

John ruffled his hair gently. “I’ll try and get back again soon.”

“Alright,” Alan said, releasing him and standing up. He passed John his sash then took the gloves and boots from the locker and set them down beside him.

“Thanks, Alan,” John said. He watched as Alan turned and left the room then stepped into his boots.

Alan sat on one of the sun loungers, watching as the space elevator rose away from the island.

“You okay?” Virgil asked, sitting down next to him.

The young blond looked round at him. “Yeah, I just worry about him. I don’t want him to have to stay up there forever, but I also don’t want for him to be in pain just to come home.”

“I know, Al,” Virgil said, glancing up. The elevator was travelling upwards, taking John back to space. “Come on, let’s head back inside.”

Alan nodded, throwing one last look upwards as the elevator disappeared amongst the clouds.

Scott was reclining in his seat at the table when Alan and Virgil returned. “Hey, Kiddo,” he said, sitting up with a yawn.

“We keeping you up?” Alan asked.

Scott smiled at him. “Nah, I’m just not used to so much downtime. I need to be active and doing something.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Gordon said, groaning slightly as the comm. activated, blinking from the centre of the dining table before Eos appeared.

“Tracy Island, John has requested I inform you we may have a situation,” she reported. “We were in discussion with Langstrom Fischler of the C-RUS research vessel when the call was cut off and the vessel appeared to be out of control.”

Brains groaned as he entered the room, having heard the alert.

“Patching you into the call.”

Scott frowned as he watched John appear in the hologram, walking through the gravity ring back on board Thunderbird Five.

“Confirm, it’s going higher?” John questioned.

“Confirmed,” Eos affirmed. “C-RUS station is rising. I have no explanation but I have managed to regain the signal.”

“International Rescue to C-RUS. Can you explain how you’re falling up?”

“C-RUS stays in place by a rather ingenious balance of hydrogen-filled balloons and downward-pushing heliblades,” Fischler reported. “Which the electrical storm has shorted out.”

“And without them, the balloons are pulling you upwards,” John finished. “Once they reach critical altitude, the balloons will rupture and the station will drop like a rock.”

“We will experience a marked change in direction,” Fischler agreed.

“Tracy Island, did you get all that?” John asked.

“I worked briefly with Fischler after university,” Brains said. “He had a tendency to compromise safety for the sake of p-pretty much everything.”

“Hmm,” Scott said. “Brains, keep troubleshooting from the ground. Virgil, Gordon. Take Thunderbird Two. Use a repair pod to fix those rotors. I’ll follow you there.”

“Let me guess,” Alan asked. “I stay here?”

“In case we need Thunderbird Three as backup,” Scott told him.

“I was taking advantage of the downtime to do deferred maintenance on Thunderbird One,” Brains reported. “I just need a few minutes to put it b-back together. Come on, Max.”

“I’ll launch as soon as the ship is ready,” Scott added.

“There goes our three-day streak,” Virgil said, glancing at Scott as he and Gordon ran out of the kitchen.

Scott glanced at Alan and shrugged.

“You did kinda jinx it, Scott,” Alan pointed out.

“I did no such thing,” he replied.

Alan grinned. “Uh, I think your words were ‘I’m not used to so much downtime. I need to be active and doing something’.”

Scott smiled at him. “Alright, I suppose I did say that, but my saying something didn’t cause this to happen. You heard what Brains said about the guy. Sounds like it was only a matter of time.”

Alan smiled back then looked round as the comm. lit up again and Brains appeared in front of them. “She’s ready when you are, Scott,” he reported.

“Brilliant, Brains, thanks!” Scott looked round at the youngest. “Be ready, Alan. We may yet need you.”

“No problem, Scott,” Alan said, watching him run off.

John was listening to the radio traffic between his brothers. So far no one had been successful in rescuing Fischler and his team. They were now all trying to work out what to do next.

“We could bring in Kayo,” Virgil suggested. “She’s-”

“Ah, still tracking down a lead on The Hood,” Scott interrupted. “Besides, Thunderbird Shadow could never reach that altitude. Brains, can they risk using those halo suits?”

“I’m sorry,” Brains said, his tone concerned. “But the chance of survival is exactly zero.”

“Maybe we can create a slow leak,” Alan offered.

“Yeah!” Gordon agreed. “Use a smart projectile. Hit those balloons with a scatter shot of needles.”

“Great idea,” Virgil said sarcastically. “The slightest perforation and they explode.”

“Do you have to shoot down every idea?” Gordon retorted, his tone rising with anger.

“I’m not the one shooting things down!”

“Hey, at least he’s trying,” Alan pointed out.

“We’re not just giving up!” Gordon yelled.

“Who are you saying is giving up?” Virgil argued.

“Since when did you call the shots!” Gordon shouted.

“Quiet! Everyone!” Scott interrupted forcefully, though his tone quickly sounded tired. John glanced up at Eos then back at the holographic displays. “As much as we hate to admit it, International Rescue may have met its match this time. We’ve exhausted all our vehicles. There’s no one left to save them.”

“Actually, there maybe someone who can save them,” Brains countered, glancing at John.

“Who?” the remaining Tracys all asked incredulously.

“Me,” John said simply, but with purpose.

“John, how can you save them?” Virgil asked. “You’re twenty-two-thousand miles in orbit!”

“Exactly,” John replied, already making his way through to the station’s system control centre.

“Did someone invent a teleporter without telling me?” Gordon asked.

“Thunderbird Five has p-powerful thrusters,” Brains reminded them. “John can slingshot to a position directly above C-RUS.”

“Then I can use the space elevator’s cable and mooring claw to latch onto C-RUS,” John added. “Once the balloons burst, I’ll lower it to the ground. Physics. Couldn’t be simpler.”

“Hold on, you’re gonna go fishing from space?” Alan asked, impressed. “Cool!”

“I only have one concern,” Brains pointed out. “Aside from having to hit a moving target from orbit, the cable wasn’t intended for that kind of weight.”

“Everything you design is over-engineered, Brains,” John said. “Safety and excellence first. We’ll push the limits. It’s just physics.”

“Do it!” Scott said.

John was already trying to calculate the vectors, but was having difficulty due to the total combined weight of the station and cargo. “No,” he whispered, frowning as it flashed up red again. “No, we’re too heavy. Eos, dump all non-essential equipment and supplies from the cargo bay.”

He watched the monitors as everything floated away from the station. “I hope you’re happy,” Eos said, her tone a little sullen. “There go my spare processors.”

“Yes! Orbital vectors calculated,” John reported as the system flashed green. “Firing thrusters. Maximum burn in three, two, one…”

He felt the station begin to move before picking up speed to manoeuvre to orbit above the stricken station.

“We’ll be in position above C-RUS in three point two minutes,” Eos reported.

“Get ready, it’s gonna be a rough ride,” John advised.

“Braking manoeuvres complete,” John reported.

“John, at that distance are you sure you can operate the mooring claw with enough p-precision?” Brains asked.

“You’ve obviously never seen me on the claw machine at the local arcade. This is just one more stuffed toy. Targeting sights aligned…”

With his focus fully on the task at hand, John was able to grab onto the station, but as Scott pointed out, the hurricane directly below them meant he couldn’t just lower them down. So now, due to the weight of the research station, he was using the gravity ring to reel them in. He could only just hear Brains and the others over the radio as the G-forces increased with each rotation, spinning faster and faster.

“John, Thunderbird Five is venting atmosphere,” Eos reported, but John could barely hear her. The last thing he’d heard Brains say was that he’d reached twenty-five Gs. “We need to get your helmet on!”

He lay, pinned to the gravity ring floor, unable to move, his head pounding with the pressure of the centrifugal forces. “Eos…” he groaned. He could barely even focus to stop the spin, his head hurting so much he couldn’t link to even his own systems now. He managed to turn over and with great difficulty, crawled to the emergency stop panel, hitting the control. He felt the pressure of the spin drop instantly as the ring slowed to its normal rotation.

“John, C-RUS is still heading toward you with no way of stopping,” Brains informed him.

Walking on shaky legs, John made his way to propulsion control. “Initiating thrusters,” he said.

The station jolted out of the way at the last minute as C-RUS went sailing by, finally slowing and John vaguely heard his family cheering.

“My subroutines are killing me,” Eos said with a groan.

“Begin docking manoeuvres,” John requested, shutting off the rotation of the ring and allowing himself to float. “I’m just gonna drift for a while. Physics. Couldn’t be simpler.”

“That was just awesome,” Alan said, still talking about it later that evening. They were sat together in the lounge while Gordon had gone swimming and Virgil was down in the hangar with Brains working on repairing Thunderbird Two. “I don’t think anyone could match that manoeuvre, it was just awesome.”

Scott smiled at him. “Yes, it was,” he replied, though he was a bit distracted.

“Something wrong, Scott?” Alan asked.

“Hmm? Oh, uh, I dunno.”

“What is it?”

“I thought we’d have heard from John again by now.”

Alan glanced round at the space monitor’s portrait on the wall then back at Scott. “You haven’t heard from him at all?”

Scott shook his head. “I think I’ll call him. He went through an awful lot earlier. Twenty-five Gs? That’s a ridiculous amount to be put through. I gotta admit, I’m worried.”

Alan bit his lip. The thought hadn’t occurred to him.

Scott put a hand on his shoulder then opened a channel. “Tracy Island to Thunderbird Five. Come in, John.”

“Tracy Island, this is Eos. John is currently asleep, can I be of assistance?”

Scott frowned. “He’s asleep? Eos, is he alright?”

“I’m not certain, Scott,” Eos replied, her tone concerned. “I haven’t been able to rouse him at all since Fischler and his team were collected.”

Scott looked round to see Alan standing up. “I’m already going,” Alan said.

“Alan, you can’t,” Scott said. “Brains hasn’t repaired the engine yet. He was focusing on Two as it was more likely to be needed sooner.”

Alan folded his arms, frustrated. “Scott, it sounds like he needs us. I can get up there on two engines.”

“Alan, no,” Scott replied, getting up. “You can’t. It needs to be repaired.” He put his hand on Alan’s shoulder. “I know you want to get up there, but Three is in no state to take us.”

“I can send down the elevator for you,” Eos offered.

“That’ll have to do for the time being,” Scott said, then looked round at Alan again. “Go and find Virgil and Brains. Let them know what’s going on. I’ll get geared up and go get him. They’ll probably need to get the medbay prepared.”

Alan nodded. “Alright. Just… just bring him home, alright?”

“I will,” Scott said. “When you’ve done that, will you go find Gordon? The two of you will need to get the island back onto minimal systems.”

“I can do that, Scott,” he replied, his gaze lowered.

“Hey, Alan? He’ll be alright. Okay?”

Alan nodded. He watched Scott head off to the infirmary, knowing it was so he could take a sodium tablet to prepare for the journey, then made his way down to the hangars to find Virgil and Brains.

To look at her, you wouldn’t know there was anything wrong with Thunderbird Two. Not even any scorch marks from the electrical surge. It was all internal in the wiring and components that had been fried so Alan went inside the ship and wandered through its interior until he found them. Virgil was lying on his back under a console, his feet wiggling as he attempted to reach something presumably further back and every now and then a hand would appear to grab a tool lying by his hip. Brains, on the other hand, was sat in one of the chairs in the room studying a tablet computer that was physically hooked up to the systems. Alan assumed it was to run diagnostics and knowing that it was the systems that had been damaged it was better to directly link as opposed to wirelessly.

It was at that moment that Brains looked up from his readouts, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did. “Alan? Are you alright?”

“Alan?” Virgil’s voice under the console was slightly muffled as, by the sounds of it, he continued to work. “That you?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Scott is getting ready to go up to Five. He asked me to come let you guys know he’s gonna bring John back.”

Brains put down the tablet and, removing his glasses, covered his face with his hand. “Why didn’t I th-think of this sooner?”

“Think of what, Brains?” Virgil asked, dropping a charred transistor into a pot beside him.

“The amount of G-force he was put through,” Brains said. “I t-take it Scott wants us to ready the infirmary?”

“Infirmary? Ow!” Virgil asked, bumping his head on the console as he tried to sit up too early. “Who needs the infirmary?” He emerged from his work station, rubbing his forehead but looking between them. “What’s happened?”

“Scott’s gone to get John,” Alan reported. “According to Eos, he’s been asleep since Fischler’s team were picked up and she hasn’t been able to wake him at all.”

“But that was hours ago,” Virgil said, frowning.

“Exactly,” Brains replied. “A-and John rarely sleeps for more than a few at a time.”

“Oh dear,” Virgil muttered, then looked at Alan properly. “You alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I gotta go find Gordon so we can shut the island down while you guys prep what you need.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, resting his hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “But if you need anything, you find me, okay?”

“Alright, Virgil,” Alan said, then walked back out again.

They watched him go then Virgil turned to Brains. “How severe is this likely to be?”

“P-pretty bad. Most highly trained individuals wearing a specially designed G-suit can only withstand up to nine Gs.”

Virgil swore. “John went through twenty-five. How is that possible?”

“His suit is designed to withstand more than the standard G-suit but I theorise that somehow his abilities may have protected him be-because he didn’t even suffer from G-LOC, the loss of consciousness through gravitational forces.”

“He came pretty close,” Virgil reminded him.

“I know,” Brains said.

Scott looked around as the space elevator came to a stop with a loud clonking sound.

“The space elevator has completed docking procedures with Thunderbird Five, you may now enter the station,” Eos informed him.

“Thanks,” he said, removing the shoulder restraints and rising out of his seat.

“The centrifuge is in operation while John sleeps so he can remain in his bed.”

“Wouldn’t want him bumping into the ceiling while he’s trying to sleep, would we?” Scott said softly, knowing that the juvenile-sounding AI was anxious.

“Indeed, which has happened on occasion when he forgets,” Eos agreed.

Scott chuckled a little, slightly amused at the thought of his brother floating around while he slept but then shook his head, his own worries returning to the forefront of his mind.

“If you wish, I can turn off the artificial gravity for you,” Eos offered.

“It’s alright,” he replied. “Leave it on for him. I can fly through.”

“Ah yes, John told me of your abilities.”

Scott nodded as he lifted from the floor and made his way through towards the living area of the station. He reached the small room John used as a bedroom and opened the door, frowning at the sight of his next younger brother. His skin was usually paler than the rest of the Tracys due to being in space most of the time, but now it was paler than ever, and a layer of sweat glistened over his face.

“He didn’t even change out of his suit,” Scott commented to himself.

“No, he came in here and said he was going to lie down for five minutes. He complained of a headache and not being able to focus on his systems.”

“A five minute lie down?” Scott asked. “When was this?”

“He fell asleep five point six hours ago.”

“Oh boy,” Scott muttered. He sat down on the edge of John’s bed and put a hand against his forehead. “He seems feverish.”

“Sensors in his suit record his temperature to be up by two point two degrees.”

Scott sighed and lifted one of his eyelids, gasping slightly at the redness around his irises. “That can’t be good,” he said, raising a hand to open a channel to the island. “Thunderbird Five to Tracy Island.”

“Go ahead, Scott,” Virgil answered. “The medbay is prepped and ready to receive John.”

“FAB,” Scott said gratefully. “His temperature is elevated and his eyes are pretty red. Possibly ruptured blood vessels from the Gs.”

“Quite likely, Scott,” Brains replied. “Bring him down and we’ll be able to start tr-treatment. A-and don’t forget to give him one of his sodium shots.”

“Where will I find those?”

“I know where they are,” Eos reported, sounding glad to be of assistance. “There are a supply of them in his medication cabinet along with the tablets.”

“Thanks, Eos.” He allowed himself to rise up off the bed and flew through the living quarters towards Thunderbird Five’s small infirmary. Grabbing what he needed, he went back, hovering beside John for a brief moment to watch his stricken brother. With a small sigh, he lowered himself back down onto the bed and undid the spaceman’s suit, carefully easing his arm out of the sleeve so he could administer the necessary medication.

“Alright, sodium administered. I’ll call again when I’m in the elevator.”

“FAB,” Virgil said, closing the channel.

“Eos, I’m taking John back to Tracy Island. Will you put the station into sleep mode after we’re gone please?”

“Of course, Scott,” she replied. “Will he be alright?”

He looked up at the little camera unit. “I hope so. Brains and Virgil will know what to do.”

“FAB, Scott,” she said. “Sleep mode will commence as soon as the elevator begins its descent.”

“Thanks. And Eos? Can you reroute all communications and things to the hub on the island as well please?”

“Yes, Scott.” The lights around her camera unit flickered to orange while she processed the request before turning white again. “Transfer complete.”

Scott nodded and looked back down at John who hadn’t stirred at all despite their talking. “Come on, John. Time to take you home.”

“My scans of the island show the base to be running essential systems only.”

“Good. At least that means he won’t suffer too much sensory overload as well.” Leaning down, he took hold of one of John’s hands and bent his own body closer so he was able to lift his brother onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Once John was secure, Scott straightened up and left the room.

Inside the cramped cabin of the elevator, Scott placed John into the central chair, positioning him carefully and lowered the shoulder restraints. He looked around, wondering what the best course of action would be concerning his own position, then decided if nothing else, it would be better to lie on the floor and hope for the best. The priority was John after all. He gazed over John once more before initiating the engines and starting the winch that would lower them back to earth.

Virgil was waiting in the hangar when the elevator completed its descent. He barely waited for the jets to fully stop before he was striding forward toward the opening door.

“Virge? Gimme a hand,” Scott called out.

“I’m already here, Scott,” Virgil replied as he stopped in the doorway, knowing that he wouldn’t be at his best. Even the short trip into space would leave him feeling dizzy.

Scott looked up at him from where he was still sat on the floor. “He hasn’t even stirred,” he reported, his tone full of concern as he looked back at John.

Virgil nodded and moved closer. He slipped his hands under his brother and lifted him gently into his arms, straightening to his full height and heading directly for the infirmary. “Come on, Scott,” Virgil called back. “You know the drill when you’ve been into space.”

“I’m coming,” he replied, holding onto the chair as he got up.

As soon as they entered the infirmary, Virgil placed John down onto the closest bed and Brains immediately began to hook him up to a heart monitor and a drip for fluids, placed a blood oxygen monitor on his finger and wound a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

“Is all that machinery necessary?” Scott asked, folding his arms, leaning against the door frame. “He’s gonna be feeling bad enough as it is already.”

“We don’t really have much of a choice,” Virgil replied softly, a hand on Scott’s arm as he guided him into the room, while behind him Brains made notes of all the relevant vitals. “We’ve shut down all other non-essential systems. We won’t even turn the lights on unless we have to.”

“Alright,” Scott said, sitting down on the next bed. He still felt a little light-headed from his excursion and knew they’d need to watch him, but his focus remained on John as he sat against the headrest and drew his knees up close to him.

"How's he getting on?"

Virgil looked up from the data pad he and Brains had been studying to see their grandmother stood in front of them.

“Alan told me when he came into the laundry room and told me I had to shut down the washing machine,” she clarified. “I helped them shut the rest down.”

Virgil nodded. “He’s still out cold. Brains has run a scan of his brain to check for damage and we can’t find anything wrong. He’s been incredibly lucky considering that amount of G-force should have killed him.”

“But how? How is that even possible?” she asked, sitting down next to them on the edge of the desk.

“Well, Brains has a theory on that,” Virgil replied, glancing round at him.

“It’s more of an idea at this point,” Brains corrected.

“Your ideas are usually more likely to be correct that most people’s,” Grandma said.

Brains offered a small smile then looked at his scans again. “Well, it’s like I told Virgil earlier. I think his abilities have protected him.”

“But his abilities are technology based,” Grandma pointed out. “How could that protect him from a physical force like gravity?”

“I believe his mind recognised the, uh, well – I suppose threat is the best word – the threat posed by the gravitational forces and formed a sort of, uh, firewall to protect his brain function.”

“So why hasn’t he woken up yet?” Virgil asked. “The scans are clear.”

“They are, but perhaps his mind needs t-time to, uh, reboot essentially.”

“So we just wait?” Grandma asked.

“For now, and see what happens when he wakes,” Brains agreed.

“And what about Scott?” the Tracy matriarch enquired, glancing at her eldest grandson.

“He’s just sleeping off a bit of dizziness from his trip up to get him,” Virgil provided. Slowly but surely the first responder had slumped from his sitting position to be lying down on the bed, before finally succumbing and falling asleep about ten minutes before their grandmother had entered the room.

She nodded. “Alright. Well, I’m gonna go check up on your other brothers and see if Kayo’s doing alright as well. Let me know if there’s any change in him, alright?”

“Of course,” Virgil replied.

A few hours had passed since they’d brought John home and Scott was once again sat on the bed next to him, watching the younger man sleep. When he’d woken up, he’d allowed Brains to check him over and, once he was deemed fit, Scott had then sent both him and Virgil to bed, citing the fact that they needed to rest just as much if they wanted to effectively look after him and promised to call them if there was a change.

So now, as the clock ticked over to almost midnight, he was on his own with only one light at the far side of the room on minimal power when John finally began to stir. Scott was on his feet and moving to the side of the bed as he heard him groan.

“It’s alright, John, I’m here,” he said softly.

“Scott?” John whispered. “What are you doing up here?”

Scott chuckled softly. “I’m not up anywhere. We brought you home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, you’re in the infirmary on Tracy Island,” Scott clarified.

“Why is it so quiet?”

“Well, it’s almost midnight, everyone else is asleep,” Scott replied, frowning.

“No, the systems are quiet,” John said, his tone strained. “Have you shut extra systems down?”

“We’re running on minimal power, John,” Scott answered, then remembered the medical systems his brother was hooked up to. “Although, actually, because of what happened, Brains had to hook you up to a load of monitors so we’re actually running more than we would be normally when you come home.”

In the dim light, he saw John slowly open his eyes and look around. They were still tinged red but Scott knew that, given time, that would rectify as they healed. “There are… more?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah. We’re sorry, but Brains needed to monitor you.”

John looked first at him, then away, turning his gaze to seek out the machinery. He stared at it briefly before looking back at Scott. “I… I can’t hear them. Scott, why can’t I hear them?”

“There’s no sound on them unless there’s an alarm that goes off,” Scott replied. A look at the heart rate monitor showed that John seemed to be becoming agitated so he put a hand gently on his arm. “It’s alright, John. It’s all gonna be alright.”

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t hear the monitors, Scott!” John argued, his tone rising a little, despite how weak he still sounded.

The elder brother stepped back a little, concerned at the outburst. “John, I…” Realisation finally dawned on him. He wasn’t describing the physical sound of the machines at all. “You mean your ability?”

“I should be able to hear them, Scott,” John said, his hands raising to cradle his head. “I can’t hear anything. No monitors, no lights, no comms., nothing!”

“Oh,” Scott muttered, unsure what else to say. “I’m sure it’ll be alright, John.”

“How? How can this be alright?” John asked, looking back up at him through eyes filled with fear.

“I…” He glanced around, as if seeking inspiration. “I don’t know, but Brains will have the answers. That I’m sure of. It might just be where you’re still not well after all that gravity.”

As if realising he’d upset his brother, John took a deep breath and nodded, clasping his shaking hands together in his lap. “I don’t like it, Scott,” he said quietly. “I’ve never known quiet like this. For as long as I can remember I’ve been able to hear the systems around me. This is just… silent.”

Scott reached a hand out to his again and was encouraged when John took hold of it. “Shall I go get Brains now?”

John sighed and shook his head a little. “No, it’s alright. Get some sleep, Scott. I… I think I’ll go back to sleep. Perhaps by morning it’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’d have to wake him anyway to inform him you’re up,” Scott said.

John shrugged. “If you must, but I do want to go back to sleep.”

“Your body will probably welcome a proper bout of sleep as opposed to that polyphasic thing you do up in space.”

“And the several hours I know I’ve already had? That’s not proper sleep?”

“Hmm,” Scott said, grasping his chin thoughtfully. “I dunno. Because technically you were unconscious because of the over gravity…ing you did, but then sleep in general is just a daily bout of unconsciousness.”

John’s lips quirked into a tired smile. “You’re rambling, Scott,” he muttered.

“I know. You settle down then and I’ll let him know you woke up.”

“If that makes you happy,” John said, resting back against his pillows and closing his eyes.

Scott watched as he slowly fell asleep again before he made his way to the engineer’s room.

Reaching up a hand, he knocked on the door, receiving a reply almost instantly so went in. "Brains, did you actually go to sleep when I sent you?" Scott asked.

Brains looked up from the article he'd been reading on his tablet, regarding Scott before glancing at the bedside clock. "I hadn't realised it had gotten so late," he replied.

"Hmm," Scott muttered, stepping fully into the room.

"Is something wrong, Scott?"

"John just woke up," he said, walking over and sitting on the foot of Brains' bed. "I'm a bit worried about him."

"In what way? Does he seem to be himself?”

“Well, mostly,” Scott replied, frowning. “I think…” He bit his lip and glanced at Brains, unsure how to proceed. “I, um, I think he may have lost his abilities.”

“Lost them?” Brains asked.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. When he woke up, aside from sounding quite weak and a bit out of it, he was coherent and stuff, but he was complaining of it being too quiet. It took me a moment to realise he meant he couldn’t hear the machinery and not just the physical sounds that we hear.”

“Oh dear,” the scientist said, putting his tablet down. “I’ll go and perform a few checks.”

“He was pretty insistent that he go back to sleep,” Scott replied, stifling a yawn.

“Good. Sleep will help,” Brains replied, glancing at the elder Tracy. “And it’ll help you, too.”

“I know, Brains,” he answered, smiling. “But the same goes for you. We all need to get to sleep.”

“I’ll check on him first thing in the morning. For now, I have alerts, uh, set up that will warn me if he needs immediate attention.”

“Thank you, Brains,” Scott replied gratefully, getting up. “See you in the morning.”

Silence. There was nothing quite so deafening as a silence you’re not accustomed to and that’s all John could hear aside from the faint beeps of his heart rate monitor. He’d woken up about ten minutes ago and so far had been on his own. In that time he’d been focusing on the light above him, willing it to turn on. Nothing.

The door opened, making him jump as he’d not been expecting it. He usually knew who was approaching him. Scott and Virgil both wore a watch which he could tell apart, Kayo always had her wrist comm., Brains tended to keep a small data tablet in his pocket and their grandmother carried Grandpa Grant’s old watch around in hers. Even when things were switched off, John still recognised the presence of technology. Only Alan and Gordon tended not to carry anything.

This time, though, his visitor was anonymous until they walked in and made themselves known. “Hey, John,” Scott said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Physically fine,” he muttered, turning his gaze back on the light again, frowning in concentration.

Scott watched him then turned to look at the light. “I, uh, I take it there’s still no improvement with your abilities?”

A few more moments of staring before John sighed and closed his eyes. “Nothing. I can hear nothing. I can manipulate nothing.”

“It’ll be alright, John,��� Scott said softly as he went over. “Brains-”

“It’s not alright, Scott!” John interrupted, his tone raised and agitated. “Nothing about this is alright! I can’t do anything!”

“That’s not true, John,” the elder brother reasoned. “Even without your abilities, you’re still the smartest of us all.”

“So? What’s the use of being smart when I can’t do my job properly!”

“But you can still answer the calls when you’re fit enough to go back on duty,” Scott countered.

John let out a derisive scoff. “Whenever that will be! But do you really have no idea how much I was linked to Five? Sure we’ll still get calls but all my scans and things will be greatly slowed down.”

“We’ll manage, John.” He sat down on the edge of John’s bed, hesitantly placing a hand over his. “Eos is monitoring the frequencies for distress signals and that algorithm you set up is scanning all the sensors around the world for natural disaster signals. Brains reckons this is only temporary, it’s all going to be alright.”

With a frown, John snatched his hand away. “You don’t know how this feels, Scott,” he said, his tone low and frightened. “You don’t know how it feels to have part of you missing. I’ll manage not being able to turn lights on and off without the switch, but to not be able to hear the comms., or to just access my scans…” His voice trailed off as he lowered his head, covering his face. His breaths were shaky as he tried to take deep ones in an attempt to calm himself. “You’ve never lost your ability, Scott,” he whimpered. “You don’t understand what I’ve lost.”

Scott remained where he was when John withdrew, watching as he shrunk in on himself. Hearing the shuddering sobs broke his heart but, in some ways, John was right: Scott didn’t understand at all what he was going through and he didn’t know how to make it better for his brother. “The world will look after itself,” he said quietly. “The GDF can manage things if necessary while you look after yourself.”

John scrubbed a hand over his face and looked back over at Scott. “I know,” he whispered, his already red-tinged eyes now ringed red as well where he’d rubbed them. “But what about the scans?”

“Which scans?” Scott asked, but even as the words left his lips, he finally understood what had upset him. He sighed, offering a hand again. “You mean Dad.”

John nodded, his eyes screwing shut as he lowered his head once more, taking hold of the proffered hand. “How do I keep looking for him when I can’t access my scans?”

Licking his lips a little and swallowing, Scott cleared his throat. “I’m sure Dad would want you to get better before worrying about him.” He squeezed his hand softly. “I’ll let Brains know you’re awake again. He wanted to give you a check over.”

“Alright,” John replied, watching him get up. “Scott?”

The elder man turned at the doorway, holding onto the frame. “Yeah, John?”

“Does Brains really think this is temporary? I haven’t lost my abilities forever?”

Scott shook his head. “No, he doesn’t think you’ve lost them. I’ll let him explain it though. It involved technobabble and I came here even before I had my morning coffee.”

A small smile graced John’s features, helping to ease Scott’s feelings just a little. “I’ll be back shortly, okay?”

“Okay,” John replied, settling back against his pillows again.

Scott went down to the kitchen to find Brains and Virgil already in there with Kayo. He had intended to get his coffee then go and find their scientist friend with an offering of one as well, but this saved him a journey.

“Morning, Scott,” Kayo said as she looked up.

“Hey, Kayo,” he replied, grabbing his favourite mug and going to the coffee machine. “I’ve just come from the infirmary.”

“Is he awake yet?” Virgil asked.

Scott nodded as he turned around with his beverage, heading over to the table where they sat. “Yeah, he is. And he’s really not in the right frame of mind right now.”

“What? Not like, like brain damage?” Virgil queried, stammering around the idea with concern for his brother.

“No, not at all,” Scott responded, reassuringly. “No, in that sense he seems perfectly like himself. This is more the fact that he’s pretty agitated and scared.”

“Scared?” Kayo questioned.

“It would seem he’s lost his abilities,” Scott explained to her.

“What?”

“I-I don’t think it’s permanent,” Brains clarified, proceeding to explain to her what he thought had happened.

She sighed as he finished. “Poor guy, no wonder he’s scared.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, putting his now empty mug into the dishwasher.

“I better go give him a check-up,” Brains said, standing up.

“I’ll come with you,” Virgil offered.

John had his hands clasped together and resting on his chest, staring at the ceiling when Brains and Virgil walked in.

“I don’t think I’ve known you to be this still for this long since we were all really young,” Virgil commented, his tone light, but kind.

John looked over at him then away again. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“How are you, uh, feeling, John?” Brains asked gently. “Any headaches or anything? Stiffness?”

“My back aches a little but aside from that, no, nothing,” he replied, glancing at him briefly.

Virgil exchanged a look with Brains then sat on the edge of the bed. “Scott told us about your abilities,” he remarked.

“Oh, has he? Nice to know he’s been talking about me behind my back,” he said bitterly.

“John, that’s hardly fair,” Virgil countered. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

He sighed and looked back at them. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly.

“It’s alright, John,” Virgil replied. “I can’t even begin to imagine how frightening this must be.”

“Yeah,” he whispered then cleared his throat. “Um, Scott mentioned you might have a theory about this, Brains?”

“I do,” he answered. “But, as you say, it’s just a theory at this point. We all know the brain is essentially like a computer, albeit yours is far more complex than the rest of ours. I believe that to protect your brain function from the lethal levels of G-force you went through, your mind essentially created its own firewall of sorts.”

“That would make sense,” John responded thoughtfully. “But why are my abilities gone?”

“I don’t think they’re gone, uh, John. Just, well, dormant. Like a computer that’s been overloaded, it needs time to cool down before it can restart.”

“So… so you think my abilities will return?”

“With enough time and rest, yes, I do,” Brains responded.

John seemed to relax a little at the thought but then they heard the klaxon signalling an incoming alert, his demeanour shifting instantly.

“Go, Virgil, I’ll wait with John,” Brains said, seeing the indecision on the pilot’s face.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“You’re likely to be needed,” John said, looking away again. “Go.”

“And if you need something?”

“Virgil, just go! Go away! I want to be alone! Both of you just go away!”

Brains stood up and took Virgil by the arm, guiding him out. “He’s scared, Virgil,” he reasoned. “I think we’d just about managed t-to convince him his abilities should return, but this call coming in now has reminded him he’s technically blind for all intents and pur-purposes.”

“Or deaf,” Virgil countered. “He always goes on about hearing the systems.”

“True,” Brains replied. “But yes, I think this call couldn’t have been more poorly timed.”

“Scott to Virgil, report to Thunderbird Two. Heavy lifting required to attend an apartment block collapse.”

Virgil grimaced. “Ouch, hopefully not too many fatalities,” he muttered to himself. “Good thing we were able to finish replacing the burnt out components this morning.”

Brains nodded. “Go on, I’ll give him some time then see to John.”

“Thanks, Brains,” he said and ran off towards the living room.

The call had come in several hours ago. John had been unable to get back to sleep at all and for the most part had been lying facing away from the door, hoping that everyone would assume he was asleep and leave him be. So far it had worked. Until now.

“John?”

The space monitor sighed at the sound of his youngest brother’s voice.

“John, I know you’re awake, you never sleep for long.”

“Even now? When I’m apparently unwell?” he muttered.

“Aren’t you?” Alan asked, going over and sitting on the empty bed beside him.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I can’t do anything, I’d feel fine,” John replied. “Just a bit achy.”

“That’s good then,” Alan replied, smiling.

“No, it’s not, Alan,” John retorted, frowning at him. “It’s not good. And I have no idea how long I have to put up with this until things can be considered good again.”

The smile on his face slipped. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

John sighed again. “No. I know you didn’t.” He rubbed his eyes, letting his hands fall into his lap. “I just feel so helpless. Even on a mission where I don’t need to get involved I still know exactly what they’re doing but I don’t even know who’s gone, what’s happening, anything!”

“The other guys have all gone,” Alan replied after a beat.

“Well, I suppose at least I know that much now,” John murmured bitterly.

“Yeah.” Alan looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. He’d thought that by joining John for the duration of the rescue, they’d both have some company while their brothers were away. Their grandmother and Kayo were working together to coordinate and Alan hadn’t wanted to intrude. Now, though, he realised it had been a bad idea; John clearly needed some more time. He got up again and headed across the room. “I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he said quietly. “For what it’s worth, though, I know how you feel.”

“How could you possibly know how this feels!” John snapped. His fears of not getting his abilities back and self-doubts about how he’d be able to do his job without them were overwhelming and the silence in his mind terrified him.

Alan stopped at the door and looked round at him, his expression full of hurt. “Because I’ve been through it,” he said simply as he walked out.

John frowned at him. Been through it? Been through what? he thought irritably. But then, finally pushing aside his concerns about himself, he suddenly realised what Alan meant. When they were children growing up, Alan watched all four of his older brothers develop incredible abilities, while he had nothing. It may not have been the exact same scenario, but Alan did understand how it felt to be without. And he knew better than anyone how it felt to be left out of a mission, to not know what was happening. To be the last to know.

Cursing himself, he covered his face with his hands, a headache beginning to form. He had no way to call Alan back to apologise with the island still running on minimal power just in case. He’d been selfish and he knew it.

When Scott returned home from the mission that evening, he was tired and aching but anxious to get an update on John’s condition. He disembarked from Thunderbird One and was about to head to his elevator when a noise from within the hangar drew his attention.

He tilted his head as he listened then heard it again, a soft snuffling noise. A sigh escaped him as he realised he recognised that noise: Alan was upset and was hiding out somewhere in the hangar.

Stepping off his walkway, Scott flew down to the lower level and looked around. It was dimly lit and very quiet down here, especially as the minimal system protocol meant emergency lights only in the hangars. He heard the sniffle again and flew towards the source of the sound, landing in front of Thunderbird Three.

Looking up at the giant rocket ship, Scott couldn’t help but grimace slightly at the state of the damaged engine Brains hadn’t had the chance to repair yet. He spared it little more thought though as he mounted the walkway and ventured behind the vehicle, finding his youngest brother sat at the back, leaning against his Thunderbird. “Al?”

Wiping his eyes quickly, Alan stood up. “Oh, uh, hi, Scott,” he said, hoping to sound casual. “I just came down here to assess the damage. You know, get on top of things ready for Brains.”

Scott just raised an eyebrow at the story before he stepped closer and opened his arms.

Alan looked up at him for just a moment before he sank against him, allowing Scott’s long arms to wrap round him.

“What’s up, little brother?” Scott asked gently, one hand almost automatically rubbing circles on Alan’s back as he’d once done when they were both younger and baby brother was crying.

“I went up to keep John company while you guys were out,” he said, his voice muffled against Scott’s chest. “He kinda yelled at me.”

Scott sighed. “Try not to take it to heart, Alan,” he responded. “John’s not well right now and he’s real scared he won’t get his abilities back. I’m not saying he was right to yell at you, but it’s like when we were kids and you used to lash out when you felt left out.”

Alan nodded. “I know. I tried to tell him I sorta understood what he’s going through but that’s when he yelled.”

Scott smiled sadly. “I guess out of us all you get it, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alan whispered. “I just… John’s never yelled at me. Even when I hit him because he refused to put a game on the computer for me when I was little. He’s never shouted or got cross or anything before.”

“That’s because he’s got a very long temper. Not like us two,” Scott reasoned. “I don’t think any of us has heard John get angry before now.��

Alan sighed and pulled away from Scott. “Think he might let me back in now?”

“I expect so, Alan,” Scott replied. “Want me to come, too?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

A small smile crossed Scott’s lips again, a little less sad than before. “Want to see if I can still carry you on my shoulders and fly us both back to the platform?”

Alan looked up at him, a smile of his own beginning to bring light back to his eyes. “Bet you can’t.”

“You’re on,” Scott answered, letting his youngest brother climb up onto his shoulders, and flying them both back to the hangar exit.

John was once again lying on his side, facing into the room and away from the door. He’d let Brains check him over again, replying only to tell him his head was hurting a bit, but otherwise remaining silent. He was ashamed of how he’d treated his brothers.

Brains had then left him alone, realising that he needed some time and making sure all the alerts were correctly set before exiting.

Drawing his long limbs closer to him, John curled up tight, hugging the corner of his blanket, a habit he’d had as a child. He had tears in his eyes as he stared at the floor, furious with himself and still feeling frightened. So many emotions were whirling around in his mind that he was struggling to focus on anything. Not even hearing when the door opened.

“John?”

The sound of Scott’s soft, hesitant voice made him, firstly, jump, not having expected to hear anything, but, secondly, the tone was one he was unaccustomed to. Scott was never hesitant. But then, he himself was never normally so quick to lash out. With a sigh, he turned over and sat up, surprised to see Alan almost hiding behind Scott. His heart sank at the sight. “I’m sorry, Alan,” he whispered. “I didn’t think, I was just so scared and…” He sighed, shaking his head a little. “I have no excuses for the way I spoke to you, but I really am sorry.”

Glancing up at Scott, who gave a short nod, Alan emerged from behind him and walked over to John’s bed. “It’s okay,” he replied quietly. “It’s okay to be scared because whatever has happened to you is a scary thing. But we’re all here trying to help you, John.”

A small smile flickered briefly on John’s lips. “I know, Alan,” he said. “But I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Alan shrugged. “I probably deserved it for all the times I ever yelled at you over the years,” he retorted with a smile of his own.

John chuckled, wiping his eyes. “You definitely did not deserve it, Alan.”

Alan shrugged again, that bright smile of his still fixed in place now his brother had calmed down. Without another thought, he climbed up onto the bed and settled down next to John, the elder of the two astronauts letting the younger snuggle against him. He wasn’t usually one for much physical contact, but he knew that Alan was. And the fact that Alan still wanted to give him a hug after the way he’d treated him earlier helped to settle his mind that he really had been forgiven.

Scott went over and sat on the end of the bed. “We all know how difficult it is for you right now,” he said gently. “Some of us might not be able to fully appreciate it, but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna be right here for you. It might take a bit of time, but you’re gonna get through this, John.”

The space monitor looked over at his elder brother and nodded. “Thanks, Scott,” he said quietly, but with a voice full of emotion. Even despite his outbursts, his brothers were still there for him. He took a deep, steadying breath, resting his head briefly against Alan’s. They were right, he would get through this and knowing they’d be there with him was a relief and a comfort.