noice~

Grabbing his phone off the bedside table, Jason did a double take when he saw the date and time. Apparently, he had been asleep for the past 29 hours. Which also explained the flood of missed phone calls and texted he had from Dick, Bruce, Tim, and Damian. He ignored everyone else’s messages for now and quickly began listening to Dick’s.

“Jay, where are you? Are you okay? Why did you just walk off like that? Please call me back. Y/N should be waking up soon and it would mean a lot if you were here when she did.”

“Hey, Jason. Y/N just woke up for a few minutes. She can’t speak right now, but she still found a way to ask about you. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say about why you’re not here. Are you coming back soon? Please, Jay. She really needs you.”

“Bruce said you’re not answering any calls from him, Tim, or Damian either. Come on, Jay, please let somebody know you are alright. Just a quick call, a text, a carrier pigeon for all I care, just something!”

“Just in case you ever do bother to stop by, you should know she’s developed an aversion to touch. I guess it might be some sort of PTSD from the warehouse, but she freaks out whenever anyone touches her….. Except me. Not sure why. But the doctors are having a hard time treating her because of it. So, if – when – you come to see her, don’t touch her unless she tells you to. I – uh – I’m not sure how she will react to your touch. Sorry.”

“Jason Peter Todd! You get your ass over here right now! That poor girl has been through enough without you adding to it. I don’t care what happened, you can’t do this to her!”

“…… Jay…. please…… She, um…. They let her see her face without the bandages…… It’s not good, man…… She… she just really needs you right now. So, whatever happened, just please….”

“She woke up screaming for you last night, tore half the stitches out of her cheeks. They had to rush her back into surgery just to try and stop the bleeding………… Jay, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. Please, I think she’s getting worse. She needs you…… I need you….”

“I know this is terrible to say, but part of me hopes you’re lying in a ditch somewhere and that’s why you’re not responding or coming to see her. Because at this point, any other explanation is just……………… I hope you’re okay.”

Jason held back the sob that threatened to burst from his chest. Oh god. Jason buried his head in his hands. What have I done? He needed to see you. He needed to make sure you were okay……but he couldn’t. He wanted to run to your hospital room, beg for your forgiveness and promise to never leave your side again……but he couldn’t. He still loved you, God did he love you, but he couldn’t forgive you, he couldn’t forgive himself. Not yet at least. He needed time to figure out everything.

He began throwing all of his belonging into an old suitcase. Clothes, books, whatever junk he knew was his, all unceremoniously swept into the bag. He hesitated when he got to the framed picture from the day he proposed. He lightly ran his finger over your face, you dazzling smile shone like a spotlight directly at his heart. Would you ever be able to smile like that at him again? Would you ever want to? Would he ever be able to look at your face without remembering how you both had let each other down? Sighing, he placed the frame back on the table and finished packing his stuff.

When he was finished, Jason took one final look around the apartment the two of you shared. Had shared. May one day share again. Then he turned his back and walked out the door.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that? No warning, no explanation of any kind. You just had me bring her home to an empty apartment. How could you do that? That absolutely destroyed her! You better get your shit together and soon because you might not be able to get yourself out of this hole you’re digging.”

“She wrote me a letter explaining everything. I’m so sorry, Jay. I….I’m so sorry. I still think what you’re doing is wrong, but I have a better understanding of why you’re acting like this. But she can’t help who her father is. I’m begging you, talk to her. Either end things or try to work things out, but please just talk to her. She’s not in a good place and… I’m scared to leave her alone. She needs you, or at least needs to know for sure it’s over so she can start trying to move on. So, please, I know it’s hard, but please talk to her.”

Jason closed his eyes as he listened to Dick’s most recent messages from a few hours ago. He hadn’t really thought about how you would react to seeing his stuff missing from the apartment. In the moment, he had just thought it would be better this way while he sorted out all of his feelings. But once again, he had screwed everything up. He needed to make things right.

For the first time since walking out a few days ago, Jason returned to your apartment building. He needed to see you, but he really didn’t want to deal with Dick just yet and based on his messages, there was a good chance his brother was still here. So, Jason quickly scaled up the fire escape until he was just outside your bedroom window. Peering in, he got his first glimpse of you since he had dropped you off at the hospital.

You were curled up in a tight ball on his side of the bed. His favorite pillow (the only thing of his he hadn’t grabbed when he left) was tightly smushed in your arms as you squeezed it close to your chest, despite the fact one of your arms was still in a sling. Bandages covered the bottom half of your face, obscuring the damage that lay beneath. Even in sleep, Jason could see your face was scrunched up and tense and your eyes were puffy as if you had just been crying.

Jason quietly slid the window open and started to crawl through, but when he caught a glimpse of the nightstand, he instantly froze in place. Laying discarded, half covered by a used tissue, was your engagement ring. The one you had promised never to take off. It shouldn’t have hurt him this badly. He was the one who left without a word, leaving the status of your relationship unclear. You had every right to take it off, but the sight of it tossed aside so unceremoniously broke something in him. With a final glance in your direction, Jason backed out of the window and hurried down to the ground below.

“She doesn’t have to wear the bandages anymore… The scars look better than they did, but she can’t stand anyone looking at them. She has been finding some pretty creative ways to keep them hidden…. But, uh, one time when she thought I wasn’t around, I – uh – I heard her say it was no surprise you left her when she has that sickening reminder of what she was carved on her face…… Don’t put her through this. Don’t make her hate herself more than she already does. Please, come talk to her.”

“She’s doing a little better. I brought her to the manor for dinner now that everyone knows the truth. She still couldn’t handle anyone touching her, but besides that, it went really well. Damian actually said some astonishingly comforting things which I think seemed to really help her. And Bruce… they had a private chat and she came back lighter than I’ve seen her since this whole thing started. But she still misses you, Jay. She told me that she doesn’t blame you for any of this. She is taking full responsibility for all of this and she says she understands why you’re gone…… Jay, that girl is so much better than you ever deserved and if you want a chance of winning her back, you better try and fix this soon. Before she finds someone who treats her the way she should be treated.”

Sitting on the rooftop of the building across from your apartment, Jason took another long drag on his cigarette, watching as the smoke danced above his head. It had been over a week since the night in the warehouse and he was still trying to come to terms with everything that happened. And Dick’s messages weren’t making things any easier. He kept talking about how much you missed him and needed him to come back, but Jason couldn’t stop thinking about your ring laying on the table next to the bed. If you still wanted him so much, why did you take it off? Maybe it was too late for him. Maybe Dick was right, and you had moved on to someone better.

He also couldn’t help but feel a tiny surge of jealousy when Dick talked about you on the messages. Jason had been frequently hanging out up here, just to keep an eye on things. While he respected your privacy enough to not look into the apartment itself, he had caught glimpses of you and Dick together as you left or entered the building. The two of you had always gotten along great but Jason could see a closeness that hadn’t been there before. He bristled whenever he saw Dick touch your arm or help you adjust the scarf around your mouth, fingers brushing gently across your cheeks. He wondered if you would allow him to do that if he came back, if you could tolerate his touch like you welcomed Dick’s.

With a sigh, Jason crushed the remains of his cigarette under his boot and decided he had better start heading back to his safehouse. He was pretty sure none of his family knew about this one, so he figured it would be the best place to lay low. As he descended to the street, he noticed someone else watching your building. Someone in a very familiar clown mask. Without hesitation, Jason dropped the remaining thirty feet, rolled, and took off running. The clown noticed Jason just seconds before he tackled him to the ground. Hauling them both to their feet, Jason dragged his captive into the nearby alley, out of sight of passersby.

Jason slammed the man into the wall as he growled, “What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?”

“Get off of me, man! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Nobody in Gotham would wear that mask unless they’re working for him. Now where is he?”

“Like I’m going to tell you anything.”

Jason reached into his jacket and, in one fluid movement, pulled out his gun and shot the man pointblank in the chest. The man gasped loudly in surprise and pain as he sank to the ground struggling to breathe. Jason crouched down next to him as he held up the gun. “This gun contains rubber bullets. Probably just cracked, maybe broke, a few ribs, massive bruising, and you might want to get examined for internal bleeding, but you’ll live. But this gun –” he reached into his jacket and pullet out a second weapon “- contains actual bullets. Do I need to explain what happens if you make me use this gun?”

The man shook his head violently as he struggled to choke out his words, “N-no. He told me t-to watch some girl. Jus-just keep an eye on her. That’s it, I-I swear!”

“Good. Now,” Jason dug the muzzle of the second gun into the man’s chest. “Where. Is. He.”

“Why am I even still trying? You obviously don’t care about her or me. It’s been a month, Jason, and no one has heard a word from you. I reached out to Roy, Kori, Artemis, I checked all your safe houses, nothing. I can’t keep trying if you won’t even give me a sign you’re still out there. So, this will be my last call. The ball’s in your court now. Have a nice life.”

It had taken almost three weeks, but Jason had managed to track him down. He knew if he had asked Dick or Bruce for help he probably could have found him sooner, however Jason knew neither one of them would approve of what he was planning to do. But he didn’t care. He was going to make sure the Joker would never hurt anyone he loved ever again.

It didn’t take him very long to sneak into the building and locate his target. For some reason, he seemed to be the only person in the room, like he was expecting the company. But it didn’t matter, because within seconds, Jason was across the room with the Joker pinned underneath of him.

“Well, well, well, Red! Back for more? I have to admit, we had so much fun the last time, but it seems we’re down a player! How’s our girl doing?”

Jason didn’t respond. He just slammed his fist into the Joker’s face. Repeatedly. Every punch elicited another round of laughter cackling from the clown’s mouth. Finally, Jason stepped back in disgust. He pulled out his gun and pointed it directly at the Joker’s head. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? How many people I could have saved if I had done this when I first got back? The pain I could have spared her from!”

“Uh oh. Batsy’s not going to like this! You know he has rules about this sort of thing.”

“I don’t care anymore. I’m not going to let you hurt her again!” Jason’s finger tightened on the trigger. Just another twitch and this nightmare would be over for good. But……he couldn’t do it. Because, staring at the monster before him, he realized……you wouldn’t want this. Not for the Joker’s sake, you had made it clear you wanted nothing to do with your father. But you wouldn’t want this for Jason. He could almost hear your voice whispering, lips brushing against his ear as your fingers glided over his, Baby, don’t do this. Don’t let him take everything that you’ve worked so hard to regain. Don’t throw everything away on him. He’s not worth it.

Jason quietly muttered back, “I have to. He’ll keep coming and coming and we’ll never be free of him. This is the only way.”

And what happens to you? To us? Bruce will never forgive you for this. You’ll lose your entire family. Again. Please, just walk away now. Come back to me. Jay, come home.

He had thought that if he finally killed the Joker, it would somehow help him come to terms with the fact that he was your father. But as Jason looked down at the man who had repeatedly ruined his life, he realized he honestly didn’t care. You weren’t him. Even if the two of you shared DNA, you were nothing like him. And you couldn’t fake the amazing, brilliant, sweet, loving person you were. It couldn’t have been an act. It was real. And in that instant, he realized he could accept the lie and, what’s more, he could move on from it. He just needed you back. His rock, his life, his love.

So, Jason slowly lowered the gun and hissed, “I won’t kill you this time because she wouldn’t want me to waste a bullet on you. But I swear on my undead life, if I see you or a single one of your men within a ten-block radius of her ever again, I will kill you with my bare hands. Batman be damned.”

The Joker chuckled coldly. “Maybe I was wrong about you, Red. Maybe you are good enough for my little girl after all.”

“She’s not your anything.” And without looking back, Jason walked out of the building.

“………Hey, man. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know I screwed everything up. But I want to thank you for taking such good care of her when I couldn’t. You stepped up and did what I should have done, and I can never repay you for that… I’m on my way to talk to her now. I’m not sure what’s going to happen or how it’s going to go but…… I just need you to know Dick, I…I couldn’t have asked for a better brother. Thank you for everything.”

Jason didn’t know what he was going to say when he got to your apartment. He just knew he needed to see you, and he needed to see you now. He raced through the city streets as fast as his motorcycle would let him, weaving in and out of the heavy traffic, stopping only briefly at a gas station to clean the Joker’s blood off his knuckles. He arrived at your apartment just a few minutes after 2:00. It seemed like all the lights were off and he figured you were probably asleep, but he didn’t care. He should have done this a month ago, and he wasn’t going to wait any longer.

He only hesitated when he reached your front door, not quite sure how to get in. Just for the hell of it, he tried his key and was astonished to find it still worked. He had been certain you or Dick would have changed them the moment he left, and he felt a little more hopeful as he entered the once familiar apartment.

It was strange being here when everything looked so similar yet so different. The mirror that had always hung in the entrance way was gone and, in its place, hung one of Damian’s paintings. The toaster sitting on the counter was not the shiny silver one he bought you as a housewarming gift but was instead a large black matte one. But as he headed back to the bedroom, he smiled to see the photo of the two of you was still displayed on the table where he had left it. His hopes raised even more.

Slowly, he opened your bedroom door to see you fast asleep in the bed. Once again, you were curled up on his side of the bed, though his pillow was tossed carelessly on the floor. The bandages and sling were gone but you were turned in such a way, he couldn’t get a good look at your face. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He didn’t want to scare you, an intruder in your room in the middle of the night, but he also didn’t want to just wait around until you woke up.

Luckily, his dilemma was soon solved as you rolled over and sat up, covers pulled up to your nose, but staring straight at him. In the dim lighting, he had trouble making out much more than your silhouette, but he didn’t want to spook you by turning on a light. Jason opened his mouth to say something, anything, but you cut him off with a flat, emotionless tone, “If you’re here to kill me, can you please make it quick?”

Your words were like a dagger through his heart. Regardless of what had happened, regardless of the pain either one of you felt, the fact that you thought he could ever lay a finger on you, tore into him. As he fought back tears, he managed to choke out, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

It wasn’t exactly how he planned on starting this conversation, but he was so shaken by your reaction to his presence, it just kind of slipped out.

“Jay –” He felt electricity flood through his body as you said his nickname, it felt so familiar, so welcoming, “- son.” But then he felt his spirit crash once again, his hopes dashed. You hardly ever addressed him as Jason. It was always Jay or Baby or Babe. Jason was only around others or when he had seriously ticked you off.

He listened as you told him about how you had once planned on telling him about your father and he remembers that time perfectly. You had been running around all week, planning a special dinner with all of his favorites. You wouldn’t tell him why, just that you wanted to do something nice for him. It was the final straw. Jason had been struggling with whether or not to tell you about his past and his nightly activities. He was afraid how you would react, afraid you would reject him. But this final act of kindness and sincerity convinced him that you needed to know. So, he had taken your hands right then and there and told you everything. You had listened silently, your face a mix of panic and awe which made so much more sense now. You had taken that night to come to terms with the news, but by the next day everything had seemed normal. And your dinner had gone off perfectly. In fact, that was the night he had first told you he loved you.

But looking back on it now, he knew that you were right. If you had revealed your secret as well in that moment or at dinner a few days later, he would have left. He would have felt too betrayed, too vulnerable to stay. And your relationship would have ended just as it was truly beginning. You did the only thing you could have done in that situation. And he accepted that.

“But then that stupid newspaper announcement came out….”

That damn newspaper announcement. Jason had told Dick and Tim not to do it, that it bothered you too much. But they both cared for you and were excited to share your happiness with as many people as possible. And Jason was too. He hadn’t fought them on it when Tim let slip that they had stolen Bruce’s credit card to pay for it. In fact, Jason loved having any excuse to spend Bruce’s money, so he had pretended he hadn’t heard. If he had stopped them like you had asked, the Joker would never have found you. Just another thing Jason did horribly wrong.

“Of course, I knew my dad had killed one of the Robins but how was I supposed to know that he came back to life, or who he was behind the mask? How was I supposed to know that the man I loved, was also the man who saved my life, by giving his?”

Now Jason was confused. Up until this point of your story, he had followed everything you said. In fact, it all made such perfect sense to him that he was feeling worse and worse about how he overreacted to finding out the truth. But this? They hadn’t known each other when he was killed. They didn’t meet until months after he came back to Gotham. So, how did he save you by dying?

“l had wanted to escape from him for so long, but I never had a chance, there was never that perfect opportunity….. Until he killed you.”

Jason jerked, body tensing, unsure of where you were going with this justification. But as you explained, relief and a sense of peace settled over him like a cooling rain. For the eight years since he was killed, Jason had searched for a reason, a purpose, some good that made all his torment worth it. Because if he went to Hell and back with nothing to show for it, what was the point? But now…. For the first time since that bomb exploded in Ethiopia, Jason felt whole again. It did matter. His death did serve a purpose. And he was rewarded for the pain and suffering he had endured. He had met you. His death meant something because it freed you. And he would have died a thousand more deaths if he had known what he was given in return.

“I have lived with this guilt since the day it happened. I recognized that for me to gain my happiness, someone else had to lose their life. And I carried that with me every day. But then when you told me that you were that Robin, that you had come back…. It seemed like fate. And, I don’t know, I guess a small part of me thought, why fight fate? So, I never told you the truth. And I’m sorry, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

It took every ounce of willpower and strength Jason had to not tackle you into the biggest, tightest hug he could manage. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and never let go, just lay there until you both just wasted away to nothing. He wanted to trail kisses over every inch of your body while whispering how sorry he was and how much he loved you. And he knew if he stayed in this room for a few more seconds, he would not be able to fight the urge any longer. But, he also knew that there was a good chance you wouldn’t be able to handle him even just holding your hand or rubbing your back. He didn’t want to pressure you but if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. So, he slowly backed out of the room and shut the door.

Jason pressed his head heavily against the wooden barrier that now separated the two of you. His entire body was vibrating with the desire to rush back in and scoop you into his arms, but he fought it. The desire became even stronger when he heard your first wail burst forth from the other side of the door. He backed up until he collided with the far wall and slid down to the floor. He buried his head in his knees as tears fell down his cheeks. He could feel your howls reverberating through his chest as he tried to maintain his composure. Don’t go in there, not tonight. You’ll only make things worse. Don’t do it, you idiot. You’ll just hurt her more if you do. Think about what she needs for once in your God damn life and not just about what you want.

He sat there for hours before he heard your wails shift to sobs into moans. Finally, it seemed as if you had drifted off into a restless sleep. As he slowly began unfolding himself, he felt every muscle in his body screaming out in pain from being clenched so tightly for so long. But, he did his best to stagger to his feet and make it to the living room. Clearing some of the pillows, he collapsed onto the couch in the hopes of getting a few hours of sleep. He just prayed tomorrow went better than tonight.

A soft rustling sound woke Jason the next morning. Cracking one eye, he could see you moving around the kitchen with your back to him as you made your morning coffee. He didn’t dare move in case you hadn’t noticed him, but he watched you through the slit of his eye. Every small move or gesture you made, caused Jason’s heart to flutter. He missed you so much. He watched as you grabbed your cup and turned to leave, so he quickly closed both eyes and slowed his breathing. He could feel you approach the couch and place something on the edge of the table next to his head. And just like that, you were gone. Sitting up, Jason looked over and saw a fresh cup of coffee, with creamer and nutmeg. Just the way he liked it. Smiling, he stood up and walked down the hall.

The bedroom door was cracked open just a little bit, but Jason still knocked softly.

“Come in.”

Jason hesitated for just a second, took a deep breath and opened the door.

In the light of the morning, it was the first time either one of you got a good look at the other. Jason watched as your eyes scanned his face, certain you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion caused by everything from the last month weighing on him. But he prayed you also saw the love and lightness he was feeling after your talk last night. He hoped you didn’t see the shame and pain he felt as he took in your appearance.

Your eyes were puffy and tearstained from countless nights of crying yourself to sleep. Your hair was pulled back but even then, Jason could tell it was greasy and unwashed. Your body was painfully thin, and he wondered if you had been eating at all since he left, or how difficult it was for you to eat with your scars. Scars which were currently hidden behind a brightly colored scarf.

Both of you just looked at each other, neither sure what to do next. Finally, Jason broke the silence, “Thanks for the coffee. Just how I like it.”

“I remember.”

Silence again.

“So, uh, Dick’s been filling me in some on how you’ve been.”

“Yeah, he mentioned he left you a bunch of messages, but you never responded.”

“Yeah….. I was… I was keeping an eye on things just to make sure you were safe. I saw you and Dick together. A lot.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, he comes over most days. I still have trouble with my shoulder sometimes, so he likes to make sure I’m okay since I’m here by……”

“…….Yeah. Well, you seemed close. I’m glad you had somebody who was there for you when I…. I’m glad you have Dick.” Jason shifted uncomfortably, eyes trailed on the floor.

You stared at him in confusion. “Jason…. Do you think I have feelings for your brother?” Jason didn’t answer, but that itself was an answer. “Dick is just a friend. The best friend I have ever had, but just a friend. Besides, even if I was interested in him, which I’m not, he mentioned he and Babs are trying to work things out again…… Did you really think I could move on so quickly?”

“I don’t know. After the way I acted, and Dick said you should find someone better, and you took off your ri-”Jason stopped, looking at your hand. “You’re wearing your ring.”

“Yeaahh…. Why did you think I wouldn’t be?”

Jason blushed crimson as he mumbled. “I might have come to check on you one time and found you asleep. So, I started climbing in through the window but then noticed your ring on the table. I thought…”

Your face softened, “Oh, no, Jay, never. I had an……incident earlier that day and cut my hand on some broken glass. Dick made me take it off so he could stop the bleeding. But as soon as the bandage came off, I put it back on. I promised you I wouldn’t take it off. And except for that one extenuating circumstance, I never considered it.”

Jason felt like an idiot, well a bigger idiot than before. He should have had more faith in you. He was the one who screwed this up and he was the one who made it worse. He gestured softly to the bed, “Can I… Would it be okay if I sat?”

You nodded.

Jason sat down on the very edge of the bed, giving you as much space as he could. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and tried to figure out where to start. Finally, with a deep breath, he began, “Y/N, I am so sorry for everything. That night….I don’t know what happened. It was just everything, so much, just all at once, that I-I short circuited. Just kind of shut down. When I left the hospital, I came back here and crashed for like a day and a half. By the time I ‘rebooted’, I had like twenty messages from Dick, you were already awake, you had already had to go back into surgery, and I….I just left you there.” Jason’s voiced cracked as he got to end of his rant. He was looking down at his hands, so he didn’t have to see your expression. “I was so disgusted with myself, and I was trying to come to terms with this atomic sized bomb that had just been dropped in my lap, but I just left you there.”

This time, Jason wasn’t able to control himself and he broke down into a full-body sob. Folded in half, leaning over the side of the bed, he finally let go of all the emotions he had been bottling up for the past month. The anger, the fear, the hatred, the disgust, the sadness, and the love. All of it came flooding out all at once. And just when he didn’t think he could cry any harder, he did as a single hand rested gently on his back. Without thinking, he whirled around and engulfed you in his arms. He waited for you to tense up, to struggle against him in panic. But instead, you melted into him, pulling the two of you even closer together.

You laid there as you both cried, letting all of the pain of the past month ebb away. Just holding each other, feeling as your breathing synced, as your hearts beat as one.

Finally, Jason began to pull away slightly, but you stopped him, “No! Don’t!”

Scrambling, you tried to reposition the scarf that had fallen from your mouth. But Jason reached up and softly stopped you. Lowering your hands, he got his first real look at the damage to your face. He tried not to react to the large, puckered wounds that stretched up from either side of your mouth. Even with the slight pout you had at the moment, the scars gave the impression you were smiling, a big, twisted smile. It made Jason sick to look at them, but not for the reason either of you had feared. No, what made him sick was thinking about all the pain and loathing you had endured this past month without him. All the times you needed him for reassurance and support that he wasn’t there. That you had fought for so long and so hard to free yourself from this monster and now you had a permanent reminder of that life carved on your skin.

Jason saw your frozen stare as you tried to gauge his reaction. Trying to see if he could handle this new addition to your face or if it would be too much for him to bear. So, Jason took your face between his hands and gently ran his thumbs over each side of the scars. He watched as you tilted your head back in utter relief as silent tears slipped from under your closed eyes. Drawing you closer, he placed a feather light kiss at the top of the left scar, then slowly peppered more kisses down the length of it until just before he reached your mouth. Then he shifted to the top of the right scar and repeated the action until he got back to your mouth once more. This time, he placed a long, passionate kiss on your lips, infusing it with all the love and acceptance he could. You returned his kiss with just as much intensity.

When you both broke apart to catch your breath, you continued to lay on the bed, staring deeply into one another’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Babe, you have nothing to be sorry about. It took me a long time, but I get why you did it. You did the right thing. I’m just sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

“How can you be so okay with all of this? Especially after what I told you last night?”

“What? The thing about my death being your salvation? Shit, babe. I mean, I always told you I would die for you, I just didn’t realize I already had.”

“Jay, it’s not funny!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

You snuggled down deeper into Jason’s chest. “I’m just so happy you’re here. Do you-do you think you’ll stay?”

“If-if you’ll let me.” Jason sat up just a little, making you raise your eyes to meet his. “But seriously, what you said last night. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You gave me something I’ve been looking for since the day it happened. You gave my death a purpose, a reason. All this time, I thought it was just a pointless act of violence that sent me spiraling down a dark path of death and destruction. But I understand now. It had to happen in order for me to have you. My death matters because it brought me the woman I love.”

You breathed the next words so quietly, Jason could barely make them out. “Jay, you still love me?”

“Of course, I do. Even when I was at my lowest point, I never stopped.”

Suddenly, both of you heard a noise coming from the other room. Then there was a sharp rap at the door seconds before it opened. The two of you stared frozen at Dick and Dick stared frozen back at the two of you. He blinked a few times in surprise and then threw up his hands as he stormed out. “Okay, that’s it. I’m done.”

“Come on, Dickie! I called you! Learn to check your messages!”

“Screw you, Jason!” Dick’s voice rang out from the kitchen. But then, he stuck his head back through the bedroom door. “Oh, but if you guys want to come by the manor tonight, Alfred’s making meatloaf.” He gave Jason a warm smile and a nod, then ducked out again.

Once he had left, Jason wrapped his arms tight around you again. “So, I guess we have dinner plans tonight.”

You smiled, and Jason was happy to still see your same dazzling, spotlight smile shining through the scars. “So….. That gives us all afternoon to ourselves…… Any ideas?”

Jason smirked as he pulled you close. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something……”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s a strange familiarity to it, the way he’s pressed up against her back when she wakes up. Of course they’d been sleeping in the same bed for a while now, and this wasn’t the first time she’s woken up with his arms wrapped around her, his large hands on her stomach. But this was the first time that he was hard. Or maybe it was just the first time that he didn’t try to hide it. When she feels him nuzzle further into her back she knows he’s awake, avoiding the sunlight by burying his face in her hair and she can’t suppress her sleepy giggle. “Good morning sleepy head” she coos, but he just lets out a small groan. “5 more minutes” she hears, mumbled from behind her. “Just because I love you, doesn't mean I’m gonna let you away with murder.” she tells him, and that seems to catch his attention. His face moving out of her hair and towards her ear. She feels his warm breath against her skin before she even registers his words. “Say it again” he whispers, his lips brushing delicately against the skin right below her ear. “What, I love you?” she asks, rather than respond he just moans softly against her ear at the question. “I love you Spence, but we gotta get up” she sighs, but he doesn’t stop his movements, his hands that had been resting on her stomach start to roam, one slowly moving up to grab at her breasts over her t-shirt, kneading them gently. “5 more minutes” he says again, but this time the words are more insistent, he’s telling her, not asking as he continues his movements. His other hand drifting downwards, his long fingers finding their way between her thighs and cupping her over her shorts. “Shit Spence” she lets out in a ragged breath, her own hand reaching down to cover his, pulling him closer, “but we gotta be quick”. He takes his hand off of her for just a moment, using it to instead turn her head around so he can place a kiss against her lips that’s soft, lingering, and anything but quick because he can’t bring himself to rush that part. When they finally break apart it’s with a flurry of rushing hands, pulling at clothes that were barely covering much in the first place until he’s pressed up against her back with nothing in between them. His hands are greedy as they skim over her bare skin, gripping, caressing, and scratching at skin he had only ever had access to in his dreams before. She can feel his cock, hard and resting against the swell of her ass. She can’t help the way she grinds back against him, forcing a low gasp from the man behind her. “Impatient, are we?” he teases with a chuckle, his grip on her hips tightening and pulling her impossibly closer against him. “Uh— please?” she moans out in a desperate whimper, so he trails his fingers down between her legs once again, this time with nothing to get in his way. Even though he knows they’re under time pressure, he can’t fight he urge to tease it out just a little longer. The way she shivers beneath his touch is too much to bare, his fingers trailing softly through her folds, gathering the arousal that had already gathered there, the arousal that was for him. The thought makes his cock twitch right against her and that drags yet another desperate sound from her throat, so he rides that wave and presses two fingers into her in one motion. “Fuck” she gasps, his long fingers curling inside of her, feeling the way the already tight muscles clenched around him, begging for more. “Please…” she mutters again, barely able to form a coherent thought. And he can’ t turn down the opportunity to tease her just that little bit more, because realistically he knows that he wont last long once he’s got more than his fingers buried inside of her. “Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?” he whispers against her ear, bringing his thumb up to gently circle her clit while he speaks, causing her body to jolt just a little in an attempt to move away from the stimulating touch. “Uh— more” she states simply, “You” And that does it, the way her sleepy voice sounds so much like begging. The way it drips with lust and desperation, for him.

He can’t hold off for a second longer. So pulls his fingers out of her gently. Without thinking too much about it he brings them up to her lips, her lips that are already parted to take in a shaky breath, and he pushes them inside of her warm, waiting mouth. Her soft lips immediately envelop the digits, sucking on them gently and tasting herself on him. Trying not to let himself get too distracted by the way her mouth feels wrapped about him, and imagining how good it might feel to have it wrapped around other parts of him, he repositions his hips against her. In one swift moment her pushes into her, finding almost no resistance as he bottoms out on the first thrust. He can’t stop himself as he groans out a string of expletives against the skin of her neck. He holds himself still inside of her, savoring the simple feeling of warmth, of the slick, silky skin, of the tight muscles that held him so perfectly. He feels the vibrations of her moans against his fingers, and as good as it feels, he’d prefer to hear her perfect sounds. So he pulls his fingers out and allows them to rest on her hip, rooting her in place against him with a harsh grip. “You feel so good” he groans, “So— fuck!” he stutters as she clenches tight around him, urging him to move. And the impatience could be due to their deadline, or it could be her desperation, but he finds it endearing either way, the eagerness. “You want me to hurry up?” he chuckles once he gets his breath back. “I didn’t say anything…” she teases, turning her head slightly so he could place a hungry kiss against the corner of her mouth. “Fine” is his curt response as he digs his fingers into her hips so hard that his nails begin to leave marks. As much as it feels counter intuitive, he pulls out of her almost entirely, so that it’s just the head that’s resting inside of her, taunting for a moment, until he’s slamming back into her in one rough thrust that rips a loud moan from her throat. “Oh god!” she rushes out, as his hips make contact with her backside. The sinful sounds of skin against skin where their two bodies meet is only drowned out by the rough pants coming from the both of them. His hips repeat their movements, over and over, thrusting into her with a force that has her gasping for breath. “Is this what you wanted?” he growls against her, rough and hungry, echoing his movements, the way his fingers hold her so tight, the way his mouth suckles at the skin of her neck, leaving even more possessive marks along the already bruised skin. “Fuck, ah— yes!” she moans out, her hands trying desperately to move backward, to clutch at him, until one of them lands in his hair, pulling him in even closer against her neck that was already coated in the condensation from his ragged breaths. “Are you close sweetheart? You gonna cum on my cock?” he groans, and he can feel it in the way her whole body shudders and tenses that she’s teetering on the edge. Desperately close to release. So he brings his fingers down between her shivering thighs once again, and his fingers find the sensitive bundle of nerves like a magnet. Drawing small circles along it until she’s panting and whimpering beneath his touch. Muttering out a slew of syllables that barely sound like words as he continues to thrust inside her with the same force. “So good for me” he soothes, his hips still rocking inside of her as she comes down, overstimulating her as he chases his own release, “gonna fill you up baby” he groans as he reaches his peak. And she’s on the brink of another orgasm when she feels him rooting his hips against her with one final thrust before flooding her insides, the feeling of that alone has her ready to go again. “Fuck, I want to just stay here forever” she says through deep breaths, willing her heart rate to come back down to earth as Spencer kisses the dewy skin of her shoulder, his body remaining flush with her own as he came down himself, slowly softening inside of her. “Well then we should” she can feel the way his lips smile against her skin.

“We’ll just stay in this bed. I think this is what I was put on earth to do” he says it with a chuckle, but it’s a lot closer to the truth that he’d admit sincerely. “I want that, more than anything, but I’ve got to pee” she sighs, placing her hand over his on her stomach and gently trying to remove it. “No you don’t” he hums in protest, only doubling down on his grip and pulling her back to him, placing more insistent kisses along the inside of her neck. “Do you want me to get a UTI?” she challenges. “No, but I would take care of you, we could spend the day in bed, I’d make you dinner, and buy you cranberry juice” he says in between each gentle kiss. But she has to resist, prying herself from his grip. “Please don’t make a UTI sound quite so appealing” she laughs, “We’re getting up” When she finally snakes away from his grip and makes her way out of bed he wants to protest. Until he notices the way his cum begins to drip down the inside of her thighs as she stands up, and honestly, he doesn’t mind so much anymore. — — — It’s a bit of a rush to get ready. Having spent just a little too long in bed, and in the shower afterwards, they’re racing out to door to make it to Dr. Harris’ office on time for their appointment. Spencer is honestly a little more worried than he’d like to admit about the whole thing. He was acutely aware of the spring in his step, of the way he could barely stop smiling as they drove there together. As far as Dr. Harris was aware, they were on the rocks again. Spencer had ‘caught Y/N flirting with another man’ the night before and hadn’t looked too pleased about it. She had made an effort to cover the marked skin with make-up, just enough to make it look like she’d tried, but not enough to cover them fully. In the hopes that he’d enquire about them and give them an in to talk about it. But Spencer’s eyes kept drawing to the new marks that he’d left just that morning, the ones that were slowly starting to appear, and thinking back to the way it had felt to be so deep inside of her while he left them, or about the other marks from his nails and his teeth that were hidden beneath her clothes. He had to get a grip or he was going to get them found out. They wander into the office together, keeping their distance as they sit down on the sofa opposite their therapist. Who wastes no time diving in. “So…” he begins, leaning back in his armchair, notebook in hand, “How have things been since we last spoke. How has your sex life been?” The question, or the ease with which he asks them, shocks Spencer enough that his eyebrows shoot up. Especially now that their sex life isn’t an imagined concept, it hasn’t been concocted, it’s genuine, and something about that hardly feels real. But that’s not the sex life Dr. Harris is trying to investigate. “Oh— um, yeah. Fine, I guess” she says, aiming for nonchalance, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Hmm, just fine? What makes you say that?” he probes, leaning forward in his chair, “Is there a specific aspect that's irritating you, or that you find unsatisfying?” “Well, no, not exactly. It’s satisfying. And more frequent. It’s just… different?” she chances, and that seems to catch his attention. “Different? Different how? Compared to what standard?” he asks, jotting something down in his notebook. “I guess— just compared to the way it was before… all of this” she states, and the way she tries to draw some pity from him with her tone only serves to irritate him more. “By ‘this’ do you mean your infidelity?” he leans on the last word and she can only nod, a little shameful. “Spencer, do you feel that the sexual dynamic has changed between the two of you?” He’s quick to scoff in reply, “No. Actually, now that I think about it, nothing much seems to have changed at all” he says it with a snide roll of his eyes, an allusion to the flirting that Dr. Harris had no doubt seen the night before. “That’s bullshit” she mutters under her breath, and their therapist is quick to notice, turning his body towards her as he speaks. “What do you mean by that?”

He asks, and it’s hard not to notice the way his eyes light up with the escalating tension in the room. “You were never like this before Spencer.” she says, shaking her head, “You used to want me because you wanted me, not because someone else wanted me” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Spencer just barely stops himself from shouting. Deciding that would probably be too much. “What it means. Is that you fucked me last night because you were jealous. Would you have even wanted to have sex if you hadn’t seen that guy making a pass at me?” Dr Harris pretends to looked shocked by the admission, his eyebrows coming together in confusion as writes even more in his notebook. “Would one of you like to explain to me what happened last night?” he enquires, as if he doesn’t already know most of the story. So Spencer jumps to his own defense. “Nothing really.” he states up front, “We went to this event, and I left Y/N alone for 5 minutes. When I got back she had her hand on some guys leg, she was flirting with him—” “I wasn’t! He was flirting with me!” she yelps, but he just shakes his head, “He’s leaving out the part where he fucked me in a supply closet because he felt insecure” “I wonder why he would feel insecure about something like that?” Dr. Harris says, his tone dripping with sarcasm, and it stops the two of them in silence. This was the most his illusion had broken, they were getting close. He shakes his head and begins to speak again before anyone can draw attention to his first question. “So Spencer, would— um— would you consider yourself to be a jealous person?” he asks, thoughtful, and restrained once again. And Spencer gives it a little too much thought. Dwelling on the feelings of the night before, how Y/N’s statement hadn’t been altogether false. When he saw that stranger’s hand on her, the way he made her smile, something in him did feel possessive. Possessive over something that hadn’t even been his. The thought made him feel a bit awkward, unable to formulate an answer that was either the truth or a lie. “Okay, maybe it would be simpler to ask about specifics? Have their been times in your marriage, your relationship, or even earlier, where you felt threatened by the presence of other men in Y/N’s life?” Somehow that question renders him even more speechless, because he has. His mind flashing immediately to that New Years Eve. To the red lipstick stain on Derek Morgan’s cheek, and the way it made his stomach feel so awful that he thought he might throw up. And as much as he wanted to admit it, that hadn’t been the only time, it had just been the first, so it stung, but there were more. There was the time Y/N shared a room with Derek on a case. There was no rhyme or reason to it, no one had asked, but they ended up in the same room together. Spencer was with Rossi that night and he barely slept. He’d bunked with Derek so many times before too, he knew his nighttime routine. How he’d take a shower and leave the bathroom with a towel snug around his hips, his torso dripping as he offered Spencer his turn in the shower. He felt so stupid lingering on it, but he couldn’t help it. He tossed and turned all night, his brain concocting scenarios of how she wouldn’t be able to resist him, how they’d tumble into one of the twin beds together. He thought about going into the hallway and listening against their door, but he knew that was insane. He thought about how he’d have to pretend to be happy for the both of them, and how soon after he could quit and have it not look suspicious. All of the same thoughts flooded his brain as Dr. Harris stared at him, awaiting his answer. “No, no I don’t think I’m a jealous person” he lied. “Okay, maybe he’s not jealous” Y/N states, eerily calm, “But he’s fucking possessive” “And what makes you say that?” Dr. Harris asks, trying and failing to contain his excitement. “Because of these.” she states, pulling down the collar of her blouse and revealing the slew of marks that covered her neck,

“He left these all over me last night. He wanted everyone to know what he had done. He wanted that guy who was flirting with me to know I was taken.” “You think a wedding ring would be enough, wouldn’t you?” Spencer snaps back, and she has to hide her surprise, and pride, at the quick remark. “Your husband makes a valid point. Were you upfront with this man, did you make it clear to him that you were in a committed relationship, or were you entertaining his advances?” Dr. Harris asks, even though he knows the answer. He’d seen the way she giggled at his terrible jokes, how she’d rolled her eyes at the mention of her husband. “Of course! I told him I wasn’t interested, but he only left when Spencer showed up” she lies. “Well, that’s not what it looked like to me” Spencer mutters with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Okay” the therapist sighs, “I don’t know that bickering like this is going to get us anywhere. This incident is clearly very fresh and this may not be the best time to talk about it.” He thinks for a moment, “I think it would be best if you tried to hear each other out, at least a little. There’s a lot of stonewalling happening here, and you can’t just shut your partner out when things get difficult.” he gets himself worked up as he speaks, having to calm himself with a deep breath before he continues “Y/N, I’m going to need you to sympathize with Spencer’s concerns. Try and avoid any interaction that could even be misconstrued as flirting. And Spencer, I want you to show your wife a more genuine kind of love. In any relationship, even when they get monotonous, it’s important to feel loved and desired. It’s always so easy at first, but it’s something we have to work on as time goes by and things aren’t as simple. And you owe it to each other to try.” Something about his speech is uncharacteristically sympathetic, and it leaves the both of them in a strange state of stunned shock as they leave the office. Wandering back to their car in silence, processing the session. “What the hell was that?” Y/N whispers as soon as the car door is firmly shut, and Spencer shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe it’s what he wishes he’d done?” — — — Spencer’s lying on the couch with a book while Y/N get’s ready for work that evening. Waiting patiently to see her in one of her outfits, now that he can finally let his eyes linger, or even let his hands touch. But he’s shocked when she comes vaulting out of the room with her make-up half done in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She’s clutching her ringing phone in one hand as she crouches down next to him. “Penelope’s calling! What do I do?!” she looks at him for an answer, her eyes blown wide. But he’s just looking back with confusion, wondering what step he missed in this conversation. “Uh… answer it?” he responds, his eyebrows furrowing together. But she shakes her head vigorously. “No! About us, do I tell her anything, what do I say?” and now he understands. Although he’s not sure he has an answer. One part of him, the overwhelming majority, wants to shout it from he rooftops. He wants to tell anyone that will listen. With the exception of the team. “I mean, no? Right?” he chances, and she nods. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’d probably get taken off the case” and he nods back, encouraging her to answer. When she picks up the call, the change in her tone gives him whiplash and he can’t stop the giggle that he breaks out in. “Hey Pen” she starts, “nothing, just getting ready to go to the bar.” looking down at him she scrunches up her nose, clearly unimpressed by how funny he seemed to find her. She wanders back into their bedroom as she continues her conversation and Spencer can’t help but hear one last snippet before she’s out of ear shot, “No! I told you that I’d let you know if anything happened between us, didn’t I? So quit asking” and it’s followed by the sweet sound of her laughter. When she finally emerges from their bedroom she’s fully dressed for work. Her body’s wrapped up in the same dress she’d worn for that first shift.

It’s almost better than he’d remembered, but maybe that was because he allowed himself to stare shamelessly this time. It was tight, and short, and low cut.

She’d done a better job of hiding the marks this time, but he still knew they were there. “Okay, I’ve gotta get going” she says, gathering her things and shoving them in her purse. He gets up off the sofa to follow her to the door, grabbing her by the waist to slow her down in her haste. “Without giving me a kiss?” he says, playfully as he locks eyes with her, and her lips curve up in a smile. “You’re such a sap, you know that?” she asks him, her hands resting against his chest as he nods down at her, smiling with pride. But she can’t really resist his goofy grin, so she leans up on her tippy toes and plants a soft kiss on his waiting lips. It’s lingering, and sweet, and full of love. It’s as though every kiss of theirs is making up for lost time, so eager and excited that it’s finally a possibility instead of a fantasy. His lips open gently and hers mimic his actions, working in tandem their tongues slide against one another, deepening the kiss as he leans forward, caging her in against the door. She almost lets herself get sucked into his orbit, but she has to pull away. “I’m gonna be late for work” she sighs, and when she looks back up at him his lips are already a little plump and swollen, and it’s so hard to tear herself away but she has to. “I’ll see you when I get home later, okay?” she asks, and he finally pulls his arms back, freeing her up to leave even if he didn’t want her to. “I’ll be waiting” — — — Let me know what you thought about this chapter here <3

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Which is why Damian was greeted one day by the sight of you leaning against your car as he exited his school. He scowled and tried to ignore you, but you walked up to meet him. “Hey, little bro! Alfred called and said he got tied up helping Bruce with something so I offered to come pick you up!.... Now that I think about it, I hope he didn’t mean that he had been literally tied up. You never know when Bruce is involved.”

Your light-hearted joke fell flat as Damian just kept walking, not even acknowledging you. You mentally cursed yourself for taking joke advice from Dick. You sighed, “Listen, kid. I know you don’t like me, that’s fine. I was just trying to help out. Bruce has a lot he is dealing with right now, especially with that new drug lord that just popped up the last few weeks and I was just trying to take one less thing off his plate.” Damian slowed and glanced over at you. You knew bringing his father into this would weaken his resolve some. He was so eager to prove himself to Bruce, it was almost sad. Damian had grown up with killers and assassins. He didn’t understand that love and affection could be freely given without the expectation of anything in return.

“Come on. It’s a long walk back to the manor and it looks like it is going to start pouring soon. Plus, the sooner we get back, the sooner you can start helping Bruce with his case.” That did it. Damian reluctantly turned and climbed into the passenger seat of your car. You tried hiding your smug smile as you got behind the wheel and drove off.

As you drove, an awkward silence filled the car. Damian just stared out the window, refusing to even look at you. But you weren’t going to let this opportunity pass you by. For the first time since his arrival, you had Damian trapped in a confined space with you. If you were going to try and hash this out, now was the perfect opportunity.

“So, if I may ask…why do you hate me?”

“You may not.”

“Sorry?”

“Tt. You may not ask. You gave me the option as to whether or not to allow the question, and I choose that you may not ask.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Then I demand to know why you hate me.”

“I already refused that question.”

“Come on, Damian! Stop being such a brat. To my knowledge, I haven’t done anything to you. But if I have, I would like the chance to fix it. I’m not asking to be your best friend. I would just like things to not be so hostile between us.”

Damian sulked, slouching down into his seat. He had known climbing into the car with you was a bad idea, but he hadn’t really seen another option. Knowing you, you would have driven at a snail’s pace right next to him, constantly trying to get him to join you until you had both reached the manor. He figured if he just gave in, the experience would be over quicker. Now, he wished he had walked.

“I’m not letting this go. I need to know what I did to make you despise me so much. You have started warming up to the boys, even Jason and he can be a real asshole. But I have been nothing but nice to you the whole time!” Suddenly, a realization hit you. “Oh.”

“What?”

“That’s why you like them and not me. You’re used to being around people who are harsher and who demand things from you. You don’t know how to respond to someone who only wants to help you or care for you.”

Damian knew that you were right. While he may have told himself he didn’t like you because you were the favorite, he realized what you said was true. You made him feel vulnerable and weak when you were so nice to him. When the boys were nice and he snapped at them, they would respond in kind. But not you. Every time he rebuffed your niceties, you just took it and continued trying to help him. He didn’t know how to deal with that. He wanted you to yell at him or fight back. But you just responded with more affection.

But he couldn’t let you know you had hit the nail on the head. So, he did what he always did when he was cornered, he lashed out. “You do not know anything about me or the people who raised me, so just shut your mouth.”

You looked as if you were about to respond but decided against it and followed his command. But this just angered Damian more. “You think you are so special. You think you are Father’s favorite. Tt. Don’t you get it? He doesn’t really care about you. As Batman, he is just using you for his war against Gotham. As Bruce Wayne, you are a perfect piece to boost his image in the public eye. The little girl who had to watch as a gang tortured and murdered her parents in front of her? The one who had to sit there tied up with their bodies for two days before being found? Who had no family left to take her in? You were just publicity stunt, a charity case he doesn’t know how to get rid of.”

Your hands gripped the wheel so hard, your knuckles turn white. It took everything in you to not simultaneously burst into tears and slap Damian across the face. You knew he probably doesn’t mean it, but it doesn’t stop the pain from tearing through you. Damian observed your face and realized he crossed a line. “Y/N-”

It was at that moment, a large, armored truck slammed into your driver’s door. The car careened out of control and crashed into a nearby building. Five men climbed out of the truck, holding machine guns at the ready. Seeing both of your unconscious bodies in the wreckage that was once your car, one man spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Everything went as planned, sir. But, bonus, there are two of them.”

Damian groaned as he surfaced back to consciousness. His head was throbbing and there was a line of pain running from his shoulder down across his chest. Shifting uncomfortably, he felt a heavy pull on his ankle. Looking down, he was startled to see a thick chain shackled around it with the other end bolted to the floor. There was enough slack he could move around but the intent was still evident. He was trapped. It took him a moment to remember how he ended up here. He had seen the truck just seconds before it slammed into your door. Y/N! The last thing he could remember before blacking out was the pained expression on your face as you tried to shield Damian from the glass and debris from the car.

He quickly scanned the room, eyes finally landing on the other person laying crumpled in a heap across the room from him. Though their back was to him, he recognized the Wonder Woman hoodie you had been wearing. He called out to you, but you didn’t stir. Between the distance and how you were laying, Damian couldn’t even be sure if you were still breathing. He tried calling your name a few more times but with similar results. Finally, he removed his shoe and flung it across the room as hard as he could. It hit you right in the middle of your back, causing you to jerk awake with a groan. Damian was flooded with relief, but it was short lived as you turned to face him.

Every movement you made seemed stilted and pained. Blood speckled your face and hands in numerous places supposedly from the shattered windows of the car. A large, ugly, purple bruise could be seen poking out of the top of your torn hoodie. However, Damian watched as your face broke into a smile as you register he is not badly hurt. But slowly, as you took in your surroundings and the matching chains around your and Damian’s ankles, the smile faded.

“You okay?” Your voice was hoarse and Damian could hear a slight wheeze as you spoke.

“Given the situation, I am as well as can be expected. And you?”

“Never been better. Any idea what happened?

“No. The last thing I remember is that truck slamming into us.”

“Unfortunately, that’s all I remember either.” You struggled to sit up but Damian saw the pain flash in your eyes and you grabbed your side. After a moment, you managed to crawl over to the wall and prop yourself against it. You were breathing heavily at this point and leaned your head back, eyes closed.

After a moment, Damian softly called out your name. Opening one eye to look at him, you replied, “Yeah, Dami?”

“Are you sure you are alright?”

You chuckled softly, “Yeah, Dami. I’m just resting up for what comes next.”

“Which is?”

“I have no idea but I have a feeling it’s not going to be pleasant.”

Damian pulled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He then noticed you are still watching him.

“Hey kid. Listen to me. I promise, I will get you out of here. Okay? You’re going to be home before you know it.”

“What about you?”

Before you can reply, the door opened and a group of men walk in. You sat up straighter and exchanged a worried glance with Damian. You both recognized the man in the front of the pack as the new drug lord Bruce had been tracking. He sneered down at the pair of you, obviously pleased with himself.

“Well look what we have here boys. It seems like I got two Waynes for the price of one! And you know what that means. Twice the ransom money!” He laughed cruelly and he paced back and forth between your prone bodies. “Where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. My name is Nico Moore and I will soon be running this city. However, to do that, I need a rather large financial investment. And that’s where you come in. As you well know, your father is the richest man in the city. But his is also known to be friends with Batman.”

You and Damian exchanged glances. At least it appeared Moore didn’t know your connection to Batman. You were both here simply due to your connection to Bruce Wayne. That was a first.

Moore noticed your reactions. “Ah, so you two know the Bat as well? Interesting… well, you see, he and his little band of birds have been causing me and my men a lot of trouble the last few months. Delayed my timelines, arrested my people, cost me millions of dollars. And while it would be foolish to try and stop his interference directly, his good friend Bruce Wayne may be able to convince him to back down in exchange for the lives of his children. That, plus a hundred million dollars of course!”

You couldn’t help as a small laugh burst from your lips. This idiot’s plan was to kidnap Bruce Wayne’s children so Bruce would convince Batman and his “band of birds” to stop going after him. While in reality, he had two of said birds in his possession and was trying to blackmail Batman into stopping himself. The dramatic irony was just too much!

Moore, however, did not see what was so funny and he also didn’t appreciate your laughter. He demonstrated as much as he roughly backhanded you across the jaw. Your already concussed head slammed into the wall and you struggled to stay conscious. You mentally cursed yourself. You weren’t a vigilante at this moment. You weren’t supposed to laugh in the face of danger. You were supposed to be a spoiled, rich girl who hadn’t experienced this darker side of Gotham since you were a child.

So, as you turned back to face Moore, you put on your best innocent face and stared up at the drug lord with wide eyes, “I’m- I’m sorry. I laugh when I get nervous or scared. Please, let me call someone. I can get you your money within the hour. But you have to let us go. We were in a bad car accident and we need medical attention as soon as possible.”

“Neither of you need medical care yet…. But you will soon.” He smirked at you before continuing. “Besides, we already sent your father our ransom demands two hours ago and it’s been radio silence. So, I think it is time to show him we mean business and send him a different sort of message.” Moore motioned to Damian. “Bring the kid.”

Damian immediately shrunk into the wall but before the men could touch him, your voice rung out. “No. Leave him alone. Take me instead.”

Moore just scoffed. “And why should I do that?”

You dropped your short-lived helpless act, your voice now strong and authoritative. “I can guess what you plan on doing once we leave the room. You don’t want to do that to a kid. I am sure you just made quite a name for yourself, capturing two of Bruce Wayne’s children. You’re probably right, you might be able to use that to run this city very shortly. But if word gets out you tortured a kid? Well, this may be Gotham, but there are a lot of villains in this city who don’t appreciate people who cross that line.”

“Y/N”, Damian called softly. You ignored him, never taking your eyes from Moore’s face.

He scoffed again, but you saw cracks in his cocky demeanor. “The Joker killed one of those bratty Robins years ago and he’s still the biggest baddie in the city.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but you are not the Joker. That man could kill the loved ones of every villain in the city and they still wouldn’t dare touch him. Besides, there is a big difference between beating up a Robin verses a defenseless, spoiled, rich 10-year-old. Do you seriously want to go there?” You saw his hesitation, so you went for the kill. “Anyways, I am sure you are aware of our relationship to Bruce.” You jerked your head towards Damian. “He’s the only blood child. He’s the only one who carries his name. And that kind of thing matters a lot in those rich circles. The rest of us? Wayne couldn’t care less. We’re just tax write offs, publicity stunts, charity cases to boost his image in the public eye that he now can’t get rid of. I was the poor little orphan who watched her parents murdered in front of her, who had nowhere else to go until the white knight Bruce Wayne came to my rescue. Do you know how much his stocks went up when he adopted me? And it is for that same reason he will still pay a ransom for both of us, because otherwise it’s bad publicity. It would hurt his public image. But if you hurt one hair on that kid’s head, you’re not getting a ransom. You’re getting a body bag.”

You finally looked at Damian. He had gone pale when he heard the words he had thrown at you early, coming from your mouth. For the first time since you had known him, you saw tears forming in his eyes. You nodded and gave him a small smile, hoping this slight gesture could convey all the things you longed to say to him in that moment.

Moore noticed the slight exchange. “If Wayne really thinks so little of you, if it is all a ruse, why do you care what happens to the kid?”

“Because he’s still just a kid. He doesn’t deserve that no matter who he is. Besides, just because Bruce and I have no affections towards each other, doesn’t mean I don’t love the rest of the family he gave me.”

Moore considered everything you said, then jerked his head at you. “Take her. Leave the kid…. For now.”

You gave him a curt nod, a sick form of thanks. As the men came to unlock your ankle, Damian struggled against his chains, desperately trying to reach you. “Y/N! What are you doing?!”

As the chain clicked open, you managed to slip out of the men’s grasp and rushed over to Damian. You gathered him into a tight hug and whispered, “I promised. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“Y/N, I am so sorry for what I said in the car. I did not mean it. I was just-”

“I know, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter now.” You took his face gently between your hands, locking eyes with the small boy. “Dami…. Stay strong for me. Whatever happens, whatever you hear or see, don’t give in. He’s coming for you and he’s going to get you out of here.”

The men grabbed your arms and tore the two of you apart. You smiled sadly at Damian as you were roughly forced from the room. The last thing you heard before the heavy door slammed shut is Damian screaming your name.

Damian couldn’t believe that you were gone. He couldn’t believe that after everything he had said to you, everything he had done to you, you were still willing to take his place. He wasn’t quite sure what the men were planning on doing to you, but he knew that you had made a huge sacrifice by offering up yourself instead. Now, he wasn’t even sure if he would ever see you again to thank you. To apologize.

Unfortunately, Damian didn’t have to wait long to have that questioned answered. A television screen across the room he hadn’t previously notice flickered to life. He stared in horror as he saw you on the screen. They had removed your hoodie and shirt so your top was only covered by your bra. This allowed Damian to see the full extent of your injuries from the car crash. Your left side was the worse since it had taken the full impact of from the truck. The nasty purple bruise he had seen peeking out the top of your shirt stretched from your left shoulder down diagonally across your chest to your right hip where it disappeared in the waistband of your shorts, probably caused by the seatbelt. The skin over your left ribs was red and splotchy with bruising blossoming there as well. Your left shoulder looked swollen and out of place but the men didn’t care as the roughly being hanging you from the ceiling by your wrists. You let out a hiss of pain and tried to reposition yourself so the weight wasn’t directly on your injured shoulder. But with your toes just barely grazing the floor, you were unable to gain much leverage.

On the screen, Moore walked into frame. He yanked your face so you were looking directly into the camera and he waved, “Smile for the camera! This is streaming live straight to Wayne Industries as well to your brother downstairs. We didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Your face drained of color and your eyes widened. “Damian, don’t watch, okay. Please don’t watch this. Turn around and try your best to cover your ears.” You knew that Damian had witnessed some terrible things during his time with the League, but this was not something you wanted added to that list.

Moore just laughed. “He’s welcome to try. But now Princess, it’s time for the fun to begin. And remember, the longer you last, the longer it is before we move on to the kid.” You nodded and braced yourself for what came next.

He started with a knife. It was small but extremely sharp. Moore lightly flicked it across your arms and thighs, creating small streams of blood everywhere it touched. After a few minutes of not getting a reaction from you, he began making larger, deeper cuts. Your face twitched but you still managed to keep yourself in a Zenlike state. That was until Moore turned sharply and drove a four-inch blade into thigh, straight up to the hilt. You gasped and jerked on your chains, sending another wave of pain down your damaged shoulder. Moore smiled gleefully, finally getting the reaction he desired. Leaving the blade handle sticking out of your thigh, he repeated the process on the other leg. You let out a muffled groan but managed to not jerk this time.

Moore turned his back on you and you allowed yourself to momentarily sag on the chain. But then, without warning, Moore twisted around and slammed a fist into the end of each knife still protruding from your thighs. Instinctually, your body jackknifed, trying to curl up in a ball away from the pain. Unfortunately, this pulled on your shoulder harshly, causing a whole new wave of pain crashing through your body. It took everything in you to cling to consciousness as your vision tunneled and your head swam. But you knew that unconsciousness means losing, and losing meant Damian took your place. So, you clawed your way out of the darkness and took a few deep breaths, trying to clear your head.

Once again, Moore was delighted at your agony. He mockingly taunted the camera but you were too far gone to understand what he was saying. You just hoped Damian found a way to tune this out and Bruce was using the footage to track your location. At this point, it was your only hope.

Satisfied he had gotten his money’s worth with this method of torture, Moore yanked both knives out of your legs. You had gone pretty numb at this point and barely felt the trails of blood flowing from each wound. As you spy the growing pool beneath you, you started worrying you may pass out from blood loss soon.

Ready for his next toy, Moore picked up a bat. While to most people a bat may seem like a step down from the knives, you had fought Harley enough times to know what kind of damage a bat could inflict. And Moore does not disappoint. His first swing slammed into the side of your face. He may have not looked very strong, but the impact of the wood destroyed your left cheek bone and sent teeth flying from your mouth. You tried to hold it back, but a strangled sob escaped your blood-soaked lips. You can’t see anything out of your left eye and you aren’t sure if it is because you were blinded or your eye was just swollen shut. Any tiny movement your face made sent waves of pain down your entire body. This experience was the worst pain you have ever suffered.

That was until Moore moved on to your torso. Already bruised and broken from the crash, it took next to nothing to shatter your ribs. You howled in agony and tried to twist away, but Moore didn’t hesitate as he smashed the bat into you again and again, aiming for your stomach and back. You tried to scream but it just came out a ragged moan. It was getting harder and harder to breath with each shuttering, wheezing breath, and you figured he probably punctured your lung. Blood was streaming steadily from between your lips and you no longer had the strength to hold yourself up. As you dangled limply from the chains, the pain was just too much and finally, mercifully, you allowed the darkness to claim you.

Damian had tried to do as you asked. He had initially turned away from the television, but he eventually decided the things he was imagining in his head had to be worse that what was really happening. So, he turned to face the television just as Moore drove the first knife into your thigh. Damian watched in horror as you jerked on the chain and gasped in pain. As he was staring dumbfounded at the screen, Moore thrust the knife into your other thigh. Then, he slammed his fists into the ends of the knives. Damian had been a part of ransom negotiations before with the League of Assassins and he knew this was all wrong. Sure, you may cut off a finger or an ear to show you meant business, but this was taking things to a whole other level.

Damian finally turned back to the wall when he saw Moore pick up the baseball bat. He tried his best to cover his ears, but he could still hear the whack of impact, how your pained screams turned into gurgles and rasping gasps for air, how you finally went silent. Damian soon discovered that the silence was worse than the cries of pain. He hesitantly turned to the screen again and struggled not to immediately vomit.

Your face was almost unrecognizable between the swelling and the gore. Your injured arm now jutted gruesomely out of the socket as the weight from your limp body pulled it from its home. Your chest heaved as, even unconscious, you struggled for air. Your stomach was a tie-dyed mess of purples, blues, and reds from the one solid bruise that now covered it. Moore finally put down the bat which was still dripping with your blood. Wiping his face, he addressed the camera, “You have one hour Mr. Wayne. Then it’s your son’s turn.” And with that, the screen went dark.

A few minutes later, the door to the room opened and your body was tossed in. You landed in a heap on the floor, your ragged wheezing the only indication you were still alive. As the door was shut once again, Damian struggled to reach your prone form. But the chain on his ankle was about three feet too short. He called out to you, begging for a sign you are okay. But he got none.

Damian wasn’t sure how much time had past when he heard a commotion outside. You still hadn’t moved but your breathing had become shallower and more irregular. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Batman stormed into the room.

Damian called out to him, tears of relief in his eyes and fear in his voice. “Father! Check on Y/N! Please tell me she is okay!”

Bruce bent down to examine the broken body at his feet. Even with the cowl on, Damian could see the look of horror and panic on his face. Then Nightwing was there too. He blanched when he saw the state you were in, but Batman quickly sent him to check on Damian. Dick hurried over and gave Damian a small smile as he fidgeted with the chain.

“Hey, kiddo. Don’t worry, I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

“Forget about me Grayson, you need to help Y/N. Or at least make sure Moore doesn’t escape.”

“Don’t worry about Moore. We nabbed him and his men on the way in. Tim’s with them waiting for the police to show up.”

“And Todd?”

Dick hesitated for a moment. “He’s back at the manor. That video Moore sent really messed him up. He was having some major Joker flashbacks, so we decided it was better to have him stay back.”

Damian nodded and looked back to you with a far off look in his eye. “She took my place. They were going to take me, but she convinced them she was the better choice.”

Dick remembered your pleas to Damian on the video, begging him not to watch, and he realized Jason wasn’t the only one who was dealing with watching the video. “Hey, she’s going to be okay.” Damian just nodded again.

There was a soft click as the chain fell from Damian’s ankle. He immediately rushed to your side. Bruce had been examining your injuries and had just injected something into your arm. After a moment, your right eye flickered open, the left still swollen closed. You looked around slowly, eye unfocused and clouded with pain, but you finally settled on the man kneeling next to you.

“B…Bruce…?” you managed to choke out, blood dripping from your mouth.

“I need to get you out of here but I can’t move you until I assess the extent of your injuries. Can you tell me where the damage is?”

“…It hurts.. it all hurts so much,” you whispered, tears trailing down your face. Suddenly, you remembered something, and you struggled to sit up. “Damian, you.. have to help…Dami.”

Bruce lightly held you down to stop your struggling. “He’s fine. He’s right here.” He shifted so you could see Damian, free and unharmed. You collapsed back with a wheezy sigh of relief. Damian grasped your hand lightly, trying not to hurt you any further. You managed to give him a small smile. “You… -k?”

“Yes… thanks to you. You saved my life.”

“Nah. You would’ve held out longer… than I did…..But…..couldn’t let them hurt……hurt my little brother.”

“Thank you… sister.”

_____________________________________________________________

A year and a half ago, Captain America and the White Wolf helped Stephen Strange to save Scarlet Witch from dooming their entire world and reality and, after the battle, brought back from the dead the institution of the Avengers.

Led by Sam Wilson, the group of super-heroes birthed itself from the ashes with team members who seemed much more put together and like willing participants than the first try.

The Widows reunited in a secret location for a special reunion and, in the dark of a cabin somewhere in Siberia with over five bottles of good vodka and whiskey being shared, decided together if one of them would volunteer to take the place of the deceased and iconic Natasha Romanoff.

The conversation had been long, tiring and heartbreaking for many reasons, but the majority came to the same conclusion: Romanoff's legacy mattered.

It mattered to the kids, to the little girls who would see a new group of supers on their TV trying to fight the bad and needed the reminder that even if you had no mind-bending abilities like Scarlet, you too could decide to change the world.

It mattered a lot.

Taking the position involved more than just sentimentalism, though, and after a lot of deliberation, a unanimous decision was reached on who would be the one to step up for the job.

You.

Y/n. The newest Black Widow, hired by none other than Nick Fury and "approved" by none other than Sam Wilson.

The teammates loved you upon meeting you. Sam, Joaquin, and Wanda all smiled when Nick walked in the briefing and announced he'd found the newest and last addition to the team.

(Officially, Stephen, Peter and Thor were also Avengers, but the first one mostly kept to himself since his job as a Stone Keeper took up a lot of his time and required plenty of studying, the latter could only be contacted when he decided to grace Earth with his godly presence, and Peter. Well—you'd been an advocate to Nick that the boy needed time away from insanity. Brooklyn needed him—the world and its big, ugly missions could be handled by the adults.)

All the members sitting at the table smiled, waved and introduced themselves with delight.

All except for one.

James looked at you like he'd seen a ghost, and it took weeks for whatever haunted him to leave his eyes when you shared a room.

He intrigued you.

More than that—James surprised you.

"Widow. I'm sorry I haven't been... the most welcoming teammate," James had said that to you after the first month while awkwardly standing under the threshold of the shared kitchen. "I... Sam gave me file of the Red Room. Romanoff and Belova's secret mission. I—I had no idea that program still existed." He swallowed down a visible knot. "I'm sorry. I should've—I don't know what I should have, but I'm sorry."

That had been the first surprise, but not the last.

It had also been the moment you realized escaping from the infatuation you had with him would be impossible, and that you'd have to rationalize the hell out of every interaction with him in order to keep your thoughts strictly professional.

"What on earth are you apologizing for?" You had asked.

Bucky had blinked in surprise, speechless, and you'd taken the opportunity to continue. "James, listen to me carefully." His posture straightened with your request. "The previous Widow generation who trained me were the last ones trained by him. By the Asset. And while memories of the Red Room are ones I prefer buried and forgotten, these I'll share with you gladly: All of us, new or old Widows, knew that you were one of us. You, James, survived and went through more in the hands of Hydra than any other person that's lived, and you still managed to carry out the tasks the handlers demanded out of you without their strokes of cruelty. The Asset was known for helping Widows in their lowest moments, even if that cost him punishments later on."

With each one of your words, Bucky's eyes widened more.

"I don't know what you think that we think of you, but I can assure you that's not it." Then, you took a deep breath and put on your best image of what a genuine smile looked like. "And—please. Call me Y/n? Or I might have to start calling you Wolfie around this block."

That day, you were gifted with his first smile.

It had been so kind and appreciative that it almost broke your resolve and cracked a real smile out of you, and that had also been when you noticed the danger this man posed to you.

Was it your fascination with the Soldier?

It could be.

Days were spent restlessly turning in bed, wondering if the foggy and uncertain memories you had of Widows talking so fondly and reverently of him was affecting your judgment and ability to see clearly.

James, more than just a teammate, was also more than the ghosts he carried. He didn't deserve someone projecting their childish infatuations on him over bedtime stories they'd heard about the 'soldier they never managed to break.'

You had to be professional.

It's just—it was hard.

Even harder as the group went on missions together, bonded over successes and fails (more of the first than the latter, thankfully and to Nick's utmost pleasure) and did good things together.

Saving people and erasing some of the bad from this world rushed endorphins through the body like nothing else.

Nothing you tried, no exercise or food, ever brought you as much joy as working the people who you now lived with.

Nothing, except maybe making James laugh so hard he couldn't breathe, or seeing him blush when you gave him a rare and honest compliment.

James goes from teammate to colleague, from colleague to friend, from friend to person who occasionally pops up in my dreams and makes me wake up sweating, with not enough air in my lungs and my brain spinning with images of them holding me and smiling so up close.

The last development carried the most... difficulties, for obvious reasons.

So for the past months, part of your work had included talking yourself down from things involving him.

James needed a teammate of trust. Reliable. One who he would have no doubts about, sure of the fact they were watching his six and looking after him much like he did for the group.

You were the group's six.

That meant no dreams of his kissable lips, his joyous and youthful laughter, his ocean-blue eyes that looked good enough for a swim during mornings when the sun was shining just right.

That meant remembering constantly the dangers of letting yourself feel.

Black Widows were not meant for romance.

Bucky Barnes deserved a steady girl he could take on dates, you thought. He deserved so much, and you knew it couldn't possibly come from you, so it was easy to keep your mind on track.

That went well, until Romania.

One bug and one rat—you'd discovered the holes in Monica's intel thirteen minutes before Sam had been taken and Joaquin was left alone to handle the second part of this high-stake mission, so you'd taken matters into your own hands and took care of their six for them.

The window of time was clear: You could save Sam and have no time left to save yourself, or you could give Sam a window and have enough time to let Joaquin know of your location.

You were the Avengers' blind corner, and no one was making out of Romania with Sam Wilson on their trunk.

You'd taken the plunge, and if that meant two bullet wounds and three cars of highly-trained assassins coming to get you, then so be it.

This had been a high-stake mission from the start. Freeing Sam only meant you upped the chances of your team even through the loopholes.

Whether the Queen's agents managed to terminate you or not, you had allowed the road for the Avengers to win this one.

You'd go down for that easily.

_____________________________________________________________

Sovata, Romania — 2023.

Smuggling yourself with the food-produce trucks had been easy.

Staying alive for another 24h without any help had been the tricky part.

You were hiding now in a cabin lost in a small wood in Sovata, and you knew that only because you'd found the local mail post after a little searching.

From there, you could send an anonymous e-mail to Joaquin's inbox with the secret hint for your location, and then, hope to god he catches it in his spam box and Bucky decodes it before you bleed out to death or get an infection your body can no longer fight.

From your math, it had been 37 hours since the group split.

You hoped they were okay.

You were sweating, and something told you that the bullet wound which had entered your stomach area punctured something inside of you.

The medical training engraved in your brain was only enough to access the parts hurting and tell you what needed to be addressed, but not enough to tell you if you were gonna make it.

Y/n.

Bucky's voice had sounded so desperate.

You slide further down on the floor, clutching the stolen hoodie in your fists, trying to fight the dizziness.

Agent, status report.

You missed his voice.

If you were going to die, the least you could do was allow yourself the benefit of hearing his laughter, and thinking about his smile without beating yourself up for it.

He wouldn't care.

Would they care if you died?

Had you made a difference in their lives?

You'd like to think so.

You wanted to believe that Wanda liked you, given her occasional visits to your room.

You wanted to believe Sam appreciated you—even went as far as considering you a friend. You certainly valued his heart and field expertise, and he always asked for your opinion second after Bucky's.

You wanted to believe Joaquin and Peter would miss your friendly teasing and banter, always poking at their nerdiness and young, gentle hearts. They were slightly terrified of you, but always smiled when you showed up for their game nights.

Would they look for you until they found you?

Nick Fury loved Natasha Romanoff like his own daughter, but he'd barely looked at you whenever you entered a room. It hurt your feelings a lot—you could admit that to yourself now through the delirium and the pain, but maybe you were just another pawn to him.

A disposable Widow, coming from a place that created many.

You were no Natasha, that much you knew.

Something steps in the wooden floor on the cabin's first floor and you clutch the knife tighter on your right hand.

Someone was here, and if they thought finding a dying girl was their lucky they, the surprise they might find when attacking a dying spider would blow the brains out of their mind.

Instead of stabbing someone's eye, your swimming vision finds the frame of the one person you'd been thinking about since everything went down.

"Y/n!"

Bucky is here, and oh no.

"No, no, no—Sam, I got her, it was Sovata." There are arms wrapped tight around you, and the knife on your hand is taken away by stronger fingers. "Y/n. Y/n open your eyes."

When had they closed?

"You found me," you tell him. You're happy they found you—maybe there's time. "Thanks, Bucky."

"Sam, get Nick on the line and make him get a jet. We need to get her into special care right now, she's going into shock and the—Y/n? Y/n, please keep your eyes open."

His voice is so nice that all you can do is obey.

Opening them is a mistake, though.

Bucky's the one holding you—oh! That's nice. Bucky is strong, and you don't feel so cold anymore with his arms around you. Even the metal arm that you can feel through his clothes seem warmer than you, and you realize that's probably because right now, it is.

"Y/n, please, please keep your eyes open." There's a crack in James's voice that brings a chill in your spine, and you want the sadness stored in that crack to go away. Bucky should away be happy. "Oh, god, please stop talking, I can't—you can't do this like this. Not like this."

His voice is sounding a little distant, but that's okay—Bucky's always been a good thing to ground your mind in 'cause everything about him is so bright and warm.

The crinkles on the corner of his eyes exude the warmth of a summer afternoon, his laughter is the fireplace that keeps a house happy in winter, and his eyes.

Oh, Bucky's eyes have enough in them to make a poet out of a trained assassin.

"If you weren't trying to die on my arms right now I'd make fun of you for complimenting my eyes when the whole team can listen, but you're heavy and I'm way past jokes right now." Did he just say you're heavy?

You force your eyes open—your entire body aches, and there's no gravity under you because Bucky's carrying your body bridal-style somewhere else, and the trees blur together behind his head.

"Oh, thank fuck," he exhales shakily, and the tears in his voice make you wish you had yours.

"Bucky..."

"Yeah? I'm here. What is it? Sam is coming, Y/n. We're gonna fly you to a hospital, okay? Don't strain yourself," he tells you. He's crying.

Bucky Barnes is crying because you're dying in his arms, but the last part bothers you less than the first one.

Listening to his voice break in certain words hurts almost as much as the bullets holes in you or the stab wounds you know are still open on your body.

Still. Telling him this is important. And it's no strain.

"You..." your mouth feels like sandpaper, but the words still taste sweet. "You... are... the best guy... I've ever met."

There's a broken sob above you that feels like another gunshot, but you have to finish this because it's important. "And... you're... so good."

The feeling of your tears washing your temples are the last thing you feel before darkness takes over.

Even Bucky's broken scream of your name goes unheard.

Still—you're in his arms.

It's the most peaceful sleep you've ever slid to.

Taglist pt. One ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @fanofalltheficsx ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fairytalebucky

Part Two ❥ ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckyxplumsss ; @sltwins ; ; @spiderdudetom ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @agni-l ; @sstan-hoe ; @hawsx3 ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; @itsmedramaqu33n ; @fiftyshadesofokay ; @peonyophelia ;

“Ay, ay Captain.” You chuckled to yourself as you duck back out into the hall. The coast seemed clear as it appeared the HYDRA soldiers from earlier had given up trying to get to you. However, this soon proved to be a faulty assumption as you rounded the next corner and saw them standing at the end of the hall, guns drawn.

You smirked as you lifted your hands and sent a wave of energy hurdling in their direction. Or at least, you tried to. As the concussive force you summoned traveled down your arms, the vibrations knocked something loose in your gauntlet causing them to once again black out just before they were needed. Without the gauntlets to direct your blast, the energy exploded from your fingers in all directions. You felt the entire building shake as you were thrown backwards, skidding limply down the hall.

As you struggled to remain conscious, you once again heard the comms roar to life as everyone tried to figure out what just happened. Weakly, you clicked on, “Guys, I think I screwed up.”

Steve’s voice was instantly in your ear. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You groaned as you struggled to sit up. The room was spinning and slightly out of focus. “Something went wrong with my gauntlets. They shut off right as I shot off a blast. Without them, it went wild in all directions.”

“Are you okay?” Steve repeated.

“I think so. I got thrown back quite a distance, but nothing seems to be broken. My head is killing me though.”

“Wait a second…. Concussion…. Did you just give yourself a concussion?” Tony and Sam both burst out laughing.

“Where do you think I got the name? It is one of the major side effects of being hit by my blasts. Remind me when we get back and I can demonstrate.”

Both men gave a speedy apology, but you still faintly heard them snickering to themselves. Rolling your eyes, you examined the rest of the hallway around you. “I think we have a bigger problem. Both the ceiling and the floor took some major structural damage. There are cracks all through this part of the building.”

“Which floor are you on?” Steve asked.

“Top. It seems somewhat stable at the moment, but I don’t think it will take much to send everything crashing down.”

There was silence on the other end of the comms. When Steve finally began speaking again, he was using his “Captain” voice. “Okay. Falcon, Tony, fly through the upper floors and make sure everyone is clear. If this place does start coming down, we want to minimalize casualties. I’ll go find Concussion. Since she won’t be able to use her powers, she’s going to need back up. We can regroup down on the first floor then retreat back to the Quinjet.”

“Cap, I can still use my powers, I just won’t have as much control as I usually do without the gauntlets.”

“If you get into trouble, do what you have to do to get out of it. But if the building is already as unstable as you say, I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks. So just hold tight until I get there. I’m on my way.”

You pulled yourself over to the wall and lean heavily against it. You hadn’t experience blow back from one of your blasts in the eight years since Tony had helped you build your gauntlets and you had forgotten how bad the aftereffects could be. You laid your head back and closed your eyes.

Soon, heard footsteps rapidly approaching. Pulling out your gun, you pointed it towards the sound. However, you lowered it seconds later when Steve rounded the corner. He hurried over to where you were propped and examined you for injuries.

You swatted his hand away playfully. “I’m fine. I just forgot how bad these blasts can be. Can you just help me up?”

Steve just chuckled as he offered you his hand. You stumbled slightly as he helped you to your feet, but you were soon able to regain your bearings.

Once again raising your gun, you said, “Why don’t you go first, and I’ll cover your six.”

“Are you sure? It would probably be better if we stay next to each other.”

“I’m fine. And there are too many corridors and doorways around here. We need to spread out a little to get the best coverage.” Steve nodded but you could still see he was hesitant to leave your side. You rolled your eyes, “Geeze, how many times do I have to say it? I’M FINE!”

“Okay, okay. But if you start to feel weak or need a break, let me know.”

“Same goes for you, old man.”

Steve shook his head as he started down the hall, muttering under his breath, “Why do I even try?”

You allowed him to get a fair distance ahead of you, then followed after. You both had made it about halfway to the exit when, suddenly, four more HYDRA soldiers appeared out of one of the corridors to your right. Both you and Steve opened fire, easily taking them out. However, it appeared you weren’t quick enough as you both watched in horror as one of the soldiers dropped a grenade from one hand and the pin from the other. You knew that the roof and floor which were already creaking in distress wouldn’t sustain another blast. And with mere seconds before the grenade detonated, there is no way for either of you to run to the stable part of the building at the end of the hall. However…. there was still one way for Steve to reach safety.

As the two of you exchanged a look, Steve seemed to realize what you are planning. He took a step towards you, but before he could protest, you mouthed, “I’m sorry” and slammed your wrists together. A massive concussive blast hurdled from your hands knocking into Steve just as the grenade exploded. He went flying backwards before slamming forcefully against the far wall. But that was the last you saw of him as the floor disappeared from beneath your feet. Between the grenade and your blast, the damaged building couldn’t maintain its integrity and the hallway collapsed, taking you with it.

You crashed into the floor below, landing hard on your back causing the wind to be instantly knocked out of you. However, you didn’t even get a second to catch your breath before the rest of the rubble rained down on top of you. You managed to throw your arms over your head in an attempt to provide some protection, but it did little good. Soon, what little air you had been able to get into your lungs was forced out once again as a large piece of the ceiling smashed into your chest, pinning you firmly to the floor. Even though you were now completely buried beneath the rubble, this one large piece was causing the most trouble. You tried desperately to move, to find a way to shift that piece off your ravenous lungs, but it was no use. You gasped frantically, urgently, trying to get some air but you soon felt yourself getting lightheaded, vision blackening around the edges.

Suddenly, you heard a distant voice calling your name. You tried to answer but your lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. The debris around you began to shift and after a few seconds, Steve’s face appeared in a gap in the wreckage. Spotting you, he began flinging huge chunks of metal and stone across the room, his enhanced super soldier strength allowing him to lift the pieces with ease. Just as you felt yourself slipping into unconsciousness, the stone crushing down on your chest was removed. You gulped down lungful after lungful of air trying desperately to replenish your body’s supply. Through the blood pounding in your ears, you vaguely heard Steve speaking to you and you gave him a weak thumbs up as reassurance that you are okay.

However, now that you were able to focus on something other than your lack of oxygen, you were feeling the effects of your fall. Practically every inch of your body ached, your skin felt scraped raw, and you felt the crushing pressure from the debris that still covered your bottom half. But you were alive, which was honestly more than you had expected.

Steve ran his hand lightly over your head as he checked you for any major injuries. When he didn’t find any, he sat back to assess the situation, “Are you okay?”

You chuckled softly. “Better now that I can breathe. And don’t you ever get tired of asking me stuff like that?”

“Yes. Yes, I really do.” He stared at you intensely. “What were you thinking? Your blast might have been what caused the collapse. If you hadn’t use it to push me out of the way, the damage might not have been as bad.”

“Yeah, but if it had been, then you would have fallen too. And then who would have saved me from underneath all this stuff?” You cut him off as he tried to argue. “Listen, can you just finish moving this stuff off of me so we can get out of here? The team is probably wondering where we are.”

Steve grunted in annoyance but he began clearing the remaining debris that was covering you. But then as he moved one of the larger pieces, you heard him swear.

“Language!” you yelled jokingly. But when you saw Steve’s face, you grew worried. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Don’t move okay. Everything’s going to be alright. I just need to call some backup.”

“Steve, what’s going on?” He tried to stop you as you struggled to a sitting position, but you were able to maneuver enough to see what had caught his attention. You paled at the sight of the three-inch-thick piece of rebar that was jutting out of your thigh.

Steve grabbed your hand reassuringly as he spoke into the comms, “We need medical attention immediately to the eighth floor.”

“What happened?” Sam asked anxiously.

“The floor collapsed and Concussion fell. She landed on some of the debris. I was able to clear most of it off her, but she’s been impaled by a big piece of rebar. It’s stuck in her thigh, and there is a lot of blood.”

Tony clicked on immediately. “I’m on my way. Just hang tight, kiddo. You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded but then realized no one but Steve could see you. “Okay. I’ll just wait here.” You laid back down as you tried to wrap your head around the situation.

Steve looked at you anxiously. “Didn’t you feel it?”

You shook your head. “I felt the pressure of the debris, but that area is just kind of…... numb.” You both exchanged a worried look, not quite sure what that meant for your condition.

Suddenly, Tony landed next to you. You could hear him muttering to F.R.I.D.A.Y. as he tried to assess the extent of your wounds. You couldn’t quite make out the words but based on the tone of his voice, you figured it probably wasn’t good news. Finally, he leaned down and retracted his faceplate, giving you a good look at his face. Yep, not good news.

“Okay, kid. So, good news first. F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t register any broken bones or any major concerns besides the leg. Just some bruises, a possible concussion, and a few cracked ribs. Now the bad news is, F.R.I.D.A.Y. thinks that the rebar has nicked your femoral artery so if we try to lift you off, there is a good chance you could bleed out. Now, I can try to cut the other end of it off so we can move you with it still sticking in you, but there is still a good chance it will shift enough that it does more damage or slips out enough that you still bleed out.”

“Great. So, is there a third option?”

Tony hesitated. “Not really, no. Those blasts you set off compromised this entire section of the building. Whatever’s left of floors above us is pretty unstable and could collapse at any second. We need to clear the area ASAP.”

You nodded. “Fine. Then we go with option one. You yank me off and see what happens.” Tony stifled his chuckle as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, grow up! You know what I meant.”

“Maybe watch your phrasing next time.” Tony turned to Steve. “So basically, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to lift her off the rebar then you press on the wound as quickly and with as much pressure as you can. Got it?” Steve just nodded grimly. Tony looked around. “Does anyone have something we can use to stop the bleeding?”

“Steve, take my shirt. It’s pretty dirty at this point, but it’s better than nothing.” He nodded again as he unzipped your jacket. Not wanting to jostle you more than necessary, he tore your shirt in half and removed it from your body. Always the gentleman, he adverted his eyes as he rezipped your jacket. You smiled and gave him a reassuring wink. He blushed deeply, which just made your smile grow larger. That is until he started removing your belt.

Handing it to you, he muttered, “You’re going to want to bite down on that. I’m sorry.”

You nodded as you grasped the situation. Whatever happened next, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Steve helped you sit up as he slid in behind you, positioning it so you were leaning against his chest. He reached his left arm across your body to grab your right hand. His right hand was at the ready with what was once your shirt.

Tony straddled your leg and placed his hands just below where the metal jutted harshly through your thigh. Placing your belt securely between your teeth, you nodded at Tony. After a second of hesitation, he jerked your leg free.

You knew that this experience was going to be painful, but you had not expected this. A bloodcurdling howl tore from your lips, muffled by the belt clenched firmly in your mouth. Your body arched back violently, slamming into Steve as you writhe in pain. He tightened his hold on you with the arm he had wrapped across your chest, and you squeezed his hand so tightly you were sure if not for the super serum, you would have broken a few of his bones. As he crushed your shirt into the gushing hole in your leg, sending another wave of agony through your system. Your jaw was clenched so tightly it felt like you were about to bite straight through the belt and your body shook violently as your muscles strained from holding themselves tense for such a long period of time.

Slowly, you were able to regain some of your composure. Your chest was once again heaving as you struggled to return your breathing to normal. As you reached up to pry the belt out of your mouth, you sagged against Steve’s chest, your muscles screaming out as you finally allowed them to relax. Your leg still hurt like hell, but the pain had dulled enough that it was bearable. However, you weren’t out of the woods yet.

Glancing down, you watched as Steve desperately pressed your shirt into your wound with both hands but blood still hemorrhaged between his fingers. You gazed weakly up at Tony but he just stared at your leg in confusion as he tried to figure out what to do now. Then, he glanced down at his hands which were still covered by his suit and you saw an uneasy realization wash over his face. As the two of you locked eyes, you understood what he was thinking and you nodded weakly. “It’s the only way Tony.”

“Nope. We’re not even considering this.”

Steve looked back and forth between the two of you, not sure what you were talking about. But you ignored him as you stared Tony down. “You’ve got to do this. We don’t have another option.”

“I can’t. If I make even the smallest miscalculation, it could kill you.”

“Then let F.R.I.D.A.Y. do it. Her calculations will be perfect. No mistakes.” He still hesitated but you knew you didn’t have time for this. Already the blood lose was starting to affect you. “Tony, I’m fading too fast…. We need to stop this bleeding. I can’t last much longer.”

Tony thought for a moment, glanced back down at your leg, then nodded. Steve was still staring at you confused. “What are you talking about? What is he planning on doing?”

You gently smiled at him. “It’s okay. It’s the only way, but it will be fine.” You dropped both of your hands so they rested gently over Steve’s, which were still pressed firmly against your wound. You nodded up at Tony.

Lowering his faceplate, Tony said, “On the count of three…”

“Three!” you yelled. At that same moment, you grabbed Steve’s hands as tightly as you could and, using his bewilderment at what was going on as a distraction, dragged them away from your wound. As soon as you were both clear, Tony pointed his repulsors at your leg and a thin, tight beam blasted you precisely in your wound. Steve cried out in protest but your screams of agony drowned him out as pain once again rushed through your body. Finally, mercifully, Tony turned the repulsors off. Smoke trailed off the cauterized scar that was once a gushing wound. You weakly turned your head so you didn’t gag on the smell of your own roasting flesh.

Steve glared up at Tony as you lay limply in his arms. “What the hell did you do?”

“What he… had to,” you managed to croak out. Steve looked down at you anxiously but you continued. “It was…the only way to….stop the bleeding….Knew you wouldn’t….approve…”

“Damn right I don’t approve!”

“Language…” you whispered, a ghost of a smile flickering on your lips. The bleeding might have stopped but the damage had already been done. You needed medical attention and a blood transfusion as soon as possible.

Tony seemed to be thinking the same thing. “I’m going to fly her to the nearest hospital. Then I can come back and help with your extraction.” He bent down and Steve gingerly transferred you weakened form to Tony’s waiting arms.

Steve shook his head. “Sam and I will be fine. Just get her help as quickly as you can.”

You grasped for Steve’s hand. “’m sorry Cap…. be safe….”

“You too.”

You smiled again. “I’ll be on….feet ‘fore you….get back…”

Steve nodded with a smile. “I don’t doubt it.” Then looking at Tony, he said, “Go.”

Without having to be told twice, Tony took off with you in his arms, exiting the building through the hole you had made in the ceiling. You rested heavily against his metal coated chest as the two of you soared through the sky. Reaching up, you pressed the comms to connect you to his suit.

Safe to say, you were going a little mad.

Nowhere in the sietches you could go without murmurs of the Lisan al-Gaib following you.

Paul was everywhere. Muad'Dib, as he was now known among the Fremen, walked the deserts of Arrakis with growing expertise which took our kids years to grow.

You understood why no one doubted of his coming.

Paul was in the meetings, side by side with Strilgar’s group, talking to everyone who asked him for a minute of his day, learning everything he could about Arrakis. And he already knew so much.

Sometimes, you doubted if the Atreides boy even grew up in royal chambers, as his posture and way of speaking indicated.

He navigated the desert. Stared back at it, unashamed and ready for it. His steps were measured, the dance of the Fremen.

And his voice... it always found you.

Even though now you changed your expeditions to not match Chani's group anymore, in fear of running into him, or took different routes back to your room, you could hear him talking to others or to himself.

To the desert.

As if it weren't enough that the Voice living inside of you showed him in your dreams, constantly. Talking about his father, telling you of his days in Calandra with Leto and Duncan, the other Atreides who had found your people.

"...never seen anything so... pure, Chani."

"Seeing the birth of Muad'Dibs is something unique. Still, you need to stop wondering so late at nights all by yourself, Paul."

"Don't worry about me." His laughter, too, showed up in your dreams. These, you prefered to forget. They hurt too much. "I'm getting... familiar with it. It's all about learning."

His insights nailed things on the head most of the time.

You liked his mantra about fear the most of it all — despite not being raised by Bene Gesserit, the gift of persuasion, or as you've learned they named it: the Voice, was inherent to you since birth — and repeating it to yourself every morning started controlling your thumping heart, always making havoc inside your chest and rising the itch under your skin.

It was a good mantra.

Regardless of how many good mantras the noble boy had in him — they were many — or how softly and velvety he spoke with others, you could not approach him.

To approach him would mean inciting Fate, and teasing fate was as clever as teasing the Shai Hulud, which was to say, not clever at all.

Approaching the Paul equaled setting motion to the possibility of your dreams, and as much as you'd love to speak to him and have the most exciting conversations you've ever dreamt of — other cultures, other planets and ways of living, Paul knew so much and every time he walked the tall rocky foundations of Arrakis and talked to you about the things he learned, asking in return everything he could get out of you, all those conversations with Lisan al-Gaib who was faceless before the arrival of Paul and started smiling with the features of the one who was now everywhere —, as much as you dreamt of having all of that, you couldn't.

If you interfered with fate, you've seen what that could lead to.

You'd rather be swollen and immortalized in Shai Hulud than see Paul looking at you with that broken-hearted face.

The face of someone who saw a person they love willingly save them, surrendering at the tooth of fate.

Paul deserved better than to suffer even more like that.

•·················•·················•

Tempting as they can be, the dreams always start the same.

Paul is smiling at you and since you always focus too much on the way his mouth curves in the corner, all you can see is the blinding sun shining on his cheekbones, his black hair glistening with the spice attached to it and his eyes with the growing hue of blue in them.

He is saying something you can't hear — you're distracted by how his smile can look good even while wearing the stillsuit — and when he catches you distracted by his mouth, he snaps his finger.

"Are my lips bleeding again?" He asks you, and he looks serious. Paul always looks serious, unless you talk.

Then—"You gotta put the whole mask on, idiot," you tease him. It's much after the peak of the Sun by the color of the sky, but his face is always a distraction. "I'm not giving you my water again."

"You always say that, then always give me a sip of your water."

"Why do you always have to run out of it before we get back?"

"I'm not as good planning as you and my mother can be, you know. Chani understands me."

"Just because you and Chani always side, doesn't mean you two are always right, Muad'Dib."

"I thought you said Chani was always right."

"I said you must listen to Chani, always... And that she's right most of the time."

That's usually the moment when he smiles.

Paul's smile is shy and small, like he isn't used to doing it. Then, you and he take shortcuts, hide in a tent on another rocky stop since a worm watcher rang about sights near your location, all while sharing as many of the thoughts inside your mind as the heat and exhaustion allow it.

He's the most talkative when you two are meeting for late coffees in your dreams, and you watch him speaking of strategies with the scent of the crushed beans heavy underneath your nose, the dim lighting making Paul lookg almost as tasty as the brew with the spice.

The dreams are dangerous.

They always begin the same, luring you into a false sense of security with all the incredible things and paths you two open together, only to all end in the same way:

Paul's wide eyes staring at you as the depths of Shai Hulud overtake you, and you drowning in darkness happy with the knowledge that your Paul is safe, but having to witness the pain in his eyes as a price.

•·················•·················•

Avoiding him goes well until Paul decides it wise to sleep after a recon mission, right in a rock island stop.

Exposed.

Alone.

His trips to get familiar with the desert surrounding the smuggler community were dangerous, but you couldn't say anything. Right now, hiding in your hut, your medic suit did little to hide the distress your heart was under.

Your mission at Chin Rock had ended early in the day, but since you found Paul walking many dunes away, the unshakable desire to follow him and make sure he arrived back at the community safe and sound clung to you.

So here you were, watching the surroundings of his tent, almost entirely covered by the sand at this point.

Maybe you're just paranoid.

It's highly possible. Even if you're not—what's the worse it could happen? With him sleeping on solid ground, there was no risks of worms passing under him, and staying close enough to the sandy ground to be covered by sand made him camouflaged to anyone else.

Not that anyone would chase after him in times like these.

There were no Harkonnen family members around to plot the Duke's death anymore.

The most probable scenario here was—chasing after him even though your shift was done and people expected you back was probably why you were uneasy in the first place.

You were the one lurking in the darks with magnifying glasses pointed in his direction. Sure, you were just there to make sure he returned safe, but what was there other than worms to put his life at risk?

Maybe you should just head home.

Back to the communities before the sun was fully down—there was still time before you had to walk only in counted steps.

You're thinking about what to do when the movement catches your eyes.

Someone.

No Atreides should live.

The echo. This voice is familiar too, although you can't pin it to a face in your mind—it resonates like nails on a chalkboard, though, or the unsavory feeling of going without water for too long and your insides start turning against you.

When you point to the tent, there's movement inside and the white warrior suit leaves no shadow of a doubt—Harkonnen warrior, one who undoubtedly stuck back to assure the remains of every Atreides family member was gone, but found none until he found Paul, walking through these damn deserts.

Alone.

The man slides under the sand in a similar fashion to the Fremen way of fighting you're trained under, and you see his hand clutching the vial before he completely disappears.

Clever enough to think of poisoning Paul—not clever enough to check his surroundings before going in.

The minutes of wait are spent reciting to yourself the useful Bene mantra.

There's no reason to fear for Paul because Paul is him. The thought is the only thing you cling to even when the tent shakes and sand flies with the wind.

When the spy finally struts out of tent, limping and almost pending, you waste no breaths chasing after him to finish the job Paul didn't for some reason.

This man wouldn't survive much longer.

Paul, on the other hand, has been poisoned and needs to start making his way back to the community. There's no reason why he should take his time, and even if he's injured, he knows better—he knows he should hydrate, pack his things, start walking back.

Unless he can't.

An image of two figures struggling inside the tent takes over your head, and one of them stabs the other's water reserve first thing into battle.

Someone who's clever enough to poison is clever enough to go for what actually kills.

The thought registers the same second as something else does: If Paul has no access to water, Paul is being poisoned.

Paul is dying.

You're out of your own tent before you can think, dashing through the desert as if Shai Hulud himself is chasing after you when it is not your time yet.

The sand softens and absorbs each one of your hurried steps, and it's in what feels like less than a minute, you're dashing inside the tent with both your arms up, just in case.

Paul is dying.

"Drink this," you pull your own water reserve out of your medic suit and place it on his lips.

There are no thoughts about how you should not be doing this or what does it mean on your mind—only the dark deep blue of Paul's irises closing slowly, and his lips taking in the water you offer.

He drinks it obediently, and you nod along to it. When he's almost done, you open one of the vials stashed in your thigh pocket and place it on his lips. "Antibiolitic. It'll neutralize whatever's inside you."

Paul lips graze against your fingertips, taking in the medicine.

Then his tongue darts out to lick them, and he croaks out. "It's you."

Only two words, and you're doomed with it.

"Finish it, you need to be okay to make it back to the sietch. You'll need a detox," you order. Thinking about the way back and Paul walking alongside you hurts too much now, and that's not even the worse part.

The worse part is the excitement bubbling underneath it as he nods and smiles gently, face full of gratitude and lips parting for the rest of his dose.

Thinking about how good you two can be together before it's all darkness hurts too much, but when it's facing you with life in his eyes, you know nothing can stop it.

Paul's smiling like he, too, knows a secret.

You think he deserves to have as many as he can possibly come up with. It's only fitting, considering the weight of what binds him to reality.

⎊༄ there’s a little time jump between this and the last update, partly because they’re technically two (2) different stories, but it isn’t big enough to be considered concerning. so, no need to be worried!

⎊༄ no one cares, but i started college last week! i’m hoping i’ll finish posting all the parts before my personal life gets hella hectic, so fingers crossed :]