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ambistep · 4 years

Text

Mutual Aid, pt 3

Mina goes to the doctor for help nursing her wounds, and has to make yet another confession to Mortum, solving a mystery that wasn’t a mystery. Just a little wrap up.

lil fic, like 1k words, Retribution spoilers, mention of blood, no proofreading, im tired

Part 1

Part 2

Your fingers have started drumming against the laboratory table - nervous, being undressed, all the equipment, the table itself. It pushes all your buttons, no matter how many times you reassure yourself it’s fine, this is fine, that you’re safe here. That Mortum wouldn’t hurt you. Probably wouldn’t. Another tiny spear of pain.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sit still, mon chéri - you have too many nasty scars already.” She chides you, and you try to make a sheepish smile. Mortum wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. Not likely, not right now anyway. That is the most reassurance you can give yourself. “Well, how did it go?”

“The marshal’s tired of being lied to, tired of not asking questions. They’re all almost ready. So… you know, smooth as could be expected.” You watch the floor, trying not to make the work any harder on the good doctor.

“Is that why there’s a hole in my suit?” She sighs in disappointment, “That you manage to get hurt even with that much armor, absolutely dreadful.”

You grin, remembering the moment the Phalanx speared you with a tempered iron lance - it’d have taken out most of your torso without the armor, instead of a punctured flesh wound. “Actually worked out pretty well. You should have seen the surprise on the Rangers’ faces, at this selfless act from Clarity.”

“It was just them that were surprised?” Mortum glances up from the wound, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

You can feel your face start to frown, turning to look away from the doctor, “Hmph.” She had a point - it’s nice now to pretend you planned it that way, that it came from a rational place but… Ortega was in trouble and you panicked.

“You forget, mon chéri, I’m the one who’s known you when you weren’t so caught up in being you.” There is a smug grin on her face, a laughter withheld but only just. A smile that calls back to mind late nights in this lab, laughing, a little bit of drinking, heated discussions of research and plans, science and the world at large.

The memories come in two flavors, those wrapped and filtered through Yasmin’s senses, and those of your own. Yasmin’s felt vivid, vibrant, maybe free of the burden of… this body, of being you. Your throat has gone dry, and your voice small. “...that was nice.”

You can see the mirth tinged by sadness, at the corner of her eyes, “It can be like that more often, you know.” She makes it sound so enticing, even as she snips the last of the sutures

“...unfortunately, it can’t.” You have to remind yourself that, all the time. Your hand reaches out to rest on her shoulder, squeezing it tenderly, just a moment.

With a pouting huff, Mortum brandishes the cauterizing tool for a few touch ups. “You do so love a masquerade, don’t you?” Her gloved hand comes to rest upon yours as she matches eyes with you, your blood from her work on your skin.

“I'm masks all the way down, doctor.” You suck wind through your teeth as her free hand applies a cold alcohol wipe to clean your side. “A little warning?”

“Lapine sot, that’s what you get for being maudlin.” She plucks the gloves from her hands and begins to clean her workstation - you instinctively scramble for your shirt, eager to redress, “And you’re wrong - you think you’re clever, but there’s so much of you just oozing to the surface.”

That isn’t reassuring - you work hard for those masks, to keep everything intact. Still, she’s trying to be encouraging, so you risk a goofy grin - a Sidestep grin, “You think so?” But she doesn’t know.

“I know so.” She doesn’t. “And you need to tell me about your dance with that lovely tank - I saw the images before the media blackout went into effect, très magnifique! Phalanx, what a name.”

“I’ll try - I got a closer look than I’d like, I might still have some of it… tucked away in my brain.” Imprints from Core 02, strange metal thoughts in your mind, hopefully nothing too permanent, not like the other ghosts tucked away. “It was very impressive though - not the tank itself so much, but the telekinetic triune interface...” Mortum’s face cracks in a grin again, ready to pique your mind for the science.

“The possibilities! In another configuration, you could do so much more with that telekinetic array than hurling metal around. What do you suppose made it go berserk like that?” Did she suspect? Not likely.

You feel butterflies fill your stomach - a mixture of guilt, over the sheer manipulativeness, and pride, at the accomplishment of pulling it off. Would she think you were a manipulative monster? She’d be right. “Okay, I wasn’t sure I should tell you, but… I’m trying to be more open - I did it.”

She laughs a little. That’s good, right? Shaking her head, “What?”

“I did it. I… I infiltrated El Toro this morning, before the live exercises and I gave them a little encouragement.” It had been pretty easy, really.

“You set that behemoth loose on the city, just so you could help the Rangers stop it?” Mortum’s face is hard to read. As she searches for her response, your shoulders slump - why are you like this, anyway?

“I know, I just…” It was supposed to erode the Rangers’ trust in the federal government. The brain cases would set Ortega and Chen toward looking into the Pentagon’s Enhanced human research projects, you hoped. “It makes sense. In the grander scheme of things. I think.” You keep your eyes to the ground, trying not to choke up. Don’t be such a baby, Mina.

Her hands, unexpectedly, touch to either side of your head, sliding down your face, resting on your neck, “And what a grand scheme it is. You weren’t going to tell me? Why?”

You can feel the shame creeping up your throat, “I use people. All the time. I didn’t… I don’t like for you to think of me like that.”

“But you are like that. I make black market tech for villains. You think I care? What you really mean is that you don’t like to think of yourself like that, no?” Her hands slip down your shoulders, thumbs brushing over the tops of your orange brands, just beneath the collar of your shirt. “Oh, mon lapine, such fascinating ways your little brain works.”

She gently lifts your chin back up - when you look her in the eyes, she’s smug again, “Where are your masks now, hm?” The doctor leans forward, touching her forehead to yours - grinning. You think you must be smiling too. “I told you. Oozing.”

#fhr #fallen hero: rebirth #scribbly #sidestep #mortum #mina oh #just a lil bit to wrap up the last thing I wanted to include...

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