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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Tremor IV

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen (may wibble upwards into AO3′s Mature later) Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: John Tracy, EOS, Lady Penelope, Gordon Tracy

Part 4 of my contribution to Hear from @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday challenge. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Last chapter got more of a reception than I expected. Maybe I should torture Scott more often. What do you think?

How hard was it to find a single, oversized, ugly ship? John glared at the string of data he’d obtained from the GDF – less than legally, and without their knowledge, but desperate times called for desperate measures – and resisted the urge to pull his hair out.

Three days. That was how long he’d been tearing apart every scrap of data he could get his hands on, determined to find the Hood’s ghastly ship – and more importantly, his big brother. That was also how long it had been since he’d last slept, a fact EOS was bringing up more and more. She’d threatened to tell Virgil and Grandma that he wasn’t looking after himself; he’d threatened to delete her and lock Thunderbird Five down so no-one could get in.

It was harsh, cruel, even, and the AI had promptly retreated, refusing to talk to him until he apologised. John was the one in the wrong and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologise, not yet. If he did, she’d take that as permission to invite Virgil up and force him to take a break.

He didn’t dare take a break. The last time he’d stopped monitoring communications, Scott had been kidnapped. Part of him blamed EOS for that, too. How had neither of them noticed anything at all? It had been quick, but not that quick.

In the corner, a display repeated the feed from Thunderbird One over and over again, on an eternal loop. The woman clung to Scott, the man approached from behind, and a too-brief tussle had his big brother unconscious in seconds. They vanished behind the rock, and all was still for several minutes before the huge, ugly offense to engineering rose into the air and flew out of shot.

And then it was gone.

How did that monster of a thing hide itself so completely? The GDF were useless; he’d informed Colonel Casey of the abduction, but while the woman herself was utterly horrified and determined to do anything within her power to assist them, she was finding herself blocked at every turn by someone else. What little data she’d managed to provide had been stripped of anything remotely useful, and John had given up on that avenue of approach.

It felt uncomfortably like Dad all over again. No body, searches turning up useless, the same man responsible. The only comfort he had was that this time there was no evidence to suggest Scott was dead.

What the Hood wanted with him was another matter entirely, and John scowled furiously at his useless, useless data. It was all very well and good having the most powerful computers in the world, the state of the art Thunderbird Five advanced well beyond any other space station or communication hub made by man, but why, when it came to family, was it never enough?

First Dad, then Scott. Who next? Keep going down the line – him – or skip the isolation of space and target Virgil? Gordon? Alan?

International Rescue was grounded. That, at least, Colonel Casey had managed to do something about. All emergency calls were being diverted to Global One. Until they found Scott, there was a family-wide agreement. Family first.

“Hello, John.”

He startled, unprepared for the call. If he’d been in gravity, he’d have tripped and fallen over his own feet for sure. As it was he merely jumped out of his skin before reluctantly rolling to face his friend.

“Anything?” he asked, too tired, too wound up to do anything except jump straight to the heart of the matter.

Lady Penelope looked concerned, but shook her head.

“I’m afraid not,” she apologised. “None of my contacts have seen or heard anything, and Parker’s underground connections are turning up similarly empty. It’s as though they’ve vanished into thin air.” Blue eyes focused on him and narrowed. “John, when did you last sleep?”

He laughed, a sickly, hollow shadow of bitter mirth.

“I’ll sleep when Scott’s home safe and sound,” he told her. “Let me know if you hear anything.”

“John-” He swiped her away, ending the call. If it wasn’t information on Scott or the Hood, he didn’t need it. Not right now.

Besides, three days was nothing. It had been seven before Scott damn near rammed in his airlock after the Zero-X to shove food down his throat and tie him to his bed with promises to monitor everything until he’d rested.

Scott wouldn’t do that this time, as much as John would love to see his big brother forcing his way through the airlock safe and sound. He’d give him one great big hug and never, ever, let him go. But life didn’t work like that. Scott wouldn’t miraculously be here, in space. No, he was somewhere on that green and blue marble below him, and John would find him.

Like you found Dad? a little voice in the back of his head mocked. He ignored it.

Thunderbird Two was at the mine again, Virgil determined to search the place inch by inch in case he’d been left there after all.

“We never saw them board the ship,” he’d argued, and John hadn’t stopped him, knowing that Virgil needed to be doing something, anything, that could be helpful. He’d been the one to leave Scott alone without backup, and no-one was more aware of that fact than Virgil himself.

“New rule,” Gordon had said. “No-one gets left behind.” He’d all but thrown Alan on the green Thunderbird to keep Virgil company, their youngest brother unnervingly quiet. The aquanaut himself had thrown himself into a world of contacts John had never realised he had. It turned out that it took more than a hydrofoil crash to cut ties with WASP, ties Gordon was now yanking on with everything he had with the same fervour Kayo was hunting down Kyrano and his old contacts, and even Grandma had some surprises up her sleeve.

So far, none of them had turned anything up at all. Not a single hair had been found, and as each day passed, the pressure mounted higher and higher. The Hood hadn’t even got in contact to gloat, and that worried John. No contact, no ransom, no demands at all.

What was the criminal after?

He turned his attention to the useless string of GDF data again. Maybe if he ran it through a different system, used a different angle… maybe something would come up. Something, anything.

The fact that in the past eight years they’d never managed to find anything on the ship preyed on his mind. If eight years had turned up nothing, why would three days make any difference? Nothing had changed. Scott hadn’t managed to keep a single tracker with him, they had nothing new to go on.

They didn’t even know if Scott was still alive. Forty two percent of kidnappings resulted in the victim’s death. It was a statistic he wished he didn’t know.

“John.”

A security camera faced him, lights white. They’d been red last time he’d seen them, EOS furious at his threats.

“Not right now, EOS,” he snapped. He didn’t have time for apologies, no time for rest, explanations or anything that wasn’t finding Scott.

“I believe I have a probable location for the Hood’s ship,” she told him, undeterred.

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

“You what? Where?”

The string of data in front of him disappeared to be replaced with a satellite feed of an ice sheet.

“I ran through all the satellite imagery recorded across the globe since the incident,” she informed him. “Using those, I tracked the ship to the southern tip of Africa, where it submerged. Enhancement of the images showed a large mass of the correct dimensions travelling through the water until it reached the southern extent of the Arctic Circle and travelled beneath the ice shelf. No satellite has since picked up anything that could be the Hood’s ship.”

John gaped at her.

“It’s also a submarine?” he realised, voice strangled in his throat. No wonder they’d never found it. “The Hood’s been hiding underwater?”

“That would appear to be the case,” EOS informed him. “Would you like me to ask Gordon to investigate?”

John didn’t answer, pulling up the aquanaut’s comm himself.

“John?” Gordon didn’t look like he’d had any more sleep than John himself.

“Gordon, the bastard’s underwater,” John bit out, language be damned. Gordon had heard worse. “Arctic Circle, sending last known co-ordinates now. How many contacts can you get scoping out the area?”

“Enough,” his longer brother said, amber eyes sharp. “How did you find it?”

“I didn’t,” John admitted, glancing up at the camera. “EOS did.” Gordon nodded, accepting it instantly.

“Tell the others we’ve got a lead,” he said, something in his voice John had rarely heard from him – an expectation that he would be obeyed. Gordon had been one of the youngest WASP officers in history. “I’ve got calls to make.”

It was Gordon that swiped him away, ending the call, and John stared at the icon for a moment, letting himself breathe. They’d done it. Eight years, and they’d managed to track the Hood.

Something had changed. They had EOS now. Hacking every single satellite that orbited Earth and delving through all of their memory banks was a feat not even John could manage by himself, but EOS had done it, and in only three days.

He had to make calls of his own, reassure the rest of his family, get Kayo on the right track, but first there was something else.

“EOS?”

“Yes, John?”

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Lights flashed green.

“I forgive you. And you are welcome.”

Part V

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #john tracy #eos #lady penelope creighton-ward #gordon tracy #scott tracy #the hood #virgil tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #colonel casey #tremor

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icecubelotr44 · 5 years

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Clear and Present Danger (16/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?)

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Chapter Four’s art is HERE. The amazing art she did for chapter 14 is HERE. Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,767 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: OUT OF SERVICE

Everything hurt. It hurt too much for him to be in a hospital and too much for this to be a dream or a hallucination. He had no idea what had happened or where he was or why everything hurt this much and Liam wasn’t here. Hadn’t Liam been with him? It was all a bit fuzzy, but he could have sworn he was at the cabin with Liam and Emma and everything had hurt there, but not like this.

It felt like he’d been shot.

Had it been a dream? Maybe he’d never left the warehouse. Maybe he was still being held captive. Maybe Emma had never come to his rescue. Maybe… maybe-

And then it all slammed back into him like a rogue wave of memories. The cabin and Gold and being shot and Gold was dead and Liam had sounded so broken and where was Emma and hadn’t Gold died and was it over and-

And where was his brother?

Killian’s eyes shot open and nothing looked familiar. The walls were some terrifying shade of green that looked nothing like Emma’s eyes in any light. The bed was hard and small and the blankets were scratchy and the linens smelled stale. His breath caught in his throat and no one was in the room with him so Killian shot up, adrenaline allowing him to sit up in the bed just long enough for the sheets to pool around his waist before tearing pain spiraled out from his shoulder and he fell back against the pillows, panting and sweating and shivering. He was pretty sure his stomach was going to turn inside out if he didn’t find a bucket.

“For the love of God, Jones, you’d better not have torn my stitches!” a familiar voice shouted from the doorway and Killian’s head lolled off of the pillow to see who was holding him captive.

Victor Whale.

What the hell was going on?

Killian stared, sure now that - despite the pain radiating through him - this was some kind of concussion-induced hallucination. And not even an enjoyable one. He needed better pain meds.

Or any pain meds, for that matter.

“Wha-” Killian croaked, only now realizing how dry his mouth was and how long he must have been out.

“Quiet,” Whale ordered, crossing the room and fiddling with something on the IV pole that was clearly not pain medication. The next thing Killian knew, the brusque doctor had pulled back the tape securing bulky gauze across his chest.

“Ow!” he shouted, trying to curl in on himself and pull away from the pain as it increased tenfold. The tape pulled hairs as it ripped away, but it was nothing compared to the gauze yanking away from his skin. “Bloody hell, man!”

“Oh, hush. You’re not dead.”

Killian blinked as Whale blanched, suddenly much more gentle as he prodded at the angry, red skin that Killian could only just glimpse if he closed one eye and ducked his chin as close to his chest as the wound would let him.

“What?” Killian asked. “What am I missing? And where’s my brother?”

Whale ignored him, tutting in annoyance and turning to walk away.

“Whale!” Killian tried to sit up again, nearly curling up in pain when his shoulder protested.

The doctor turned around, squatting down to root in a bag Killian hadn’t noticed by the door. “Relax, Rambo. Just stay put.”

Killian scowled, but relaxed his muscles and tried to stay still. It didn’t take a detective to realize something was wrong and, despite Gold’s meddling involvement, he’d earned that badge. He’d been injured before - hell, he’d been shot before - and Liam had practically needed a restraining order filed to go further than the nurses’ desk. And that was only to complain about his brother’s lack of care.

He’d had to apologize to security and to Elsa before he was allowed back inside.

Liam had muttered something about Elsa being far more terrifying.

Whale came back promptly and, without making eye contact, jabbed something into the port on the IV line. “Just relax, Detective, before you undo all my hard work and the risk to my job is for nothing.”

Killian blinked. The pain started to abate while he was still trying to decipher Whale’s words and the bloody wanker still hadn’t told him where Liam was. The room around him started to blur and Killian fought the pull of sleep. He had to stay awake. He had to know if Liam was all right.

Then, something more pressing filtered through the haze of morphine or whatever Whale had dosed him with.

He couldn’t feel his left hand.

“Frank?” Killian asked, his voice catching as he stared at his fingers, willing them to move.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve asked you not to call me that. I am not Doctor Frankenstein!” Whale growled, reorganizing the things in his bag. “Go to sleep.”

Killian tried harder, tensing up every muscle he could and hissing as his shoulder protested.

His fingers remained limp and lifeless on top of the bedclothes. “Doc?” he tried again, blinking rapidly as his breathing stuttered. His hand. Something was wrong with his hand.

“What?” Whale snapped, moving back to his bedside. “Your brother will be here as soon as David fi- oh.”

He had the grace to look abashed when Killian turned tortured eyes on him. “I… I can’t… what’s going on, Frank?”

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose your arm,” Whale muttered, lifting Killian’s hand carefully and rotating it. “The bullet must have had some kind of magic spell on it or something because you didn’t bleed out and it was high enough not to damage your lungs. There was a lot of damage, though, and there’s a lot of swelling. I don’t know what that’s going to look like in six weeks or three months or a year. We had to do a lot of work just to stabilize you and then…”

Killian shook his head, trying to clear the fog that was insistent on dragging him under. He was missing something, something important, but he couldn’t think past six weeks, three months, or a year. Or ever. God, he needed his hand. He needed to be able to…

Whale was still looking at him as if he were a broken toy when the pain meds dragged him under.

***

He didn’t really remember waking over the next few days, drifting in between the haze of meds and sleep that was fraught with memories, with nightmares, with chilling thoughts. And he woke every time, shivering and frightened and looking around for one of two familiar sets of eyes. Killian remembered seeing Robin, remembered asking David where his partner was, could recall Mills’ sheepish looks when he realized it wasn’t him being called for.

But not Liam. Not Emma.

The changing of the bandages was the worst, pulling and cleaning and what felt like Whale attacking him with a scalpel - though that may have been the meds talking. His shoulder was on fire and his body was freezing and through it all, his hand stayed silent and unmoving. Just a lump of flesh and bone resting on his stomach.

Killian was afraid and Liam wasn’t there to make it better.

The nightmares almost weren’t more frightening than his waking moments. In his dreams, his hand was gone - replaced by a hook ala Captain Hook sailing the open seas on the Jolly Roger, he couldn’t save Liam, he couldn’t save Emma, Gold always won. The images flitted past too quickly to dwell on, but jarring enough to keep him from truly resting. He had no real memory of how he’d gotten here, just images mostly. Liam and Emma fighting, the slam of the door when Emma left. Gold. The fear on Liam’s face. And the one certainty that he thought he could cling to: Gold was dead. But Emma and Liam weren’t here with him.

It was, perhaps, the one thing he couldn’t get past. If nothing had happened to them - if he wasn’t blocking out Gold killing them before shooting him - then why weren’t they here? And where was he? And why weren’t they with him?

No one would tell him anything.

Emma had left. She had taken his jacket. He remembered that clearly because he’d hoped it meant she was coming back. But maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she’d had enough, maybe… he could almost manage to hope she hadn’t come back. If she hadn’t come back then she was safe. But Liam? However hard he tried he couldn’t come up with an explanation for Liam’s absence that didn’t involve Gold smirking over his brother’s- No!

So he slept and he dreamed and when he woke in those brief moments, he begged whoever was sitting with him to wake him up from the nightmare that was being alone in the world.

“It’s all right, Killian. I’m here now; just rest.” Emma’s voice. Emma’s hand at his brow, a cool cloth running over it. And then a hand around his throat closed off his airway and Emma’s gentle words turned into Hades’ maniacal laugh and Killian shot out of bed again.

He hit the floor hard, the nap of the carpet startling enough to wake him fully. Fire wrapping around his arm and the echo of Hades’ laughter ringing in his ear were enough impetus to propel Killian to his feet and send him stumbling across the room. Not even the sharp tug of the IV as it tore from his right hand was enough to stop him.

“Sir?” That was Mills, and Killian swore one of these days that he was going to get the kid to stop calling him that. “Sir, are you all right?”

Killian swung his head around to stare at Henry, the blurred image of him looking as worried as he sounded. “M’ brother?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

“Let’s get you back in bed, sir. David will have my head if he sees you bleeding all over Whale’s carpet.”

David. Well, that was progress.

Killian reeled in his thoughts, trying to keep them from slipping away like the tide underneath his feet. He leaned on the kid anyway, his good arm draped over Henry’s shoulders and his bare feet dragging against the carpet. “Where are we?” he asked, looking around as he sank back onto the mattress.

Henry looked around as if he’d never seen the place before. “Umm…” he trailed off, looking helplessly at the door Killian had been trying to escape out of.

“Mills!” he barked.

“Doctor Whale’s Cape house,” he mumbled.

Killian blinked.

And blinked again. Then he ran a hand over his face, grimacing at the beard that was no longer just stubble. “We’re… on the bloody Cape?”

Henry looked at the door again. “You were pretty out of it when you came to in the ambulance.”

Killian didn’t remember that.

“We weren’t near the Cape,” was all he could say, raising an eyebrow and daring Mills to leave before he got answers.

Henry shook his head. “No. We, umm… well Robin, really. He… I mean…”

“We faked your death. And stay in bed! You’re bleeding all over my guest room.” Whale stormed into the room, shoving Killian back against the pillows with two fingers on his chest.

“Where’s Liam?”

Whale huffed out an annoyed sigh. “You are a goddamn broken record, aren’t you?”

“Is my brother dead?” Killian hated how desperate his voice sounded, but if Whale knocked him out again, if he had to go back to the dreams without knowing-

“David and Robin are trying to find your bloody stubborn arse of a brother. When they do, they will bring him here. Okay?”

Killian blinked, the relief tainted with confusion. “Then why isn’t he here? Where’s Emma?”

“Off with Liam doing something stupid that I’m going to have to patch up, no doubt.” Whale reached into the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a new IV kit.

Killian watched as Whale spread out the kit on the bedside table with a bit of trepidation. He knew all too well how much the doctor loved having to redo his handiwork. “Keep a well stocked guest room, do you?” he snarked to cover the nerves.

Whale just looked at him balefully. “When a detective in the BPD backs you against a wall with his hand around your throat and tells you to keep his partner alive no matter what with the kind of look in his eye that Locksley had? You pack more than enough essentials.”

Locksley?

“Robin’s here?”

“Was I speaking French? I thought I spoke English. Hades wants you dead. We had to get you out of there - at no little risk to my career, faking your death like that - and your bloody brother didn’t get the message. By the time the meds started to wear off and I could get you out of the morgue, unnoticed, Liam and Emma were already long gone.” Whale sighed in exasperation, swabbing alcohol over the back of Killian’s hand and jabbing him - unnecessarily hard, in Killian’s opinion - with a bloody dagger masquerading as an IV port. “Your partner and Nolan are back in Boston trying to find your idiot brother before he gets himself killed. They left me in charge of babysitting you and the infant over there.”

Henry scoffed as Whale nodded his head at the increasingly annoyed rookie.

Killian could feel the blood draining from his face. “He… what?”

Henry glared at the doctor, stepping in between the bed and Whale. It was the most ballsy Killian had ever seen the kid act. “We weren’t supposed to tell him that,” Mills hissed angrily.

Whale shrugged. “That’s what the morphine is for,” he muttered before jabbing a syringe into Killian’s IV line.

He drifted away to the terrifying image of Hades gunning down his brother in front of Emma.

Liam!

Killian was alive.

The rest of it was all a blur other than those three words, playing on repeat in her head. Killian Jones, bloody menace to her emotions, was alive and hidden away from whomever wanted to hurt him. Robin had kept his partner safe, the first and foremost of his responsibilities, and she couldn’t even be angry at him for it.

Although, if Liam didn’t survive the sheer amount of blood that he’d left behind on that warehouse floor, Emma was not going to be the one to tell Killian about it. Robin could take that responsibility as well.

The EMTs were working quickly, relegating David and her to the sidelines to watch as they packed mountains of gauze into Liam’s shoulder and his side and, God, there was just so much blood.

He had to be okay. He had to. Emma didn’t know if he’d heard her shout in his face about Killian, but he needed to know that, too, because if there was one thing Liam would fight for, it was his little brother.

Killian still needed him.

Killian. God, how was he alive? She’d been in the room when he’d flatlined. She’d watched the doctor try to revive him. She’d listened to them call his time of death. She’d seen the defeat in Liam’s shoulders as he worked up the courage to say goodbye in the morgue.

Killian was alive?

Robin wouldn’t lie about that. She didn’t know him well, but Killian trusted him and Locksley didn’t have anything to gain by misleading them.

And - above all else - Emma needed to believe him. She needed Killian to be alive, needed to tell him that she wanted him in her life. That she wanted to wake up next to him in the morning and she wanted to learn how to sail his dumb boat and she wanted him. Just him. He was enough for her.

She loved him.

The thought came out of left field - of somewhere far past the Green Monster - but once it was out there, it filled her. She loved him. In a way that Emma was sure she hadn’t loved anyone else.

Maybe even like he’d loved Milah.

There was a flurry of activity going around her, movement towards the ambulance and Locksley guiding her to a squad car and she still didn’t really know how they’d gotten there, but she’d never been so glad to see backup in her entire life.

And Liam’s eyes were fluttering, his hands trying to bat at the oxygen mask and Emma needed to tell him-

David beat her to it, grasping Liam’s hand in his and bending over his head so he could whisper in his ear and even from across the parking lot, Emma could see the tension leak out of Liam’s body. She could hear the relieved sobbing and watched as David gripped Liam’s hand more tightly in his, nodding and reassuring and, God, it was all going to be all right now.

Liam knew his little brother was alive.

There was still a mountain of paperwork to get through as they waited in the ER lobby, an officer named Graham taking her statement and Ingrid coming in from Emma’s department to conduct the IA investigation into this mess and none of it mattered. Because Emma wasn’t going to have to find Killian wherever Robin had stashed him and tell him that she’d failed to keep Liam alive.

Because Liam was going to be fine, the gunshot wound a deep graze and the stab wound doing soft tissue damage and little else and within 24 hours, he’d been released to Whale’s care.

It had been a long ride to the Cape.

Emma was sure that Mills had never looked so relieved to see someone as he did when David and Robin shouldered Liam through the door. The elder Jones refused to lie down until he’d seen Killian and Emma was inclined to agree with him. Henry was already halfway down the hall and Whale was arguing with both of them and no one was really listening to him anyway.

Killian looked awful.

Killian looked wonderful.

His chest rose and fell evenly - breathing on his own - and there was color in his cheeks and his left arm was limp across his chest but his right hand and both feet were twitching sporadically in his sleep and he was alive. He was alive and he was okay and Emma started to breathe easily for the first time in over a week.

And, suddenly, she realized how exhausted she was.

Liam was crying again, not even bothering to blame it on the painkillers Whale had demanded he take for the ride down. He sank down in the chair on Killian’s right side, pulling his little brother’s hand into his and nearly collapsing as the tremors overtook him. David caught him before he could fall, waiting for the adrenaline and the neurotoxin to work together to knock Liam out and, only then, did he dare to move Liam from Killian’s side.

Whale promised that Liam wouldn’t wake up again until they wanted him to - once Killian was awake and they could spend some time together. Healing.

And so they waited. Strategic medication schedules kept both the Jones brothers from waking and causing a ruckus - Emma grinned to herself as Henry regaled her with stories of Killian’s escape attempts. They worked out a schedule so that one of them would be sitting with each brother at all times, and they were all suspended pending the investigation into Hades’ and Gold’s deaths anyway, so they waited.

Of course Killian woke first.

He was out of it when he came to, croaking and flinching away from Emma and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but she didn’t know how.

Simple, Emma. Keep it simple.

It was all going well until Killian realized she was alone in the room with him. It was clear that he wasn’t really seeing her as he pulled away, trying to flee.

Dumb, Emma. What were you thinking?

He was frightened; it was terrifying to see it in his eyes and when he shot out of bed, Emma just reacted.

It was a tangle of limbs and bedclothes as they hit the ground, an elbow in her ribs and her hand caught under Killian’s near-dead weight. She could feel the tension in his muscles as Killian bit back a cry and tried to get to his feet. Emma backed off as much as she was able, her hand still tangled in his, her thumb still soothing back and forth.

Killian stopped then, the fight leaching out of him as he came to stare at his hand. She watched, hardly daring to breathe, as his eyes flitted back and forth, matching the rhythm of her thumb.

“It’s all right, Jones,” she whispered. “You’re safe. Back to bed, all right?”

Killian nodded slowly, sloppily, allowing her to shoulder him back onto the bed and under the covers. He was out before Whale began muttering under his breath and checking the stitches.

Only when Emma was alone in the room again did she realize - she’d done that.

It was heady to realize that he trusted her, that he needed her. That she was helping. All she had to do was calm him down each time and, the more questions he asked, the easier it got to settle him each time until, finally, he slept peacefully.

“I hope you know your boyfriend’s a right pain in the arse,” Whale’s voice filtered through the haze.

Killian’s mouth was stuffed with cotton and his eyes had been covered in sand. He jumped when a hand slid over his chest, resting - not hurting - atop his heart. Something was sliding back and forth and Killian tensed, waiting for the pain he was sure would come next. He hadn’t spent much time as a captive, but he was sure that being gagged with whatever they’d stuffed in his mouth was par for-

“Jones? Are you awake this time?”

Swan.

Killian opened his eyes blearily, adrenaline reminding him of the last nightmare he remembered walking through, where this was a front and Hades would be popping his head in any minute. He flinched when Emma’s face appeared in his vision, a little blurry around the edges, but clearly concerned.

“Real?” he stumbled over the word, mouth still stuffed with cotton and… oh. Oh, she had water. Water was good.

“Slowly, Killian,” she soothed, lifting his head and tipping the glass to his lips. “Whale’s kept you out for a few days to give himself a break.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “When’d you get here?” he asked, unable to bite back the whine when she pulled the glass away too soon.

“Two days ago,” she mumbled, letting him sip from the glass again.

Killian blinked. That… seemed like a long time. “Whale that mad at me?”

Emma smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Something like that,” she admitted, looking anywhere but at him.

Alarm bells started ringing. Something was wrong, still. It took an unimpressive amount of time before he realized what was niggling at his brain.

“Liam?”

Emma grimaced.

The breath caught in his chest, stuttering out in shivering gasps that set every nerve ending on edge.

“Where’s my br- Swan, where’s Liam?” He was frantic now, trying to push through the fog that the morphine wanted to keep him in. Not even the searing pain in his chest could keep him from sitting up, reaching spasmodically for anything and anyone to hold onto to ground him in the reality where his brother was alive. Was okay.

Emma slid in behind him on the bed, wrapping her arms around him to support him. “Liam’s in the next room, Killian. Just stay put, all right? Easy now.”

Killian’s hand flopped uselessly into his lap, stinging more than the unknown injuries his brother was suffering from. Emma reached around to interlock their fingers and he wanted to do nothing more than squeeze back, let her know he heard her, let her know that he lo-

Bloody hell. He loved her.

It wasn’t the time nor the place for realizations like that, but - God - he’d nearly died and Gold was finally gone and Milah could finally rest and Liam might be hurt and-

“Hades?”

Killian felt Emma’s head shake against his back. “He’s gone, Killian. Robin killed him. He won’t hurt anyone else.”

He sagged, letting Emma take his weight as the adrenaline fled, leaving him shaky and hurting again. He still needed to see Liam, but Killian didn’t think he could make it out of bed at the moment, never mind across a room and who knew how far beyond.

“Is he going to be all right?”

“He’s going to be okay, Killian. You can rest.”

Liam was here. He was safe. They could figure the rest of it out later.

“You want to lie down?” Emma asked, her thumb transfixing him as he watched it swipe back and forth over his hand.

If he concentrated hard enough, Killian could almost believe that he felt the movement rather than just saw it. He shook his head ‘no’, shifting carefully in deference to his shoulder, but unwilling to let her escape now that she was here. With him.

Safe.

They were both safe - Emma and Liam - and that, more than the drip of medicine slowly plunking away to his right, lulled him back to sleep. Emma’s breath whispered in his ear and her heart beat steadily beneath his back and he was with her and they were all safe.

Killian was nearly asleep again when David stormed into the room. “Liam’s waking up,” was all he said before throwing the covers back from his bare legs and unhooking the IV from the sconce.

Emma didn’t even try to protest, one hand on Killian’s back and the other reaching for the sling he hadn’t needed yet. It took a moment, but they had him standing more or less unaided by the time Robin tumbled into the room.

“How are ya, mate?”

“Liam.” It was an order as much as it was an answer.

Robin laughed under his breath but nodded, taking David’s place under Killian’s shoulder - at his partner’s side, where he belonged.

It was slow going, the few steps across the hallway seeming like a marathon for the way he was gasping and sweating by the time they got there. Whale waited for them in what was clearly his master bedroom with a scowl on his face.

Liam was pale in the bed, an IV of his own that Emma muttered may not have been necessary if they thought he would rest instead of sitting vigil for Killian. Killian couldn’t blame him - he’d have done the same. Liam’s eyes were fluttering and his head was tossing and there was a full syringe lying on the bedside table.

Killian knew they wouldn’t need it. Not once Liam woke and saw him here.

Emma and Robin gently helped him sit at Liam’s hip, then Robin surprised them both - backing off so that Emma could stand at Killian’s shoulder, just in case. A soft smile was the only answer to her unspoken question.

David sat by Liam’s other hip as Killian struggled to stay upright on his own. He felt as though he’d climbed Mount Washington with Roland on his back in the middle of August. But Liam needed to see him as badly as he needed to see his brother awake and that was really all that mattered. He wasn’t really sure of how much time had passed since the cabin, too many different doctors and too much medicine, and a vague memory of darkness and the morgue coupled with far too much adrenaline, but it had been too long.

Liam’s eyes blinked open slowly and Killian’s breath caught in his throat. He looked to David for help, not able to say anything.

“Hey there, partner,” David called softly, taking pity on Killian. “You want to wake up and yell at your brother?”

So much for pity.

Liam’s eyes shot open, his own breath coming in soft gasps as he looked wildly around the room, settling on Killian after a scant moment. “Killian?” he whispered, the disbelief and the unadulterated grief like a shot to the heart.

“Aye, brother. I’m here.”

It was too much and not enough when Liam struggled to sit up and, with David’s help, managed to reach out and grasp Killian’s shoulder. Killian ducked his head and smiled when their foreheads fell together with a soft clunk that made him chuckle.

Everything else fell away as the world settled back onto the right axis. The brothers Jones against the world once more.

“Are you all right?” Liam asked, pulling away far enough to look Killian in the eye.

That was a complicated question. Gold was gone; Milah could rest finally. He could move on. He’d thought… he’d figured that if he survived taking Gold down, it would feel different somehow. And that was when he realized - he’d already moved on from Milah’s death.

Emma had helped him do that.

But there was still so much unknown to deal with. There was his hand and Emma and his job and Liam and Emma and-

Emma squeezed his shoulder and things slowed down in his head. One thing at a time.

“Aye, brother. I’m going to be all right.” In the long and the short of it, it was true. He had his brother and Emma at his side and he’d figure out the rest as it came along.

Liam sagged, his fingers clenching around Killian’s biceps and it was the first time he realized he was sitting at his brother’s bedside in naught but a pair of shorts that didn’t look familiar. His cheeks colored a bit, but Emma’s soft laughter and Liam’s smirk were almost worth the embarrassment.

Almost.

When Liam started laughing along with Emma, Killian snatched the blanket from over his brother’s hips to toss across his own lap. Of course, Liam was wearing sweatpants. Killian’s cheeks colored further.

“Come on, Jones,” Emma urged. “Let’s get you into bed.”

David whistled and Robin laughed and Liam’s eyes flashed.

They were all going to be fine.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he chided good naturedly, “at least buy a man dinner first.”

It was Emma’s turn to blush, her cheeks glowing pink as she wrinkled her nose and glared. “You wish, Jones,” was her only retort.

He did. He really, really did.

Killian tried not to make a sound as Emma and Robin helped him to his feet. He was thankful that the sling supported his hand as well as his shoulder, but he couldn’t quite mask the worry from Liam’s watchful stare.

“Killian, what’s wrong?” his brother asked, eyes zeroing in on the white gauze wrapped around his shoulder and the sling that cinched tightly to his torso.

“Later, Liam,” David ordered. “You both need rest.”

Liam sat up straighter. “What aren’t you telling- I swear to God, Whale, if you so much as think about picking up that needle, I’ll yank this IV.”

Whale backed away from the table with his hands raised and a look of concerned annoyance on his face.

“It’ll keep, Brother, I promise,” Killian vowed. “I’m all right.”

Liam stared at him for what seemed an eternity. Killian let him, remembering how every little twitch and tremor of Liam’s had once made him do the same.

“You’d… you wouldn’t lie to me?”

It hurt, after everything that had been going on with Hades under Killian’s nose, that Liam would worry about that. “No, brother. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I’ve got to heal, and so do you. But we’re going to be fine”

Liam nodded, sinking back into the pillows with a barely masked groan.

“Come on, Killian,” Emma whispered from his side, her hand on the middle of his back to brace him. “You need to lie down.”

He was starting to agree with her, the edges of the room starting to go fuzzy, and he could only imagine that it would be less than helpful if he passed out within Liam’s line of sight.

With a nod, Killian let Emma and Robin guide him back to the uncomfortable bed. He sank down onto the mattress with a wince and a scowl, but didn’t lie back when she pushed insistently on his chest.

“I’ve been on my back for far too long, luv. Just let me sit up a moment.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Robin snarked with a wry grin, backing out of the room with his hands over his eyes.

Emma rolled hers. “Fine, Jones, but there won’t be any pillaging and plundering going on for awhile.”

“Agreed,” he muttered tiredly, shifting with her help to lean back against the headboard. “Stay?”

Emma smiled gently, sitting by his hip with one hand on his thigh. Sparks shot through his bare skin, traveling up his leg and settling in the middle of his chest. They sat in silence for a long time, watching the shadows lengthen along the floorboards.

“I thought you were dead,” Emma interrupted the silence some time later. “I didn’t… I should have…”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

Emma shook her head. “You didn’t know what Locksley was going to do. I just… I watched your heart stop beating and I couldn’t…”

Killian reached out to cover her hand with his own. He ducked his head until she looked at him, nodding his head and smiling encouragingly. “I’m all-

“I love you.”

Killian blinked, the smile stretching across his face even before the words registered.

“-have said it before. And you don’t have to say anything, but I just wanted you to know. You deserve to know that… that I love you.”

Bloody hell, she was still talking. Why was she still talking when she should be kissing him. She loved him; they loved each other. There should be more-

Oh.

“I love you, Swan,” Killian finally managed, squeezing her fingers and tugging lightly.

She stopped talking.

“I love you,” he repeated, reaching up to finger the ends of her hair. “I don’t know when it happened, or how, but we live in a world with no certainties and no roadmaps to explain all of this. All I know is that I want to figure it out with you.”

Killian wasn’t entirely sure if he could name the emotion that crossed Emma’s face as he finished speaking. There was a little bit of awe mixed with disbelief mixed with… with love. He watched as Emma processed the words and took them to heart. She smiled back at him before leaning in.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Emma laid her hand over his chest, fingers curled just slightly into the gauze wrapped around him. She loomed over him for an instant before brushing her lips over his. The kiss was feather light, not even enough pressure to poke at the split in his lip Hades had dealt him. It was everything and not enough all at the same time.

It was a promise of more to come.

Six Months Later…

Killian looked around the bullpen with a little bit of trepidation and bittersweet closure. He’d worked his way up the ranks here, Gold’s interference notwithstanding, and he’d thought - once upon a time - that he’d retire here with a gold watch and a handshake of thanks and a pint (or ten) down at Finnegan’s Tavern. Things had looked so different before Emma Swan had swooped into his life.

Now, Robin and Mills were occupying one set of desks, their heads bent together over a new case. David looked out over the lot of them, a shiny Captain’s bar on his uniform shirt.

And Killian had a box full of knick knacks and the Captain Hook pen he’d refused to leave behind and Emma’s left hand entwined with his.

His own left hand squeezed the Nerf ball that his physical therapist swore was an actual tool and not a torture device. The feeling was coming back - albeit too slowly for Killian’s liking - and he was almost able to get through the day without it cramping up or giving out on him. One last laugh for Robert Gold before he was on the road to being forgotten entirely.

It didn’t matter. What did was that it was almost time to take the Jolly Roger out for the long weekend and Killian had better things to do with his time than worry about what that old crocodile had almost cost him. His arm would get better or it wouldn’t. Either way, he’d closed the book on this part of his life and was looking forward to opening the next adventure.

With Emma and Liam by his side.

“You ready to go?” Emma asked, squeezing her fingers around his and reaching for the box at his feet.

“Aye, luv,” he agreed. “We’ve got to meet Liam in the North End in an hour and I don’t think I have the patience for traffic if we wait much longer.”

Emma laughed quietly, hefting the box onto one hip and tugging on his hand until he kissed her briefly on the cheek.

“Jones!” David bellowed from his office, the glint of a smile on his face as he waved him over.

“You’re not going to change my mind about this,” Killian warned him as he leaned against the door jamb with his thumbs in his belt loops.

David rolled his eyes. “I know. Your brother would have my head if I even tried. I just… if you do change your mind, all you need to do is requalify once you’re cleared and…”

“And the job is mine. I know, Captain.” He smirked at the promotion and the desk job it promised David. Safety. With Mary Margaret nearly five months pregnant, it was exactly what the Nolan clan needed now. “I appreciate it. But this… it’s just something I’ve gotta do.”

David nodded. “I know. It’ll be good for both of you. I just… this department needs more men like you.”

“Aww, Dave,” Killian drawled sardonically, “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind about keeping your job for you,” David tossed back, but the smile never left his face.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to get to the address Liam had texted him in the North End. Killian parked the Chevelle on the street and opened the door, the smell of salt air hitting him as soon as he set feet on the pavement. They were close enough to the water that even the smells of the city couldn’t permeate here.

“What are we doing here?” Emma asked, shutting her own door and shading her eyes against the afternoon sun.

Killian shook his head, looking around for his brother. “Don’t know, luv. Liam just said he’d meet us here.”

“Are you sure you got the address right?”

“Emma,” he chastised. “We aren’t going to become one of those couples who can’t agree on directions, are we?”

“She’s got you whipped already, little brother,” Liam’s voice called from across the street.

Killian smiled. The days after his return from the dead had brought out a new level of cosseting and mother henning from Liam. He hadn’t heard that particular moniker since beforehand.

Still, it wouldn’t do for Liam to think he could get away with it.

“Perhaps you mean younger brother, Liam,” he reminded without any real heat. “And the lady has a point. What did you bring us all the way across town for?”

Liam smiled enigmatically before gesturing for them to cross the street and follow him. “If we’re going to work together from here on out, we need a little bit more space than I had in that closet office on Boylston. And since we needed more room, I thought we should make it official, your transfer to the private sector as it were.”

Killian raised an eyebrow, looking over to Emma in question. She had no better idea than he did what was going through Liam’s head.

And then he saw it; the sign swinging in the wind over a nondescript door at the corner of the office buildings. Everything fell into place as he realized what Liam had done for them. It was perfect. Nothing too flashy or unnecessary, just straight and to the point.

Jones Brothers Investigations had a pretty good ring to it, after all.

It’s finished! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked, reblogged, and yelled. God, the yelling. You guys are great.

For the last time in this fic, tagging: @killian-whump @gilliangrissom @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @courtorderedcake

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #liam jones #ouat ff

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hookaroo · 5 years

Text

Vocivore, Ltd. (15 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ack I need to update there!) (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY COCOHOOK38 HERE!!!!!******

****NEW!!!!!!!!!!!! Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!*************

Present (Wednesday, continued)…

Jones got as far as the medical unit hallway, Killian’s open door in sight, before hesitating. He wanted to help, he wanted updates on his friends… but maybe his presence would be more disruptive than it was worth. Would it be too stressful for Emma to have her husband’s doppelganger nearby while she tried to process his condition? Not to mention the worry over her father and the worse, ever-present terror of missing Hope… she wouldn’t want him there, surely. She would feel remorseful, being reminded of his injuries; he should just go, and wait to be contacted with news and requests for help.

His abrupt about-face set him squarely in the path of a grim-faced Whale. With a sheepish nod of apology, Jones stepped to the side, intending to let the physician pass. But instead, Whale stopped, looking him over with a critical eye.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“Er, well, I’m not actually… I’m… I’m not that Killian.” He waved in the direction of the deputy’s room and felt a vague sense of the knots holding his arm together, though the majority of the pain was still being kept in check by the nerve block.

“Obviously,” snarked Whale. “But you still look like you’re about to collapse on my linoleum. Why aren’t you down in the ED?”

“I was released,” Jones informed the self-important man. “All fixed up.”

Whale looked doubtful, but he came to the obvious conclusion regarding why the detective was here rather than on his way home. “You wanted to see Hook?”

Jones rolled his eyes and nodded. The physician pursed his lips in thought.

“I don’t know that you qualify as family, even though technically, I guess you share the same DNA…”

“I’m here more in an official capacity,” countered Jones, deciding to go in after all. He’d come this far; he wouldn’t be intimidated away by Dr. Whale.

With an annoyed shrug, the physician relented. “Whatever. Come on, then. If you do feel faint, try not to pass out near anything that might split your head open.” He pushed past and headed for Killian’s room. Jones followed cautiously.

Killian lay unconscious amidst a tangle of equipment, looking shockingly corpse-like. Blankets and bandages covered the worst of his injuries, and most of the grime had been removed, which only served to highlight the colorlessness of whatever skin remained free of cuts, abrasions, or bruising. The absence of the collar was a major improvement, but the dramatic wasting of his flesh gave the impression that he suffered a terminal illness. Technically, Jones mused, that wasn’t too far from the truth.

Emma sat beside the bed, sandwiching her husband’s skeletal hand between both of her own, simply watching the rise and fall of his chest. She tensed as the two men entered, looking immensely sad and weary. Her only acknowledgement of Jones was a brief glance in his direction, a quick sweep of her gaze assessing his well-being, and then she turned her attention back to Whale. The physician stopped at the foot of the bed while an awkward Jones hung back near the doorway.

“Still waiting for confirmation on the MRI,” Whale began without preamble. “But from my interpretation, I’d say he’s not as far gone as I had expected, given how long he’s been enslaved. Definitely some signs of deterioration, but with rest and support, he may recover on his own, or at least remain stable until we figure out an effective treatment.”

Emma looked as if she were about to say something, but Whale continued his spiel.

“As you might expect, his blood work is all over the place; lots of organs showing signs of stress. He’s anemic, which we’re obviously going to attribute to blood loss, so we’re working to correct that…”

Still feeling slightly uneasy about listening without an express invitation, Jones broke in,

“You could give him some of my blood, if that would help anything.”

He caught a small flash of gratitude from Emma before Whale fixed him with a derisive look.

“You’re not that far from needing a transfusion yourself.”

“Wake him up.”

The physician turned his startled gaze back on Emma. “What?”

“I want you to wake him up.”

Whale frowned. “That’s not a good idea. The victims that stayed sedated seemed to--”

“He might know something about Hope,” Emma stated flatly, emotions carefully under control. “Wake him up.”

Dr. Whale stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Be right back.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence in the physician's absence. Despite feeling like he might need to take a seat soon, the light-headed Jones remained where he was, watching Emma watch Killian. He drew a breath to speak, changed his mind, then changed it back.

“You okay?”

Emma nodded a lie, not looking at him. “You?”

“Fine.” He let his own falsehood stand for a beat, hesitated, then asked, “And… David? Have you heard…?”

“Looks like he’ll pull through.” Emma rubbed a hand down her face, adding, “The sword struck his shoulder blade, didn’t hit anything vital. His unconsciousness had more to do with a blow to the head.”

Jones couldn’t suppress a smile. “Lucky bastards, the both of us. I’m relieved to hear that, Emma.”

“Yeah.”

She appeared remarkably calm about everything, but Jones could make out well-hidden signs of tension and could certainly relate. He had never found it easy leaving Alice to go on supply runs, even knowing she was “safe” in her imprisoning tower. Later on, when the poison in his heart had prevented any contact, he was always worrying about her: whether she had enough to eat, whether she was sleeping all right. Whether she was truly safe from harm. Whether she’d been able to achieve some degree of happiness. But at least he’d known her whereabouts. Until she’d escaped the tower, anyway. Emma, though… to have no real clue where Hope was, how to go about getting her back, or whether she was even still alive… it had to be consuming her soul, the uncertainty. And Hope so young, as well. Not old enough to fend for herself in any way. The thought chilled him to the marrow.

Even worse was the possibility that Killian had been right, and that this nearly dead figure before them may have life-changing knowledge to impart. Jones shuddered, refusing to believe it.

“Look,” he began, “I know I’ve said this before, but… we’re going to get her back. I will do anything in my power to help. Anything.” He straightened, ignoring the sharp twinge from his damaged sternum, and went unsteadily to Emma’s side. “You’re not alone in this.”

Jones placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Emma looked up with watery eyes and nodded her thanks.

How many times had he heard similar words? How long before they had started to feel like empty platitudes; something that brought more comfort to the one offering than the recipient?

From this distance, Jones could see more detail in his other self’s condition, none of it encouraging. He noticed again the missing earring, a fact that had flashed into his awareness during their earlier encounter, but at that time could not have been less important. Now he saw the reason for its absence: a dark pink line extending from the now-healed-over pierced center of the lobe to its edge, signifying traumatic removal. Three similar scars adorned the rim in various places, with the intersecting white lines left by sutures. Ouch.

Drifting past visible marks elsewhere, some freshly dressed, Jones’ gaze inevitably settled on the obscene mutilation of Killian’s blunted wrist. The closest look he’d gotten before was its explosive introduction to his cheek, which stepped up its throbbing in reaction to the memory. The limb had been carefully bandaged with enough padding to ensure everyone’s safety, but the shape of the curved handle remained visible beneath the linens. Jones cringed and felt a very real pang in his own wrist when he pictured the brutality that must have taken place.

Emma likely wouldn’t want to think or talk about it… and yet, perhaps it was better than allowing constant speculation and gruesome imaginings about her missing toddler. Jones cleared his throat, stepping back a pace to set a more comfortable distance for conversation.

“Did they, erm, say anything about…” He trailed off and waved awkwardly toward Killian’s opposite side.

“The livestock nose ring, you mean?”

Jones nodded weakly, hastening to add,

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want; I only thought--”

“It’ll need surgery to remove,” was her blunt response, void of emotion. “There’s bone shards and things to deal with. But since it’s not really causing problems right now, it isn’t urgent, so they want to wait until he’s more stable.”

Jones nodded again. Thankfully saving him from more discomfort, a nurse came in, followed by Dr. Whale. After one final look at Emma to confirm her intentions, the physician gave approval for the nurse to administer the contents of a syringe into Killian’s IV port.

“It could take a couple of minutes, or not,” warned Whale. “Just try to go easy on him; give him a little bit of time to orient himself.”

Killian’s heartbeat and respiration were already beginning to speed up a bit. Jones slipped back further out of the way in case something unexpected required the medical personnel to have quick access to their patient.

The first sign of broadening awareness was the faintest of noises deep in Killian’s throat; a question or a quiet complaint, it was hard to tell. Jones saw Emma’s hands tighten around her husband’s as she watched his gaunt face.

“Killian?” she called softly. His only response was a slight twitch, barely distinguishable from the tremors being heightened by consciousness. She tried again. “Killian, it’s me. I’m here.” Dismayed to feel him flinch and try to pull away from her grasp, she said, “You’re safe; you’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

The raspy whine sounded again, fractionally louder this time and with a definite note of displeasure. Watching his vitals closely, Whale interjected,

“Can you hear us, Hook? Do you understand what Emma’s saying to you?”

It looked as if Killian were still trying to free his hand, a small scowl on his face, though his eyes stayed closed. Emma remained stalwart in her grip as she tried a different tack.

“I know you want to go back to sleep. But I need to talk to you first.” Her tone was gentle but solemn. “It’s important.”

Responding to an oddity on the heart monitor, Whale snaked his stethoscope beneath Killian’s gown to have a listen. Killian’s reaction was a feeble attempt to bat it away, but Emma still had a firm hold on his hand.

“Shhh, Killian, it’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s just your best friend Whale being his usual irritating self.”

If she were hoping to get a response from him--a smile, a groan, or protest--then she would have been disappointed. Killian stopped squirming and lay still. Jones began to wonder if he’d fallen back into unconsciousness. But then he spoke, his voice nothing more than a minute whisper.

“I must return.”

Emma froze, just for an instant, then schooled her features. “Screw that. You’re not going anywhere. Whale’s going to fix you up, and then--”

“My… Master…” Killian wheezed, a little bit louder this time. Squeezing his hand so hard that he winced, Emma hissed,

“Can kiss my ass. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, going there in the first place, but I’ll be damned if I let you crawl right back into that bastard’s clutches.”

Killian had dragged his eyes open during her tirade, and now lay squinting at her, pained by the lights. With no hint of shame, remorse, or even anger at her tone of voice, he repeated his statement.

“I must return to my Master.”

Emma swore quietly and ran a shaky hand down her face. “You wanted to forget her, didn’t you? You went in case he had her. But if he didn’t, then you knew he’d suck out your brains to stop it hurting. Your… your failure. Is that it?”

Stunned by the vitriol in her words, Jones felt as if he should step in, say something before irreparable damage was done. But before he could devise the right words, Emma spoke again.

“Does he have her, Killian? Can you tell us anything useful?”

Glancing painfully at each face in the room, expression devoid of emotion, Killian murmured,

“I… I can’t… I need…” He made as if to reach for his throat. Then he stopped, resting back on the pillow and closing his eyes in a wince. Emma growled, obviously exasperated and frantic for information about her daughter. Dr. Whale, who was making somber notations in Killian’s chart, pressed his lips together. Then he said,

“Maybe we should try again later. This is stressing him out; I don’t like it.”

“Just… give me a few minutes alone with him.”

There was nothing ominous in the statement, but it was obviously not a request. Whale scowled, displeased at being ordered around on his own turf.

“That’s extremely ill-advised, Sheriff; too much excitement could overload his system, causing seizures and who knows what else… he needs to rest if he’s going to have any chance at getting better…”

Emma’s glare wasn’t quite enough to convince the physician, but it did shut him up. Grimacing, Jones broke in with gentle counsel.

“I hate to say it, but perhaps we should listen to Dr. Whale. You know as well as I that extracting information sometimes requires patience, no matter how urgently it’s needed.”

She seemed determined to ignore all good advice, fixing each naysayer with a glower of irritation. Turning back to Whale, she said,

“15 minutes. I’ll press the button if he starts acting weird.”

“5,” he countered. “And we wait just outside the door.”

“Yeah, like you have so much time to spare.” She rolled her eyes. “10 minutes, Detective Jones acts as door guard. If I can’t get anything by then, you can put him back to sleep for as long as you want.”

“A lot can go wrong in 10 minutes,” grumbled Whale. He cast a grumpy eye on Jones, then back to Emma. “Him? How do you know he won’t faint the minute we leave him unsupervised?”

Jones was starting to see why Killian wasn’t particularly fond of the man. Emma didn’t say anything, only crossed her arms and waited. She must have let go of Killian’s hand at some point, and he was using the newfound freedom to rub wearily at the raw skin of his bare throat. Dr. Whale heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. But I have two witnesses that this is your decision. Any negative outcome rests squarely on your shoulders.”

“Done.”

Dr. Whale huffed and scrawled an emphatic note in the chart, then beckoned the nurse to follow him out the door. Jones turned to join them, but hesitated.

“Maybe he should be restrained in some way…?”

Emma looked askance at him. “Really? An armed law officer vs. a bedridden model for Mr. Zombie Universe?”

Jones remained uneasy but didn’t press the issue. “Call if you need anything.”

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #victor whale #hospital #drugged #brainwashed #angst #serious illness #Vocivore ltd

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roachie-oats · 5 years

Text

so like

recently ive been thinking of . Putting out a little thing abt myself to my followers and whoever else might be reading this that actually cares about my blog or me

it’s kind of just a story about my time associating with the members of that old dirtygfconfessions blog, and. I think it’s time i genuinely told the whole story here. I guess I want to because then I can send this to people who are curious, and it just helps to get it off my chest

Warning: this post includes mentions of sensitive material.

i used to be one of the mods of the dirty gravity falls confessions blog.

we used to have a skype group chat for all of the mods of the blog. The name changed a lot

The stuff we did there are both things i did regret and things i dont regret.

i can tell you this - it was not for the fainthearted. Before i was desensitized, i remember having a panic attack when somebody sent a picture of a real, disfigured and busted open body that i really don’t want to get into the detail about. We used slurs. We made the most offensive jokes we could think of.

I had fun, mostly around the beginning. Of course, I didn’t feel welcome despite them never telling me i wasn’t.

I felt the most fond of the mod leader we called bip. I was scared of him, too, however.

There were times where i left the chat because my feelings were hurt, but i always came back.

Eventually, when gf ended and when the blog died down, we just became a general chat. They eventually made a discord server.

Then, in came some people we called roxy, blaze, lily, and other people. I’m not calling them by their newest names i’ve heard because i don’t want a lot of people going “i know who they are!” And trying to harass them.

Please don’t bother these people. I don’t even want them to know I’m talking about this. It wouldn’t matter if they did, though, but whatever. The way I refer to them is also to further protect their current identities, so please don’t bitch to me about it if you know them.

Anyway, i was fond of lily, too. I never felt close to blaze and I never will.

Roxy was. Something. By that I mean roxy was very guilt-trippy and made everyone uncomfortable despite our efforts to tell her to stop doing whatever it was that we didn’t enjoy. After a dispute that directly involved me (she was trying to antagonize me because of a fetish), we kicked her out. For some reason, the mods (especially bip) still talked to her even though they always said how shitty she was in the group chat. Bad sign already.

The stuff in between was a blur, but i remember i still went on and off of the chat because of personal issues.

At some point I did something to make blaze uncomfortable, i don’t want to say what it was but i can assure you i never did it again. Also, i barely remember it anyway.

After that, blaze did everything in their power to make me look like a bad person, argue with anything i said or thought, and get me kicked out of the chat for the most irrational reasons. I remember he “jokingly” kicked me out of the chat because i liked sausage party, and ignored me when i asked when he was going to add me back.

He started arguments with another member who, admittedly did go too far with things, but wasn’t a bad person at heart in the slightest.

Blaze went as far as to claim this person was transphobic and faked being trans, even though the person never made any claims of being trans and didnt even comment anything bad about stuff like that.

What sucked was how blaze got away with all of this, and was one of the closest people to the admin, bip.

He was manipulative as all hell, and started dating lily and tried to control her. He WAS in a relationship with somebody else named Maddie before lily. However, he cheated on her with this other person. And the whole chat blamed the person he cheated on with, instead of blaze. They kicked the person out.

I used to send lily hearts all the time because i guess I practically loved them. I was about a year or two too old, though. Maybe three. We weren’t over 18 yet, though. At some point, i was told by bip and blaze to stop sending hearts to lily bc it made them uncomfortable. I agreed not to, but I did feel like this wasn’t something lily would have other people tell me, so i felt like blaze was being controlling and possessive of lily. When i pointed this out to them, lily told me to mind my own business. Red flag.

More conflict rose between me and blaze.

I decided i wanted to just try to talk to blaze, i was as calm as i could be and i tried being really understanding, because i knew he hated me. I wanted to fix things between us, or at least stop all the arguments and shit, but he refused, telling me he didn’t want to say how he felt about me. He didn’t want to talk about any of it. So i left him alone.

I think at that point I left or something because I didn’t want to be in that chat since they were so manipulated by him.

In another light, during all of this, i did have chats with bip. And honestly, we even sent nudes and other sexual content to each other. But we only did it if bip consented. I always asked him if he wanted to send pictures or videos, and i always reassured him that if he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to. End of story.

Hell, i told the whole chat if i ever made them uncomfortable, they could tell me. I didn’t want to be the next Roxy. They never did tell me until that second to last point that i left when i did happen to make them uncomfortable by talking about a sexual attraction to a character they valued in terms of childhood, and they were angry about it. i got angry, too. (and no, it was not a problematic figure)

Later, bip and i talked again. I don’t remember why, but we did. i probably started it for some reason. He told me he got rid of blaze because the chat realized how manipulative he was. He said i could join the chat again if i wanted to. So i did.

I was scared. And i was right to be. Not only did i feel even more unwelcome, i felt humiliated. I decided to search for any mentions of me because i was so scared of what they said about me while i was gone.

It was horrible.

They deliberately sought out my blogs and made fun of my art, looked through my vent accounts and called me names because i had beliefs different from theirs, said i always made them uncomfortable, and at some point bip himself tried to word his statements as if i forced him to send pictures. he pretended he didn’t consent to it.

Bip had apologized to me for the shit they did the day i looked through those messages. I feel sick just thinking about this.

I got so upset that i left again and blocked everyone associated with it. I vowed never to return to them again. I’d rather die than have to deal with them. I always felt unwelcome and hated when i was in that chat. I always felt like the people wanted to hurt me and wanted me to die.

They did. They said i should just die.

#repost

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warmau · 7 years

Note

hi mom your blog is my favourite on tumblr i love your writing so SO much!! if and when you have the time can you do the neighbour au for vixx? if it's too much then the maknae line will do (i've read all of your stuff multiple times over + you're the reason im into seventeen and got7 ily) thank you in advance!!

omg this is so sweet thank you so much!!im glad you’ve come to love 17+got7!!!

Ravi

sometimes he doesn’t leave his apartment for days. you can tell because his mailbox overflows but you can hear the music from his apartment for like a week straight,,,,,,,and then sometimes you’ll see him leaving his place at like 3 am dressed like he’s going to a Very Fancy club

“it’s the life of a composer,,,,,,,i don’t sleep for like ever and when i finish i have to go and get drunk with the person who paid me to write the song”

his apartment is essentially his recording studio, all the instruments and his computer are in the living room and it’s so crowded he bumps into his piano everytime he tries to get to the kitchen

likes collecting those little lego figurines and they’re like everywhere. on his computer, above his microwave, probably in his bathroom near his shampoo

wears some,,,,,,,,interesting outfits that always become the talk of the block

likes to try and keep everything clean but at some point he’s so into work he doesn’t realize he’s spilled cola under his desk chair and the laundry hasn’t been done since hyuk got a solo i mean what now

you know ravi is a composer,,,,but you aren’t really sure what that entails

until your best friend hakyeon, who happens to be close to ravi is over at your place and is handing a list that is titled “how to keep ravi alive” and you’re like what

and hakyeon is like,,,,im going on a trip to europe for a month and usually i check in on ravi when he writes but i won’t be here and everyone is busy and i need to make sure he at least eats something,,,,but i can’t so please,,,,,,,,,,,,,,do this for me

and you wanted to refuse at first because you don’t even know ravi

but hakyeon is a sweet person and he promises he’ll come back with something nice from europe for you so you decide fine, how hard can it be to just check up on a person

TURNS OUT when it’s ravi it is kind of hard

because the first day you literally come into his home and try to introduce yourself 4 times before you realize he’s so sucked into his computer he can’t even hear you

you check his fridge and there’s just,,,,,some old wine and like???? take out that smells Suspicious

and you throw it out and come out of the kitchen to tell ravi he needs to eat but then he looks up at you and screams because hOw DID you gET in here,,,,,and you’re like IVE BEEN HERE FOR HALF AN HOUR and ravi is like?????? i never noticed

but he apologizes as soon as you explain what hakyeon told you and he’s like embarrassingly rubbing his neck like,,,,oh don’t listen to hyung im fine on my own

but you think about his refrigerator and how sunken-in his eyes look from probably not having sleep and you’re like ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,no i think hakyeon was right you need someones help

so you grocery shop and you buy coffee, red bull, energy supplements - whatever he needs to stay up

and hakyeon is only gone for a month but in that month you get to know ravi better than most people

how he works tirelessly, day and night, on 5 seconds of a song. how he gets angry with himself for not being able to write a melody. how he refuses to sleep until he’s met his goal

and the perseverance and creativity in him really shocks you because wow,,,,you’ve been living next to such a hard-working and talented person and you never even knew it

but also ravi you’ve worn those basketball shorts 4 days in a row take them off please

at one point you asked if ravi had brushed his teeth and he said something you couldn’t even understand so you went to the bathroom, came back with his brush and a cup of water and were like “open up”

and ravi was like ????? and you were like “ill brush your teeth while you work”

and it was,,,,,,,,,,oddly very intimate

and ravi may or may not have suffered like (3) mini heart-attacks

but when hakyeon comes back and ravi is done with his song you revert back to being,,,,,,just neighbors

until ravi needs to shut himself in for work again and you get a call from hakyeon where he’s like “you need to know something, ive been trying to make sure ravi is ok this past week but he keeps calling me by your name and when i tell him hello - im hakyeon he lets out a deep sigh and long story short i think ravi grew an attachment to you”

and you’re like??????? me????? but also,,,,,,,,you can’t help but smile a little

and you go next door and let yourself in and you’re like “ravi?” and you see he’s asleep with his head on his desk and you go over to get a blanket to cover him with but when you do, tucking it around his shoulders

you hear him murmur something low and you lean in closer and hear him say thank you along with your name

and when you come back to check on him again in a couple hours he’s awake and seeing you, it makes him actually stand up from his computer (something he does not do often when he works)

and he’s glowing, his sharp features all turning soft as he sees you

and you’re like “hakyeon told me you missed me” and ravi is like “AH,,,,well,,,,,,,kind of,,,,,i just,,,hakyeon nags at me and you were nice to me-”

and you get this smug look on your face and ravi is faltering under it and you’re like “here i brought some fruits over for you to snack on, but also -”

and you press a paper slip into his palm and ravi’s eyes widen and you’re like “it’s my number, so you can call me instead of hakyeon”

and you don’t see it as you go into the kitchen with the fruit but ravi literally gathers what little energy he has to do a little happy shimmy dance

and he tapes your number to the side of his computer screen and whenever he looks at it he gets this goofy grin on his face,,,,,,,,,because hehe,,,,,,,i have my crush’s number,,,,,

Hongbin

only person in vixx who makes his bed in the morning

lives a pretty simple and clean life, likes consistency and has one of those big calendars on his wall where he writes down all his future plans and probably even has like a workout schedule

park hyo shin album shrine in his bedroom complete with framed autograph

the type to have like candles ,,,,,,, that are in the shapes of like flowers it’s cute

bunnies have always reminded me of hongbin so maybe if he lived apart from vixx he’d have one that he jokingly names like wonshik but no no it’s real name is something cute like whatever the korean is for like carrot soup or something LOL

idk why but he likes pastel polka dots imagine him with pastel polka dot bed sheets he’s such a cute person

people are always surprised that he doesn’t have like,,,,,one billion mirrors in his house because like how can one Not look at a face like that

but in reality those kind of things make hongbin really shy,,,,,,like he’s just like,,,,im not handsome and everyone in the building is like IF that isn’t the biggest lie i have Ever heard with my own two ears

everyone in the neighborhood has a crush on him. it’s unavoidable. it’s hongbin fever

you’ve lived next door to him for a longtime so you guys are pretty familiar with each other,,,,,but the problem is everytime he meets one of your friends. they fall for him

and end up begging to come over just for a glimpse of him and then when they try to ask him out

hongbin awkwardly like ,,,,makes up an excuse as to why he can’t date them and they get sad and you’ve seen this happen five times and you’re just like ?????????? what is his type ????? what is he looking for???

but you’re not gonna ask him that because well like That’s Rude

but one night you actually end up over at his place because your tv broke,,,,and the premire of your favorite drama is on and hongbin was kind enough to let you in to watch it

and during a long commercial break you look down to see hongbin sitting at the table, writing down something and you decide that hey you’ll never have another chance to be alone like this with him

so you lower the volume a bit and you’re like “can i ask you something?”

and he nods without looking up and you’re like,,,,,, “ive lived across from you for like four years and ive never seen you,,,,,,,with someone,,,,that wasn’t from your friend group and this is probably super invasive but - are you seeing someone?”

and hongbin’s eyes go wide and he like looks up in silence

and you’re like “,,,,,,is it like an arranged marriage thing????? am i asking too much this is rude im sor-”

and hongbin shakes his head and is like “no,,,,,i just,,,,,,,,,” and you’re like ?????? and he kind of sadly laughs

and is like “,,,,,the person i like hasn’t come to a realization yet.”

and you’re shocked because hongbin. prince of your neighborhood. actual living art is harboring a one-sided love????

and you can’t help yourself you’re like “who is that blind? i mean,,,,,,,,anyone who looks at you is enchanted”

and hongbin laughs because that’s what he does. compliments make him shy

but then you go back to watching your drama and you don’t notice hongbin has stopped writing and suddenly you hear in a very quiet voice: “were you,,,,,,enchanted by me?”

and you look down at him and you’re like “are you asking if i liked you?”

and hongbin swallows a lump in his throat but builds up the courage to nod his head and you’re like “of course,,,,,,but i knew it was a longshot i mean ,,,,,,,,do you know how popular you are? it’s like falling for an idol-”

but suddenly hongbin is up and he’s like “don’t say that.” and you’re like is he embarrassed??????whats going on??????

but he just takes a seat next to you and he’s like “it’s you,,,,you’re the one i wanted to confess to me.”

and you’re so shocked,,,,,,you literally drop the remote and hongbin is getting red the longer you stare at him wide-eyed

until you’re like looking over at the tv and the drama is a kissing scene and then you look back at hongbin and you’re red now too

and you’re both red and there’s kissing in the background but you know what there should be some kissing in this apartment too

because you both like each other so why not

but when you do kiss him you’re like wait. wait. is this real did i fever dream this-

and hongbin takes your hand and puts it on his face and he’s like “it’s real.”

Hyuk

big tall meme

who can’t figure out how to cook a meal for himself but can reboot a computer and probably fix your tv in less than ten minutes

for the sake of this au,,,,hyuk is Nerd. as in his whole apartment is full of like action figures and comic books and video games and dirty socks and,,,,,half eaten bags of potato chips, opened cans of redbull

your usual college boy whose friends are all part of the e-sports club at school like c’mon

of course how could i forget, his movie collection of sci-fi alien flicks is the only thing that’s organized on his bookshelf

everyone in the building comes to him for help like the ladies need help with their broken microwaves and hairdryers while the dads don’t get why their son managed to break the new computer (hyuk looking at the sticky keyboard: uh,,,,)

and he does it for free for elders but the teenagers who go to him to learn how to game or upgrade their setups he’s like “my work isn’t cheap. 20 bucks an hour on nothing.”

hakyeon: stop pandering from teenagers

hyuk: ,,,,,,i have no idea what you are talking about *hiding his piggy bank which literally says ‘money from gamer nerdz’ jokes jokes

you know hyuk is handy with,,,,,electric stuff and whatnot so when your lights go out in the middle of the night even though you paid all your utilities like last week,,,,you know the man to go to

and when hyuk opens the door you’re like “whats up, my lights are out and im not sure if it’s a fuse box thing or -”

and hyuk is like “i got you let me come over”

but as you’re walking through the hall of your apartment you realize, you don’t have a flashlight and you’re like my phone is somewhere on my sofa,,,,,let me fell around

but you have literally zero light and it’s night out and you think you’re heading toward your sofa but you feel something soft standing in your way

and you’re like touching it and you’re like it’s soft,,,,but hard???

and warm????

wait is that t-shirt

and you’re like hold up

“hyuk??? am i touching you????”

hyuk: “yep”

you: “why didn’t you stop me what th-”

hyuk: “it was fine, i liked it.”

and you turn pink, thankful for the lights off and want to swat his hand but you don’t know where that is until you feel his hand take your wrist

and he takes his phone out of his pocket and shines it on you and you’re like heY

and he’s like “hehe cute” and you’re like excuse me what

and hyuk is like “nothing, lead the way”

and when you get to the fuse box you hold the phone and see hyuk work with the wires. you notice the light shading his handsome face, a set jawline and wow,,,,his height????

and you’re like this is the first time im looking at hyuk and going ‘he’s hot’ what the HECK is wrong with me

and hyuk finishes in under five minutes and all your lights turn back on and he smiles

and it’s so,,,,,cute his nose is adorable did you just notice that??? why are you having all of these thoughts about your neighbor??

and he’s like “all done. how’d you like to pay me?”

and you’re like “i think i have some cash- but,,,,”

and hyuk grins because he’s like “yes,,,,,i don’t want cash”

and you’re like oh,,,,,,,,and you’re like “ok lean down-”

and hyuk does super duper excited that he’s about to get a kiss

but instead you pinch his cheek and go “ill order us pizza, don’t think im easy han sanghyuk.”

and with that you turn around and hyuk is just like: that was sexy

you: shuttup what kind of toppings do you want?

#vixx scenario #vixx scenarios #ravi scenario #ravi scenarios #hongbin scenario #hongbin scenarios #hyuk scenarios #hyuk scenario #sanghyuk scenario #wonshik scenario #wonshik scenarios #sanghyuk scenarios #vixx #sfw #member: hyuk #member: hongbin #member: ravi

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hearsaykrp · 4 years

Photo

Presenting — yoon haejoon as the tern.

— info.

name / yoon haejoon birthday / 930501 pronouns / he/him occupation / freelance video editor

— traits.

( critical, sly, independent, dynamic )

critical – haejoon tends to view things in a negative light, easily finding fault in everything and everyone, himself included (at least internally). and he’s not afraid to share his findings in blunt words, whether his opinion was asked for or not, which can render him off-putting.

sly – though he can be blunt when he wants to, he can just as easily be dishonest and cunning if it’s in his best interest, whether that means cheating systems or tricking people into trusting him or otherwise. in the end, his goal is always selfish as he believes he’s all he’s got.

independent – to a fault, haejoon often relies only on himself. on his thoughts, on his knowledge, on his instincts, on his own beliefs and opinions, and so forth. which, while sometimes preferred and commendable, can also leave him with a blind spot or have him stuck in his own echo chamber.

dynamic – haejoon’s dynamic in that he is energized in a way that’s non-stop and obnoxious. he is always driving towards his goal, and will stop at nothing to get there by any means necessary.

— about.

haejoon’s birth, much like the rest of his life, was inconsequential.

this is what his father’s always led him to believe, anyway, and so it came with no surprise that he’s spent his life trying to disprove it.

an accidental second born to a family already struggling to feed three wasn’t exactly a welcome one, but haejoon has always made his presence hard to ignore. from loud cries to incessant whines of, “mom, look,” to constant calls from his teachers complaining of disruptive behavior and everything in between. he’s never hidden his desperate need for attention, and his mom was happy to give it to him for the first five years of his life. with an old clunky video camera in hand always documenting his growth and a warm smile on her face, haejoon grew attached. perhaps not any more so than most children would, but importantly so. because when his overworked father never viewed him as anything more than an inconvenience, and his older brother was a constant comparison propped up on a pedestal, where else would he get the affection he so needed in that household?

nowhere, he soon found out.

even now he remembers that night so clearly. the loud patter of rain against the window, the knock on the door of their tiny one-bedroom apartment, the way his legs turned to jelly as the police officer told his father the news. a suspected drunk driver hit-and-run accident, and they were trying their best to catch the culprit.

they never did.

and just like that, a five year old haejoon learned of loss and lived with unresolved closure.

ii.

they say there are five stages of grief. but for most of haejoon’s life, there were only two.

denial, which consisted of him begging the police officer to tell him he was joking and to bring his mom back. then anger, which motivated most of his childhood and teenage years.

he started talking back when his dad would yell, instead of begrudgingly accepting and apologizing for things he shouldn’t have had to like his mom always told him. he started picking fights with his brother out of frustration and jealousy and resentment. and soon enough, as he entered high school, phone calls from teachers turned from harmless disruptive behavior calls to something more bloody. bloody knuckles, bloody noses, bruised eyes, cut lips. a scrawny boy with a big mouth and an equally big fake ego unknowingly built out of self-preservation, taking on things twice his size.

his only solace in such a stifling environment was that clunky old video camera, the same one his mom loved dearly and used to capture haejoon through her eyes.

he continued what she started soon after she was gone, recording himself through the years as she might have, even occasionally talking to her through the camera, giving updates on his life. he slowly grew out of it by the time he got to high school, but by then his love for the art of video and film blossomed. he retired his mom’s well-worn camcorder to the safe depths of his drawers, and scraped together money from odd jobs and slipped from his dad’s wallet to buy a more modern camera. it was with that, his first prized possession, that he shot and edited a multitude of stupid skits he thought were masterpieces at the time. all uploaded to video sharing sites and only ever garnering a few hundred hits.

but that didn’t matter then, because in the beginning haejoon just enjoyed the process. enjoyed the fact that it gave him reason to leave the apartment and sneak back in at one in the morning. enjoyed the zone it put him in when he could sit for hours just editing on his second most prized possession, a refurbished laptop, and tune everything else out.

so, when a routine argument with his father came to a boil and ended with his laptop broken into pieces strewn all over the street below their apartment window, it was no surprise that he moved out the moment he could.

iii.

it wasn’t easy, of course. haejoon was a recent high school grad with little money to his name and grades too poor to get into any good universities, after all. but still, he tried. sending applications to many small colleges in cities far from daegu, and impulsively taking the very first to accept him in a town as inconsequential as his birth.

with needing two part-time jobs just to pay for rent and tuition, and his general lack of discipline in school, he took an extra year longer than most to finish. but even after he did, not much changed. the name of his school held zero weight in the industry and his diploma in film was useless for most non-entertainment entry jobs. in the end, he had no choice but to carry along with his part-time jobs busing and delivering food to feed himself.

no setback stopped him, though. the always stubborn, yoon haejoon. he drafted screenplay after screenplay, and shot non-stop to bring them to life, sending them off to film festivals both big and small and getting uniformly rejected year after year. all of which he blamed more on his lack of prestigious background than his lack of talent. his body of work gradually became a graveyard of failed short films and a few commercials shot for small local businesses that pitied him after weeks of constant convincing.

it was only in the past two years that he found small success, if one could call it that. after all, being a freelance video editor for small youtubers and streamers wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but it allowed him to quit his soul-sucking customer service jobs. and, more importantly, bought him more time and energy to focus on making his own films once again.

iv.

back at the drawing board and with the rise in the popularity of documentaries, haejoon found himself back at his roots.

of course, six year old haejoon wasn’t shooting any ground-breaking documentaries when filming himself learning how to play the piano like his mom always wanted him to – but, the idea was the same. documenting reality.

or, well, framing reality in a certain way.

it was with this in mind he found ilmyo. after weeks of trawling through news article after news article in all the small towns he could think of, it was the deaths of kim donghyun and choi goeun that reeled him into the rabbit hole that was ilmyo’s mysterious history.

there was little information to be found online and no one seemed to be talking about it outside of town, but that had been a selling point too. no one knew of ilmyo and he would be the first on the scene. the first to shed light on a dark past and help unravel a questionable mystery – and, really, wasn’t that what audiences wanted these days? intrigue and justice?

that had been enough for haejoon, who quickly packed his things and took the first bus to town the following day.

now, haejoon lives in a dinky old motel situated a few blocks away from the supposedly scenic stretch of birch trees. it’s a boring town, a far cry from downtown daegu, but then so was the previous town he called home for several years. and so he’s settled in easily – as easily as a nosy, obnoxious outsider can in these suspicious times.

haejoon hasn’t bothered making his presence a secret. by now, he’s sure almost everyone knows that the outsider is making a documentary on the tragic missing persons cases, whether they like it or not. he’s made sure of it, announcing himself and his purpose to anyone who will listen, and would they care to be interviewed? it’ll be shown in the busan international film festival next year, he’s falsely promised time and again.

he knows none of them believe him, knows that most of them despise him if the glares and groans he gets when he enters a room are anything to go by. but, unsurprisingly, that hasn’t weathered him down any more than the cryptic death threats thrown his way. haejoon’s more than used to being disliked, and it was never part of his plan to stay in ilmyo for long, so who cares if he makes any friends when he’ll burn his bridges soon enough?

hawk and heron are all he cares about being friends with anyway, and it’s only with them he bothers to tone himself down. first by offering a positive light to hawk in his documentary in exchange for insider information. then by attempting to bond with heron, offering to watch each other’s backs in a kind of strange truce to investigate together and share information (albeit selectively from haejoon’s side).

but trust has been slow to build and haejoon’s been growing impatient.

with most reluctant to share anything with him, he’s resorted to taking matters into his own hands. after his own investigation in the matters and his belief in occam’s razor, he’s concluded that magpie and starling are the likely suspects. there’s no smoke without a fire, after all, and magpie and starling have too much smoke surrounding them. as far as he’s concerned, they’re guilty and the police are just too close to everyone in this small town to do anything about it when the proof is all circumstantial.

so, it wouldn’t hurt if he falsified concrete evidence, would it?

if the culprits never paid, what’s the point in all of it?

he would just be giving the closure he never received to the families of the lost ones.

vi.

but there is one thing. if this is going to be his breakout piece, he wants it done without getting his hands too dirty.

for now, haejoon’s biding his time, false evidence lying in wait in a locked safe. only time will tell if he’ll have to use it.

#hrs tern #hrs min yoongi #hrs accepted

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