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hiswhiteknight · 4 years

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Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 6

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Sorry I’ve been away, I’ve been trying to get some balance and perspective. I’m hoping to come back swinging. Thanks for everyone’s supports, it makes it a real pleasure to continue to write.

Oh, at this point is when it might start slowly deviating from the tv show.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2300 (long!!!!)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

Jamie was making his way towards the kitchen, thankfully you subtly slipped out, and found your way to the pair as Murtagh whispered harsh words to Jamie. You didn’t even look at Jamie, “This way,” you whispered harshly.

You led the gentleman to the space Mrs. Fitz showed you, where you were studying and trying to understand as much as you could about medicine. “Try not to hurt the man, lass, I think you’ve given him enough trouble,” Murtagh shared as he helped Jamie to the seat.

Looking him straight in the eye, stone faced, “Next time you think I’ll want your thoughts Murtagh, I’ll be sure enough ask for it.”

It was obvious he was doing his best not to growl or yell at you, “Watch yourself, she’s wee sized, but she’ll find you weak spot and have you on the ground real fast.”

“I expect minimum talking from you, sir,” you look around Murtagh to Jamie. He was biting back a smirk, “You are quite the barbarians, you know, fits and all.”

“Are men in the colonies babes, do they not know how to be a real man,” Murtagh questioned you again. Shooting him another glare, he quickly shut up, “Jamie, I’ll leave you with the woman. Best of luck.”

“Goodbye Murtagh, miss you already,” you wave at him. Jamie watched you in amazement, shaking his head at your antics. You shrug, “I think I’m growing on him.”

He still held his arm as you passed him something to drink, “Watch yourself, Deoiridh, Murtagh is a good man, but not all men are as nice as him.”

You were mixing some stuff you learned could be good for healing and inflammation, while pointing back at the door, “That man, nice? Where,” you question again.

He shook his head, “Trust me.”

“Sure,” he said.

You started to work on his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. He did do something quite honorable for a young woman, “Why did you do that, I could have handled it,” you whispered trying to focus on his face.

“I understand you are not familiar with our ways, but for an unmarried woman and a stranger,” he said while trying to make eye contact awkwardly, “like yourself, it would have brought you shame. I’m sore, but not really damaged. I would have done the same thing for the girl if you hadn’t stepped in. And the Mackenzie’s don’t much mind for outsiders getting into their affairs.”

“I don’t care what people think of me,” you answered back, “And I’m here, I exist in their affairs.”

He grabbed your hand to stop you, “I don’t know much about you Y/N, but I know I couldn’t sit and watch,” he was stopped my Mrs. Fitz coming in with somethings for Jamie.

“What you did was kindly meant lad,” she said to him, nearly crying. A part of you broke inside seeing her this upset. It melted your anger down to almost nothing. Jamie had let go of your hand, thanking Mrs. Fitz.

“Do me a favor, don’t get into any more fights. You’ve got a few days before this arm fully heals and I already have enough things to do than mend your ailments, sir,” you turn away to start cleaning up things around you.

“You seem to be quite the busy woman,” he said, standing up to look down at you.

Stopping to look up at his smirk. He was aware that his touch and close proximity was affecting your mood, “Yeah, so busy I might not be able to deal with you. If I don’t see you in two days, you should remove your bandages,” you answered him, not looking him in the eyes again.

“I’m sure I can manage,” he smirked some more. He stopped your fidgeting and avoidance maneuvers with hands by gripping your arm and forcing you to look at him, “But I’d sure not mind seeing you if you do find the time.”

A clank caught your attention, Mrs. Fitz’s granddaughter stood waiting an audience with Jamie, “Seems you have someone waiting to thank you,” you pull back from his grip.

“So it does,” he looked in her direction.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you say pulling a few things of yours into your arms. You took a step towards the entrance, before turning back to him, “Oh, by the way, your charm doesn’t work on me Jamie. I’m still plenty mad at you,” and you swung back around, hearing his chuckle from his breath.

The way Jamie made you feel unease, an unfamiliar feeling, you found it easy to force yourself to avoid him. Jamie was right about something; you were a stranger. Collum and Dougal were both suspicious of you, so you tried to find ways to get them to trust you. You had spent some time thinking about finding a way back to the rocks, but you were far from identifying a detailed plan.

In the trying to gain trust of the community, outside of educating yourself about potential, but sketchy ways of healing people and creating medical notes for your own survival experiences with your outdoorsy brother and the military.

You gravitated to the children and the woman of the people. Often you were showing the children how to better their fighting skills and how to create weapons, especially the girls. With the women, you peaked some of the more progressive women to learn some self-defense and battle strategy, but mostly you tried to educate them in how to read people. The one day, you made Mrs. Fitz laugh by predicting Angus tripping over the wood by the fire and deciding to drink to help his wounded pride, “Hope you’re not a witch,” she laughed.

“Mrs. Fitz, I’m just good with people. Witchcraft is something that takes much more strategy and imagination,” you grinned at her, before passing Angus another cup of mead caused Mrs. Fitz to laugh again.

Outside of trying to educate the community in swords play and self defense, you have gotten closer to Collum. He clearly was suspicious, and he relied too heavily on you when it came to medicine and healing. Often it made you think of your brother, he could heal nearly anything from anywhere. You remembered how your brother helped a puppy left in the woods to die because it’s inability to walk on its own. Some of the small gestures he did to help the puppy, like massaging its legs and back. You thought of this when Collum called you to help ease the pain of his legs. You were just lucky that what your brother taught you work. Human bodies and nakedness didn’t make you uncomfortable, especially when regarding science and medicine. It was nice to have a purpose and learn something new.

With yourself getting comfortable didn’t mean there were not difficulties. Unfortunately, that came with the unease of being a woman from the 21st century in an era of no women’s rights. You got shouted at for just wanting to wear a pair of pants. And quite a few gentlemen enjoyed the fact that you were an unmarried woman, which made you incredibly uncomfortable when they sought your affection or attention.

At this current moment, you found yourself getting ‘the lean’ from Dougal, “You seem to be finding yourself a home here.”

“Of course, but not too comfortable,” you mumbled to him, drinking some of the rhenish. You never quite got the hang of drinking, but during these uncomfortable times it was making it easier to cope.

He nodded, “Right, you’re waiting for news from your brother. Collum mentioned you tried to send word for him at the colonies.”

Looking anywhere but at him, you tried to pull yourself from this situation, “Yes, I hope to hear back from him.” You paused to choose your words wisely, “I’m going to try to get closer, excuse me.”

You sit on a bench away from the wandering eyes and whispers of the hall. Mrs. Fitz’s granddaughter sat next to me, “Hello, I’m Y/N O’Mulligain your grandmother talks very highly of you.”

She sent you a smile, leaning in to whisper back, “Laoghaire Mackenzie, I never got to thank you for trying to-.”

You stopped her with a wave, “No, no need,” you both looked towards a figure entering the hall, “That’s the man who gets all the thanks.”

“Yeah,” she gushed in a whisper, “I just wish he had eyes for me.”

Jamie made eye contact with you, making his way in your direction, “He is quite the charmer, Mr. Mactavish.” You look back at her, “He’d be stupid not to like you, you’re quite beautiful.”

Jamie interrupted your conversation by sitting in between the both of you. He greeted you both before turning his attention to the musician who started to play. You had done such a good job avoiding your feelings of hatred, annoyance, and something else with Jamie. And because Laoghaire sat next to you, you were stuck with him sitting next to you. You leaned forward, continuing to drink your rhenish. It was quite beautiful, if only you could understand what he was saying, “Do you not like the music Miss O’Mulligian,” Jamie asked you, trying to read your facial expression.

You leaned back, “Oh no, it’s truly lovely. I just focusing on the words, wish I knew what the song was about.” There might have been other motivations to looked focused and uncomfortable, but it was mostly true.

Jamie started to explain a little about the musician when Laoghaire tried to prompt Jamie to talk to her about their past, “No, I don’t think so. Still, I wouldn’t be likely too.”

You glared at Jamie for being so dense, “But look at her now, quite the enchanting young woman,” you point to her.

He glanced at her, “Aye, she’s bonnie.”

Eventually you got quite focused on the music, sighing, and holding your hand to your face in amazement. You couldn’t quite hammer out why you were acting so strange, besides the point that you could feel the tension from Laoghaire and Jamie’s presence next to you, “That Collum’s rhenish?”

“Sure is,” than it started to hit you. It was quite easy to drink, but it was starting to get to your head, “I think this is my second, maybe my third, but I’m fairly sure my second. Would you like it,” you offered it to Jamie, trying not to laugh at the awkwardness you were feeling.

“Most people wouldn’t be standing by their second,” he took it from your hands. When the song finished, you struggled not to roar with applause and shout like you were at a hockey game. Jamie stopped you before the next song started, “Miss O’Mulligian, remember discussing the bandage it’s been bothering me, would you mind taking a look at it,” his whispered.

You leaned back in shock, “You can’t be serious, right now,” you question. He nods, “Fine, but if I never get to see this guy play again. It’s your ass Mr. Mactavish,” you mockingly say his name. You get up and make your way to your workspace, trying not to grumble with annoyance. You put most of your focus on the walk to your work area, though for some reason it was not as easy as you remember. Thankfully Jamie was leading the way, which made you remember the time he tossed you over his shoulder. Before you could complete that thought, you were there, “Let’s see it,” you point to him to have a seat on the table.

“I don’t need your help,” he grinned at you, “I thought it was best to get you back to the surgery while you can stand.”

You lean against the table, letting a laugh out, “Oh,” you answered him, “You think I’m inebriated, you might be right,” you chucked again, “I thought about jumping on your back on the way down here and making you carry me.”

“You can hold your own,” he said, stepping towards you to lean against the table with you, “But thought it’d be best to be safe.”

“Thank you,” you knew he was right and that it’d be best to get to safe place before you made a fool of yourself. You glance at him gain with your heavy eyes, “Surprised you haven’t moved the bandage.”

Sending you another smile, “Scared about what you might do.”

“Smart man,” you answered back, “While you’re here, let me look at it,” you spun to look at him. He didn’t much move, he just gazed at you as you undid his shirt. You felt like you were suddenly on fire and with the alcohol is was become harder to fight the urge and attraction to Jamie, “You should pay more mind to Laoghaire, she like you.”

“Aye, she is a nice girl,” he said as he watched you maneuver around his clothing and bandage, “Why do you mention it.”

Ignoring his questions, “It looks just about right,” you cover it up again, “I’d say in a few days you can remove all this.”

“As you say,” he took a step back, cutting a smirk away, “I didn’t realize you cared so much about my affairs Miss O’Mulligian”

You rolled your eyes and stomped a foot as you walked around the table to get your things in order before you go to sleep, “I feel for the girl Mister Mactavish. It has very little to do with you.”

He looked towards the door, then back at you, “Right lass, if that’s the case. I’ll be off. Good night Miss O’Mulligian.”

Part 7

Taglist: @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans

#Outlander #outlander imagine #outlander fanfiction #Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser imagine #jamie fraser x reader #jamie frazier x reader

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finsterhund · 3 years

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Hey I fucking broke my ankle lmao

“I could really use a break right now” I say as I struggle with my dog having terminal cancer, my roommate pushing my limits, my money being nonexistent, and barely getting one meal a day.

A finger on the monkey’s paw that is me ever wanting anything in life curls again. Must have been a pretty fucked up monkey because there’s a lot of fingers on this thing by now.

So yeah, life thought I wasn’t going through enough already so it added broken fucking ankle to the list of Finsterhund suffering hours.

“I wish I wasn’t broke” is another good one. “here have a different broke then lol. go fuck yourself you rotting corpse of a victorian boy piece of shit”

here’s the goods. Got ex roommate to take photo of the screen. Doctor did not let me email the high res version to myself.

I did not go “waaaiii” on the way down, unfortunately. Life just isn’t like a video game. Probably didn’t look funny either. In reality I am a silent faller/injurer/whatever. Survival instincts of child abuse survivor I land and stay there as quiet as possible. I “grew out of” signals for help before teenage years. Which is a blessing in disguise because I don’t like people looking at me when I am hurt. it’s the “baby deer waiting for mom to come back instinct” I hide from predators.

My brain didn’t really process it when it happened. I just fell and heard a SNAP. If I had watched a video of it happening to someone else I would have found it gross but fortunately my brain just let me ignore it.

I was mostly immediately scared that I had somehow damaged the FIFTY DOLLAR dog calming aid that I got for Cazza in the pet store. I needed something like it for her and just seeing it in person and not having to pay 30 dollar shipping I was like “yeah. getting it here” fortunately the only fragile part is a little plastic capsule that imitates a heartbeat, which was packaged inside the toy inside the box. I hope. I have not opened it.

But the reason I fell is because I was also carrying giant bag of dog food. You see my vet recommended I switch out her food in light of the potential heart disease link. So I got the biggest bag of the best chicken stuff they had. My roommate might try saying that it was because the bag was too heavy. It wasn’t. I could lift that shit just fine. Bag was impossible for my impaired depth perception cringe fail line of vision to see around. The same visual impairment that prevents me from being able to drive a car made me think that I could put my foot down on the curb of the sidewalk. Dumb ass thought I was stepping OVER the curb.

Fortunately the bag of dog food broke my fall. Otherwise I’d have probably smashed my nose and teeth on the pavement. I really hope the expensive puppy calming toy is unharmed :( I say as I have a fucking broken leg.

So yeah. If you’ve seen labyrinth where David Bowie playing Jareth the Goblin King walks over all those weird ass fucked up stairs and ledges that are all a manner of odd angles? Specifically where he just takes steps that are at an angle that you cannot actually walk? Yeah I fucked up Jareth platform stairs walked over the fucking curb and snapp my legs

yes, I said legs.

Only my left is technically broken. It’s a Webber A something or other. I have a sick as hell photo if you wanna see. It’s included in this post.

But my right foot also got fucking fucked up. That one it snapped a tendon or a ligament or whatever the fuck. Get this, it snapped off a small piece of the gottamn bone. It’s not a break but it’s like it came off like a splinter. I made a joke in the hospital about how it’s like when you throw a sticky hand at the wall and when you pull it back a piece of the paint comes off with it. That was really fucking funny but nobody laughed. My friend’s group chat thought it was funny though. I did not get a photo of that foot and the tiny cringe sticky hand paint sliver bone.

I am on pain meds better than my normal pain meds. I can barely feel the legs in bed now.

So back to the parking lot. I landed on the dog food bag. I am hoping the calmeroos puppy is not broken or damaged in any way, I heard the snap but my brain is not registering the snap. This hurts “like a normal fall” I think at first. It hurts a lot of course, but I have the pain tolerance of a truck (thanks for this one Will) and a “heartwarming” story from my youth is that my mom didn’t believe my arm was broken both times it happened because I wasn’t “in pain enough” so I’ve got the firsthand experience to back that up.

Yeah then I try to fucking move my goddamn legs. Left one, broken one, there’s noises. Like cracking pop sounds. And pain. God fuck. It feels like the foot is loose and it’s only connected by fleshy flesh and muscle and skin. Aka like how my dislocated shoulder (that my mom also dismissed because I didn’t scream enough... after the lifeguard had alreayd put it back in...) had felt when I was 12.

So I’m like “oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck I can’t get up or move” yeah my first response was “how the fuck am I going to escape?” I attempted to better myself to get up but absolutely not. Right foot feels like when I roll the damn thing which happens a lot. That *WAS* my bad ankle. sidkfjsdkfjskdf not anymore!!!!!

So an important note is that I’m technically better about my severe agoraphobia that my roommate can let me go into a store by myself provided he’s no more than a couple stores away. So while I’m waiting for a predator to pick my weak ass off outside the petstore he’s in the dollar store next door where I was supposed to meet him after putting the dog food in the car. The car I am now sitting next to. I have no way to get his attention because my phone is dead and also in my bedroom because it’s useless when not plugged into the wall.

Luckily the people parked next to us come out the store and see Mr fuck leg the fucked leg boy sitting on his bag of dog food between the cars and bless this family they help me out. By trying to get roommate out of the dollar store. Which doesn’t work. So they get the dollar store manager. Who then gets roommate out of the store. I was probably sitting there for 10 minutes or so. They had kids so I’m really trying not to let them see how fucked up the rapidly growing ankle balloon is.

But yeah. Eventually roommate come out the dollar store. And get this, he does the same shit my mom did every time anything ever fucking happened to me and is all “okay if it were really broken you’d be screaming right now” as I’m finally able to prop myself up enough to get into the car. That fucking triggered me real bad and I had a breakdown in the car while he went back into the dollar store to continue shopping.

Then we went to get food.

Then we went to costco.

He said that he would take me home and then if it was “still bad tomorrow” he’d take me to the ER.

So he tries to help me out of the car to the house.

I cannot put weight on the right leg either. It is agony. He’s trying to support the bad leg but the other leg need support too. A weaker man would have screamed but I just dropped to the parking lot ground and cried.

Made an attempt to crawl to the house but the gravel on my knees was just too much on top of everything else.

So FINALLY the ER is back on the menu. Ex roommate comes out because I need someone to support each foot. And they take me to their car and they drive me to the ER and I’m trying to eat a baconator while my foot is reminding me that we should have stayed as tiktaalik. you know, not fucking biped I want semi aquatic too please please please youre nothing

The wheelchairs in the ER are designed to offer full body support but the damn things are so hard to maneuver around and cannot be user operated. So I was sitting there having to get pushed around feeling like a dumb fuck because I hate needing assistance to move I hate it I hate it I hate it. I kept reaching down expecting to find the wheel handles but they weren’t there.

ER was... fun. There was a cool cartoon I’ve never seen before “Craig of the Creek” playing on the TV. I really want to see more of it I really liked it. But a fucking anti vax guy (YEAH REALLY) was swearing and bitching because there were kids shows on the TV This show was the only comfort I fucking had. Craig was spoonfeeding me comfort with his little freeze to death without your winter clothes adventure (RIP to him but I’m different)

But yeah. Once being treated it was all really nice. My ability to make constant jokes about fucked up injury death and suffering is a really good stress relief. Shout out to the xray tech who totally understood I use dark humor to cope and in response to my joke about how if I was a horse they'd just shoot me that I would “make wonderful glue” the other people were also very kind but I kinda felt they were intimidated by how “jovial” I was about the whole thing. Like yeah. I’m “handling it well” because that’s my whole strategy. Inside I’m screaming “please not the plates please not the plates please not the plates” (I am scared of having metal plates and screws.) Fortunately the stupid little cringe bone broke just low enough on the bone that I don’t have to get the plates and screws. I was literally begging Spot and she answered.

In my moment of weakness I decided that the true nature of the “Spot Power” is that she makes it so that when I’m going through shit I’m always “being so brave about it”

I kept thinking about how Cazza thought I had abandoned her though and while roommate did give her her evening walkies she was stressed and puked on the walk. Which fucking ruined my life and I cried more hearing that than the fucking leg.

So yeah. In canada crutches and the foot boot actually cost money. I’m out like 100 dollars. Plus like 30 because roommate wanted gas. I’m just used to it by now. I definitely need to plug Cazza’s gofundme again now though. Have no clue how I’m even going to take her to her appointments. I am hesitant to hope that roommate will give her as good walks as she needs.

There were more tears over the fact that I was going to fail Cazza than that I actually broke my fucking ankle.

This shouldn’t be a shock. I knew that eventually my visual impairment and my physical disability were going to team up on me and fuck up my body even worse somehow. Always thought it was going to be stairs though. A small comfort is apparently the x ray department has had four other people come in about the exact same curb. Yeah I kid you not. The curb between the redacted dollar store and the redacted pet store confirmed for Heart of Darkness 2: Andy Ankle Adventure

They were supposed to give me more pain meds but I guess I didn’t pick them up or they forgot or something. My brain is fried so i have no idea at all.

Crutches are a massive learning curve for someone with depth issues and balance issues. I almost fell face first on the goddamn crutches several times. If I wasn’t broke and you know, if I couldn’t fucking not leg broken walk leg I would go to hardware store and make a wheeling seat thing like those scooters in gym class and then I’d have Cazza pull me on walks. That would work.

Big issue is in and out of our place is fucking stairs. Yeah. I crawled up them on hands and knees. No way in hell with my already fucking broken mobility could I go crutches up them. I have to hold onto railing or I fall down stairs so crawling it was.

I can technically take the boot off to sleep but the tightness makes it so much better so fuck that. Wish I had the rolling elementary school gym class scooter so I could drag myself around the house.

Cazza doted on me like nothing else. She tried to brace me going up the stairs but she’s not big enough for what I’d need with this fucking leg problem. She helped me change out of my clothes though. Even though she’ll never be certified she’s still my everything.

The she cuddled close to me until I had calmed down and now she’s fast asleep in her bed. I am so glad I ended up giving her her bath before going out.

I am going to attempt to make it to my bloodwork appointment tomorrow. I have rescheduled that due to chemo appointments too many times.

I can’t remember if I’m forgetting anything else. Honestly my roommate telling me the exact same shit my mom did just fucking hurt so bad. I think I know my own body better than you do. Like I’ve told him about how she didn’t believe me and I had to beg her to take me to the hospital and he ended up doing the exact same shit. All because I didn’t outwardly exhibit being in enough pain apparently.

I just hate how being disabled you always have to fucking prove you’re disabled. Like I was expected to somehow walk back to the house and up the stairs but when I got to go to the ER yeah fucking broken lol.

I just wish I had parents. I need taking care of. I always did and I never got it.

I’m scared for the future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage or how I’m going to provide for Cazza.

I wish breaking my ankle could have made Cazza’s cancer go away

#text post #negative #long post #cw: injury #broken bones #ask me to tag #cw: medical

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duhragonball · 5 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (110/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[21 Feruary 233 Before Age. Planet Qondoging.]

Ryba Booth's tactical data reported Saiyan activity in and around twenty-five star systems. By the time Luffa's star-yacht reached Federation space, she had received new reports that increased that estimate to thirty-two. Five systems had reported Saiyans actually landing on the planet's surface. Unable to help more than one world at a time, Luffa simply chose the closest planet where Saiyans were confirmed to be on the surface.

She was still recuperating from her last encounter with Trimegistus' Saiyan marauders. It was clear to her now that the six warriors she had faced on Lubegev were not just a test of Luffa's measure, but a diversion to keep her out of Federation space long enough for the main invasion force to make their move. Trismegistus had done something to enhance these Saiyans' powers, making them far stronger than any normal Saiyan ought to be. Individually, they were still no match for Luffa's Super Saiyan powers, but a group of them could present a serious challenge. Luffa estimated that a dozen of them, trained to coordinate their attacks, might be enough to overwhelm her.

She doubted that her enemy would risk sending that many of his troops to a single world. In such an extreme situation, Luffa could destroy the entire planet from orbit, or the Federation fleet could carpet bomb the entire surface, effectively achieving the same result. The destruction would be horrific, to say nothing for the loss of life, but a defending force might consider it a justifiable course of action, as it would end one world to preserve many others. Judging from the breadth of the invasion, Trismegistus' plan seemed to be to wear Luffa down by forcing her to travel from planet to planet, fighting just enough Saiyans to make things difficult for her. Destroying planets wouldn't accomplish anything, as it would only kill a few enemy troops per world. Destroying every planet the Saiyans attacked would simply be doing their work for them. No, the goal seemed to be to force Luffa to run an interstellar gauntlet, fighting Saiyan after Saiyan until she succumbed to injury or exhaustion.

She had to admit that Trismegistus understood the Saiyan heart very well. She was sorely tempted to take this situation as a challenge of her power and endurance. She suspected that most Saiyans would feel the same way, albeit on a smaller scale. Trismegistus had laid out his strategy brilliantly, counting on Luffa's weaknesses to complete the trap he had laid. However, he had underestimated her, like so many of her past enemies had done. As a Super Saiyan, Luffa had fought battles most ordinary Saiyans could barely imagine, let alone experience. Luffa had already faced gauntlets of warriors before. Not long before becoming a Super Saiyan, she had battled the Tikosi hordes on Dorlu Prime, and they had slowly worn her down. She had long regretted that defeat, and had spent years thinking of ways to handle that scenario differently. She had tested them on the battlefield, daring large armies to fight her while she held back her power to make things more interesting. Entire theaters of war had served as laboratories for her tactical experiments. Trismegistus had laid down a challenge of endurance, but Luffa chose to see it as a challenge of innovation.

As her star-yacht entered the Qondoging System, she stood in the cargo bay and smiled eagerly. Beside her, Luffa's wife Zatte held her right hand and watched her nervously.

"I don't know if I can do this," the Dorlun said.

"Maybe you can't," Luffa said. "But I think we can, working together."

"But the entire ship!" Zatte objected. "And you--!"

"This is Plan A. If it doesn't work, Plan B is I bail out and fight the Saiyans hand to hand," Luffa said bluntly. She pointed to the bandages on her arms and under her black sleeveless shirt. "I'll win, but they'll make me pay for it, just like those last six I killed."

"I know, but--!"

"This is your chance, Zattie," Luffa said. "You pull this off and you'll be helping my cause and keeping me healthy for the next battle. That's what you've always wanted to do for me, right?"

"Yes, but if I screw it up--!" Zatte argued.

"You won't screw it up," Luffa replied. "I'm a xan'nil-Dor, aren't I? It can't be a dumb idea if I came up with it, right?"

"Providence deemed you important, Luffa," Zatte said with an anxious smile. "They never said you were smart."

"Which is exactly why they sent you to cover my back," Luffa said. "Your Dorlun pride should be burning in your veins right now."

"Not exactly," Zatte said, "but I love it when you talk that way."

Luffa grinned and tapped the communicator mounted in her left ear. "Cargo bay to bridge," she called. "How are we doing?"

"Um, okay... I think?" The uncertainty in Dotz's voice was palpable. "We're, uh, approaching the planet pretty fast."

"Great, Dotz," Luffa said. "You sound like you're already getting the hang of it."

"Well, that's nice of you to say," Dotz said, "but, um, you only showed me how to use this thing half an hour ago. Are you sure you want me to do this? I'm a fortuneteller, not a pilot."

"I've got no choice," Luffa said, "I need Zatte here with me, and Doc's on standby in case we get hurt."

"Right," she said. "Well, I'm happy to help, but..."

"You've got this, Dotz," Luffa said. "It's a simple maneuver. All you have to do is keep us from hitting the ground, and pull up when the time is right."

"Um... when is that, again?"

"You're the fortuneteller. You tell me," Luffa said.

"That's not how it works," Dotz said.

"Just joking," Luffa said. "You'll know."

Luffa used her ki senses to decide when to begin. The entire planet's collective life energy was easy to pick up as a great distance. It was when she could pick up the individual Saiyan powers on the planet that she signalled for Zatte to begin. The Dorlun held onto Luffa's hand and used her other to hold onto a power conduit they had pulled out from the wall of the cargo bay. Then she applied her unique ability to manipulate energy. Zatte typically used this talent for camouflage and sabotage. She had never concealed anything nearly as large as a spacecraft, but Luffa had convinced her it was time to try. It was a simple matter of bending electromagnetic radiation, refracting it around the entire ship instead of allowing it to bounce off its surface. But this was just the beginning. Zatte also had to diffuse the radiation emitting from the ship itself. The heat from the engines, the illumination from its running lights, and the ki of its occupants. It was a tricky operation, and Luffa planned to make it even trickier.

As they entered the planet's atmosphere, Zatte's focus began to waver. "The heat," she said with a grimace. "I'm having trouble dispersing it all."

"No worries," Luffa said. "They haven't spotted us yet, and you're about to get a little help..."

She transformed into her Super Saiyan mode. As Luffa's hair stood on end and her eyes glowed green, Zatte only clenched her teeth more tightly as she struggled to cope with this new energy.

"Use it!" Luffa said. "Take whatever you need."

"It's... too much!" Zatte said. "I can't borrow your energy and use it to hide the rest of it all at once!"

She didn't have to. Luffa had learned to hide some of her own ki in a fashion resembling Zatte's ability. The only trouble was that neither of them could hide all of it at once. But if they worked together, with Zatte borrowing some of Luffa's power to apply to the task, then maybe...

"I've... got it!" Zatte said. "But I can't hold it."

Even as she said it, Luffa could sense the Saiyans taking flight, moving to intercept their ship. Only they had no idea it was a ship at all. Zatte's cloaking field wasn't absolute, but it was enough to confuse anyone who had detected them. The Saiyans had detected their approach, but they weren't closing in to attack; they were keeping their distance to investigate. They didn't know what the star-yacht was, but they were probably certain that it wasn't a Super Saiyan.

There were five of them, and when the first three approached from the aft of the yacht, Luffa tapped the control for the bay door. Before it had finished opening, she had acquired her targets.

"Vengeance Cannon," she said with a grin.

At this moment, Zatte's cloak could have collapsed altogether and it would make no difference. From the perspective of the three Saiyans, they would only be able to see an indistinct blur in the sky, and sense an indeterminate power level. And then, they would see beams of crimson light shooting out of the blur, one after another, aimed straight for their hearts. The first one Luffa hit died instantly, followed by the second one an instant later. The third Saiyan might have had just enough time to realize they were under attack, but Luffa's aim was too sure and her attack too quick for him to react.

As for the remaining two Saiyans, they had approached the star-yacht from the fore, where Luffa wouldn't be able to attack them without firing through her own ship. They didn't know they were under attack until they sensed the deaths of their three comrades, but once they knew what was happening, they moved closer to blast the yacht with their own ki beams. On the bridge, Dotz was alerted to their approach, and so she did what any novice pilot would do in such a situation. Panicking, she followed the only instruction she was given, and pulled the ship upward as sharply as she possibly could. The Saiyans were confused by the sudden course change, and as they chased after the blur as it rose into the upper atmosphere, they found themselves making the same mistake as the first three. Luffa picked them off with two more shots, and the liberation of Qondoging was complete.

Luffa shut the bay doors and caught Zatte before she could drop to her knees.

"Nice work everyone," Luffa said as she tapped her earpiece.

"I nearly blew it," Zatte said between exhausted gasps. "How do you handle all that power?"

"You did fine," Luffa said. "With a little more practice, I bet you could keep this whole ship invisible for hours..."

"Just... help me get to sickbay," Zatte said wearily.

Luffa smiled proudly as she helped to her feet and led her out of the cargo bay. Once she had turned Zatte over to Doctor Topsas, she went to the bridge and set course for the next planet.

*******

[1 March, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

Over the next several days, Luffa's unorthodox tactics had proven effective. With each planet she liberated, the Federation fleet was able to regroup and consolidate their gains. She had staged counterattacks on three worlds now, and on each one she had managed to use the element of surprise to kill the Saiyans without sustaining any new wounds. As they moved on to the fourth planet, Dr. Topsas was more concerned with the injuries Luffa already had from the battle on Lubegev.

"You said you were going to rest between missions, little mammal," Topsas grumbled.

"I am resting, Doc," Luffa said. She handed him a plate of fried gizzards, still wearing the oven mitts she had used while preparing them in the ship's kitchen. "Oh, I forgot your sauce, let me go get that real quick--"

"As much as I enjoy your cooking," he protested, "it won't do you any good to keep running back and forth on the ship."

Luffa waved her salad tongs around the bridge, gesturing to Zatte at the navigation console, and Dotz at a tactical station. "That's bunk, doc," she said. "You all deserve a good meal after the work you've put in. You guys have done really well these last couple of days. I mean, I was confident, sure, but I'm still impressed. Dotz hasn't even been in a battle before, but she's handled the ship better than I could have imagined."

"Really?" Dotz asked, looking up from her plate.

"Hey! Don't fill up on bread, okay?" Luffa scolded. "I've got baked tubers coming up, but the toppings aren't ready to come out of the oven."

Dotz dropped her roll immediately, and nodded.

"Luffa, Dr. Topsas is right," Zatte said. "I can get my own salad, and the ship can pilot itself long enough for me to run down to the kitchen for you. Just take a seat and--"

"Like hell," Luffa said. "If I put you in charge, you'll just slap some sandwiches in the microwave and call it good."

"What's wrong with sandwiches?" Zatte asked.

Luffa sighed and patted her on the head. "You poor aliens are so backward when it comes to food," she said. "It's probably because you eat so little. You're full before you can really take the time to appreciate what you're putting in your stomachs."

Zatte looked over to Topsas and rolled her eye. "I burned one sandwich," she said as she held up her index finger. "Two years ago. One sandwich, and I'm banned from the kitchen."

"I need all of you at the top of your game," Luffa said. "I'm healing up well enough, but that'll go out the window if one of you gets sluggish from malnourishment."

"Uh, Luffa?" Dotz said as she noticed a blinking light at her workstation. "I'm new at this, but I'm pretty sure we're getting a priority communication. It's from a Rear Admiral Barone. Should I patch it through?"

"Finally," Luffa said. "We haven't heard from any fleet commanders since we entered Federation territory. I was starting to think they had all been killed in the initial attack."

The video was blurry, and the audio distorted, but Luffa could see and hear well enough to tell that it was not Admiral Barone.

"Marshal Booth," Luffa said. "You've looked better."

"Luffa...." Booth said, though only some of his words managed to come through. "...d to see... joined the party."

"I'm headed to your end of the front," Luff replied. "Busting some Saiyan heads along the way. What's your status?"

"Saiyans... kind of jamming device," Booth said. "They know.... coordinate our defense... Doing everything they can... disrupt communications."

Luffa turned back to Zatte. "How long would it take to rendezvous with him?"

Zatte checked her readouts before answering. "Three hours," she said. "Luffa, I'm showing other ships on the long range sensors. Booth's going to have some company out there."

"Marshal!" Luffa called to him. "What's your status? How many ships are with you?"

"...had ten to start with. My flagship destr... Saiyans first attacked. Made it to... Barone's ship. Only one left in the wing," Booth said. There was a long pause of static, during which Booth's lips continued to move, and then: "Repeat: I'll be linking up with the Sixth Fleet.... three days."

"Dotz," Luffa said. "Can you tell if those other ships are on our side?"

"I'm sorry," Dotz said. "At this range all I've got are energy signatures. It could be anybody."

"Booth!" Luffa shouted, though she knew raising her voice would do nothing to improve the clarity of their transmission. "You've got possible hostiles converging on your position! Can you defend yourself?"

"Oh, you noticed?" Booth said with a smile. "We've been... draw them away from.... System. Already Saiyans attacking the planet now, but... 're being contained. The ships following me were sent to help them turn the tide, so we had to give... better target. I volunteered. No one else around, after all."

"Marshal, that won't work!" Luffa shouted. "There's too many of them! Even if your ship's undamaged, they'd still pick you off, and they'll head right back to join their friends on the planet! You'll be sacrificing yourself for nothing!"

"Don't count us out yet," Booth said. "... few surprises in store for them--"

"It's no good!" Luffa shouted in to the communicator. "I can't reach you in time! You've got to pull out of there!"

There was no reply. Only a brief segment of audio that might have been Booth's voice, but could have just as easily been static. Zatte looked up from the communications console and shook her head.

"There's no signal," she said.

Luffa slammed her fist down on the armrest of her chair, and the force was so great that it broke off.

"How long until Despye?" Luffa asked.

"Three hours," Zatte said.

"You said that before!" Luffa snapped.

"Two hours and fifty-one minutes," Zatte said. "And thirty-four seconds, for all the difference it makes!"

"I'm going to the engine room," Luffa said.

"Luffa that won't do any good!" Zatte said.

"Nothing! Will! Do! Any! Good!" Luffa shouted.

As Dotz listened to them argue, she began to feel very helpless. Even if there was a way to save Booth, Dotz doubted that she would be able to contribute much to the effort. Luffa had healed her mind from an attack by the same Saiyans she was currently warring against. Dotz felt obligated to return Luffa's kindness somehow, but she was completely out of her element. Dotz was a fortune-teller, not a soldier, and she had only done as well as she had on the bridge because the controls happened to be user-friendly.

And so, rather than succumb to despair, Dotz fell back on her natural talents, and turned her thoughts inward. There was a small crystal which hung from a simple necklace underneath her purple shawl. Dotz focused on it, and meditated on its spiritual vibrations. She asked for nothing, for this was not a prayer to a higher power, but an exploration of a different plane of existence. On occasion, she sometimes found what she was looking for. Very often, the results left more questions than answers, but she almost always came away with something, even if it was merely a renewed perspective.

To her surprise, things became much clearer than she expected. It was like tumblers falling into place on some incomprehensible combination lock. Luffa had no discernible future, that much remained true, but she could see glimpses of destiny surrounding the Saiyan. There was Zatte, and there was Doctor Topsas, and others she did not know, and... Booth. She could sense his cynical opportunism, his longing for worldly power. He would not achieve it, at least not yet. There were triumphs ahead in his lifeline, though she could not tell if they were great enough to satisfy him...

And then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Dotz found herself back in reality.

"Listen to me!" Zatte shouted back. "If we push the engines, we'll only gain a few minutes at most, but we run the risk of breaking down before we get there! We'd be stranded in interstellar space."

"Those people are going to die!" Luffa said. She pointed to the viewscreen, though there was only the distorted star field ahead of them. "The Saiyans aren't going to just stand around and wait for me to fight them. They'll start sacking the planet, and then--!"

"Are you all right, Ms. Dotz?" Topsas asked.

She looked to her left to see the arachnoid physician standing beside her. She had seen premonitions of him before meeting him. Those premonitions had frightened her at the time, for he looked very much like a monster to her. But once she had met him, she had found him very gentle and unassuming, despite his penchant for sarcasm.

"I'm... yes, I'm fine, Doctor," she said. "Just... just woolgathering, that's all."

But it was more than that. She was certain that Marshal Booth was in no immediate danger, though she couldn't explain how he would survive. Dotz wasn't sure if it was a good idea to say anything. Luffa had enough to worry about, and Booth's personal safety didn't necessarily mean that the planet he was fighting for would be protected.

"I know," Zatte said to Luffa "A lot of people are going to suffer, but there's nothing we can do to stop it. The best thing right now is to prepare for the worst. I can contact commercial ships in the sector. We can organize a relief operation to take over once you've cleared out the enemy."

"I... Okay, do it," Luffa said. "And you'd better get in touch with the Federation Council while you're at it. If Booth's dead, they'll need to appoint his successor."

"Good idea," Zatte said. "Listen, I know it's tough for you to sit this out. I don't like it either but-- Wait."

"What is it?" Luffa asked.

Zatte didn't answer right away, as she stared down at the console to make certain of the readouts that displayed on the screen. "I'm getting reports in from Despye. Booth is still alive. He's winning!"

"How?" Luffa asked. "He only had five ships."

"Not anymore," Zatte said. "It looks like he's gotten some reinforcements."

"What reinforcements?" Luffa asked

*******

Two hours and fifty-one minutes later, Luffa got her answer from Booth in person. She was not happy to hear it.

"Saiyans?!" Luffa shouted.

"You seem surprised by this," Marshall Booth said. In the ready room of his command ship, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. The look on his face was one of a man who was very pleased with himself.

"We're fighting the Saiyans, Booth!" Luffa groaned.

"I'm aware of that," Booth said. He casually pointed at Luffa's furry tail and added: "I'm also aware that we have one Saiyan fighting on our side. Why should it shock you that I would enlist the help of others?"

"You can't trust them, Marshall!" Luffa protested. The irony of this was delicious. He wondered if this mutual loathing was a common trait among the Saiyan race. It would explain their hostile tendencies.

"I don't need trust, Madam Federatrix," Booth replied. "What I need is a defensive line broad enough to cover our border. As strong as you are, you can't be everywhere at once. Our Saiyan allies may not be as strong as our Saiyan enemies, but they make up for it in numbers and starships. They can at least defend Federation worlds long enough for you to arrive and relieve them."

She knew he was right, but that didn't stop her from pacing angrily around his ready room. Normally, Booth never would have provoked Luffa so brazenly, but he had just survived a very intense battle. His Saiyan allies had turned the tide, to be sure, but experience had taught him that victory could be even more dangerous than defeat. Even now, he could hear the repair crews just outside, working tirelessly to put his bridge back together. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, but he couldn't resist taunting Luffa with his success. You're not so indispensable after all, are you? I won the day without you, even if I needed your cousins to do it.

"What's to stop them from pillaging the same worlds you want them to protect?!" Luffa demanded. He wondered if it had actually taken her this long to think of that point. He had asked himself this question from the moment the Saiyans offered to help.

"Self-preservation," Booth said. "The Federation may need their help, but we're far from helpless. If we have to fight them, we certainly can. Given the choice, I'd prefer to fight the Saiyans who aren't empowered by this cult."

"This is a mistake, Marshall," Luffa grumbled. "These Saiyans you've called in, they will betray you. It's only a matter of time."

"The why don't you speak with their leader?" Booth asked. "I was going to meet with their flagship soon anyway. You may as well join us. I haven't been aboard your ship in years. Maybe you'd like to have us over for dinner."

"Fine," Luffa said. "You look like you could use a decent meal, anyway, Marshall."

He smiled. Booth would have preferred to let the Saiyans deal with each other without putting himself between them, but it couldn't be helped. At least they would behave a little better with some food in front of them.

*******

[2 March 233 Before Age. Despye.]

"Are we under-dressed?" Zatte asked. "I feel like we're under-dressed for this."

"Well we're not," Luffa grumbled as they stood at the open entranceway of their star-yacht. Luffa was dressed in her usual black sleeveless shirt and baggy yellow pants. She had changed her bandages this morning, but this was the only modification she had made to her attire. As for Zatte, she was still wearing the grey leggings and white T-shirt she had been wearing for most of the day.

"I mean, this is a diplomatic visit, right?" Zatte said. "I know they're Saiyans, and they don't have much use for protocol, but they did help us out. I feel like we should show some respect--"

"I'm making them a pot roast," Luffa said. "That's more than they deserve. Would you let go of my arm?"

Zatte backed away from her. "Sorry. Listen, if you'd rather not have me around for this, I totally understand. I'd prefer to stay out of sight anyway--"

"You're here," Luffa said, "because I want you where I can see you. You're not going anywhere near my kitchen while I'm messing with these fools."

"You're kidding," Zatte said.

"I don't joke when it comes to pot roast," Luffa said. "You should know that by now."

"I burned one sandwich..." Zatte groaned.

"Quiet," Luffa muttered.

Marshall Booth had arrived at the docking bay, and walked up the ramp leading into the ship. "Madam Federatrix," he said.

"Marshall," Luffa replied. "Where's the Saiyan?"

"On her way," Booth said. He stood on the deck and clasped his hands behind his back. As he rocked back and forth on his heels, he glanced around, as though admiring the ship's interior. "Will your... companion... be joining us?"

Zatte's species was secretive by nature, preferring to share little with outsiders unless needed. As such, she had never been formally introduced to Booth, by name, or as Luffa's wife. The women saw no reason to change that policy now, in spite of the awkwardness it created.

"I made plenty for everyone," Luffa said brusquely.

"Splendid," Booth said. "Ah, I think that's her now."

Zatte craned her head to get a better look through the entrance of the ship. When she finally spotted the Saiyan, she asked "That's who you've been dealing with? She's just a kid!"

Luffa watched the teenage Saiyan walk up the entrance ramp. There was some polish to the way she moved, as though the girl were planning to run for office some day. Her blue uniform lent her an air of gravitas, but she couldn't quite shake off the appearance of a child. The bright pink dye she wore in her hair didn't help matters, nor did the wad of gum she was chewing. As she entered the ship, she couldn't help but look around in every direction, taking it all in with wide-eyed fascination. At last, she looked at Luffa and asked: "Permission to come aboard, Madam Federatrix?"

"Who the hell are you?" Luffa asked.

"Wow, rude," the girl said. "That's okay, I can drop the pleasantries. I'm Seltiss, daughter of King Rehval III. Princess of the Saiyans."

NEXT: The Absalom Effect

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #super saiyan #luffa #zatte #dotz #ryba booth #dr topsas #seltiss #qondoging #despye

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ficdirectory · 7 years

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Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The door opens, and Jesus is face to face with Jude.

“Dude. Are you okay?” he asks in a hushed voice. But it’s more than that. He’s tense. The whole cabin is crackling with tension.

“Yeah…” Jesus hedges. “I’m fine. Why?”

“Because Moms are freaking out. So just a heads-up,” he says, keeping his voice down. Jude leads the way into the kitchen, where Moms are rushing around.

“Honey, sit down.”

“I can’t sit down, Lena. Our son is missing. I can’t believe no one’s seen him since this afternoon! I told him to go inside!”

“I know. You told me. And I thought he was with you outside. He’ll show up. We can’t panic, Stef.”

“We can’t? Well, I sure as hell am, Lena. It’s been five hours and no one has seen Jesus. Do you remember the last time this happened? It wasn’t nothing!”

“I’m going to check outside again,” Lena says.

“Good news! I found him!” Jude announces, his voice forced and bright. He’s trying to will the energy in the house to something more positive. Jesus can sense it. Even before Moms turn, he can tell their nerves are fried.

Mom sees Jesus first. Rushes to him. Grabs him too hard. Holds on. “My God, Jesus! Are you okay? Where were you?”

He’s breathless this close to her panic. Enveloped in it. Held without consent, and too hard, and everything is blurry. She lets go, and asks again, right in his face - in his space - all he can see is her fear.

“Where were you?” she insists, holding onto him by the arms.

His brain’s stalled. All the great calming effects of Pearl’s cabin, and Pearl herself, and her hot chocolate and Dr. H. are evaporating. He grinds out the only word in his head: “Out.”

Mom’s eyes darken. Jesus realizes his mistake too late. She thinks this one word is him giving attitude when really it’s the only one that came when he thought of being literally stuck outside.

“Really?” she asks, not impressed at all.

She crosses her arms as he shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up.

“Talk to us, Jesus,” Mama tries when he comes back. “Mom said you told her you were coming inside when you changed your mind about snowmobiling.”

“Hours ago!” Mom interjects.

“And I tried!” he insists, anxiety making his own voice more intense. He backs up until he’s against a wall.

“What does that mean?” Mama asks.

“Trying isn’t good enough, Jesus!” Mom snaps. “Not when you give me your word you’ll do something.”

“Oh, my God. It wasn’t that deep, okay? I said I’d try! I never said I’d do it!” He crosses his arms. (His words keep coming out all wrong. He keeps leaving out important ones. Needs to make it clear it wasn’t a choice. That he couldn’t come in. Not that he was trying to freak them out.)

“Don’t play semantics right now, Jesus. It’s not helpful.” Mama warns. She turns to the rest of the sibs in the living room: “Guys, Mom and I need to speak with Jesus privately. Go upstairs, please.”

Jesus doesn’t know what playing semantics means, but he needs to do something. He can feel himself losing control and he needs to do whatever the next right thing is that can help himself calm down. He thinks about Dr. H. About coping strategies. Maybe now that it’s just him and Moms they can do Porch Time at the table like this morning. Another word flies out of his mouth, unchecked:

“Time!”

“Jesus, we’re trying to talk to you. This is very serious,” Mama says.

He slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, all while Mom is pacing and yelling at him.

“I don’t understand where this is coming from! You still haven’t told us where you were! Did it ever occur to you that we have trauma, too? That one of the things that is the most difficult for us is not knowing where you are? You know better than this, Jesus!”

Jesus tries one more time, though his body’s already moving. Rocking. “Porch Time,” he manages in a flat voice. He can’t take their blame. It’s everything he’s already thought. For years, he blamed himself for being such a dumbass and getting in That Car when he knew better.

He did know better. This whole thing, his own pain, his family’s, it’s all on him. He’s the worst.

“We are talking to you right now, Jesus,” Mom says. Hands on her hips. Strained voice. Anger, barely controlled.

Jesus rocks his body back, hard, against the wall. He hates himself and they hate him and he did this and they’re not listening and he can’t go home. He’s not safe.

Mom covers her mouth. The thing she does when he embarrasses her. Behind her hand, she mumbles, “You are something else…”

“Stef, no,” Mama cautions.

She tries to get Jesus’s attention. “Mom didn’t mean it, Jesus. She didn’t know.”

He can barely hear her, because of the rocking. Because of his head and his back hitting the wall over and over and over and over. He can’t stop. He’s here but he’s not because he’s disappearing. Because he knows that Something Else means he can’t be here. Because it’s gonna hurt and he’s gonna wish he could die. But he won’t actually. He’ll just be afraid that he will until it stops and a long time after, too. The rocking is a thing he did when he was chained. A futile kind of escaping. It feels exactly like that now. He’s not chained. But it feels like he is.

“Don’t coddle him, Lena. He’s got to learn that he can’t control situations by acting out like this. Jesus. You need to stop. Right now. This is not going to get you what you want. You just have to accept that you messed up.”

The words echo in his head. It’s his fault. His fault. He did it all. He got in That Car. He stayed gone when he could have escaped. He didn’t do what he promised Mom he would and now everything’s messed up. Because of him. He hurt his family. What’s the point of being here if he’s just going to keep hurting them? Better to disappear inside his head. That’s always better.

The wall’s still there. The rhythm’s still there. The pain’s still there. All of it is predictable. All of it is because of him. He’s building up his armor. His tolerance. So he’ll be able to handle Something Else. If...when...it happens again. (He’s not safe here. It’s not home. Why should he have thought he’d really be okay?)

He rocks harder.

Harder.

“Brandon, come down here, please!”

Mama.

He pauses for only a second, trying to think about if there’s any way Jesus dropping off the face of the earth for five hours could possibly be blamed on him. Then, her tone registers. She sounds like this is a big deal.

Brandon forgets about saving his own ass and rushes down the stairs and into the kitchen. He sees immediately what the problem is:

Jesus, bashing the hell out of his head, looking totally out of it. Blank. It makes Brandon’s stomach sink. He’s seen this before. When Jesus first got back, it happened a couple times, but back then Mom was always the one to intervene. She could, because Jesus had been the size of a ten-year-old then, and she could handle him. She’d just slide him away from the wall and hold onto him and talk to him until he came back to himself. Sometimes he fought because he didn’t know what was happening, but he was so small it barely looked like it hurt.

He remembers a couple years ago, how Moms came to him and asked if he would be willing to take over for her now that Jesus was bigger, if this ever happened again. Brandon had said sure, because he’d been sure that Jesus was okay enough now to manage in other ways. By then it had been six months since anything happened like that.

But he’s not managing now. And there’s no way Brandon wants Moms risking trying to physically maneuver Jesus while he’s not actually with it and might lash out or something without meaning to. Whatever happened to him while he was gone tonight must have been scary as hell if he’s doing this again.

“What do you need me to do?” Brandon asks, his eyes fixed on his brother. On his face, not registering any of the pain, any of their voices, anything at all.

“See if you can get a pillow behind him,” Mama coaches. “I don’t want you to touch him unless you have to.”

Brandon’s already sprinted to the living room and grabbed one of Grandpa’s moose throw pillows from the couch. He’s back, and crouches beside Jesus.

“Explain what you’re doing. Be as clear as you can,” Mama insists.

“Hey, I’m just gonna put this pillow behind your head, okay?” Brandon hedges. He’s nervous as hell. Mom’s pacing and ranting about regression and self-aggression and how this is some vacation.

“Stef,” Mama says quietly as Brandon contemplates just how to get the pillow in place without touching Jesus. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“No, I am not taking a break, Lena! Not when he is like this. He’s unpredictable...I can handle him if it comes to that. But I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

Brandon has managed to shove the pillow behind Jesus’s head without touching him, by timing it out just right. The pianist in him thinks it’s ridiculous that Mom just called Jesus unpredictable. He’s totally predictable. The rocking - the head-banging - it has a rhythm. That might be why he’s doing this in the first place. It might be better to know what’s coming.

The pillow falls in seconds, and Brandon picks it up. Tries putting it back again. But it falls again.

Moms are still fighting, so Brandon says, “This didn’t work. But I think I can get behind him.” He wills his voice not to shake. He’s the man of the house. They’re relying on him. This is what Mom did, kind of. It’s what needs to happen, probably. If Brandon comes at Jesus head on, he’s sure it won’t be good. But from behind, maybe he can just wait Jesus out, taking the pain for him. (It’s all Brandon’s ever really wanted to do for him, anyway.)

“B, no. You’re gonna get hurt. He’s not in control of what he’s doing.” Mom snaps.

“I can do it. It’s fine,” Brandon says, knowing someone has to do something. He reaches out and scoots his brother forward, glad for the slippery wood floor. Jesus slides forward easily enough, and Brandon sits behind him, trying to go with Jesus’s momentum, not against it. Brandon’s not expecting the force, though, and it almost knocks the wind out of him.

Still, Brandon stays. Because better him than his brother. Jesus has had enough pain in his life. It’s the least Brandon can do.

The wall behind Jesus feels different. It doesn’t feel solid. He blinks, still rocking hard.

“Brandon, seriously.” Mom is saying, and Jesus can’t breathe.

Brandon.

Behind him.

When Jesus didn’t know. Didn’t consent. (They don’t say yes for him, ever.)

His breathing goes from something he’s not even aware he’s doing to too fast and too deep. “Back up!” he screams. “Back up! Back up! Back up!”

He can’t think past the panic. His heart’s beating hard. Fast. He can’t stop screaming. Behind him, Brandon’s scrambling to get away from him. Jesus can’t stop rocking. Can’t stop screaming.

Mama comes at him with a pill, and he shakes his head hard. He can’t deal with somebody else forcing him to do something. Take something. The panic means he can’t disappear. The panic means he has to feel everything all at once. And it won’t stop.

“Back up! Back up! Back up!”

When Mariana hears Jesus scream, she doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t think. She runs. She abandons the game of Candy Land she, Callie, Jude and Frankie are playing in one of the bedrooms and takes the stairs as quick as she can.

She doesn’t know what happened, but Brandon’s looking pale, somehow trapped behind Jesus and Jesus is in full-on fireworks mode. He can’t stop rocking.

“You guys need to go,” she says. “I’ve got him.”

#fic: blink #fosters fic

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prongsisabadger · 3 years

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TWP: Chapter 17

It is strange -feeling grief, true grief for the first time. Even more so for someone who had viewed death as a part of life for most of their life. It started out as a loss of hearing. The trooper who had given me that dreadful news was still talking, but there was nothing I could do to make myself concentrate on his words. I don't remember dismissing him, or even thanking me for passing on the information. I don't remember starting to walk, or even where I'd been headed. I don't remember bumping into Art, or him deciding to pull me aside and figure out what on the Force's name was wrong.

Nahdar was dead.

I stared into nothingness for a while as Art tried to make me speak, make me react, make me do something other than breathing and staring dumbly into space. He panicked, I think, because his next move was to grab me by the shoulders and shake me like he was trying to get rid of dust on a mantlepiece. This wasn't the right move to make apparently because of course troopers would notice a clone "assaulting" a commander. Art, poor thing, explained as best he could and someone had the brilliant idea to call the General. Something was wrong with the Commander, and no one knew what to do.

They escorted me to the medical bay and had someone look me over. There was nothing physically wrong with me, of course, so they decided to just let me sit on the cot until Master Plo arrived. They didn't have to wait long. Master Plo had sensed something was wrong, and had been on his way even before they decided to call for him.

"General, thank the Maker, I found the Commander like this and I don't-"

"Art, is it?" Interrupted Master Plo.

"Yes, sir. The medics couldn't find anything wrong with her…"

"That's because there is nothing wrong with the Commander," explained the general. "Your loyalty to Commander Foreas is commendable, Art, but rest assured she will be just fine. She is simply grieving."

The words seemed to burn me out of my stupor. As if hearing someone say it made it all the more real. I struggled not to cry in front of everyone present; not only would it have been embarrassing but also disrespectful. Jedi, just like clones, were simply life forms. One was not more precious than the other. If I hadn't cried for all the troopers we had already lost, what right did I have to cry over the life of a single Jedi? Granted, a close friend, but a single Jedi nonetheless. He had been fulfilling his duty, just as the fallen troopers had been.

"I need to pay my respects to Master Fisto." were the first words I felt I could say without breaking down. "I'm sorry I scared all of you, I overreacted."

Art put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

"No you didn't," He said. "I might not be a Jedi, Commander, but I know loss. We all handle it differently."

"Your friend is right, young one." added master Plo before patting my head. "You are allowed to have feelings, but what you must never do is let them consume you."

…

There was a simple memorial in the Jedi Temple for Nahdar. A recently knighted Jedi, a dutiful Padawan, and a treasured friend. There were only six of us. Master Yoda came to pay his respects as he did every time. Master Fisto was mourning the murder of his former Padawan just as I was that of a friend. Master Plo, Ahsoka, and her own master came to pay their respects and to support me. Murdered. Nahdar, the competitive little kid, my dueling partner for years, my close friend. It was hard to let myself feel grief but still power through. It was hard not to resent the war, to resent General Grievous. But Master Fisto had told me: Nahdar had died for his pride, for his fury, for his resentment. It was both a tragedy and a lesson on the mortality of Jedi, on how sometimes, even we were proud and made ourselves to be invincible. We were just life forms like any other, and our sensitivity to the force sometimes made us arrogant when we were no better than anyone else. We were simply different.

We had been taught not to make attachments in order not to let our feelings dictate our actions and lead us to the dark side. But I couldn't bring myself to not feel. It went against who I was, who I am. Emotions are a part of life but one's will and perseverance need to be strong in order to cope with them. To have the ability to reason through them, to know oneself enough to stop one from doing things out of sentiment.

I knew myself enough to realize I needed to meditate on the matter. To allow the Force to guide me through the pain, to let it light the path before me. A path where I could care for others and still remain on the light side of the Force. I sat by the altar Master Fisto had set up and stared into the flames of the candles around. I would need to rely on the Force, it's will, and it's wisdom to get through this war. And it all started here: at the very end.

…

Once again, death was all around me. The beautiful flora that had once decorated this planet was all but destroyed. I had lost so many men- so many. But we had orders, we had to take this position and hold it. I couldn't remember the name of the planet, or why the CIS had decided to invade such a remote system. All there was there and then was the will to survive and keep as many troops from dying as possible. We were outnumbered, but that was often the case and thus something the Pack and I had come to expect. Air support was busy with their own battle in the upper atmosphere, and Master Plo had taken a different squadron to outflank our enemy in the northern hemisphere. We were making good progress, pushing the enemy back with everything we had and outmaneuvering them at every turn. It was gruelling, relentless and it was almost an entire rotation of hard fighting before the enemy retreated. We didn't pursue it. Many troopers wanted to, but Commander Wollffe -who was put in charge of this battalion with me- and I thought it best to let the men rest and recoup before pressing the attack. We hadn't had too many casualties, but still the names on the data pad before me engraved themselves in my soul as I ate my rations.

Around me, Wolffe, Art, and Twitch all busied themselves. Wolffe was going over the holo maps of the area for the fifth time in an hour, and Art was tattooing Twitch's neck. The design looked like a flower they'd found in the area, and the fact that Twitch decided to remember the battles he'd fought by engraving them on his skin gave me an idea.

"Het, Art?" I asked as he put the finishing touches on the beautiful design. "Can you give me a few tattoos when we finish the mission?"

"I never pinned you like the type, Commander, but sure. I can start now if you'd like." He smiled.

"Oh, I don't want to tire you out even more th-"

"Keeping myself busy helps one not think, Commander."

I said nothing and simply nodded. I knew the feeling. Art took his laser gun and approached me as I started taking off the armour on my left arm. When he asked for the design, I simply gave him my data pad. The list I had been reading had the names of all the members of the Wolf Pack who had died in action since the incident with the Malevolence. It was a long list, and it would take several sessions to tackle.

"Commander…" He started when he realized just what he was looking at. He seemed to rethink what he was going to say and sucked a breath in before straightening up. "This will take a while."

"Then you better survive this, trooper. I wouldn't want to lose my tattoo artist, now would I?"

Both Wolffe and Twitch watched us silently, never asking a question, never saying what they thought on the matter. And I appreciated it. It wasn't nightfall yet, in fact it wasn't even dusk, so we still had time. None of us had guard duty that night, so for the next four hours we kept eachother company. We talked, and joked and planned all while Art continued to engrave the memory of lives lost onto my skin until it was time to turn in for the night.

…

"Come on, Boys! Let's show these tin cans who's boss around here!" Yelled Twitch beside me as we pushed the enemy back on the battlefield.

We had decided to ambush their position before they could make the first move. We had decided on a pincer maneuver, surrounding the enemy and pressing the attack on three different flanks. Wolffe suggested we have snipers positioned in the trees and dividing our troops into small, flexible teams to ensure maximum effectiveness. My knowledge of strategy was quite limited, but I trusted him to make the right choices for our sake and that of the mission.

The plan was working, and we had the upper hand. That is until the enemy started to get desperate.

"INCOMING!"

To my right an explosion went off where the enemy had pointed their tanks. But it wasn't the same kind that went off when plasma was fired, no. They were firing incendiary charges, which did more damage to the area around the target.

"Lay cover fire! Team alpha," I yelled before tapping the top of my head twice. "On me, we are taking out those tanks!"

The order must have been relayed over the comms, because the entire force started to move at once, pressing the attack and laying cover fire for our team to get to the tanks. It was a six man team and there were two three tanks. Headfirst and I took the center one while the others went for the ones on either flank. It felt rehearsed, really, how even without talking we still knew what to do. I worked as a shield for the both of us as we made the desperate sprint for the tanks. The blaster fire clashing with my saber, and Headfirst own blaster going off deafened me as we ran. I cleared a path for us, cutting down droid after droid and using the Force to push away those I couldn't.

"Headfirst, get up there, I'll cover you!" I said without looking.

Even when our troops had the clear advantage in the battle, it still felt like chaos. My senses were overloaded with stimuli, the Force was disturbed around the entire battlefield, the Troopers' stress, fear and fight for survival felt like my own. And then, I felt it. Headfirst's desperation and rising panic. I turned to see what happened as I deflected more blaster fire. His armour had got stuck on a broken piece of the tank's hull, and he didn't have a grenade in his hand. He had set the charge and thrown it into a tank full of incendiary charges and he couldn't get away.

My body moved before I even got to think about it. I jumped onto the tank and cut the piece of metal holding him down with my saber. I knew what was about to happen, so I grabbed him by the waist and turned from the tank before jumping. I didn't even get to use the force to get us further, the blast from the explosion did it for me, burning the entire back of my armour in the process. I felt something dripping down the side of my face and down my chin as I lay there, motionless, and face down on top of white and gray armour. My ears were ringing and my right shoulder blade felt as if it had been on fire. Underneath me, Headfirst was still breathing, and the Force around him was still very much there, which gave me the tiniest bit of comfort. My vision was quite blurred, but I could still see white bodies moving around us and shielding us from enemy fire as they continued to chase the enemy out of their positions.

Someone got me off Headfirst and onto the ground beside me, attempting to get me to sit so I wouldn't put pressure on my back.

"Medic," I said to the trooper checking on Headfirst. "Report."

The man who was at my back continued to clean what I deduced was some sort of burn.

"He's got a concussion, but it's not serious. One rib and a few fingers broken, Ma'am. He'll be just fine."

#TWP #clone wars fan fiction #star wars the clone wars #commander wolffe #plo koon #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #padawan!oc

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