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wholesomeromy · 4 years

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So I wrote the binghampton riot in Andrew's perspective but tbh I don't like some of it so I'm going to rewrite it!

I'll keep the original up.

"Thank you." Neil said. "You were amazing."

Andrew blew a ring of smoke into the air. The sky was slowly getting darker. It had been almost three hours since the riot had started, now all that was left was a few stragglers getting medical attention, paramedics, police, and five of the nine foxes.

Andrew looked over the four other remaining foxes. Renee was twiddling her cross necklace with her free hand, the other in a splint. Andrew noticed her carefully flex her fingers, and the subtle twitch on her features. But other than Renee's sprained wrist the remaining foxes where able to escape with only a few scrapes and bruises, mostly unharmed.

Andrew took another drag of his cigarette, trying to ignore the painful twinge in his cheek which he got from an elbow to the face. He was trying to occupy to his mind, trying to distract himself from the awful feeling in his gut.

Those five words kept going around and around his head.

"Thank you." Neil said. "You were amazing."

It was probably just Neil's junkie brain still high on their win against Binghampton. But Neil had lost the twinkle in his eye. He had seemed so far away and distant as he spoke those five damned words.

Andrew just couldn't put his finger on what it was that made him so unnerved about those words. They just didn't sound like a praise. They sounded too sad to be a thank you.

Renee seemed to notice Andrew's distant look as she strode up to him. She didn't get too close, not wanting to be victim to the smoke from his cigarette, but close enough that all he could see was her.

"We found Matt." She smiled. But her smile looked guilty and sad.

"And?" Andrew asked, sending a bored look her way.

Her smiled faltered, though only for a moment, before resuming itself, a little more forced this time. "He hasn't seen him."

Andrew forced down his doubts, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it under his foot. "Seen who?" He drawled, quickly looking away to try and focus his mind on something other than that ginger idiot.

Renee sighed and leant against the bus beside him. "Andrew." She wasn't smiling anymore. Andrew slowly pulled his gaze to meet hers and regretted it instantly. Renee was too nice for her own good, but that didn't mean she couldn't be intimidating. Usually this stern expression she'd adopted wouldn't do anything to Andrew, but with his nerves and anger already heightened, he felt a twinge on regret.

He knew that look in her eyes. Ofcourse. He was so stupid to think he could hide anything from Renee, and she was far too observant to be fooled, especially by Andrew. He cocked his head to the side and kept his bored look on her. Finally her smile came back, she looked pleased with herself.

"We'll find him though." She said before going to check on Nicky. Nicky greeted her with his wide grin as they started up a conversation.

Andrew huffed and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lighting a new one. He turned to look to his other side and saw Kevin staring at his watch. This was the third time he seen him doing this, and the action was really beginning to bore him.

All the foxes were back now in their respective slings, splints, bandages, and bandades. All but one.

Andrew couldn't hold down his annoyance for much longer. "Neil." He whispered. He didn't mean to, but the name slipped from his tongue with such a hatred it made him tense.

Nicky looked down at him for a moment before his eyes sweeped foxes. Finally, they landed on Wymack who shoved his phone angrily into his pocket. "Where's Neil?" Nicky asked. Andrew finally looked to his coach, hoping for something, anything. Some kind of news on their missing striker. No. Not missing. He wasn't missing. Andrew didn't want to think about that.

Wymack stared back at Andrew for a moment, then looked at Kevin. Kevin met his gaze for only a second before looking back at his watch. Wymack huffed and got his phone back out, walking off to the side as he put it to his ear.

The foxes watched Wymack leave before all turning to Andrew expectantly. He sent them all a bored look before getting his own phone and calling Neil.

All their shoulders seemed to loosen, only by a little, and they watched Andrew intently as he put the phone to his ear.

It rang. "Well his phones charged. That's something." He said, receiving a small eye roll from his cousin. But the phone continued to ring. And ring. And ring. But he didn't move the phone from his ear, even after ringing stopped. He stared down at the ground hoping to hear Neil's voice. His stupid annoying voice. Hoping to hear those bloody words.

I'm fine. That's what he'll say. The two most infuriating words Andrew had ever heard but for once wished to hear them again.

Andrew didn't know how long he'd been stood there with the phone to his ear until Renee said his name. He flicked his eyes towards her. She was smiling. Ofcourse she was smiling. But this was just a front. She knew just as well he did that something was wrong.

Andrew put the phone in his pocket, crushed his cigarette beneath his foot, even though it was only half gone, and rushed into the crowd.

He heard his team shouting his name, some laced with anger, others worry. But he didn't look back. His legs carried him and wouldnt let him stop till he saw that scruffy auburn hair, those bright blue eyes, that stupid 4 on his cheek, anything.

He tried to listen for Neil's voice, tried to hear him calling out for him. But there was nothing. He was keenly aware of the other foxes voices amongst the crowd.

"Neil Josten. Have you seen him?"

"He's a fox, ginger, pretty short."

He blocked out their voices. He wasnt going to be able to focus on any signs of Neil if he was listening to them. He moved past the guards back into the stadium. He searched the changing room, the lounge, the stands, the court, everywhere, but couldn't find him.

He went back outside. He sweeped the remaining stragglers but came back empty. With much effort he pushed himself around the small crowd, almost stepping over the orange duffel at his feet.

He froze, his foot hovering dangerously above it. The strap was hanging on by threads and the orange material was torn to ribbons. The number 10 was filthy with tracked mud and barely holding on anymore.

Andrew stared at the bag for what felt like forever until he heard Matt's voice behind him. He had called the others over as soon as he saw that Andrew had found something, but it wasn't until he was a few feet from Andrew that he acctually saw what had his undivided attention.

Andrew carefully picked up the duffel and quickly scanned the ground around him. Finally his eyes landed on the racquet left on the floor several feet away. He rushed over and grabbed it. Thankfully it hadn't taken as much damage as the duffel, but it hadn't gone scratch free.

Andrew huffed through his nose, ignoring his teams mutterings and questions, and made his way back to the bus. Kevin was still stood where Andrew had left him, still looking down at his watch.

Andrew wanted to punch him for not helping, but he knew it wouldn't have helped. He knew as well as Kevin that they wouldn't have found their striker. But that didn't soften the anger that was welling up in his chest.

Kevin finally looked up at the sound of his teammates coming back and his eyes instantly rested on the racquet and then the duffel in Andrew's hands. Andrew was getting really angry now. Kevin knew something, he must've. Nobody could look that guilty if they didn't have any idea what had happened.

He tried to ignore the thought and dropped the racquet and duffel to his feet. He knelt down on the asphalt, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the broken tarmac and stones on his knees, and dug through the duffel.

His questions were finally answered when his finger found the small silver flip phone and the key ring.

He'd ran. He must've. But that didn't make sense. Neil wanted to get to the finals almost as much as Kevin did, and now they were so close. He wouldn't run now. He'd promised.

Promised. Andrew soundlessly scolded himself for agreeing to relinquish his promise of protection to Neil. He should've known better. He should've known after the locker incident, after the wrecked cars, that it wasn't safe for Neil to be alone. He had promised to have his back. And now look.

He pushed those thoughts away as he flipped open the phone. The screen lit up on his call history. There was a missed call from Andrew and two calls from the same number a couple seconds apart. One lasting only a few seconds, the other two minutes. Andrew pushed the call button on the number but it didn't ring. Disconnected. Ofcourse.

He changed to Neil's texts and went to the most recent message from today. It was from the same number that had called him. And all that was there was a 0. Andrew stared at the 0 for a moment longer before going through Neil's deleted history.

It wasn't just one number. He had been receiving a countdown. Andrew shoved the phone back into Neil's duffel angrily. His hands started shake as it all came rushing over him.

It all made sense now. Those five stupid words. They weren't praise. They were a goodbye. And Andrew was too stupid to realise sooner.

He pushed his hands down hard against his thighs and looked up. Kevin. He knew. He knows. Andrew suddenly had an overwhelming wave of jealousy rush over him. Neil had told Kevin without anything. They had been having their game of truths for a year now, playing their mind games against each other, but Neil told Kevin the truth. Kevin knew exactly what had happened to Neil, it was written all over his face, the guilt, the regret, it was so blatantly obvious.

Before Andrew knew what he was doing he had his hands wrapped around Kevin's throat. Kevin gasped for air, helplessly clawing at Andrew's arms as he tightened his grip.

"Where is he?" Andrew drawled. He felt hands wrap around him, felt them try and pull him away. But they were nothing against Andrew's strength mixed with the adrenaline. "You know where is. Tell me!"

Kevin gasped again. Finally Wymack ran over to the sounds of the foxes shouts and was able to pry Andrew from his neck. Kevin gagged and gasped as he tried to get the air back in his lungs. He put a shaking hand on the bus for support as he wretched.

Andrew tried to break out of Wymacks hold but the adrenaline was fading. "Tell me!"

"I promised." Kevin gasped as she shook his head. He winced at the look that Andrew was sending him, quickly looking away.

"You think I give a shit about your promises?" Andrew snapped back calmly. What was happening. Why was he suddenly feeling like this? Jealous, angry, guilty, desperate. He hated this feeling. "He could be six-feet under right now and you're worried about breaking a fucking promise."

Kevin whimpered, his body shaking, and Andrew realised what had happened. He was dead. Neil was dead.

"Where." Andrew said. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. Kevin understood and looked over Andrews shoulder at Wymack.

"How far away is Baltimore from here?" He asked. Andrew wanted to wrap his hands around his throat again, this time finishing the job before anyone could pull him off.

Wymack stared at Kevin for a moment before finally answering. "Four hours." He finally said. His voice sounded distant even though he was stood right beside him.

"Kevin?" Matt stepped forward, making sure not to get too close to Andrew. But Andrew barely noticed him. He refused to take his glare off of Kevin. "What are you talking about?"

Kevin looked down at the ground as he tried to hold back his sobs. "He's dead. He's gone." He cried, falling to his knees and burying his face into the palms of his hands. "He killed him. He did it."

Andrew felt Wymacks grip loosen on his shoulders. He took the opportunity and shook himself free. Nobody tried to stop him as he took a step toward Kevin.

"Who?"

Kevin shook his head, still buried in his hands. His sobs were still as loud as before.

"Who." He said again, more demanding and forceful.

Kevin winced at the stern sound in his voice. "His father." He finally said quietly.

Andrew clenched his fists. But he didn't use them. He was so angry, but not just at Kevin anymore. At Neil aswell. He had lied to him. He lied to his face when Andrew had told him things not even his family knew.

Andrew turned away from Kevin. He couldn't even bare to look at him. Everyone refused to meet his gaze but he didn't care anymore.

Neil was dead. But he hadn't run. He hadn't broken his promise even to the end. That stubborn rabbit.

Wymack finally spoke, but Andrew didn't hear him. He grabbed Neil's stuff, pulling his key ring from his duffel and then throwing the bag and racquet into the storage with everything else. He climbed into the bus before anyone could say anything. They were all still staring at Kevin.

Finally the rest of the foxes piled onto the bus. Andrew didn't look at them. He ignored Kevin when he tried to speak to him. He ignored Nicky and Matt, Dan and Allison. Finally Renee sat beside him. She didn't say anything for a moment but Andrew knew what she was doing.

"He's alive." She said finally. Andrew shook his head, clenching his fingers around the key ring. The keys dug into his palm but he didn't care for the pain. "Andrew-"

"I don't want to hear it." Andrew said. He was quiet but Renee heard him.

She sighed and looked ahead of her. But that didn't mean she'd given up. She continued, despite his protest. "He's in intensive care in a hospital in Baltimore with the FBI." Andrew didn't look at her. But he didn't need to. She saw his clenched fist loosen around the keys. "He's alive."

When she realised that Andrew wasn't going to continue to conversation she got up and went back to the upperclassmen a few seats ahead.

He let out a shaky breath. One he didn't know he was holding onto and let his head fall back against the seat.

He listened as Kevin told them about Neil. About Nathaniel Wesninski and his family. About the Butcher of Baltimore. About their connection to the Moriyamas. About Neil's plan to die at the end of the season.

He lied to him. All this time and he had lied about his parents deaths, about his father.

Andrew only looked up from the keys in his hand once. The foxes were looking at him. They were waiting. But he didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. He sent them all one of his usual bored looks and went back to staring at the keys.

Wymack pulled up to a motel somewhere in Baltimore. Andrew didn't know where, he refused to look away from the keys again.

When they got off the bus he was met with FBI agents. He didn't look at them, didn't give them any satisfaction. He refused to even acknowledge them. As the team, with Wymack and Abby, were escorted to a room with two beds Andrew finally realised what was happening. He finally let it sink in.

One of the agents was talking, a sense of superiority in his tone. "He demanded he sees you all as soon as he is released from the hospital." The agent said, turning his nose up at the battered faces in front of him. "I don't think he should." He grinned. "Nathaniel Wesninski is a dangerous individual and nothing like the person you've come to know. And we don't have time for his childish needs to see you all."

Something inside Andrew switched. He charged for the officer, fist raised ready to punch. He didn't know where he was aiming but he sure he was aiming somewhere it would hurt. But before he could make contact he felt Wymack grab him with all his strength and pull him away.

Andrew didn't bother trying to fight against him. He saw the look in the agents in the eyes, even if it did only last a second. It was fear. And that was all he needed. The agent reacted quickly, attaching Andrew to Wymack with a handcuff.

He looked the cuffs up and down, twisting his hand in the restraint to estimate their strength. But he didn't bother trying to break free. "If you step over the line once more none of you are seeing him. I don't care how mouthy the little prick is."

Andrew felt the a sudden feeling of warmth rise inside him. Ofcourse Neil was putting up a fight to see them. No matter how much this agent tried to deter their views of Neil, he did nothing.

The agents made Wymack move the bus for safety reasons. But because of the restraint Andrew had to join him.

Five minutes. They were gone for five minutes and in that time they had missed Neil's arrival. Andrew felt a surge of anger flood over him as he saw the new addition to the black vans in the parking lot.

He ran. Ran faster than he ever had up the stairs, ignoring the curses and protests from Wymack behind him. Ignoring the pain in his wrist as he dragged his coach up the steps. He waited at the top, only for a moment, to let him catch up before darting down to their room. There were more agents there now.

Their necks snapped towards the sounds of Wymacks shouts and their heavy feet against the floor. Andrew saw them try to intercept him but he reacted quickly. All that was on his mind was Neil. He wanted to ring Neil's neck for lying to him, for leaving him.

He wanted to kill him.

He pushed his whole body weight into the agent stood at the door, smashing him into the wall before flinging himself at the door.

He ignored the angered remarks from the agents as he barged into the room, dragging Wymack behind him. But suddenly all that anger that had been building up over the last few hours was gone.

There he was. Neil Josten. Alive. The sight of him doubled over his bandaged hands, gasping for air through the pain made Andrew want to vomit.

The thought of murdering Neil was suddenly a distant thought. A childish idea.

Now he wanted to reach out and kiss him. He wanted to touch him. Wanted to examine every part of his body and make sure he was real, he was there.

And he was. He was alive. And that was all that mattered in that moment.

#aftg hc #aftg au #aftg fic #aftg shitpost #aftg art #aftg fanart #incorrect aftg #andrew joseph minyard #andrielhc #andriel #neil josten #nathaniel wesninski

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buck-nialled · 4 years

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Fracture-Free - S. Mendes Imagine

NOTE: who is ready for some college!shawn fluffness?

You, as clumsy as you are, had never broken a single bone in your life. You were honestly surprised you made it as far as you did in life without having a cast or splint around one of your limbs. You would find yourself bumping into sundry objects or even people a numerous amount of times a day but never had it been more than just a stubbed toe or a twisted ankle that you would receive. And not five minutes after explaining this to a classmate of yours while walking, you took a hard plummet to the ground below you, and after a ten-minute hop to the clinic across campus with that same friend, your fracture-free streak was over. You came out hours later with wrap around your lower leg and with a pair of crutches, your leg lifted and foot dangling.

You assumed it was karma getting back at you, and you cursed yourself for not knocking your fist against one of the trees both you and the girl had passed while traversing the campus. But guilt-filled your insides like tsunami waves when your boyfriend’s car pulled up in front of the clinic to pick you up. You assumed your friend had texted him to let him know, as he was too protective of you for your good. You heard the door to his side slam shut and his tall stature hovered over you in only a few moments, with his large hands resting on your shoulders as he observed your body for any further injuries, save for the obvious wrap around your foot and crutches beneath your armpits.

“What am I going to do with you?” Shawn asks with a shake of his head, a small curl falling loose against his creased forehead. All you could do was let out a small giggle and a shrug. Shawn knew you were you a clutz by default when he first met you; it was your fateful knock into him which led to you two talking and conspiring a first date. However, he, like yourself, never would have assumed you to fall this hard.

“Well,” you began, “it would be nice for me to finally be babied.” You joke with a smile. Shawn gives you a furrow of his brows, and you mimic it within seconds.

“Oh, come on! Even when you aren’t injured or sick you lay your head in my lap, have me hold you, run you baths…”

“I thought you liked doing that stuff?” Shawn’s befuddled look turns into one of sadness, his bottom lip jutting out towards you. You then realized how bad the words that had come from you sounded, and immediately reached your hands to his cheeks.

“No, no Shawn I love doing that stuff with you…I’m just saying a little reciprocation wouldn’t hurt.”

“Well…in that case…” A shrill squeal was elicited from you when Shawn swooped your body up into the air, and let your crutches fall from your grip instinctively. He carried you to his car and opened the passenger door, setting you in the seat and even buckling your seatbelt for you, like you were a small child just being trained out of her car seat. Your crutches follow as he carefully places the pair in the backseat, before taking his place in the driver’s side.

“So…may I treat you to dinner, your highness?” Shawn asks eloquently as he puts his car in drive. A small chuckle falls past your lips and you decide to play along.

“I request the fanciest of foods one can acquire on a college budget, my squire!” You demand, hoisting your pointer finger in the air as you did so.

“Onward we go, then.” Shawn pulled through the nearest fast food restaurant around your campus, which also happened to be your favorite. He turned on your seat heater for you, knowing you would be shivering soon from how cold he kept the AC in his vehicle and offered you one of his jackets in the backseat during the ride to use as a blanket. After pulling up beside your dorm, it was dark outside and you were curled up in his passengers' seat, a hoodie covering your frame and food now digested.

He was careful when entering your dorm building, trying not to wake your form which was cradled in his arms once again. As he entered he found many mutual friends of yours in the main room watching some television show they could not get enough of lately. Shawn would know as you almost talk his ears off from time to time when you bring it up and beg him to start watching it with you. When the girls turn around to find you in his arms, many concerned looks towards your foot turn into ones of quiet awe at the sight of you hoisted into his embrace.

“Hey guys, is Laura in her dorm? I gotta drop my girl off.” He prayed your roommate was there because he did not have a key and nine times out of ten you were always lacking it, unfortunately, you were not blessed with the best memory.

“Think so. I saw her go in 15 minutes ago.” One shrugs, earning a small nod from Shawn as he continued his journey to your room. Upon reaching the door he gives a small knock to the door. Moments later it opens, Laura standing in sweatpants and a tee-shirt, glasses on. That could only mean she was studying. After a while of Shawn visiting, he learned the in and outs of your room and roommate pretty quickly.

“Sorry for interrupting, she—“ Shawn began in a hushed tone.

“Is she okay?” Laura’s voice greeted at a radical volume, making Shawn wince.

“Yeah, she just broke her ankle.” He whispers. “She fell asleep when I drove her here and I didn’t want her walking.” Similar to the others, Laura’s mouth dropped in an instant, letting out a small noise to express the cuteness before her.

“Yeah, yeah we’re adorable but can I put her down now?” Laura nods and opens the door wider for Shawn and you to enter. Upon lying you down, he covers you with your comforter, his jacket still tight in your grip. Before leaving, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, mumbling quickly. “Night sweetness, I love you.”

“Wow. Using the ‘L’ word already, huh?” Laura asks with a wiggling of her eyebrows. Shawn can only scoff as he takes a few locks of your hair between his fingers and delicately tucks them behind your ear.

“Only me. I don’t want to scare her off, I’m waiting for her to say it first when she’s ready…for now, I’ll just think it.”

“Well trust me, whether she knows it or not she feels the same. You’d be the last person to chase her off.” Shawn smiles and peeks up at Laura, giving her a lazy smile.

“Thanks. Well, I’m off, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? We don’t share any classes?”

“I know. We’re carpooling.” Shawn grins as he nods his head towards you’re snoozing figure. Or at least, he thought you were snoozing. After giving a farewell wave to Laura, the door clicks behind him, and his heavy footsteps fade with each step he takes down the hall.

“Alright, the coast is clear,” Laura affirms, sinking into her desk chair. You shoot up immediately, eyes growing wide.

“Laura, he loves me….Laura, he loves me!” Your murmur becomes a screech upon saying the words aloud. Shawn loves you.

seeking more shawn stuff? my masterlist is FULL OF IT!

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my-brothers-corrupted · 4 years

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My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter 1 : Section 4 : Pharmacy Break-In

Trick, Dok, and Dapper were let out of the house with money and a modicum of freedom for once. Now well-supplied – except for one vital need – they returned home only to find that, during their day of happiness, Jackie and Marvin have been “reset” by Anti. Their memories gone and their attachment strengthened, the oldest twins struggle to come to terms with themselves, their brothers, and their master, but they’ll have to do it quick – another day, another crisis on the horizon, and Dok is in danger.

Trigger warnings: hypnotism, major abuse, torture, trauma reactions, breaking and entering, and mentions of psychosis.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

Part Four of Chapter One: Pharmacy Break-In

musical-in-theory asked: Mar- *sigh* Blue? Can you hear us?

Blue peers over Red’s shoulder, blinking. His face has begun to go more yellow than white and he holds himself like he’s in pain, sheltered behind Red’s body. “I can hear you,” he says. “Who’s talking?”

“I think they just talk,” mumbles Red.

They give you twin looks of distrust.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, Dapper? You boys might want to hurry on home...

“We should have,” mumbles Doktor, backing slightly towards the door. “We should have, we should have.”

“Dok,” whispers Trick, gripping at his shoulder. “Let’s stay calm, man, let’s stay calm. No close-offs tonight.”

Doktor wrings his hands together, cursing the tears in his eyes. “Red?” he calls, shakily. “Do you know who I am?”

He already knows the answer.

Red stares at him skeptically. “Anti said Doktor,” he answers.

“But don’t you know - ” Doktor chokes on a sob, refusing to let Trick draw him towards the nest. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Red opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Sorry,” he manages finally.

Doktor screams, slamming his fist against the door. Trick begs him to be quiet, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, don’t bother Anti, please don’t bother Anti, we’re okay, we’re okay…”

Anonymous asked: Is blue gonna be okay? Poor boy doesn't look like he's feeling too good

Blue’s swaying slightly in place, pressed against Red’s shoulder. “You know,” he mumbles, swallowing back nausea. “I think I want to sit down.”

Red turns to hold him.

“Your bed is over there,” mumbles Trick, avoiding their eyes. “You should probably… take it easy.”

He half expects Red to snap at him for suggesting anything at all to him, but Red seems to have lost his interest in him along with his memory. Trick doesn’t know why this puts a hard lump in his throat. It’s better if Red ignores him. It’s better if Red doesn’t remember him. Isn’t it?

That’s my brother, says some part of his mind, with grief. That was my brother.

And Trick, turning away, tells that part of his brain to shut the fuck up.

Anonymous asked: Hoodie? How're you feeling?

Red leads Blue around the island to their sleeping bags - there are two of them now, not that Red sees the difference - and they crash to the ground side by side, sitting with their hands close together on the floor, trying to process.

“I feel pretty sick,” he mumbles, staring down at his hands. “My head really, really hurts. And my wrists…”

You see that they are rubbed raw. He must have been chained up. “I don’t remember… anything,” he whispers. “Just Anti… and Blue. And - and - and nothing, just… fragments… dreams… I don’t know how this could have happened… I think we need to go to the hospital…”

He touches his head, groaning.

Anonymous asked: Red, your heads unwrapped. Did your injury reopen? Where does the dye end and the blood begin?

“Oh, fuck, his head’s open?” Trick stares over at the island. “Dok, you gotta go check on him.”

Doktor is biting back bitter tears, hidden against Trick’s shoulder, clinging to his jacket. “I don’t want to see him like this,” he sobs. “I don’t want him to have forgotten me.”

“Fuck, buddy, he just - he just - he won’t be so different, okay? Anti must have just - Anti must have had his reasons.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” sobs Deutsch. “What if he didn’t, what if he just did that to him? What if he just does that to us, someday? What if we all forget each other? What if we already have forgotten, forgotten important things, forgotten who we were?”

“Dok,” snarls Trick. He grabs his shoulders tightly, fear lacing his trembling voice. “Don’t you say shit like that. Don’t you dare say shit like that. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Doktor whimpers, tears cascading down his cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t want to be - I don’t want to be mindless - I don’t want to forget - ”

“Enough,” Trick demands, shaking him. He knows he’s being harsh and it doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is getting him to stop fucking talking. Because if he doesn’t, they’re going to get beat to shit. And Trick isn’t watching him go through that again. Not a chance in hell. He’s seen Doktor dying too many times in his life. He’s seen Doktor weak and suffering too many times. And he’s learned his lesson - you shut the fuck up, you shut your twin up, and you don’t get hurt.

No matter what else you have to sacrifice.

“Enough, no more. Stop crying. Now, Dok. Go, go over there and look at Red and Blue.”

“Trickshot - ”

“Don’t argue with me. What’s the rule? When one of us is upset, the other one…”

“Does what he’s told,” chokes Dok, trying to swallow back tears.

“Right. Right.” Trick wipes at his nose and sniffs, trying to stay calm himself. “Good man. Go on, then. Go patch them up before Anti gets mad. Now, Dok.”

Anonymous asked:

Blue... Are you bleeding? Two other anons had similar questions added.

They’re injured.

They’re bleeding.

Doktor sees it as soon as he rounds the corner, finding the two of them sitting on either side of the island, but no longer looking at each other like they did the day before - looking now with a strange sort of intensity, a confused tension hovering in the air between them. He sees, vividly, an early memory of him and Trick - sitting across from each other in a jail cell, trying not to stare at each other, wondering, Who the hell are you and why do I feel like I love you so much?

Anti never resets without leaving something behind. And sometimes, when your brain is blank and you’re exhausted, he leaves behind things that weren’t there before.

Doktor doesn’t remember much of the person he used to be.

But he knows that that person is different from who he is now.

He’s fairly sure that person was… kinder than who he is now.

Pain burns in his chest. He swallows it back like a pill. Take twice a day without food. Without water. Just take it. You don’t have any other choice. Swallow the pill or choke on it.

“You look like you need a doctor,” he manages, trying not to look as miserable as he feels.

Red turns to look at him, paranoia written all over his angry face. Always so angry. The memory of pain can be washed away, but it still leaves its scar behind, and Red has always met blood with fury. The reset is like pulling pushpins out of a bulletin boards. The markers are all gone now, but the marks remain.

“Are you one?” Red asks, a little sharply.

Doktor sighs. He’s about to reach the end of his rope. “Asshole, did you miss the part where Anti told you my goddamn name?”

“Fine, fuck!” snaps Red, unloosening a little. “Pretty sarcastic for someone who’s supposed to do what I say.”

“Tell me to shut the fuck up,” says Doktor coolly. “And I will.”

Red lapses into silence.

Doktor begins by examining him, running his hands carefully through his hair while Red squirms uncomfortably. “Why was it dyed today?” he asks.

Dok tries to be sensitive of just how agonizingly lost he must feel. “I don’t know,” he says softly.

“It just doesn’t make sense. I hit my head and decide to dye my hair?”

He doesn’t like it when Anti lies, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He wraps Red’s head back up carefully, washing clean the little stripe of dye above his fracture, which must be stinging awfully. He hopes he isn’t punished for washing it out.

Blue scoots steadily closer to them the whole time he is working.

“Anywhere else you have pain?” asks Dok softly, drawing away from Red.

“My head hurts,” he admits. The admission itself may as well be a cry of agony from Red.

“I’ll give you both something for that,” says Dok.

He’s just going to knock them the fuck out with some sleeping stuff. They don’t deserve to live through a night of exhausted confusion.

“How you are feeling, Blue?” he asks, turning to the other twin.

Not well.

Blue has gone very, very pale, the area around his eyes mostly yellow. He breathes a little too fast, reacts a little too slowly. His cuts are open. His cuts are weeping, weeping, weeping.

“Can I please have something for the pain?” he whispers, sinking down against the cupboards.

Red reaches out to grab him as he collapses, startled by the ferocity of protectiveness that rises inside him like magma. He barely remembers who this person is, but he must have fucking adored him. Oh, the poor cuts covering his aching body, the poor blood and bruises…

He gives up on trying to look tough and buries his face against Blue’s chest, sobbing.

Doktor cleans them up in silence. Restitches cuts from being tortured. Splints the aching bones from being thrown down the stairs. Washes everything clean.

They don’t even remember how they were injured.

But Doktor does.

Doktor remembers.

Doktor is angry.

He watches them swallow their pills.

He decides to take one himself, too, and returns to his nest, to his little corner of his safety, to his little brother, the only thing that ever seems to stay the same.

“Are you okay?” asks Trick, without words.

And Doktor, turning away, does not answer.

spicydanhowell asked: dok he's not gonna do it again. all five of you are here now, no more changes, he just wanted red to have a clean slate with his twin so theyd be close like you and trick. i promise he'll remember you, please go take care of him

“Thanks,” mumbles Doktor, flat-voiced, staring straight ahead out the window. Trick’s hand rubs the low of his back, a warm, reassuring weight on his spine. “I hope you’re right.”

Anonymous asked: blue... are you okay? is red ok?

Blue and Red lie beside each other in the darkness.

“Are you?” murmurs Red. “Okay?”

“Are we?” asks Blue, his voice faint.

Red stares at him like he can’t take his eyes away.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t remember who he is or who this person is - all he knows is that he loves him, and he loves Anti, and they’re together.

So that… that will have to be enough right now. He’s too tired for anything else.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he whispers.

Blue stares back at him. His eyes are oceans.

“Then I’m okay,” he says.

And tonight, when he reaches out, just gentle, and grips Red’s hand -

Red squeezes his hand back, and smiles very softly at him.

At his twin. At his brother. At his friend. At his Blue.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers.

Blue is already there.

Anonymous asked: Anti, I don’t think erasing Red’s memory was such a smart plan. Why take that kind of risk?

“What risk?” yawns Anti, pulling Dapper’s coat off him and pushing him towards the bed. “Here’s the wonderful thing about my brand of hypnotism, darling - it sticks. I’m very careful with my power. Very careful with my resets. Wash this away, leave this behind, take that out, put this in… The surface is gone, but the substance remains. He’s still my Red.”

He pauses beside the bed, staring out the window for a second.

“And I’ll have to be careful,” he murmurs, anger making his mouth curl. “That there is nothing left of your Marvin.”

Anonymous asked: You’re actually wrong. No matter how many ‘resets’ you do, their love for one another still seems to hold strong.

“Only when I want it to,” answers Anti. He is shaking slightly and he hides his trembling hands from you. “Or haven’t you noticed that there is no love at all left between anyone but my twins? Trickshot and Red hate Dapper, Dapper wants no one but me, Red slaps Doktor and Trick around more than I do, Blue will learn to do the same soon enough - no, all’s well. All’s well. I’m in control. I’m the one in control now. I’m the one who makes the characters. They’re mine, they’re mine.”

He hisses and turns away from you, his face glitching.

Anonymous asked: That’s it Anti I think I have enough spite in me to astral project through the screen and at least get one good hit on you. I’m not strong but MAN AM I MAD

Anti laughs, shaking slightly as he crawls into bed beside Dapper. “That’s how I know it was a good day’s work!

“Not strong but mad,” he giggles. “You’re like this kid here, huh?”

He pinches Dapper’s cheek hard. Dapper flinches but doesn’t respond, staring dully up at the ceiling. Anti kisses his cheek. Anti kisses his throat. Anti bites his ear. Dapper whimpers and covers his face with his hands. Anti bursts into laughter, drawing him to his chest. “Give me a kiss!” he laughs. “Give me a kiss, come on.”

Dapper turns on his side and kisses his brother’s cheek without emotion on his face. It stings his mouth.

“Good boy,” purrs Anti, wrapping his arms around him. His face is sallow with exhaustion, he leans his head down heavily on Dapper’s shoulder. Safe on Dapper’s shoulder. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.

“You are okay?” asks Dapper, with a slight flicker of concern. “Anti?”

But Anti is already unconscious.

Most of Dapper’s discomfort washes away. He whimpers and snuggles closer to his brother, hugging him in return, rubbing his back, even if it does hurt to touch him. He presses the reassuring weight of his clock against Anti’s chest, readjusting his brother on the pillows, and curls against his body, letting out a deep sigh.

It was a good day. But it’s time to put it behind him and go back to the way he always lives. There’s no point in anything but duty, after all. There’s no point in the past or the future. All he knows is that he is on the night watch now, and nothing - nothing, nothing - will harm his brother as he sleeps.

cest-mellow asked: hey dapper? are you feeling alright up there?

Dapper stares at you, wrapped up in Anti’s arms. He looks exhausted, but he’s a patient kid.

“Doing okay,” he signs slowly, refusing to disturb his brother. “Should stop expecting anything. Should have known he only let me go so he could reset M… Blue.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, do you know exactly what Anti may have done to Red and Blue? What they went through, I mean?

“Happens often,” says Dapper, his eyes darkening wearily. “Reset. Some things go, some things stay. First day is worst.”

He stares down at Anti for a moment, ensuring that he is asleep, and then up at you.

“Don’t tell Anti,” whispers his hands. “But sometimes, in the days that follow the reset… some things can be recovered, before they are lost forever.”

cest-mellow asked: do you know how we would recover them? just.. hypothetically?

Dapper stares at the floor.

“No,” he says. “Someone tried, once… but it wasn’t enough to save me.”

Anonymous asked: that’s good news!! but how can we get those memories back without anti knowing?

“I think it’s more about the substance of a man,” says Dapper vaguely. He’s untangling himself from Anti a little, setting his brother gently back against the pillows, stroking his fingers through his short green hair. “I wouldn’t know. I can never even find myself, these days. As far as ‘day’ has any meaning. As far as anything has any meaning.”

Anonymous asked: Regardless of memory or time or blood or how it all comes together or crashes down around you... It all has meaning, Jameson. YOU have meaning. I promise you that.

Carver starts and looks up at you, mouth slightly open. He tries to find a response, but his hands are empty and his chest is full.

Until anger comes crashing down on him.

“You’re wrong,” he signs bitterly, drawing his knees to his chest. “I give meaning to other people, but me? No. No. Just… a clock, wound up and changed to fit the time someone else asks for.

“Crashes down around me, crashes down around me… the world crashed down on me a long time ago, or maybe it was only yesterday, and I am the last working piece of the rubble.”

He scratches dully at his wounded head, rocking himself gently, gently.

“And barely working, at that.”

Anonymous asked: Maybe this is convoluted and unfair to ask of you considering that you're the one that CAN answer but... between resetting someone's mind and resetting a time frame, which strikes you as worse?

Dapper pales in the evening light, his hands stammering slightly as he tries to find the right words to answer you. “Well - well - no harm to a time reset,” he cries, distraught. “Is there? I didn’t do anything bad, did I? No harm, no harm - I can know what comes but - I wouldn’t take your autonomy. It’s just - a day! Just an hour! Just…”

He sits back against the headboard, chewing on the nail of his thumb, distressed.

“Then again, there are nice parts to resetting your head… to make the pain fade away into the background…”

He breathes out deep.

“To free the person you were from the sin of the man you’ve become… To be Carver, not… J… to forget what used to make you happy, so you can stop hoping for it, and live misery more peacefully…”

Dapper stares out the window. The northern lights are breathing through the sky, and he quiets, watching them, forgetting what he was talking about.

“And then Anti loves you better,” he adds softly, his hand on his brother’s head. “So… what else matters?”

florenceisfalling asked: is anti still asleep? dapper, do you think you could help... salvage?

Dapper grins a little strangely and points at the rope still lying on the floor, a snake sleeping but not dead. He is unlikely to venture downstairs without permission. He winces slightly and closes his eyes, rubbing at his throat.

cest-mellow asked: is it real love though, jamie? why would someone hurt you if they love you, even if you did something bad, or if you simply didn’t do a thing. why would somebody who loves you hurt you the way anti does? i’m not trying to make you upset. maybe this is something someone else needs to hear, downstairs. but i think you need to hear it too.

“What would you have me do?” asks Dapper distantly. “Even if I left Anti, could I flee my own violence? There’s nothing left for me without him.”

A sudden energy rises in him, powerful enough that you hear him choke, once, twice, as he rides it through, and then he sits up, and his eyes are not silver but blue, blue, blue.

“Do you see that who I was is destroyed and who I am is Anti’s, and if I am not Anti’s then I am no one’s and nothing, and would swiftly kill myself in his absence, as he has always told me I should do if he were to die? Do you understand that I cannot without justification bear the weight of the things I have done? Is it real love? Broken things can love truly! But not well, not well, badly, even - yet a second broken thing expects nothing better than a shattered handful of affection to keep him alive every other night. Where would you have me go? What would you have me do? I can’t pull myself out of these chains. I can’t remember except on the nights when I can and I can’t bring the people I’ve forgotten to remember along with me. Do you understand that only my family could save me, and my family is fucking dead and gone?”

He slumps down beside Anti, covering his face with his hands.

“No, you don’t understand… neither do I… I don’t understand anything anymore… please, tonight is not a confused night, though I wish it were not, as these are the most painful nights to survive, because I am more aware than ever of just how much goddamn pain I’m in - and just how truly I can never, ever be free of it. Just how truly I can never, ever, be Jameson Jackson again.”

There is a long pause. He breathes harshly in the darkness, hiding beside his brother’s body.

Until, finally:

“Anti is someone I could run from,” he admits, very softly.

“But Carver?”

He breathes. The sky breathes. Time breathes in and through and with him. And none of it, none of it, none of it - none of it means anything to him anymore.

“Carver I will never be free of.”

He wishes Anti had reset his memory again. Perhaps the fifth time would work better than the first four.

“Carver I will never, ever, ever be free of.”

Anonymous asked: You have meaning. You're more than a clock. You CREATE, J. You make ART. Those are your thoughts and feelings brought to life. And even if your artwork never makes it it of that room, it's still there and it's yours. You don't need to make them and yet you do. That's a choice and you make it for yourself and that means everything.

Dapper bites down hard at his lip, teary-eyed, a protest rising and dying on his hands, and then something different registers with him, and he blinks, and sits up straight, his eyes widening -

“I,” he stammers, his face losing all color.

He clutches at his heart, trying to breathe, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I forgot to grab my art things… I forgot to grab my chalk and paper.”

cest-mellow asked: can i ask you.. was carver someone in you before anti made you dapper? or did he only become someone after all this?

Dapper gives a soft, breathy moan, clutching at his heart. “Don’t remember… just remember… knife, blood, crying, asleep. Stolen, killed. Red.”

Anonymous asked: I imagine you don't mean red the color. Y'know. All things considered.

Dapper stares at the floor. “The color was the only thing it meant, back then… we never - ”

A hand jolts up to grab him by the throat.

Carver slams his skull back against the headboard, giving a desperate gasping scream. His hands fly up to scrabble at the fingers around his neck, but Anti is holding him tight, glaring up at him, bored and irritated, from the mattress of their bed.

“Anti,” Carver begs, writhing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up - didn’t mean to be loud, move too much - didn’t - please, please, please - ”

Picking at the nails of his free hand, Anti gives no answer but a low, impatient sigh, waiting til Carver’s spasms are reduced to desperate gasping, and then to a slight tremble, and then, at last, an unconscious body in his hand, sinking down into the mattress, its owner’s mouth slightly blue…

Anti drops Carver onto the bed, shoving him onto his back. With all the air of an artist re-arranging a sketch figure, he pushes Carver into a position that’s comfortable for him and lies back down on the boy’s warm chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and falling back into a deep, cozy, and undisturbed sleep.

nikkilbook asked: Red’s wrists are raw? But... didn’t he have a dog bite wound there? And... what do Blue’s wrists look like?

Red stares sleepily up at you, morning light casting gold over his red and brown hair. He reaches up stiffly to stare at his wrist, licking his dry mouth.

“Dog bite, is that what that is?” he mumbles, looking at the bandages. He turns to Blue and picks up his hands as he sleeps, examining the splint on his brother’s wrist. “His is broken… and both of us have these… chain burns…”

He shakes his head, confused. “I don’t remember how we got them…”

Anonymous asked: Why do you feel the need to constantly remind yourself that they’re all ‘yours?’ Dont you understand that the hatred they feel is only making them more miserable? Your so called ‘characters’ are feeling nothing but pain, and misery. Characters are meant to grow and learn and be satisfied in the end. Any good ‘creator/writer’ should know that, but I guess you really aren’t one after all

Anti filters dully through messages, dozing against Dapper’s arm, but at this he jerks up, venomous, glaring at the camera.

“Shut the hell up,” he snarls, dragging Dapper closer to him. “You think I care about any of them? You think I care about anyone? I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything! Shut the hell up! Maybe they could find some satisfaction if they would goddamn do what they’re told! Useless little things, useless, useless, useless…”

He snarls and shakes, sinking suddenly back down towards the bed, a low gasp falling from his mouth. His skin is translucent and his hand grips Dapper’s shirt tightly.

Dapper whines in his sleep and turns over, cuddling up closer to Anti’s chest. Anti softens, humming, playing with his hair. “Mostly, anyway…”

cest-mellow asked: anti, do you actually love your brothers? part of me feels like you do but the other part... i don’t know.

Anti looks up, eyes narrowed.

Eventually he turns back to Dapper.

“What does it matter?” he says finally, without emotion.

“No one knows what I am,” he adds a moment later. “No one… no one knows what I am. Do natureless things have a telos? Can an endless thing have a need for love? Is there love without a telos?”

He sighs and puts his head back down on his pillow, looking sick and human.

“I need to stop downloading philosophy right before bed.”

Anonymous asked: Functionality, uselessness, so many different standards... that is one frankly unhealthy fixation of yours, and it makes me wonder if you’re projecting just a little of your own fear onto them. Because being useless is being weak, right? And you can’t have that from yourself. Anybody else but you.

Anti jumps out of bed, heading for the camera, but before he gets there you see him stagger back, falling against the mattress again. “Everyone is weak compared to me!” he shrieks.

Dapper groans, panting through a nightmare on the bed, his hands covering his ears.

“Everyone is weak and stupid and fleshy and pointless! Shut the fuck up! A fixation, what am I supposed to do, don’t you know I was born full of hatred, it’s his fault, it’s his fault! And he was weak and he was useless and he’s gone now, he’s gone!”

He drags himself back to his feet and throws the camera across the room, hard. Your screen cracks down the middle, giving you a shaky, glitching image as it tumbles to the ground to lay on its back.

“Projecting… I’ll show them motherfucking fear… I don’t have to be afraid of anything.”

skyewardlight asked: Ooooo looks like we hit a soft spot huh? :3c

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

immabethehero asked: Anti, how are you not questioning the talking cameras?

“They’re not fucking talking, they’re just goddamn messages. And they do whatever I want them to, they’re my cameras. Everything with electricity for lifeblood is me, is mine. Talking cameras…”

Anonymous asked: fuck... anti... i respect you. pleeease don't hurt the boys because one of us said something cruel to you. we know you're very powerful. we don't doubt you. i'm sorry.

Anti’s rage simmers a little lower and he shrugs, shaking his head slowly. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, a little thickly, rubbing at his face. “Nothing you can do to me. As if it matters… doesn’t matter…”

He sighs, stretching out his arms and tired, aching neck, looking calmer.

Anonymous asked: You know what would give everyone in this house some life blood? A space heater, Anti. Everyone's cold.

“Space heater,” he repeats. “No, we won’t be in this part of the world long enough to need that. Besides, have they really done anything to earn a space heater?”

spicydanhowell asked: yknow what i think though... and let me phrase this delicately because carver was so well behaved all day but... he and dok and even trick... they all still love each other, or at least care for each other

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” hisses Anti. “Can’t be, can’t be, can’t be. Only on my orders. Stupid little brats. What reason would they have to still care about each other? I reset them and pitted them against each other like dogs in a ring. No, no, don’t be silly, pet.”

He staggers back to his bed, waving a hand, trying to get the camera to turn off.

“That’s enough out of you,” he growls, sinking back onto his blankets, his arms trembling as they lower his weight down again. “I brought you here for one reason and this is not it. I’m the one in control… I’m the one in control…”

The camera blinks off.

cest-mellow asked: hey red, you feeling any better? do you remember anything? even little things like smells, sounds, the way something felt or looked like. anything at all?

Red sits back, smiling slightly at the question as something warm flickers through his mind, a memory so distant it can barely be seen.

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

He looks around. Golden light drifts over his body. He soaks in it, staring out at the forest.

“I think there was… a house,” he says softly. “And it was… warm.”

He looks down at his hands, considering.

“But this isn’t that house.”

nikkilbook asked: How’s my boy doing? He’s gotta be overwhelmed. On like. Every metric.

Red stares at you, his mouth beginning to tremble.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, and breaks into sobs, gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t handle - ”

His twin stirs beside him, rubbing at his eyes. A brief moment of utmost confusion covers his face, but after a moment, it changes to only “mostly confused” and he reaches out to touch Red’s sleeve, avoiding skin, mumbling his name.

“What’s going on?” he asks, soft.

“Don’t remember anything,” chokes Red, rocking himself gently back and forth. “Don’t feel good, hurt, hurt.”

His brother sits up, murmuring reassurances. He’s there to put a warm, steady pressure on his arm. No matter what happens, at least he gets to be there beside his friend, and make sure he’s okay, or, if not okay, still with him, at least.

Still with him, no matter who he is.

Anonymous asked: anti how exactly did it go reseting marvin? i guess red probably took it okay, but, like, what did you actually do to them to make them forget? how did you manage to get marvin to cooperate?

It’s evening and Anti’s only now bothering to rise from bed. His face is still starkly white, though he occasionally glitches back to green, rubbing wearily, angrily, at his face. Dapper’s not currently in the room, but shuffling nearby assures Anti that his pet has not gone too far. In fact, you can hear a sort of clapping coming from the hall.

“It went well enough,” murmurs Anti, satisfaction ghosting over his face. “Yes, you have to be rough to get them to cooperate. I came to grab him while he was sleeping, but then even Red got so upset - went into one of his little fucking freak-outs and wouldn’t come down into the basement with me. So I had to tie him up too. And then it’s just - power like an ocean, and the sound of them crying as they feel themselves drift away.

Like sand from the beach.”

He pauses, rubbing his thumb against his fingers.

“I love when they’re so dopey and confused,” he hums. “Love, love, love them looking up at me like that, waiting for me to tell me who they are… just like Jack must have felt, don’t you think? Just empty slates, waiting to be formed. I love that… but I almost hope there’s a little of the cat left… I want to see him…”

Anti pauses and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I want to see him humiliated by what I’ve turned him into.”

Anonymous asked: (Answer whenever)Why can’t you see that weakness doesn’t make you useless and uselessness doesn’t make you weak. You’re blinded by your constant crave for control, and anger that you don’t see that you yourself are being puppeted around by your own emotions. You can’t make a family forget their love for one another no matter how hard you try, and it pains you. Denial will not get you anywhere. It may be his fault that you’re like this but that doesn’t mean you should enable it for the worse.

Anti is up on his feet, searching through the drawers of the bedside table. Your words draw a low, dangerous hiss out of him, and he turns to you with mismatched eyes, lips drawn back.

“You’re a fool if you think I’m not in control of everything here,” he growls, turning back to the drawer. “I know everything they do, everything they think, everything - goddammit!”

He holds up a little orange prescription bottle. Four tiny white pills rattle around the bottom.

“Okay, you know what,” he says, as horns curl out of the back of his head and the scraping of dog’s claws echo through the air around you, accompanied by the soft snarling of something that you have never heard before. “Maybe there is one thing I can’t control.”

He sets the pill bottle in his hoodie pockets, his face cold as he turns to the light.

“Chase Brody’s unbelievable stupidity.”

He looks back towards his door.

“Red!” he calls. “Go tell Doktor and Trick to wait for me in the basement!”

Anonymous asked: The question is, why exactly did Anti allow us to observe and communicate in the first place? We may taunt him and try to get through to the egos but we're not really a threat while he maintains control.

“You want to know why I allow you to use my cameras? To watch, to see, to speak?”

Anti picks the camera up and holds it in his hands as he stalks out into the hall and back towards his room. Downstairs, you can hear frantic argument. Dapper scoots back against the wall of the hallway as you pass him, clutching something to his chest.

“It’s because I think it’s funny.”

He opens his closet door and pulls out a small wooden box, opening it to reveal a set of gorgeous silver knives, tipped with a different color each. Gently, he pulls out the orange-tipped one, gripping it warmly in his hands, holding it up to the twilight.

“I think it’s funny that you’re still here even after he is gone. I think it’s funny that you sit here and watch as I fucking torture them. I think it’s funny that you lost and you’re still here trying to win, I think it’s funny that my boys find any comfort at all in the things you say, and I think it’s the most ridiculously hilarious thing I’ve ever fucking heard that you still think you can save them.”

The cool blade of the knife glimmers and the light dances at his behest.

“You can watch all you want. Because I hated Jack, yes.” He turns to you.

His teeth are gritted. His eyes are black. The strength of the anger radiating off of him is powerful enough that you can feel it like a physical force, taste it in your mouth, sense it on the ends of your fingers, like when you hear the rattling of a snake but cannot see it yet.

Not yet.

“But some days,” he whispers, teeth bared. “I hated you more.”

There are birds crying in the trees. There are birds fleeing from the trees. The sky is rapid darkening.

“This is my victory. Drown in it.”

And he turns to head downstairs.

skyewardlight asked: Looks like someone's overcompensating about his control. You constantly mentioning that you're in control doesn't convince us Anti. You sound like a child constantly stating they're an adult and throwing a tantrum when someone else says that they aren't. Heh.

“I’m about to show you control,” he says.

The sound of his boots coming down the stairs silences the whole house. Red and Blue cower as he passes, hiding behind their island, not yet sure what’s going to happen, though memories both dull and sharp are rising harshly in their heads, memories of blood and agony.

“Overcompensating… he belongs to me. He’d be nothing without me. And he’s still foolish enough to fail to look after my little one, well.”

He flips the knife around and around in his hand.

“He won’t forget my puppy’s medicine again.”

Anonymous asked: Will hurting him make you feel better? Will hurting him make him love you more? It won’t. He is human, he forgets. You should not punish him for being the way they he is. Brothers are supposed to love one another. Not make the other feel miserable, and helpless. Why can’t you understand that it’s okay not to be in control?

Anti pauses on the stairs towards the basement, panting harshly.

“He shouldn’t forget,” he snarls, scraping his knife against the wall. “He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he should know better, I taught him better! He’s not human, he’s less than that, he’s just - ”

Anti screams and gnashes his teeth, throwing his head. “He’s just a piece of him! And I’ll fucking show him what happens when he doesn’t do what he’s supposed to! He belongs to me, to me, to me! No one else, no one else, no one else!”

Anonymous asked: anti, please, you didn't even tell him to get it. carver didn't even mention it. trick didn't do anything wrong

“Red said it, that Dapper was near to out. He should listen better to his big brother. He never does. Always the littler dog snapping back when he should just roll over. Doktor and I are the only ones he listens to, and sometimes not even then. Besides, he should know what the little one needs. What, he expects Dapper to remember? No. Trick has to change.”

Anonymous asked: Aaaaghhh there was a pharmacy! It was right in front of them and we didn't realize, nooooo! I thought they got everything at the store why!! I feel so deceived!

It was a very small detail!! Red only mentioned it off-handedly and the pharmacy was thrown in among a lot of other details. I think you guys still did a good job checking. Anti’s standards, as you can see, are near impossible to meet.

cest-mellow asked: anti, anti, take a second. everything is okay, red or you can just go out and grab the medicine, right? trick forgot, but he didn’t mean to! he got everything else you asked him to get, didnt he? and i can guarantee he feels absolutely awful about forgetting once he realizes, not because of you but because of dapper! you’re such a good brother, you know that? don’t you think you should be a little more gentle to them so they can be better to you as well?

At the top of the stairs, Anti hears Trick and Dok stop in their panicked discussion with each other, still panting through the darkness. He grits his teeth, growling softly, and a sob echoes off the walls.

Anti rolls his eyes, thinking.

“They would be relieved if I didn’t punish them,” he admits. “But he should… know better, he should… I can take it a little easy on Doktor, maybe. But he should learn, don’t you understand I have standards? No, no, no, there’s no excuses for his bad behavior. What would you have me do if not torment his Doktor? That’s always the best way to teach him.”

Anonymous asked: This is not right. You shouldn’t be doing this to your little brother. He loves you, and would do anything for you. You already make him do so much, and now you’re going to hurt him for accidentally forgetting. What kind of brother tortures the other? They may love you but they do not believe that you love them, and I’m starting to think that, they are right.

Anti bristles with a nasty sneer, stalking down the stairs again. “Oh, you don’t think they love me?”

The boys jolt as he appears before them, backing closer to each other. Doktor tries to keep Trick behind him, Trick does the same with Doktor, and they end up pressed side to side, almost gripping each other’s hands.

“Trick,” he says, snatching him by the throat. Trick screams, lifted into the air - Doktor, at his side and to his credit, does not flinch away. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, yes!” screams Trick, gagging, clutching at his brother’s hands. “Yes, so much, please!”

Anti drops him on the ground.

“Please,” wails Trick. “What did we do?”

“Where’s Dapper’s refill?”

“R-refill?”

“For his medicine, Trick! The shit that keeps him from tearing his fucking face off because he sees dogs eating him alive!”

Trick can’t breathe. His mouth hangs open as he stammers too much to speak.

“We’ll go back and get it,” whispers Doktor, stepping slightly over his brother’s body. “We promise. No harm done, master.”

“‘We,’ no, no, your stupid twin is on his own. If he wanted your help, he should have remembered.”

“D-didn’t - mean to - Anti,” gasps Trick. “D-didn’t - ”

“No, you shut up! Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re lucky your little audience is less bloodthirsty than usual. For once, no one seems to want to see your brother tortured.”

Trick sobs dryly, reaching out to grab Doktor’s pant leg. Anti reaches down to grab him by the hair and yank him to his knees.

“Dapper has two days worth of refills left.” He holds up the little orange bottle and rattles the pills. “So you have two hours, Trickshot. Come back with his medicine. If you make it in time, I won’t touch your twin. If not, we’ll be having fun without you.”

Anti drops Trick again and turns to you, shoving the camera back onto the table by the door. “And if you want to see him safe so badly, then why don’t you save him? Take your camera, Trick.”

For a second, a smile plays across Anti’s mouth like the wriggling of an entrail.

“Your little friends are going to help you on your way.”

Anonymous asked: Money! He needs money!

Trick glances up at Anti for a second, panting.

“I gave you your money,” says Anti coolly, pulling Doktor away from his twin, who gives him one last desperate glance and manages to sign “H-A-L-D - ” before he is yanked to Anti’s chest. Trick hesitates again, trying to think, and a second later the back of Anti’s hand collides with his face, striking him hard enough to make his head spin. Choking, Trick dashes up the stairs, trying to hold back tears, always, always, always trying to hold back tears.

“Trick? What’s going on?” asks Blue, his voice haggard. In a blind panic, Trick considers just dashing away from him. It takes more than half an hour just to run to town, let alone to get the medicine and return, and he already feels so weak and shaky with terror that he can barely stand.

Anonymous asked: Im trying to see the good in your Anti, but sometimes its hard to admit that you’re not a straight up dickwad. He admitted he loved you out of fear and nothing more. They only love you so they can survive another day. Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull? You need help and actual love, and so do they. I know you want that. You’re just afraid that they’ll leave you alone, or that you’ve broken them past the point of no return

Anti screams, a horrible sound, enraged and exhausted, low on power and lower still on patience. “Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut up, shut up!”

He turns his head towards you with a horrible burst of light from his eyes and the camera shorts out entirely with a painful screech, leaving you with no eyes in the basement and a last memory of the sight of Doktor’s face, blank and yet terrified as he sinks, helpless, to the ground.

Anonymous asked: H-A-L-D. Does that mean anything to you, Trick? Can you make anything out?

“I - I don’t know, no, I don’t know anything! I don’t know where the pharmacy is, I don’t know what his prescription is or what fake name he goes by, how much it costs, I don’t have any money, but it doesn’t matter because it’s night and I think the pharmacy is closed and I - ”

He has to heave in a desperate breath, gripping frantically at his hair, tearing, tearing, tearing -

“Trick,” cries Blue, getting painfully to his feet and coming to his brother’s aid. He tries to grab Trick’s hand, but he draws away, frantic, eyes wide.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Blue demands.

“No, no, no, no, Anti said alone - ”

Blue grabs his hands again, successfully this time. Trick stops, gasping, and turns to meet his brother’s eyes, bluer than denim dye. “Trick,” says Blue, softly.

And there is a moment where the name that Trick was told to forget rises to his brain like a sedative, warm and reassuring and tired, and the man looking at him is not just Anti’s, but his own, is someone he remembers, very distantly, very softly, very warmly…

“Marvin,” whimpers Trick. “I don’t know what to do.”

Blue blinks, drawing slightly away.

“I forgot to get Dapper’s medicine and now Anti is angry and he’ll hurt Doktor if I don’t bring it back in two hours but I don’t have anything I need and I don’t know - I don’t know - I don’t - ”

“Amata,” whispers Marvin, touching his cheek. “Breathe. Breathe. What do you need?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re hurt, you’d slow me down. And I can’t ask you for much,” whimpers Trick. “Anti could get mad if he realizes you helped me.”

Marvin’s eyes flash. Red is watching from behind the island, shaking.

“Is there anything I can do?” asks Marvin.

Trick stammers, shaking his head uncertainly, turning to you with eyes wide. “I don’t know, is there?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, has Anti ever accidentally killed anyone downstairs and had you go back to fix it? I was going to ask him this directly but I realized if this has happened, he wouldn't know...

Dapper is sitting in his room, happily drawing with his chalks, which have apparently been returned to him. “Look what someone left on the stairs!” he crows cheerfully, holding up his sketchbook and chalks. “Trick or Doktor, I guess. They must have sneaked up the stairs and everything, just for me, just for me!” His cheeks are flushed with delight. For a second, he just sits drawing, processing your message slowly, slowly, until his chalk has come to a standstill in his hands.

He pauses, staring at his paper, his mouth falling sorrowful again.

“I’ve undone a lot of bad things,” he says. “They blur together. You don’t know how many times I watched Doktor rise up out of that body bag… In the end, I couldn’t even prevent the bullet from striking him, but he did not die. And some days, Trick or Red have not returned home, and I have redone the day again and again. But Anti, killing someone downstairs? Not one of my brothers, maybe enemies.”

He curves the beak of a crow, thinking, his mouth taut.

“Once,” he says, slowly. “Anti told me that he had broken someone, and so I had to undo it… he was very gentle with Trick for some days after… he let him sleep and sleep and sleep…”

Dapper sighs and readjusts, pulling his sketchbook close. “But I’m just glad those things didn’t end up happening!”

Anonymous asked: This is all dappers fault.

The smile dies on Dapper’s lips. “What’s my fault?” he asks shakily, dropping his chalk to the ground. “What did I…”

Paranoid, he rubs at his throat, glancing around, frantic. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked something up and then forgotten about it, only to be punished minutes later. Tears pool in his silvery eyes.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Trick, Dok!! Please be brave for each other. Remember today and how happy you felt!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” chokes Trick, biting on his lip til it breathes. “I have to be - I have to be brave for Doktor. I have to be brave. I have to be brave.”

He tries to take deep breaths, working hard to calm down. He can do this. He can do this.

Anonymous asked: dapper, im sure you won't be able to but - do you think you could fix today? is that even possible?

“Fix today? I could go back before it. But only if Anti told me to. Otherwise I wouldn’t know the password and then he would be angry when he saw my silver eyes. Why, something’s wrong?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you've done nothing wrong. You're medication was forgotten and Anti is pissed but that's just him being... himself, I guess. It's nothing that can't be fixed though okay? What are you drawing?

“Oh.”

Dapper stares down at his paper. After a moment, he sets it unhappily down to the side and gets to his feet, rising to stare out the window. His face is quiet and tired. There are blue bruises all around his throat.

“I hope it can be fixed. He gets so angry…”

He rubs his face, stressed.

“I was just drawing Poe,” he sighs. “But I don’t think she’s coming back anyway. Will Anti hurt the other boys, for forgetting? I should have… I should have remembered.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dappper, it might be in Trick's best interest for you to redo the day. He and Doktor are in serious trouble!

Dapper chews on his nail. “I’d like to help, but it’s not a quick decision, you understand. First of all, there’s no point to a redo unless there’s something I can do to change it. Otherwise we’re just looping. I’m the only one who will remember the change, but Anti will see that I am tired and silver and then he will ask me for the password or a good explanation, and I won’t have it. Then I’ll be in a great deal of trouble, and things still may not be fixed. I need to be able to interfere. Usually, that means I tell Anti something went wrong and he changes his approach or comes to the aid of the brother in trouble.”

Anonymous asked: I don't know what Marvin can help you with, but Red has picked up Dapper's medication before! He should know the medication and the other details. (PS, pharmacy is near the store you had been shopping at for the other supplies)

Marvin whirls on his twin. “Red, tell him what you know.”

Red stares between the two of them, making calculations in his head. Doktor will be hurt if Trick doesn’t come back fast enough. That’s guaranteed. Red himself may be hurt if he helps Trick, but the likelihood is lower, and it could save Doktor. If that were all there was to it, he would take the burden of responsibility without hesitation. Anti said he was the leader, so it’s his job to protect the others. However, things have changed from – oh, he doesn’t even remember, he just knows things have changed. He has a twin now. Like Doktor punished for Trick’s mistake, Blue could be the one punished for Red’s decision.

“You understand,” says Red. “That if I tell him, you could be hurt.”

“Yes,” snaps Marvin, without hesitation. “Stop being a little bitch and tell him.”

Red laughs aloud. If he could remember, he would know it has been a very long time since he laughed like that. He’s starting to see why Anti picked this one for him.

“Fuck,” he laughs, a little hysterically. “Trick, come here.”

Trick, anxious but relieved, hurries to his side and kneels down beside the cupboards with him.

“I was rummaging through the cupboards this morning,” says Red. “Trying to figure out who I was.”

Trick winces at the sadness of it.

“I found all these IDs. They’re for different countries, different names, different ages, different everything. There’s about twenty-five of them and the pictures could work for any one of us. I don’t remember which one I used to pick up Dapper’s medicine.”

“Fuck,” gasps Trick, taking the box of IDs from him. “Fuck, okay, we can do this. There’s Irish, Norweigan, American, French, German, and Dutch IDs.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty white,” says Red.

Trick startles. “Did you just make a joke? I’ve never heard you make a joke.”

“Um - ”

“Never mind. Which should I take?”

Anonymous asked: You use krone as currency, you're in Norway!

“Are we?” asks Red. “I could have fucking sworn we were Irish.”

“We are,” says Marvin, and then pauses, confusion clouding over his eyes. “Are we?”

“It doesn’t matter,” snaps Trick, sorting out the IDs. “There’s five Norweigan IDs. Which should I take? None of these look like Dapper!”

“What sort of differences would Anti use to distinguish Dapper’s ID from everyone else’s?” asks Red. “Or should you just take all five?”

The boys stare between each other, trying to think.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I mean, Dapper is his favourite. Is there any extra care taken on any of the ID's? There has to be something!

“Some of them look newer than others… the birth dates are different…”

cest-mellow asked: red, blue? can you tell me any information about dap’s medicine? what name he uses, what kind, how much it costs? everything you say? this is important, anti is involved. trick is also into town to grab some stuff so if you have some change to spare for him..? thank you boys!

“I’m trying to remember,” sighs Red, sitting back on his heels. “I wish I could just go for him, I might remember something if I could see it. Medicine, medicine, medicine… I feel like the name of the prescription is on the tip of my tongue. Maybe it started with an H?”

“How about money?” asks Marv, coming up beside his brothers to help sort through the IDs. “You got anything stored?”

Red sighs. “Doesn’t matter. Store’s closed by now, I guarantee it. We’re getting close to nine at night and this is a small town, they don’t do twenty-four hours. You’re going to have to break in. You need the name Dapper uses or the name of the prescription, and preferably both.”

Trick jolts. “No, no - stealing shit is your job, I’ve only done that once and we were desperate!”

“Oh, you’re not desperate now?”

Trick whimpers, clutching at his hair. Marvin grabs his wrist and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Red, don’t you have anything that could help him?”

Red turns back to the cupboards, searching again. “There’s nothing tech-related down here. I’m assuming Anti keeps everything in his room. We could go up there and - ”

“No!” cries Trick. “No, no! Anti might let you off just for giving me advice, but if you go upstairs he will beat you into a fucking pulp, guaranteed. Dapper’s the only one upstairs and I’m not sure I want him involved.”

He pauses, biting his nails.

“I’ll… bring Doktor’s gun. And a hood and a mask, and try to break in on my own. The things upstairs would be nice, but it’s not like I can talk to Dap anyway.”

“What are you talking about, breaking in someplace?” protests Marvin, alarmed. “Is that something we do often?”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” frowns Red. “But maybe I’m wrong.”

“Fucking goddamn,” hisses Trick, exasperated. “I think I prefer no-memory Red, but he sure is useless.”

“Hey!” snaps Red, punching his shoulder. For once, Trick isn’t afraid that there are more blows coming, and he can’t help but laugh, wiping at tears in his eyes and shaking like a leaf caught beneath a door.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is there one that looks the closest to Dapper?? You're running out of time...

“No.” Trick’s voice is teary, he knows you’re right. “No, maybe I should just take them all and go.”

Anonymous asked: Does anyone know how many different countries you've been through before this place?

“Oh, I do.” Dapper’s picking anxiously at a splinter on the sill of his window. “Anti tells me and Red, says someone should know. Not that he’ll remember now, poor bloke. The three of us were in good old England for a while, then Ireland, Sweden, the Netherlands. Stopped once in Italy, then back to the Netherlands. I liked the Netherlands the most, we lived right by this great river, and Trick and Doktor were in the next room over, and I would listen to them talking and pretend I was talking to them too. And there were cats that would come up to the window and meow for fish. I loved it there. But we’re here now. I have a very nice view and I like the lights at night.” He sets his head in his hands, his mouth sad. “But I don’t expect we’ll stay long. We never do.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dapper, do you mind showing us your bottle of medicine? That way we can tell Trick what kind to get for you

“Sorry, I don’t see it in my drawer. I think Anti took it with him downstairs.” Dapper rubs his hands together, looking stressed. “I can’t help with anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so useless.”

Anonymous asked: Well, if you're breaking in, you probably won't need the right ID, right? You just need to find meds that match one of the names on the IDs. Bring all of them! And remember that it starts with H, Doktor was saying something like Hald?

“That’s a good point.” Trick looks relieved. “Okay. Let me grab the mask and the gun. Anything else I should bring?”

Anonymous asked: Which one has the youngest birthdate?

“Oh!”

Trick sorts excitedly through the IDs. “This one, um - born October 31, 1993 - Kayden James? Does that sound right?”

Anonymous asked: Haldol? It's an anti psychotic!

“Haldol.” Red snaps his fingers, delighted. “That’s it, I’m sure that’s right.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, I hope you realize that there is more at risk if Trick goes and gets the medication. What if he gets the wrong prescription? Or what if he's caught doing something he shouldn't?

The camera upstairs fizzles and glitches, casting Dapper momentarily in red light.

“Fixes all their mistakes,” plays across the screen in glitching green words.

For a second, Dapper gives the camera a disparaging look, as if he knows what’s being said.

“He’s getting overconfident,” he signs darkly, looking suddenly angry. Then he draws his arms around his chest and sits down on his bed, rocking himself gently, glancing over at the wall that separates his room and Anti’s office.

Anonymous asked: Do you have something you could use as a crow bar maybe?

“All the good stuff is upstairs or downstairs,” whimpers Trick, nevertheless sorting through the cupboards. “I wish I had some of the tech Anti usually gives Red. It’s - oh, fuck, what the hell is this?”

The boys pause to stare at it. It’s a short and very sturdy… stick?

“There’s a button on it,” says Marvin.

Trick presses it. They all jump hard as the stick expands into a full-length staff, Trick tumbling back onto his ass.

“Goddamn!” he snaps. “This is yours, Red.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a fighting staff.”

“You might be able to smash some shit with that. I’m more worried about locks.”

“Well, what’s that if not a lock picking kit?” Marvin points down at a little wrapped up pouch, inside which Trick finds a row of picks.

“Thank God,” he breathes, shoving them in his pocket.

“You know how to use those?”

“Yeah, actually. Fuck, well…” He glances longingly up the stairs at Anti’s room. “I guess that’s it.”

Anonymous asked: Let's see, mask so no one can see your face, gun to threaten people or break windows or something, ID to know which meds to get... unless you have a way to get you there and back faster, you might just want to go now, if no one can think of something else you might need. Time is of the essence.

“Right, right.”

Trick breathes out slowly, trying to steady himself. Fuck, he wishes he could do this with Doktor.

But he can’t. It’s up to him. He has to save his brother. Nothing else matters.

He turns back to the twins and jumps as Marvin presses the mask to his face and tugs the strap down over the back of his head. “Steal more than the Haldol, so the cops don’t trace it back to us. Narcotics or something. They won’t realize you’re anything more than a junkie. Take your brother’s big coat too,” he advises. “Keep the hood up and zip it all the way up, to hide your mouth.”

“Why are you helping me at all?” mumbles Trick, savoring the feeling of Marvin’s hands carding through his hair, just once. “We’re strangers. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”

Marvin pauses. Trick stares up into his eyes. Soft hands, wrapped in warm gauze, descend to cup his face.

“I don’t remember much,” says Marvin, very quietly, so only Trick can hear, and the sheer tenderness of it is enough to bring tears to his eyes. For so long, Dok has been the only one who has cared about him. “But I do remember, little brother, that I love you very much.”

Trick snuffles, trying to hide his teary face as he swallows back the sudden pang of a very warm memory - someone holding him in a hotel room, promising him that everything will be okay, that he’ll be looked after, magic swimming quietly around their heads. He doesn’t want Red to mock him - but to his surprise, his oldest brother comes over too, and sets a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I can’t go in your stead,” says Red, and he sounds it. “Come back to us in one piece.”

Commanding but not cold. Not cold.

“That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” manages Trick.

He packs up his things as fast as ever he’s prepared for anything, snatching Dok’s coat from their nest and tugging the hood over his head, zipping it up from his mouth. Panting hard already, he takes off at a sprint down the steep path from the mountain to the village.

One hour and thirty minutes remain.

They watch him go, tortured twins wrapped in bandages.

“Can I ask you something?” asks Marvin.

“Yeah, course.”

“Why’s your hair red?”

“Fuck if I know. Yours is blue, after all.”

“Mine is what?”

Anonymous asked: Guys, you could just break down in front of the owners and say Dapper's very sick and you have no money....

By the time Trick makes it to the pharmacy, night has fallen dark about him and he is panting hard after the long run down the mountainside toward the sea. He slows as he reaches the village, tugging his hood lower over his eyes, darting behind buildings on his way to the store. There are people out and about, unfortunately, just across the street at the bar and restaurant where he and his brothers got fish just yesterday.

He almost chokes on the memory. He’d give anything to go back to that moment right now, watching Doktor eating fried food until his stomach was full and his mouth was smiling. He wonders if he’s afraid right now. He wonders if he’s in pain. He doesn’t know if Anti will keep his two-hour promise.

“Break down in front of the owners,” repeats Trick, panting as he makes his way to the back of the pharmacy. “I don’t know who the owners are - the shop is closed for the night and there’s no one home. I don’t speak Norwegian and don’t know if they speak English. I don’t know that they would give it to me, and if they did, I’d already have drawn too much attention to myself. But by all means, if you find a solution to all those problems, let’s fucking go for it.”

He rubs anxiously at his face, tears pricking in his eyes. “I don’t mean to snap,” he croaks. “I’m just stressed and - goddamn, no!”

He recoils from the door at the back of the pharmacy as though it’s stung him.

“I was hoping it would just be locked!” he cries, staring in dismay.

The door is locked with a digital number key pad, listing 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, and * all in a mockery of him. Trick grips at his hair. “This is a tiny town, why does it have any tech security at all!”

If he shoots it or tries to break it, he expects an alarm to go off. He needs to know the pass-code or risk breaking in while the cops respond.

Trick groans, turning his face away from the security cameras that watch from the door above, hoping he’s staying covered enough to hide. “Don’t suppose you would know the code? Please? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, please.”

juju-on-that-yeet asked: Look at the pad and see which numbers are the most worn down/faded. That'll give you a place to start, at least.

“M-maybe the 7?”

Anonymous asked: Do you know the address of the pharmacy, where it is on the street? Maybe the code is something like that, easy for employees to remember.

“No, I’m not sure… I’m scared to go around front and look. Or maybe if I could find their phone number online… but I don’t have any way to look that up.”

spicydanhowell asked: TRICK THE CODE IS 3677* (This was a number hidden in the tags of other posts)

Trick stares at you, panting hard. For a second, a million doubts run through his head - they could lie to me, they could make it up so I go to jail, they could be trying to get me away from Anti, they could be Anti trying to trick me and punish me, they could just be messing with me, I don’t even know who they are, how they’re talking to me, why they’re here, what they’d know -

But Dok is waiting for him. Dok is waiting for him and he doesn’t have any other choice and maybe there are some things that are worth putting a little faith in anyway, so he turns and presses his palm to the sensor, plugging in 3677*.

The handle turns in his hand and he gasps aloud, nearly collapsing from the relief. But time is of the essence, as you told him, and he needs to keep going, to be brave for his twin’s sake.

“Thank you,” he signs, tears in his eyes, and he shoves into the store, where bright lights flicker on in response to his movement.

“Okay, okay,” he chokes. “Now I just need Haldol, under the name Kayden James, and to steal something controlled so they don’t track it back to us and it just looks like I’m an addict looking for a fix. What did Blue say? Narcotics or something?”

spicydanhowell asked: a bunch of different stuff, trick, it hardly matters what, just get in and out. Two anons had similar advice added.

“Okay, you got it.”

Trick busts open the master-locked cupboards in the back, using Red’s fighting staff to smash through the wood - to his credit, he’s right that a small town pharmacy lacks good security for the most part, and no alarms go off inside, though he’s certainly been spotted by the security cameras staring down at him from all sides. He finds the prepared prescriptions arranged by last name and grabs at the J’s, finding the orange bottle marked “Haloperidol - James, Kayden” almost immediately, chock-full of the tiny white pills that help his little brother function. Nearly crying, he kisses the bottle and shoves it into his pocket, glancing back at the cold white clock on the back of the pharmacy.

He’s got fifty minutes to get home. He’ll have to run, but he can make it.

Just grab something. Just grab something.

But he doesn’t want people to not get their medicine. He’ll go for the unprepared stuff, the full boxes of medicine.

He turns to the shelves full of boxes and starts rummaging, looking for anything you listed, but nothing here is controlled, nothing addictive or used to make addictive shit, not that he can see, anyway. He glances toward an ancient safe with rusty hinges set on the table in the back and grins.

The hinges break after five furious strikes. There’s a crash as the door tumbles to the ground and he winces, his heart rate picking up. Someone on the street might have heard that. He needs to go.

He grabs two boxes of Percocet and three orange pain killer bottles. He turns back to the prepared prescriptions and scatters them across the floor. They won’t notice one missing in the middle of that, or they’ll assume it was just lost somehow.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Time to fucking go.”

He takes off, pressing back through the door again, staggering into the alley -

Where a small child is standing, staring curiously at the open door.

Trick freezes still, gasping, his hand clutched around Doktor’s gun.

It’s the boy from the shop, the one sitting on the counter while his grandmother checked them out. Trick realizes, distantly, that he was there when he bought this green coat.

The boy is staring at the gun at Trick’s side, fear making his eyes widen.

Trick tries to speak but can only stammer, his brain giving him no words at all. He doesn’t know what to do, and he is afraid.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Run, Trick. Just Run! The longer you stay, the worse things will get. You have everything you need! Four other asks, from florence-is-falling and three anons, gave Trick conflicting advice and were added.

Trick starts and then stops again, staggering slightly. Too many options - he’s not used to having any options at all, Anti or Red is supposed to be with him on missions, telling him what to do, making sure everything goes smoothly - this shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t be happening at all, he wants to go home, he wants Doktor to hold onto him and rock him through this nightmare, until he falls asleep, and wakes up in the morning knowing it is far away -

Oh, fuck, he has to focus, he has to be brave, has to get this medicine home for Doktor, has to, has to!

“H-hi,” he manages finally, remembering your order to change his voice and quickly adopting the accent he always imagines Dapper’s signs in, clear and English. “Hi, there, love, it’s okay.”

The boy stares up at him, his little hands shaking, wrapped around a stuffed dolphin toy. He’s not well bundled up, only wearing a little coat, unzipped, for warmth. He’s perhaps seven years old. A kid this age shouldn’t be out on his own after light’s fallen, should he? And before Trick can think, the words are out of his mouth:

“Why are you out so late? Where’s Mum and Dad?”

A blush rushes up his little cold cheeks. He looks down at his dolphin, picking at its fin, mouth trembling.

“Oh,” says Trick, a little teasing now. “Snuck out, now, did we?”

“No,” squeaks the boy.

At least he speaks English.

“You’re sure?” asks Trick, slowly tucking the gun away in the hopes that the boy didn’t see it at all.

“Why were you inside the store so late?”

“Um,” stammers Trick, swallowing, trying to assert himself. “Um, well - because - because I thought someone had broken in. See how the door’s left open?”

The kid nods slowly, his face twisted up in thought.

“I was worried there was a bad guy inside,” adds Trick, nodding sharply. Okay, he can go with this. It’s a small kid. They’ve both caught each other. It’s okay. It has to be okay. This has to work. “So I went to try and stop him.”

“Ohhh,” says the boy, relaxing. “That’s why you have a gun.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“The police don’t have guns, though…”

Goddamn Europe and their safety laws. “Well,” he bullshits, his eyes flickering around desperately as he hears people walking down the streets. “I’m not a cop. I’m a - a superhero.”

The boy’s eyes widen. Excited. Wasn’t he drawing storm troopers yesterday?

“Like a Jedi,” adds Trick, nodding. “I have to use the gun because my lightsaber’s not working right now. Want to see?”

“Yeah!”

He grabs Red’s staff and pulls it out, extending it in one press of the button. He’s beginning to sweat - do you think the clock is ticking as fast as his heart beats?

“Wow,” breathes the child. “How are you going to fix it?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, I can’t talk right now. I’m in a rush. My - my brother’s in trouble. So I have to go. Okay? You need to go home to your parents, right? Shouldn’t have been sneaking out, should you? So tell you what - I won’t tell anybody that you snuck out, and then you don’t tell anybody you saw me here. Okay? Cause you know superheroes get in trouble with the police sometimes.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Please, bud,” gasps Trick. “Please, um - what’s your name, love?”

“Hunter.”

Trick stops breathing entirely.

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter.

Why does he know that name - a little boy - mousy dark hair, big brown eyes, freckles and a smile on his mouth, crinkle paper and stuffed toys in baby hands, his baby, his baby, his baby -

He should have just run, or knocked him out, or threatened him, like you told him to. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He’s just a little boy. He’s just like his little boy.

He turns away from Hunter and takes off at a sprint, tearing along behind houses and buildings, back into the forest, sprinting, the stitch in his side gone, the pain in his chest gone, nothing remaining at all but the desperation to get home to his brother, and the memory that haunts him, the memory of a little boy all alone.

He moves faster than he’s ever moved up the pathway, branches striking across his brother’s coat. Behind him, he could swear he hears the snapping of dog’s teeth at his heel, the harsh breath of hounds hunting him down, teeth, teeth, teeth always waiting to devour, and he runs, runs, runs, even though he is beginning to lose hope that safety awaits him at the end of the road.

cest-mellow asked: dok? are you doing alright downstairs?

The camera is barely working, but someone must have restarted it. It flickers to life in shaking hands, and you see Doktor’s face.

Anti’s given him new glasses, unshattered, a bizarre show of affection preceding a torture session if Trick doesn’t hurry. He’s alone as far as you can tell, wiping slowly at his eyes as he cries steadily, breathing painfully thin.

“Can you please - ”

He pauses, swallows, restarts, water cascading down his cheeks.

“Can you please tell me if Trick is okay?”

He rubs at his cheeks. Everything he does is strangely slow - you’re pretty sure he’s too clammed up to move any faster. His voice sounds like it’s been put through a straining record player and his chest trembles with the effort of continuing to draw air.

“Anti… hasn’t… hurt me,” he wheezes. “But I think - I think I’d like - I want to go upstairs now, p-please…”

Anonymous asked: So, Marvin, hey, good to see you!! What do you remember? How do you feel?

Marvin’s sitting on top of the island, staring blankly at his hands. You’ve caught him and Red in the middle of a conversation, and his twin looks up at him with worry in his eyes from the floor.

“Umm.” Marvin is looking himself over, tugging down a strand of blue hair to see its color, opening his coat and examining his shirt and pants and jewelry. He doesn’t recognize any of it.

“I’m not even sure this is my body,” he mumbles. His hands shake minutely. Pulling back his sleeves, even Jack’s old tattoo fails to comfort him. They all have one of those. Running his hands through his hair does not give him the correct sensation - he has forgotten the tug of his long hair, but still he can feel that it is missing - he knows that the weight on his fingers is not the one he is used to, that these are not the shoes he is used to watching as he walked, that nothing is - nothing is right, nothing is - all of this - wrong, wrong, wrong -

Oh. On his wrist, there is a small flower, inked into his skin.

“Blue,” murmurs Red. “Doing okay?”

“I don’t remember anything,” whispers Marvin. “Do you?”

“I think there are flashes coming back to me… but not much.”

Marvin swallows, staring down at the flower. “Do you feel like… the person who you see in the mirror… is the wrong person?”

Red stares up at him, wearily. “Only a little,” he answers. “But the sensation is familiar.”

Marvin’s head snaps up. He stares directly at you.

“Is this how Anti always treats them?” he asks. “Sending them into terrors, threatening them for small mistakes, cutting up our hair and changing us without permission? Keeping the other boy in the attic? How long have I been here? Have I always been like this? Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“Blue,” warns Red, staring frantically down at the basement. “Blue, careful what you say.”

“Because this person,” continues Marvin, ignoring him. “This person who Anti tells me I am - this is not the right person. I don’t think this is right. I don’t think Anti is right.”

“Blue,” hisses Red. “Blue, shut the fuck up. Do you want to get killed?”

But, though his memory is gone, his courage is not. And he needs to know. He has to know.

“This is not who I am.”

Anonymous asked: Trick is coming back, he's a little shaken but he's fine!

“Oh, he’s coming back, he’s coming back…”

Doktor hides his face against his knees, breathing harshly.

“Always comes back for me… H-hurry, Trick…”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: Blue!! BLUE!!??! NO! YOUR NAME IS MARVIN! MARVIN!! WE CAN'T LOSE YOU, TOO! NO! WHY... why... I - we can't... lose you, too... not you... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!! IS THIS SOME SICK WAY OF RUBBING IT IN OUR FACE!!?! I SWEAR, I WOULD MAIM YOU IF I COULD, AND I'M PRETTY SURE MARVIN FEELS THE SAME WAY! NOT BLUE, MARVIN! YOU SICK, DEMENTED PHYCOPATH!! (dapper, we might need a time rewindal...) (you did say that you would relive this day right?)

Red winces every time you say the name, covering up his ears and hissing out a warning, but Marvin only smiles, nodding slow.

“Yeah, that sounded more right than Blue when Trickshot said it… but that’s not his name either, now is it?”

oasisofgalaxies asked: I wont say your name right now if it hurts you. Blue, you were someone great, magnificent. a magician, a sorcerer with great power. You cam here because of your heart, your heart always filled with love for your brothers. You came because your brothers were in danger. You came here because Anti stole your brothers from you and turned them into people they aren't. You came here and were captured. You fought so hard, but you fell into the role Anti laid out for you. A role of shackles and chains.

Marvin stares down at his hands, thinking. “You were calling out to me days ago,” he guesses. “But I couldn’t hear you.

“A sorcerer, huh?”

Blue light flickers through his eyes. Red is beginning to look afraid. Your camera screen glitches.

“My brothers in danger…”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, you're a good person. You're a magician without his mask, but remember that underneath whatever clothes anti makes you wear or whatever name he calls you, you are Marvin and you are good.

“Good,” mumbles Marvin, thoughtful. “Strange, I… I’m not sure about that one… there’s this great self-hatred inside of my chest… But I guess goodness is a choice… and I think I’d like to choose it, if I could sort all this out… I have to sort all this out.”

nikkilbook asked: You’re a wonderful man who loves his brothers very much. And by brothers, I mean Red, Trick, Doctor, and Dapper. All of them. Not just your twin. You want to keep them safe and together. You sacrificed a lot to try and keep them safe.

“Did I? Sacrifice for them, try to keep them safe? Looks like I did a pretty fucking awful job.”

Tears spark in his eyes. He closes his eyes and his fist, grimacing as cold washes of memories return to him in blurs barely meaningful - Chase and Henrik hiding behind him, Jackie’s empty bedroom that terrible morning, Jameson dragged away from him, all his power come to nothing -

“But you’re right about one thing - all of them are my brothers. Not just Red. This is my family.”

musical-in-theory asked: You are a magnificent man who loves his brothers, all 4 of them. You are a magic man who does tricks for the delight of others. A kind man. A beautiful person who doesn’t belong in this terrible place

“Tricks?”

This brings a small smile back to Marvin’s face. “Really, like a performer? That’s wonderful. Ha, tricks… and you’re right, I am quite beautiful.”

Laughing, he tries to throw his hair, teasing, only to find it cut short again. “Ah, right… I’m Blue now…”

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you around? Are you okay? Do you know where Anti is?

Dapper’s laid out on his floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“Anti’s everywhere,” he signs dully. “I can feel him summoning up his strength. He feels… angry. You should warn my brothers to be careful. Whatever they’re doing, he doesn’t seem to like.”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: You asked us to remember your name when you forgot it. And that's what we'll do, Marvin. Marvin, the Magnificent. The man who had a deeper understanding of things we'll miss you, Marv. Can I at least say goodbye? Please? Before he is truly gone forever? Bye, Marv. We'll miss you... sorry... this... is all our fault. Sorry.

Marvin stares at the ground. Red has come to stand beside him, gripping his shoulders, trying to keep him quiet.

“Maybe you should say goodbye,” he calls gently. “Give up the old name, please. I’m afraid Anti can hear you. Just - just say goodbye. Anti would like that. Yeah? You don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want - I can’t bear to see you hurt, please, please be quiet,” begs Red, shaking his shoulders. “Say goodbye, Blue, come on.”

His twin closes his eyes, trying to think.

oasisofgalaxies asked: You heard me!! You’re ok! I’m so happy, but now you have to be careful. Anti knows what you’re your up to, or at least he can sense it. Be careful Marvin. I’m worried that if he gets even more mad he’ll do something worse.

“Right, right,” murmurs Marvin. “I need to be quiet - these are his cameras - if he hears me, he could hurt Red to punish me.”

Anonymous asked: I'm with Red on this, Marvin, be very careful what you say and ask. There are eyes and ears everywhere. But no, Blue is not who you are. Anti is lying to you. You might recognize some names - cover your ears if it helps, Red - Jackie, Henrik, Chase, or Jameson? Jack?

Marvin looks up, his eyes full of light.

He wants to say the names out loud, so much it’s almost painful to hold them back, but another look at Red, distressed at his side, stops him short. Squeezing his twin’s hand, he quiets, thoughtful.

“We should change the subject,” he murmurs.

He looks up at Red. “Enough about me,” he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Red pauses, his eyes flickering around anxiously.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says. “I’m just… Red.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, just take everything as it comes okay? I'm saying this for your sake and your family's. We want to about a family field trip to the basement. Your name is Blue and what's important is what's here now. We can't worry about what's past.

Marvin swallows, clinging to Red’s sweatshirt. “Right, right… okay, yeah. I’m - I’m Blue now.”

He closes his eyes as though in pain, but only for a moment, because Red’s relief is enough to reassure him.

“There you go,” cries Red, pulling him into a crushing hug, which makes Blue laugh. “Fuck, now stop saying stupid things!”

Blue tries to shove him away, laughing hard. “Hey, fine, fine! Asshole, get off me!”

“I will not, you’re too stupid to be left alone - ”

Blue hugs him back, chuckling.

With his arms wrapped around his neck, Red thinks he remembers something, vaguely - a younger man in a cat mask, clutched tight to his chest, warm days at home, just the two of them, and then their joy, later, as their little house filled up…

He closes his eyes, pushing away its comfort. The past does not matter and to rejoice in it is dangerous. What matters is here and now. And what he has, here and now, is a family all its own. He can’t let the past matter. He can’t let himself remember. Blue’s hands are warm on his neck.

Your screen glitches.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey guys? Not to cut the sweetness sesh short or anything, but I'd be on your guard. Dapper is worried for you guys. Can you sense anything down there?

Blue and Red glance around, concerned, still holding each other’s arms.

But nothing seems to move.

Everything is quiet.

Still, they both get the sense that something has changed.

Footsteps in the hallway above them.

They exchange glances, confused.

Anonymous asked: Yeah, everything's okay here! Just Blue and Red, hanging out, being goofs. Nothing to see! Maybe you guys can go to the window and watch for Trick for a bit, since he's on an errand and not on watch?

“Sure,” says Blue, swallowing. “Um, yeah. Inconspicuous, right?”

He ends up too tired to get up the three little stairs to the nest, his stitches aching painfully, but Red manages to get up and sit beside the window, watching for his brother.

Anonymous asked: Can you guys be ready for Trick when he comes home? I don't want the door being locked or something stupid like that tripping him up...

“Okay,” agrees Blue, limping to the door and pulling it open. He sits down on the porch and waits, hopeful.

“I don’t expect he’s got much time left.”

Anonymous asked: Trick: *steals child* this is mine now

“I wish I could tell you,” pants Trick, drawing near to home. “That I wasn’t fucking tempted.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Marv, Blue if it keeps you safe, you should keep an eye on Trick when he gets back. He met a boy called Hunter. Not /Hunter/ Hunter obviously (I assume he's safe with his mum and sister) but it almost stirred a memory in Trick. If anything happens and he begins to properly remember, I'm sure he'd appreciate his brother trying to be there for him as best he can. I mean, I'm saying all this and I'm not even sure you remember who Hunter is.

“Oh, no… I don’t remember who Hunter is, but I think I get the gist. I’ll keep an eye on him… that’s all I can do, right? I’ll ask him how he is, keep an eye on him.”

Anonymous asked: Trick are you running? How close are you? Similar asks from florenceisfalling and cest-mellow were added.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Do I still have time?”

He’s panting hard, but there, in the distance, he sees Blue, sitting on the stairs. His brother rises as he approaches, calling for him.

“Yeah, I got it!” he cries, rocketing up the porch and practically leaping into the house, brushing past Blue. “I got it, I got it! Where’s master?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t seen him - ”

Trick yanks open the door to the basement and sprints down the stairs, sliding slightly on old blood. He finds Doktor curled up against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, shaking hard, but he doesn’t see Anti. He pauses to give his twin a quick kiss, promising him, “I got it, I got it, he won’t hurt you now!” before dashing back up the stairs.

“Where is he, where is he?” he cries, staring frantically around. “Anti, Anti, I got the - ”

Blue grabs his shoulders tightly, silencing him by his intensity. His vivid ocean eyes are fixed on the staircase.

Trick turns his eyes to look too.

Steps come down the stairs. Red, Blue, and Trick watch uncertainly as the silhouette appears.

“Dapper?” asks Trick softly.

Dapper’s body is at the bottom step.

Anti shakes his head no, slowly.

“Oh,” stammers Trick, backing up slightly against Blue’s chest. “Okay, um…”

Anti wears Dapper looser than he did Red. There is no stiffness, no scars, no pain. Dapper’s body fits him well. He tugs up the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt, complete with a bowtie, and reaches out an empty hand.

Panting roughly, Trick holds out the Haloperidol. The pills tremble in his fingers and steady in Dapper’s.

Anti regards them coolly, his head tilted. Curls of light brown hair tumble into ink and pitch eyes.

He turns to go, waving a disinterested hand at the basement. Trick, nearly wheezing, sorts his priorities out and decides not to question, darting back down the stairs to get his twin.

“Anti?” asks Red, summoning his courage.

Anti pauses, turning to look at him.

“Not questioning, sir,” says Red softly. “But is there a reason I should know about that made you decide to, um… wear… Dap?”

Fear and rage burn in Blue’s throat like vodka as he stares at the monster wearing his baby brother. A recollection awakens in his chest - Jameson, less haggard but no younger, curled up against his chest, teaching him sign language with careful, patient movements of his hands, laughing sweetly every time Marvin messed up. He swallows hard, squeezing tight his trembling hands, feeling magic curl like dragon-fire against his palms.

Anti turns and looks directly at him.

Looks directly at Marvin.

And then he turns around, in silence, and heads back up the stairs.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I hope one day you realize, Anti, that this isn't how you show love. There is a HUGE difference between love and control.

Anti is shadowed in darkness. He moves up the stairs, looking up at you.

“Maybe,” he signs. “But the difference no longer matters.”

End Section Four of Chapter One.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

#abuse tw #torture tw #pharmacy break-in #chapter 1

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firemedicdiaz · 7 years

Text

In Over Your Head

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Leonard McCoy X Reader. Prompt: Alternative coffee shop AU. Word Count: 3247. Warnings: None. Rating: Teen+. Genre: Fluff. Summary: After watching him swim laps almost daily for close to a year, you finally get the chance to talk to the man you’ve been eyeing, though not at all in the way you’d expected. Beta: @starshiphufflebadger. Author’s Note: For @yourtropegirl! My apologies for how later this is! Thank you for all that you do for our fandom (and all of the others you belong to, too), and I hope you stick around for a long, long time! We love you, Heather! <3

In Over Your Head

You smile inwardly as you stroll along the platform separating the two Olympic sized swimming pools in the middle of the city’s premier aquatic complex. He’s here again; the handsome stranger you’ve been watching swim for nearly a year. You’re mesmerized by the way the light catches the droplets of water that cling to his skin every time he comes up for a breath of air, the way his muscles move beneath the skin and sinew that covers them, by the gorgeous hazel eyes you know are hiding behind the reflective goggles he’s wearing. You’re so intent on watching him that it’s a chore to have to pull your gaze away to check all the corners of the pool with every length you walk along the platform. Even though he’s the only one in the facility at the moment however, you know you have a job to do. The sound of the water splashing with his every stroke becomes hypnotic as the minutes pass and time seems to go by even more slowly for a while. You hope for a distraction but find none; the pool is still completely deserted aside from him. Glancing at your watch briefly, you sigh and shake your head: only three more hours to go until the end of your shift. Another several long minutes pass before the sound of a splash shakes you out of your reverie and you glance over just in time to watch the handsome stranger climb up the ladder near the far end of the pool. Guarding protocols be damned, you find yourself walking swiftly across the deck and over to where he’s plucking his towel up off of a nearby bench. Placing yourself so you can see all entrances to the pool area in case anyone else suddenly graces you with their presence and you have to get back to work, you casually hook your thumbs in the waistband of your shorts. “Enjoy your swim?” You ask, hoping your tone sounds more casual to his ears than it does to your own.

He smiles as he runs the towel over his hair, leaving it sticking up in places as he turns to look at you. “Are you kidding?” He says. “There’s no one around, it’s like having my own pool with my own personal lifeguard.” He winks and picks up his water bottle, taking a long draught as you feel your face heat at his words. “Not that you’ll need saving any time soon,” you say with an inward grimace, sure you’re going to derail the conversation in some awkward way very soon if you don’t make an escape. “I’ve been watching you swim for months; you’re a natural.” There it is. You’ve just admitted to staring at the guy every time he’s been there and you’re sure he’s about to give you a look, but instead he laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing natural about it, I’ve been swimming my whole life,” he explains. “I’d love to hear more about that some time,” you say softly. Stop it! “I’d like that,” he says warmly, picking up his towel again and angling his body toward the changerooms. “I’ve got to run, I’ve got a shift starting in half an hour, but I’ll hold you to it. I’ll catch you next time…” “Y/N,” you say somewhat breathily, your mind racing at the implications of your somehow impossibly successful flirting. “Y/N,” he repeats, holding out a hand to shake yours. “Until then.” You nod in response and reach out, returning the handshake, feeling a flutter in your chest at the warmth and firmness of his grip. “Until then,” you echo, letting go once more. He leaves the pool deck with one last wink and any memory you may have had of his grasp dissolves away as the cacophony of children’s laughter bounces off of the walls around you and you realize a group of moms and tots has entered the kiddie pool across the way. Sighing inwardly, feeling robbed of the joy you felt in the immediate wake of his touch, you turn on your heel, pick up a flutter board just in case, and make your way over to where the action is. Your eyes stay on the kids for the remainder of your shift, but your heart and mind are somewhere else entirely.

A few days later, you’re seated in the front row of a small number of tables and chairs in one of the complex’s fitness classrooms. You and about a third of the rest of the complex’s staff – about fifteen people – are awaiting the start of your annual first aid and CPR recertification course. Rumor has it the complex has invited a trauma surgeon to present the course this year as part of a new initiative that helps teach not only the basics, but more about how the actions of first responders affect long-term patient outcomes in hopes that a smoother, more efficient first response plan can be drafted and initiated to encourage better patient prognoses. You’re just taking a swig from your water bottle a moment later when you hear the door to the classroom open. Glancing over, you watch your supervisor walk in followed closely by someone familiar looking. It takes you a second, but you realize the man is the one you’ve been watching swim for the longest time. He looks even more handsome dry and dressed in a well-tailored black suit and blue button-down shirt. As he sets down his brief case and glances at all of the supplies gathered around him for teaching, your supervisor calls the room to order. “Thank you all for coming out,” she says brightly. “Now, I’d like you all to give a warm welcome to Dr. Leonard McCoy, chief of surgery at Northside General. Please give him your undivided attention, ask questions, and make the most of these next few hours.” You heard her words, but stopped paying attention after she had introduced him. You got too busy staring at him wide-eyed and acutely focused. Chief of surgery?! You’re too busy being amazed at the fact that someone in as prestigious a position as his would give you the time of day and take you up on your offer of coffee some time to realize that your supervisor has left and Dr. McCoy has started his lecture. When your thoughts finally catch up to the present, you frantically scramble to pull out your notepad and pen, nearly flinging the entire set up off of the table. Chewing the inside of your lip from the embarrassment, you slowly and quietly slide down in your seat a bit and start jotting things down. After nearly an hour of lecture which you’re finding both fascinating and a little bit over your head, Dr. McCoy breaks off the talking and starts talking about some of the basic skills of first aid and CPR – the ABCs. “Now, I’d like you all to break off into pairs,” he instructs. “I see we’ve got an odd number in the room, which actually works to our advantage. I’ll need someone up here to help me demonstrate some of these skills anyway.” You try your best to disappear from view as he glances down at you and you whip your head from side to side, looking for a partner. It’s to no avail – you’re the only one sitting in the very front row. “Y/N,” he says brightly. “Would you be so kind as to assist me?” Biting back an impulsive no, you give him a quick nod and get to your feet, smoothing down your employer-issued shorts and t-shirt. Making your way to the front of the room, you take a seat up on the table in front of him so you’re clearly visible to the others in the room and promptly proceed to tuning him out in favor of focusing on not fidgeting uncomfortably instead. You try to ignore your coworkers’ eyes flickering between you and him, but you’ve never particularly enjoyed being up in front of people, let alone when you’re already flustered by the attractive man hovering over you. You aren’t left to space out for long, though, as suddenly you feel Dr. McCoy’s hand land on your shoulder and you’re startled out of your thinking. “Sorry,” he says with an apologetic expression. “Now, your only job is to relax while I go over some assessment skills.” You nod to give him the go-ahead and with that, the next couple of hours pass by in a flash. Your anxiety melts away as the group breaks off into pairs to practice some of the skills Dr. McCoy has explained and you’re left alone with the man himself. Despite the fact that he’s got years of knowledge and experience on you, he never once stops to criticize your work as you practice your splinting and bandaging skills, though you’re acutely aware of the way he’s watching you work throughout. The rest of the class goes by in a blur and you have mixed feelings about it as you’re taking your test at the end. On the one hand, you’re glad it’s over for another year, but on the other hand Dr. McCoy hasn’t given you any indication that he’s ready to take you up on that chat you’d discussed the other day at the poolside. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realize you’re the last one left writing and as you glance around and find only Dr. McCoy left in the room with you, you quickly fill in the last few bubbles on your answer sheet and all but throw the exam booklet on the table in front of him before disappearing. Well now you’ve blown it. You consider going back as you stride toward the staff lockers but you’re too nervous about the sort of impression you’ve just made to actually do it. Instead, you hurriedly pack your things together and escape out the building’s side door, not wanting to chance running into the doctor again so soon.

Another two days later, just when you’ve finally put thoughts of him out of your mind, the sound of feet plip-plapping on the wet tile of the pool deck gets your attention. You glance over your shoulder from where you’re making your rounds and meet Dr. McCoy’s gaze across the lanes separating the two of you. Whipping your head back around to face forward, you curse inwardly and take a deep, steadying breath. You don’t have any choice but to face him and so you steel yourself, turning on your heel and marching across the deck towards him. He smiles as you approach and his expression is soft. “Sorry I pulled a disappearing act the other day,” you offer before he can say anything. He shrugs. “I figured you had somewhere to be,” he says lightly. “But I was a little upset that we didn’t get the chance to plan that date we’d talked about last time.” Your brain short circuits a bit as you realize that he’s still interested in you and it takes you a moment to think of a way to respond. “Sorry,” you murmur. “I just… got a little intimidated by you.” He laughs softly. “Darlin’, I don’t have an intimidating bone in my body,” he assures you. “Let me prove it to you. What time are you off?” You swallow thickly, your mind still buzzing, his hypnotic hazel eyes not making it any easier to concentrate as you look into them. “Seven,” you reply. “Great,” he says. “That gives me plenty of time to get a few laps in and shower. Are you free for coffee after work?” You nod mutely, feeling a prickle of excitement set all of your nerve endings alight. Dr. McCoy smiles at your agreement and shifts from foot to foot, kicking off his flip flops and gesturing to the water. “I’ll meet you at the front desk after your shift,” he says warmly. “Unless I require your services sooner.” You chuckle and roll your eyes, waving your flutter board at the pool to encourage him wordlessly to get a move on; his well-toned bare chest is beginning to get really distracting. “You’d better not,” you admonish playfully as you turn to go back to your rounds. “Stay out of trouble.” The words no sooner leave your lips than you see a flail of limbs in the periphery of your vision and a startled yell reaches your ears. You pivot back to face him just in time to see him hit the deck, landing sprawled out on his back. Jumping forward, you kneel at his side and reach out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move!” You say on instinct. He groans in pain but then smiles wryly, looking over at you. “I’m fine, sugar, I didn’t hit my head,” he assures you, lifting his right arm to reveal a small pool of blood beneath it. “Just banged myself up a little. Looks like you jinxed me.” Your eyes widen a little in horror and he reaches out to put a hand on your arm to reassure you. “I’m kidding,” he says quickly. “Just bad luck is all. No harm done.” “Still, we should get you seen to,” you insist. “Looks like you’re going to get to put those skills to the test after all,” he says with a wink. You try to hide the dread you feel at having to patch up a trauma surgeon with exponentially more experience than you and nod, holding out a hand to help him up. As you support him while he gets to his feet, you wave at the other guards to let them know you’ll be off deck for a little while. Helping him along to ensure he doesn’t slip again, you lead him to the first aid room and seat him on the stretcher while you get together some supplies. Once you have your gloves on and your paraphernalia assembled, you turn to face him with a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze. He’s already got his arm bent to expose the scrape on his elbow and you look up at him apologetically. “This might sting a bit, Doctor,” you say stiffly, rolling the title around in your head. “It’s Leonard,” he says gently. “Or Len, if you like.” “Len,” you say softly. “Rolls off the tongue nicely.” You carefully dab at his wound with the antiseptic and he doesn’t so much as flinch. You can feel his gaze on you and your face is burning. Keeping your own eyes cast downward, you finish up with the cleaning and apply an antibiotic ointment before neatly securing a dressing into place with a pristine stretch of cling gauze. Once you finish, you take off your gloves and dispose of them, offering Leonard a smile. “And this is the part where I give you the mandatory follow up with your doctor to ensure it doesn’t get infected advice,” you say. “But I’ve got the feeling you’ve got an even better handle on all of this than I do.” “It’s nice to sit back and let someone else take the reins sometimes, though,” Leonard says warmly. “Besides, you did a great job. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” “Only because it’s your dominant arm that’s injured,” you mutter quietly. “Nonsense,” he assures you. “There is one more thing you could do, though, to perfect your technique in this case.” “What’s that?” You ask, heart hammering behind your ribs as you worry that you’ve made some kind of terrible mistake. You glance up as you feel him leaning in closer to you, feeling the heat radiating from his skin at your proximity. “If it’s not too much trouble, it might help to kiss it better,” he whispers, his eyes traveling down from yours, lingering on your lips. You can hear your heartbeat echoing so clearly in your ears that you’re sure he can hear it too. Swallowing thickly, your breath coming short, you lick your lips and nod. It’s all the consent he needs and within a second, he’s closing the gap between the two of you. His lips are soft, gentle and tentative against yours at first, giving you the chance to pull away if you change your mind, but the way his hands land on your hips, stroking there lightly, you find yourself being consumed. You press closer, adding a little bit of passion to the kiss, and every nerve ending in your body catches fire. Your breathing is ragged and you feel dizzy as the kiss lasts for several long moments, but as the two of you pull apart you find it’s way too soon. You miss the contact immediately. “Better?” You ask breathily, licking your lips as you slowly open your eyes. “Much,” he replies, his hands still on your hips, thumbs still gently caressing your skin through your shirt. Glancing over at the clock on the wall behind him, you gasp as you realize you’ve spent more time in the first aid room than you’d thought. Your shift is over in half an hour. “You ought to shower up,” you tell him, stepping aside so he can hop off of the stretcher. “Assuming we’re still on for coffee, that is.” He stands and steps closer to you, reaching up to cup your cheek, gently caressing your face for a brief moment before sidestepping you and heading towards the door. “Darlin’, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing from sight. You reach up, burying your face in your hands, biting you lip and letting out a small noise of excitement. You feel like a teenager who has just experienced their first kiss. In a rush, you clean up after yourself and change the sheet on the stretcher before dashing out of the first aid room to finish a few last laps around the pool deck. As you finish up and clock out, you change hurriedly into your street clothes and take a deep breath to steel yourself before heading out to meet Leonard. When you meet his gaze across the space between the two of you in the complex’s lobby, you swear the smile on his face is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, and as he holds out an arm for you to take, you send up a silent blessing for having found the courage to finally say hello to him.

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modernbookfae · 7 years

Text

I’m Here

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

After a night spent in the hospital following her being attacked, Nesta awakens with an aching body and new scars that will serve as a reminder of the previous day’s events. But what hurts the most is how Cassian is seemingly acting distant toward her. And how will she respond to seeing Tomas staying in the same hospital? Or how will Cassian react when he finds out?

A steady beeping sound cut through the heavy darkness. No matter how hard Nesta tried she couldn’t escape. Her arms felt heavy. Her legs refused to move. She could feel her heart thumping inside her chest. Each beat echoed in her ears in time with the vague beeping noise.

Nesta.

Hello? Nesta searched for the faint voice, but nothing could be seen. The pitch black void made it impossible to navigate.

Please come back to me. A familiar deep tone pleaded.

I can’t find you. Nesta continued looking in the shadows. Panic threatened to suffocate her lungs.

I’m sorry Nesta. The voice began to fade away into a whisper.

No, don’t go! Nesta cried out and feebly attempted to reach out.

But it was too late. Silence and emptiness left Nesta in a chasm of loneliness.

No. I must be strong. I will be strong. Nesta murmured to herself. She struggled to rise from her prison of darkness. Seconds passed by or perhaps it was hours before she felt the weight gradually lift from her body.

And Nesta finally opened her eyes.

She blinked against the harsh brightness and raised her hand to shield her sight. The movement caused her arm to ache.

Nesta shakily sat up in a hospital bed.

“What…?” She glanced around taking notice of the beeping monitors. A window on the far side of the room filtered in daylight and outside the open door sounds of doctors, nurses and other patients carried to Nesta’s ears.

She lifted the blanket off her body and swung her feet off the side of the bed. Her legs thankfully were uninjured except for a few scratches. She then realized that her clothes had been replaced with a hospital gown that ended just below her knees.

The memory of the event that put her here came flooding back.

Tomas had attacked her. And he had threatened to go after Elain and Feyre.

That thought alone propelled Nesta action. She stood up and gripped the bed’s railing for balance before moving toward the open door. Her movements were sluggish as her bare feet fumbled across the cold floor.

She braced a hand on the doorframe and peered into the hallway. And was met by a broad chest covered in a navy blue sweater.

Nesta jolted back in surprise.

Two large hands immediately reached to steady her.

Nesta’s eyes shot up in terror. But her worry vanished as she gazed up into the concerned hazel eyes that looked deep into her own.

“Ca-Cassian?” Nesta stammered.

Cassian stood still. His hands hovered inches above Nesta’s waist, but the flash of fear in her eyes had halted him before he got carried away in the moment of seeing her. He saw her unease disappear, but those brief seconds of seeing her afraid made him crumble.

“It’s me Nesta,” Cassian confirmed. His voice smooth so he wouldn’t startle her again.

“You’re…here,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian nodded. “I am, but you should be in bed.”

Nesta blinked. Remembering why she was out here in the first place.

“No I need to stop him! He said he would go after my sisters!” Nesta exclaimed. She intended to move around Cassian, but he stepped in front of her. Blocking her path to the desk.

“Slow down,” Cassian said slowly. Attempting to calm her. “You’re sisters are safe Nesta.”

“Cassian you don’t understand! He said – Oh God what if I’m too late?” Nesta’s voice cracked on the verge of tears. “I need to find Elain and Feyre!”

“Nesta?” A soft voice spoke from behind.

Nesta gasped and whirled around to be greeted by the sight of not only Elain, but of Feyre and Rhysand. Each of them held bottles of water.

Elain tentatively walked forward with wide brown eyes. “Nesta are you…?”

“You’re safe,” Nesta exhaled deeply in relief that shook her frame. She shifted her gaze to look at Feyre. “You’re both safe.”

“I think we should be more concerned about you at the moment,” Feyre moved forward to close the distance between them.

Nesta swallowed and reined in her emotions to hold back a sob of relief. Her sisters were safe. That was what mattered.

“Why don’t you all go inside while I get the doctor,” Rhysand said.

“I’ll go with you,” Cassian said abruptly. Nesta turned in astonishment to face him. Yet his eyes wouldn’t meet her own. In fact he avoided meeting her gaze.

“Cassian?” Nesta uncertainty filled her voice, but he already started walking away.

“Come on,” Feyre said. “Let’s sit down before they get back.”

But Nesta couldn’t look away from Cassian’s retreating form. Suddenly her heart hurt worse than any other pain.

Feyre and Elain guided her back into the room. Nesta took a seat on the bed, but refused to lie down despite Elain’s flustering worry.

“How are you feeling?” Elain nervously looked at two of Nesta’s fingers wrapped in a splint.

“Not too bad,” Nesta said. “Despite a few aches and pains.”

“You had us all worried,” Feyre said. “Cassian barged into the emergency room last night looking for you when we found out your were attacked. I thought he was going to take down a guard just to find you and then we would have to bust him out of jail.”

“Cassian was here? Last night?” Nesta internally hoped he didn’t find her yesterday. She could only imagine the state she was in when the ambulance brought her in. There was no way she would have wanted him to see her like that.

Shame burned her face. How could she have let this happen? Why did she let herself be put into a vulnerable position?

“He has been here since this morning,” Elain added. “We all showed up for visiting hours since they wouldn’t let us see you yesterday.”

“Really?” Nesta looked down at her hands and tried to contain all the emotions that were swirling inside. What did she ever do to earn their care and love? All she ever did was push them away. And they still didn’t abandon her.

“You called out for Cassian,” Feyre sat down beside Nesta. “He would always hold your hand, but when he had to leave the room you would sometimes mumble for him your sleep.”

Nesta flushed red. “You’re kidding right?”

“She’s not lying,” Elain lowered her voice. “In fact I overheard the nurse asking him if he was your Cassian since you kept repeating his name in ambulance on your way to the ER.”

“I did?” Nesta tried to remember the ambulance ride, but nothing came to her. The last thing she recalled was falling in the snow. And whispering his name.

“What did Cassian say? When the nurse told him that?” Nesta fidgeted with her fingers. Acting nonchalant about the situation when all she could think of was Cassian’s reaction

Elain turned sheepish. “Well…he looked…surprised and….walked away without saying anything.”

Nesta turned those words over in her head. This didn’t seem like Cassian. Even out in the hallway moments ago made Nesta feel as if something had changed in him. If anything he should have been teasing her instead of avoiding her.

“What…happened yesterday?” Elain timidly diverged the conversation. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Elain added quickly.

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek and snuck a glance at Feyre who watched her closely. With a sigh Nesta decided to tell the truth.

“It was Tomas.”

“Tomas?” Elain cocked her head. Perplexed for a moment. “You mean from high school?”

“Yes,” Nesta said. “Although he obviously didn’t take the hint that I was not interested him back then. And he pretty much decided to make my life hell for breaking up with him.”

“Why would he do that though?” Elain asked. “Why try to hurt you when things didn’t work out.”

Nesta was silent. Debating whether or not to reveal the dark past she kept hidden. It still hurt thinking about it. And now those past scars had opened up. How could this have happened again?

“It’s okay Nesta,” Feyre said softly. Her hand touched Nesta’s clenched fist. “You don’t have to say it now if you don’t want to, but I think you should get it off your chest soon. You’re only hurting yourself by keeping it bottled up inside.”

“Do you know what happened…back then?” Nesta bit her bottom lip lightly. Wondering if Feyre caught the signs.

Feyre shook her head. “No, but I do have a guess considering his family and the way Tomas acted before we left for Prythian.”

Nesta opened her mouth to say something else, but then a female doctor walked in with Rhysand and Cassian in tow.

“Good afternoon Nesta,” the doctor greeted. “I’m Dr. Landi. It’s great to see you awake and from what I heard you were also walking. Is that correct?”

Nesta nodded, but her eyes kept slipping to Cassian.

“I want to run a quick check of your vitals and ask some questions,” Dr. Landi held a clipboard and sifted through the pages.

“Looks like you had quite a rough last night,” Dr. Landi didn’t beat around the bush as she started writing notes from the monitor readings.

“You could say that,” Nesta played with the hem of her hospital gown. She blushed thinking about how silly she must look in the papery material. “When can I leave the hospital?”

“When you’re better,” Cassian said briskly before the doctor could say anything. Nesta looked up at him in confusion.

“I feel fine.” Nesta was determined to leave immediately. She didn’t want to stay in this place any longer when she wanted to go home.

“You’re definition of fine is not the same as mine,” Cassian crossed his arms and his features mirrored Nesta. He was not about to let her leave if she wasn’t well enough.

“Let’s check your heartbeat,” Dr. Landi placed a stethoscope against Nesta’s skin on her back and then in the front of her chest.

Meanwhile Nesta and Cassian were staring each other down. Nesta didn’t understand why Cassian was acting this way. She expected him to be the one to ease the tension in the air, but if anything he was the most tense in the room. He had yet to even smile. That alone made Nesta worry.

He looked exhausted. His ebony hair was in a messy bun with strands falling out. Dark circles formed underneath his eyes, but the frown marring his face disconcerted Nesta the most.

“Hmmm,” Dr. Landi hummed while she jotted down the rest of the vitals onto Nesta’s paperwork. “You’re vitals are good although your blood pressure is a tad high.”

“Probably, because grumpy over there hasn’t stopped glaring this whole time,” Nesta motioned to Cassian. His frown deepened and Nesta resisted the urge to cringe.

“Now is not the time for jokes,” Cassian said taking no amusement from the situation.

“How is your head?” Dr. Landi dismissed the tension starting to fill the room even more.

“Other than feeling a little lightheaded I’m good,” Nesta replied honestly.

“I thought you said you were fine earlier,” Cassian almost growled out.

Nesta shot him a scathing look. She was getting tired of his negative attitude. “I am fine. But maybe you should check and see if the doctor can pull whatever it is you have rammed up your butt.”

Feyre let out a cough to hide a laugh and even Elain let out a startled noise somewhere between a gasp and giggle.

“There’s the Nesta we know and love,” Feyre’s tone held evidence of a smile.

Cassian did not take the joke lightly. He took a couple steps toward the bed. Fully intending to tell Nesta how serious the situation was before Rhysand grabbed his forearm.

“Do you need to leave sir?” Dr. Landi asked Cassian who shook his head stiffly. His eyes pierced into Nesta as the seconds passed in silence. Dr. Landi watched him before returning back to her examination.

“Two of your fingers on the left hand were broken so they will need to remain in splints for a few weeks,” Dr. Landi explained. “There are also a couple of bruises and scratches you’ll probably be feeling soon once we take you off the medication, but they’ll heal in no time”

“The sooner the better,” Nesta hoped her body would be back to normal quickly.

“Do you feel pain anywhere else?” Dr. Landi asked.

Nesta was tired of hearing that question, but when she shrugged her collarbone and right shoulder stung. She winced and missed the concern that immediately filled Cassian’s face.

Dr. Landi pulled the top of Nesta’s hospital gown down low enough to expose a harsh red line of skin that was stitched together.

Elain gasped at the injury. Even Feyre and Rhysand had gone still at the sight.

But Cassian’s face cracked the longer he looked at the wound. He turned pale and swallowed down the bile that rose to his throat. He had seen worse injuries, but looking Nesta’s shoulder where the red line of flesh was held together by stitches made his knees threaten to buckle. By a thin shred of determination was he able to keep himself standing tall, but his face crumbled under the idea of someone being capable enough to hurt anyone in such a way.

And that alone made Nesta ill once she noticed Cassian’s expression. Not the damaged skin that pained her, but the way Cassian looked at it. Looked at her.

Tears ran down her cheeks against her will. Nesta wiped her left hand against the traitorous trails that dripped onto her knees.

Cassian’s gaze flashed to her face before she rid the evidence of her emotions. His expression instantly darkened like storm clouds.

He was angry toward the person who harmed Nesta. And he hated himself for not being there to protect her. He had broken his promise to her. One of the last things he ever said to her before everything went to hell.

I promise that I’ll protect you Nesta.

The memory made Cassian clench his hands into fists. How could he have failed her?

He didn’t deserve. Not when he couldn’t even keep a promise that was this important.

“You’ll have a scar,” Dr. Landi said. “But it could have been much worse if the wound was deeper. All in all though you should be ready to leave today if you would like.”

“I would prefer that,” Nesta tugged up her shirt so that it hid the skin on her shoulder where the stitches ran towards her neck.

The doctor left and after a few minutes a nurse came back with a wheelchair. Nesta refused the chair despite the protests of her sisters and Cassian who had adopted his commanding tone with her.

“Get in the chair Nesta or you’ll be going right back to bed,” Cassian crossed his arms.

“I will not and you have no right to order me around,” Nesta stood and under her breath released a string of colorful curses that would put a rainbow to shame. She was perfectly capable of walking out of the hospital on her own two feet with her head held high. Her strides carried her into the hallway with Cassian hot on her heels as he gently tried to stop her. His brief and hesitant touches only irked Nesta further.

“I’m not glass Cassian,” Nesta seethed. “So stop treating me as such!”

“You’re injured Nesta. Why can’t you just let us help you? Let me help you?” Guilt laced his words. If he could do at least one thing right it was making sure that Nesta would be better protected after this.

She was about ready to throw a comeback at him when she froze in the hall. Her eyes locked on something down the hall.

“Nesta?” Cassian narrowed his eyes in confusion at her abrupt silence before following her gaze. Down the hall he saw a man in a hospital gown with bruises visible on his legs and arms. The stranger paused outside his room and looked up at them. At Nesta.

The look on the man’s face tightened in furious recognition as he limped toward Cassian and Nesta. His only focus appeared to be Nesta considering he failed to notice Cassian surveying the situation.

But then Nesta moved one step behind Cassian. Her hand clutched at the back of his shirt as she pressed closer to him. Trying to shield herself from the approaching man.

Cassian instinctively moved between Nesta and the stranger. He didn’t understand quite what was happening, but a primal protective urge coursed through him. A need to defend from an approaching danger.

Then Cassian recognized this man was the one from the restaurant nights ago. The one who had tried to hurt Nesta and caused her to lose her job.

Tomas. That was the bastard’s name. Cassian recalled with growing anger.

When Tomas stopped in front of Cassian both men sized each other up. Cassian was the larger of the two in both height and muscle. Tomas warily looked between the man built like a warrior and his intended target who pressed closer to Cassian. Nesta glared at Tomas with enough ire that it made him pause in consideration of confronting her.

A brief moment of uncertainty flickered in Tomas’s eyes, but Nesta broke the standoff by moving out from behind Cassian.

“You’re going to regret threatening my family,” Nesta said evenly. “I’ll make you pay for everything you have ever done.” Her words were sharp and cut deep enough that Tomas was unnerved enough to look stricken.

“You know I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t,” Nesta bit out. “Don’t you ever speak to me again you piece of filth.”

Understanding hit Cassian. Tomas was the man who attacked Nesta. And was the same one Feyre firmly believed had also assaulted Nesta years ago when she was a teenager. Rage boiled in Cassian’s veins as he considered snapping the coward’s bones like twigs.

“Come on Nesta,” Tomas reached his hand out and that was the worst mistake he could have done.

Cassian quickly snatched his wrist in a crushing grip that left Tomas yelping in surprise and pain.

“Don’t touch her,” Cassian snarled as Tomas tried to pry his hand free, but was unsuccessful. “And let me tell you this you complete sack of shit. If you try to even look at her again you’re not going to need a hospital when I’m through with you, but instead I’ll put you six feet under where you’ll rot like the garbage you are.”

Cassian easily shoved Tomas into the wall where he pushed his face against the hard surface with a loud crack. Tomas’s nose crunched under the force. A sure sign that it was broken. And if that wasn’t enough Tomas’s muffled cry was evidence to that fact.

“And I swear you’ll regret every single thing you did to her.” Cassian twisted Tomas’s arm and with a cry the man began begging for Cassian to stop.

Even though Cassian wasn’t one to take pleasure in harming others this was the one time he would gladly destroy someone. Tomas deserved it for hurting Nesta. But first there was one thing that Cassian wanted to hear besides the pathetic whimpering that came from this weaklings mouth.

“Apologize,” Cassian said fiercely. Tomas did no such thing. Instead he weakly threatened Cassian and blubbered out some nonsense that was too difficult to hear since his face was pressed against the wall.

At first Cassian paid no heed to the words directed at him, but then Tomas said something along the lines of Nesta “deserving what she got”.

Cassian snapped. Lost to a rage like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“APOLOGIZE TO HER!” He roared and the noise shook the building’s foundations. Everything came to a standstill in the hospital as Tomas screeched out an apology and pledged to never set eyes on Nesta again.

A soothing hand slowly rested on Cassian’s forearm where he held Tomas to the wall. Cassian’s whole body shook in fury as he tried to control himself from ending Tomas right there on the spot.

“Cassian,” an even voice broke through the frenzy and fingers dug into his skin to distract him. “Please Cassian.”

He turned his head away from Tomas and followed the voice back to sanity. Nesta stood with her hand holding onto him like an anchor in a storm. Keeping him steady until the raging sea calmed under her blue eyes that were forming tears.

She swallowed thickly. No one had ever defended her as Cassian had today. He was the one who came to her need even though she didn’t ask for it. And even though she believed her capability of guarding herself was strong, it still meant everything to her to know that Cassian was willing to step in when she needed him most.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered. “He’s not worth you going to jail.”

“He hurt you Nesta,” Cassian growled and clenched his eyes shut to tamper down the need to fling Tomas into the nearest window.

“I know.” Nesta said softly. “But after today I think he gets the message that I’m not going down without a fight.” Nesta paused to set Tomas with a withering look. “There won’t be a next time if he tries to come near me. And I won’t go easy on him either if he shows his face.”

For a moment it seemed as though Cassian wasn’t going to listen to her. But with a deep breath Cassian released Tomas who fell to the floor and scrambled away. Cassian sneered at his retreating form. Half tempted to scare the man even more.

Nesta swayed and leaned into Cassian for support. She didn’t realize how exhausted she was even after hours of rest.

“I’m ready for bed,” Nesta mumbled without thinking into Cassian’s shirt.

“Really?” Cassian questioned to keep her talking. It was also to keep him distracted from Tomas who was being escorted back to his room by a nurse and a police officer who stood nearby. It seemed as though Tomas’s crime toward Nesta would not go unpunished after all.

“Do you think you can walk to the car or do you want me to get the wheelchair?” Cassian asked.

Nesta shook her head. “I can walk.” Though she let a tired yawn not five steps later. Somehow she made it out to the vehicle once she filled out the hospital paperwork granting her permission to leave. Perhaps it was sheer will and pride that kept her standing as she walked out the hospital doors.

In the back of the car Nesta sat between Elain and Cassian while Rhysand and Feyre sat up front. Nesta eventually fell asleep not long after they drove onto the main roads.

When they arrived to the Nesta and Elain’s apartment it was clear that Nesta was completely loss to a deep sleep. Her head rolled onto Cassian’s shoulder during the drive and now the group was wondering how best it would be to rouse her from slumber.

“There’s no sense in waking her up,” Cassian said. “I’ll carry her inside.” Carefully he lifted Nesta out of the car and walked across the street with her cradled in his arms. She barely stirred except to tuck her nose into the crook of his shoulder where she sighed happily at the scent that drifted into her senses.

Elain and the others led the way and helped to open doors until they arrived at the apartment. The group lingered behind as Cassian carried Nesta to her room.

He gently placed her on the bed before covering her with a small quilt. Diligently he tucked her in and brushed a few stray strands of hair that had fallen across her eyes. His fingers moved the dark golden hair back behind her ear just as Nesta turned her cheek to rest in his palm.

“Cassian…” she murmured in her sleep.

“I’m here sweetheart,” Cassian whispered and caressed her skin with his thumb in soothing motions.

The scene was similar to what happened hours ago when he first saw her lying in the hospital bed. She was beaten, bloodied and bruised underneath the thin sheets that covered her.

The image of her wincing and moaning softly in pain or fear as she slept will forever be burned in Cassian’s memory. He cried silent tears and had to excuse himself to regain his composure once the doctors explained what occurred the previous night. Sickness roiled through Cassian as he imagined Nesta fighting off an attacker and being injured badly enough that medics found her passed out on a snowy street.

Most of the fighters Cassian knew at the gym wouldn’t even have the strength to call police before they fainted. Nesta was different. She was strong and determined and intelligent enough to know how to survive.

It still didn’t lessen the guilt Cassian felt.

He never left Nesta’s bedside after he returned from his emotional lapse away from prying eyes. Cassian was never one to cry in front of others, but he found it extremely difficult to hold back the tears as he sat in the chair while clasping Nesta’s hand tightly as he pleaded with her. Hoping beyond anything that she would return and forgive him for not being there when she needed him.

Cassian lost track of the hours and the amount of times he said “Please come back to me” and “I’m sorry Nesta”. He held her hand close to his lips and at one point kissed her bruised knuckles. Each purple mark a sign that she fought back. In Cassian’s heart he was proud of her in at least being able to fend off her attacker as best she could.

At one point he thought she murmured his name, but it was so faint that he thought it was only his imagination. Then he began to think otherwise when the nurses asked if he was the Cassian that Nesta called out for while she was in the ambulance. Maybe she was trying to call out to him after all.

With a tired sigh Cassian was brought back to the present when he felt Nesta reach for him in her sleep. He lowered his hand to tenderly meet her grip and kept holding her hand until Elain and Feyre quietly knocked on the door to check on their sister.

Cassian stood up and left the three sisters to have their own time alone. He longed to stay, but he didn’t want to hinder Elain and Feyre from seeing Nesta.

Tomorrow he would come back. And the next day. And the next. Until Nesta would probably kick him out after she tired of his worrying caretaking.

He only hoped that Nesta would be willing to let him stay. Perhaps he would soon work up enough courage to properly ask for her forgiveness when she was well-enough to hear him out. Hell he would get on his knees and beg if it meant she would accept his apology.

But until that moment he would cling to the warm memory of her grip that seeped into his skin and the sound of her calling out to him in her sleep. As if she too was searching for him as much as he had been searching for her in the depth of his despair.

For now he grateful that she was alive. Together they would face whatever the future held. And Cassian wouldn’t fail her again.

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