Butterfly whump

Grav insists on laying down towels. On the floor. On her seat. “So you won’t have to mop up later,” he says.

His eyes flick up at her, assessing her. She knows the look. The medic checking whether she can adequately care for herself.

"You don't have to do this," she says. "I'm not delicate."

"I know," he says, his hands smoothing out the towels at her feet. "I'd like to, though. Helps me calm down."

His feet are bare. So were Grimma's, come to think of it, when she'd followed the medics who took Riko.

“Do you want me to stay?” Grav asks her. He's still looking up at her from where he’s crouched in front of her chair.

She almost lets out the "no" too quickly. She makes herself pause a microsecond before saying it.

Mish feels so strange, having this hulking man in her room, taking care of her so gently... he's taking up so much space.

She wonders how him and Grimma fit in his room together.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a problem if they’re always occupying the bed—

And here Mish has to press her mouth tight so she doesn’t smile inappropriately.

After everything that has happened, the blood on her clothes, the stupid sock she insisted on holding on to and only just let go of… if she starts smiling like she's tempted to right now, Grav is going to think she’s cracked.

And that would be the funny part. Because she’s not flimsy.

A flash of Riko shuddering under her hands, bleeding onto tile, making choked animal noises-- Fuck.

"No," she says again.

She manages a smile. "Thank you for helping me with Riko. And for taking care of me."

Grav holds her gaze a moment more, looking no less doubtful.

"Grimma will have my hide if I can't convince her that I was absolutely sure you were alright before I left," he says.

"You can tell Grimma I was shaken but finding my footing by the time you left," she says.

And then she simply lets the moment draw itself out. Lets it get uncomfortable.

To his credit, Grav doesn't take the bait. He simply shifts on his haunches and waits her out. He watches, taking in her state. Studying her.

"Okay," he says finally, as if he's completed some internal checklist. He puts his meaty hands on his thighs and pushes himself upright.

"I'll leave you then," he says. "Grimma will be in touch via comms. Is your bud-- oh good, it's charged."

He's looking at the tiny device nestled in its charging slot on her bedside unit, blinking its tiny blue light.

Mish remembers her hands plunged deep in Riko's pockets, wrestling him to search for his comm bud while he squirmed away from her on the floor and insisted, deliriously, that he wasn't ticklish.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

If she had brought her own, hadn't left it in her room, she would have gotten help for him sooner, wouldn't have had to drag him out the door...

She remembers the coconut thok his head made when it smacked into the door frame.

She presses her lips together again. She must not laugh. She mustn't.

A deep breath.

"I'll keep it turned on," she promises Grav.

"You should eat," he says, looking at the two food trays on the table. "I haven't had dinner myself, I could keep you company--"

Mish hates waste, but the thought of someone else eating the food she had brought to Riko's door, expecting to eat together and then finding him--

Mish's throat clenches.

It's Riko's. They were supposed to eat together.

"I need to change out of my clothes," she says, trying to sound normal. "I'm getting cold."

She stands up, letting the towel sag off her shoulders. Letting him see the blood on her uniform.

"Ah," he says. "Yes, sorry, you should, I'll let you--"

She feels terrible about the apologetic tone in his voice. She takes the single step forward in her tiny room.

"Thank you," she says softly, her arms wrapping around him. "For everything. You and Grimma both." Her clothes are leaving damp patches on his t-shirt. He is so broad her hands don't meet around his back.

"About that," he says, suddenly sheepish. "I know it's the last thing you should be thinking about, but if you could... you know, about me and Grimma, just--"

Mish pushes off him, and looks at him. The man is blushing.

Blushing.

The tips of his ears are so red she wonders if they'll sizzle if she touches them.

"Only person I'll tell is Riko," she says.

A series of emotions travel over his face, glacier slow, one after another.

Mish watches as he moves from wanting to negotiate, to thinking better of it, to remembering where Riko is right now, to arriving the thought that he might not-- that Riko might actually end up--

He eventually lands on carefully-schooled agreement.

"Okay," he says. "Only Riko."

And then he very kindly adds, "Tell him not to tell anyone else."

As though it's a given that he'll be able to.

Mish feels her throat constrict and her eyes prick at the possibility Grav is inviting her to entertain.

When the door slides shut behind him, Mish stands alone in her pod, staring at the towels on the floor.

She hopes they towel him down properly. He never did like being cold and wet. The time he got splashed by freezing med gel while he was fixing the pressurised goo pipes, he'd whinged about it for hours. Hours.

But of course they are going to keep him wet. They're trying to cool him down. Riko is going to hate it so much.

He's such a baby-- actually not really, he's only a baby with her. It's weird because he's fallen out of a catwalk before and walked it off with a shrug, and when Mish asked why he only whined around her he had said, "I'm only a coward around you--"

She wants to hack into the crit care cameras, to see what's happening. She wants to zoom in to his face, and see if he's awake. To see if he's still seizing, to see what meds they're giving him, maybe she can catch it if they slip up and make a mistake, and she can--

Mish realises she's spiralling. Grimma was right-- she's not a nurse right now. She's terrified, and she scared, and she wants him to be okay. She can't think straight. She just wants him to be okay.

It'll take minutes. All it would take is a minor security override-- She just wants to see if he's awake--

Stop. Stop.

She needs her mind clear. She needs to eat.

She fills her mug full of water and gulps most of it down. And then she trickles the leftover into Riko's plant.

Its leaves are green and perky. To his credit, he'd been watering it ever since she yelled at him about it, and she'd been taking care of it in the days he'd been away outfield.

Her hands are moving mechanically; she pulls out a food tray, sits down and peels the wrapper back. She spoons the food into her mouth. Chews.

Her mind starts to whir.

When she'd seen him at the vending machine, had he already been febrile? He'd certainly been pale. And there was that weird moment it looked like he'd been about to cry.

He'd been aphasic; stumbling over his words. She thought it was just the usual brand of Riko stupidity.

So post-ictal then? How had she missed the signs? She had thought he'd just been tired. Distracted.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How about before his shift in the emergency room?

She remembers how she and Niah and Grimma had been so amused at his clumsiness while he was gowning up, how he didn't see her even though she'd be waving at him. How his fingers had fumbled while he had taken off his medkit and his vest.

The vest.

The one that hadn't been in his pod when she had asked Grav to grab the food trays from Riko's room so she could look inside and check.

His room was small enough that she would have seen it if it'd had been there. The vest with the standard issue field cam strapped on it.

Mish puts down the spoon. She's only halfway through the dinner tray, but it's enough for now.

She had needed the act of eating to ground herself, and enough calories to get her through the next hour. Glucose, so her brain could think and remember and make sense.

The last time she'd seen the vest, Riko had tossed it behind the nurse's counter in the emergency department.

Riko hadn't been okay from the moment he'd stepped through the door.

She's going to find that vest cam, and she's going to find out what happened.

She is putting the tray aside, when there's a knock on her door.

When she opens it, Grimma is standing there. She's still barefoot, still in the towel.

Mish feels an awful wrench inside her chest.

"Is he--?" she starts.

"He's alive," Grimma says quickly.

Not "okay", not "recovering", not even "stable".

Just "alive".

It's not good, but it's better than what she feared she'd hear, after seeing Grimma turn up personally at her door.

Mish lets loose a breath she didn't know she had locked inside her chest.

"I wanted to bring you this," Grimma says. She's holding out a bag. Mish recognises it. The zipped bag they put patients' belongings in. The things that need to be handed over to someone else when a person becomes a patient.

The bag is heavy. The clothes are still wet.

"I brought his boot too," Grimma says, and she bends to retrieve something from the floor, behind the door frame.

Riko's boot, the laces cut. Mish stares at it.

How many shoes has she cut off people and yanked off them as she administered care? Dozens. She does it without second thought.

She hadn't been there, but she knows exactly what it sounded and felt like when they scissored through his laces.

She wonders if he flexed his foot when they pulled it off, the way one of her patients had done last week when she'd pulled off the man's bloody shoe. That patient hadn't survived.

Mish's chin wobbles. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hey," Grimma says, and she steps into the room. She puts the boot on the floor against the cabinet.

"You did so good, finding him when you did," she says, running her arms soothingly up and down Mish's arms. "You gave him a fighting chance."

Mish lets out a strangled noise, which she tries to wrestle down, but she nods. Her hands go tight around the bag of clothes.

"I hit him on the head," she whispers, as if she's in a confessional. "When I was dragging him out the door."

Grimma laughs. "So that's what it was about," she says. "They were putting him under the cooling grid, and he pulled Thea under the spray and told her, 'Mish was mean to me. With the door.'"

Mish smiles, relieved. She can imagine his peevish stage-whisper.

"He woke up? He spoke?"

Grimma's smile fades. "Just for a few seconds," she says. "And then he seized again, and they decided to put him in the cooling pod."

"Shit," Mish says. "So he's--"

"Yeah, induced coma."

"Shit," Mish says again.

There's a strange look on Grimma. It looks out of place on her, instead of her usually unflappable expression.

"What," Mish says. "Tell me."

Grimma looks at her, reluctance evident on her face. "It's not important," she says. "Really it isn't."

"Grimma," Mish says, insistent.

"They... had to submerge him as quickly as possible, and the sedation hadn't kicked in entirely when they put him in. So he was still awake, and..."

Mish takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "He fought."

Grimma nods slowly. "He tried to climb out. It took four med techs to get him in. He was... combative."

Mish knows what "combative" looks like, when someone is half-sedated and confused and scared out of their mind.

"He punched Blonter in the face," Grimma says.

Mish imagines Riko trying to pry himself out the pod, his fingers in a death grip around the lip of the capsule, while multiple gloved hands wrestle him in. Flailing at the people trying to contain him.

She can almost hear his animal sounds of distress as he's pushed forcefully into the freezing goo, his bare feet slipping on the bottom of the pod.

"It's a good thing you weren't there," Grimma says. "It was hard to watch."

"Yeah," Mish says softly.

Did he crane his head back to avoid the oxygen mask? Push his hands against the lid as they closed it on him?

Her hands are starting to cramp with how hard she has them gripped over the bag. She forces them to loosen.

Grimma rubs Mish's arms again. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

Mish shakes her head, and she brings a smile to her face. "You and Grav ask the same questions."

Grimma smiles back. "Speaking of which," she says, looking around the room, as if Grav might somehow be hiding his hefty bulk in her tiny room. "I told him to stay with you. Did the man just leave you by yourself?"

"I made him go," Mish says. "He tried to insist on staying, because he said you'd have his hide if he left me while I wasn't okay."

Grimma smiles, almost proud. "He's a sweet one," she says, and there's a tender look on her face.

"He really is," Mish says. "The both of you are really good together."

Grimma sniffs. "We'll see," she says nonchalantly. But a small smile plays around her mouth.

Mish is still smiling when she glances down at the bag with the clothes. There is pink water collecting in the corner of the bag.

Mish's smile fades, slowly.

Grimma gently taps her arms. “Riko is lucky to have you,” she says. "You really love him, don't you?"

Mish can't help it. She laughs. "I do. But not in that way."

Grimma tilts her head. "What do you mean? Is it just a physical thing? Because Riko has certainly been very vocal about your... activities."

Mish closes her eyes. It feels like an artifact from another lifetime, the ridiculous sex stories Riko has been inflicting on unwilling ears.

"We're not hooking up. We just tell people we are, so things are... easier," Mish says.

It's such a ridiculous thing to be talking about, but Mish feels such a sense of relief sharing it with Grimma. It's like the air she's breathing in is reaching the bottom of her lungs for the first time in hours.

Grimma is shaking her head. "That liar," she says, admiringly. "He had me convinced."

And she looks at Mish, "How did you keep up the lie-- oh, oh wait... You never confirmed or denied anything."

Mish smiles, hiding her teeth.

Grimma is shaking her head. "People will accept the most absurd things when they want to believe."

Mish grins. "If you tell anyone, I will leak your secret. About Grav."

Grimma looks at her with new respect. "Never pegged you for the crafty sort. You sly little minx."

They laugh gently into the moment. Mish feels a warmth rising up in her chest. It feels good that someone else knows.

"Okay," Grimma says. "I'm heading off. I'm available on comms if you need anything."

Mish nods, and walks her to the door.

"They will contact you if there are any updates on Riko," Grimma says, as she slides open the door.

And she stands there for a beat, her back still to Mish.

"Mish," she says slowly. "I don't know if I should be telling you this." And she turns.

The expression on her face is careful. "I figure they'll talk to you soon enough, since you're listed as his emergency contact..."

Mish cocks her head.

"You know Doctor Sorren? The one I used to date?"

Mish nods, recalling a tall, ice-blonde doctor, who had been devastated when Grimma dumped him.

"Sorren says they found something odd in his bloodwork."

Mish frowns. "How odd?"

"Odd enough that they ordered more tests," Grimma says.

"Do you think that was what made Riko crash?" Mish says.

Grimma shrugs. "That's all Sorren said. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

Mish nods, and Grimma is gone.

Afterburn Arc: Purgatory ▸ F is for Functional ▸ Something Stupid ▸ Cold Spray ▸ Unlaced (an ongoing series) Signal War >> Main Masterlist

Note: Sorry the follow up to this arc has taken a while! The story decided it didn't want to just be a recovery arc and exploded by way of chapters. And at one point I came up against my usual writing nemesis, the dreaded POV monster. I rewrote the beginning of one chapter FOUR times before it finally clicked. Anyway this part isn't very whumpy, but I hope it's still enjoyable.

Caretaker couldn’t sleep.

He was exhausted, but the General hadn’t returned with his brother, and it had been hours. well it felt like hours. Without a window or a clock it was hard to truly gauge the passing of time. His other three siblings were asleep, curled around eachother for warmth. He let them rest. They all needed it, with everything the General was putting them through. He did to if he was honest. His body still ached from his own encounter with their captor. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he could see and touch his brother again, have him as part of their sleep pile, and hear him breathing.

So he waited.

he knelt protectively in front of his sleeping siblings, putting himself between them and the door to their cell. Even if there wasn’t much he could do, with his arms bound firmly behind his back with thick, heavy metal, just like the rest of them.

it was ages before something happened. Caretakers eyes were drooping, and his head was starting to dip when he heard the scraping in the hall outside. He jerked upright, straightening his back, now wide awake.

It was unsettlingly quiet. The generals foot steps accompanied by the scraping and shuffling of something heavy being dragged the only sound outside of the cell. It made caretakers stomach drop. His brother was always quipping or grumbling about how the general was pulling him along. It wasn’t like him to go quietly. The General must have really done a number on Whumpee for him to be this quiet.

Caretaker straightens as he hears keys jingling in the lock. The door swings wide open, blinding him briefly as the light from the torches in the hall flood the room.

caretaker quickly blinks away the spots in his vision. When it clears, Whumper is standing in the door way, holding a limp Whumpee by their hair. Caretakers heart thunders in his chest. He can’t gauge what’s wrong with whumpee, their body silhouetted from the torch glow, but he can see Whumper’s horrific smirk. Whumper raises Whumpee higher by the hand in his hair, Whumpee’s feet scraping the floor.

for a few horrible moments everything is frozen like that, Whumpee hanging limply from the Generals grip, like a trophy fish, and the General smirking at Caretaker.

The stillness is broken with one word from Whumper.

“Catch”

with that he winds up, and hefts Whumpee into the cell.

whumpee ragdolls. Their head is vulnerable, they can’t catch himself.

Caretaker lunges forward, sliding his body between Whumpee and the floor, and they both land hard on the stone.

“Whumpee! WHUMPEE” Caretaker forgets all pretense of quiet. He rolls out from under Whumpee, trying to see him better in the dim light that filters in through the window on the cell door. Whumpee doesn’t respond to him. He wants to shake him, hold him, but his arms are bound uselessly behind him. Instead, Caretaker nudges his side with his knee gently, trying to wake him.

Caldeaus couldn’t sleep.

He was exhausted, but the General* hadn’t returned with his brother, and it had been hours. well it felt like hours. (the General is one of the characters I haven’t named yet. He wasn’t a priority cause I have a name for him but looking at it now I don’t like it anymore).Without a window or a clock it was hard to truly gauge the passing of time, especially after their final meal of the day had been delivered. His other three siblings were asleep, curled around eachother for warmth. He let them rest. They all needed it, with everything the General was putting them through, and would continue to put them through until he got what he wanted. Caldeaus did too if he was honest. His body still ached from his own encounter with their captor. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he could see and touch his brother again, have him as part of their sleep pile, and hear him breathing.

So he waited.

he knelt protectively in front of his sleeping siblings, putting himself between them and the door to their cell. Even if there wasn’t much he could do, with his arms bound firmly behind his back with thick, heavy metal, just like the rest of them.

it was ages before anything happened. Caldeaus’ eyes were drooping, and his head was starting to dip when he heard the scraping in the hall outside. He jerked upright, straightening his back, which protested painfully, the healing lash lines stretching with the movement. He was now wide awake.

It was unsettlingly quiet. The generals foot steps accompanied by the scraping and shuffling of something heavy being dragged the only sound outside of the cell. It made Caldeaus’ stomach drop. His brother was always quipping or grumbling about how the general was pulling him along. It wasn’t like him to go quietly. The General must have really done a number on Whumpee for him to be this quiet.

He tensed as he hears keys jingling in the lock, his body coiling like a spring. The door swings wide open with a loud squeal bathing the dark cell in light.

Caldeaus is briefly blinded by the sudden onslaught of light to his retinas and quickly blinks away the spots in his vision. When it clears, the general is standing in the doorway, holding Thaasan* by his hair.(this name might change. Idk I’m not super attached and I have other options) Thaasan is completely limp under the general’s grip; he doesn’t even so much as flinch as his body is yanked forward. The General raises Thaasan’s head up to chest hight (Thaasan’s knees still brush the stone floor despite this), holding him out slightly so his body is fully silhouetted by the lantern hung on the wall behind them.

Caldeaus’ heart thunders in his chest. He can’t gauge what’s wrong with his brother, his body cast in shadow the way it is, and for a few horrible moments everything is frozen like that, Thaasan hanging limply from the Generals grip, like a trophy fish, and the General smirking at Caldeaus’ terrified expression.

The stillness is broken with one word from the general.

“Catch”

with that he winds up, and hefts Thaasan into the cell.

Thaasan ragdolls. His head is vulnerable, he can’t catch himself.

Caldeaus lunges forward, sliding his body between his brother and the floor, and they both land hard on stone.

“Thaasan! THAASAN” Caldeaus forgets all pretense of quiet for his sleeping siblings as the cell door slams shut once more. Sealing them back in. Thaasan doesn’t respond to him. Caldeaus wants to shake him, hold him, wake him up, something, but his arms are bound uselessly behind him. He rolls out from under the younger boy, simultaneously shifting him to his back. Caldeaus is horrified when practically every part of his body that was in contact with his brother comes away wet and sticky.

in the dim light that flickers through the tiny window in their cell door he can finally see his brother.

Most of Thaasan’s clothes have been removed, except for his undergarments. And every inch of exposed skin seems to be coated in blood.

Aidylade materializes next him, shouting their brothers name, Nedia and Ihaek close behind

*they try to stop the bleeding. All of their arms are bound tightly behind their back. One of them or multiple cut themselves on the glass still imbedded in Thaasan’s skin. This leads to a closer look.*

Something catches Caldeaus’ eye. The light from the hall forms a bright rectangle across Thaasan’s chest. In that small swath of light it almost seems as if his chest glimmers, or twinkles in certain spots. Caldeaus frowns and lowers himself to the floor, wincing as the bruise/cut on his chest aches. From this angle tho he can see exactly why trying to stem the bleeding caused pain to his sister.

shards of glass stick out of Thaasan’s skin like pins in a pin cushion.

~~~

(ch 1)

Her thoughts scattered, and she raised her eyes to find the blue-haired male kneeling in front of the canoe, his hands wrapped around the edge as he looked at her, his eyes still leaking blue light. Worried lines creased his striking features, all sharp planes and warm, golden-brown skin. This close, she could feel his weariness like it was her own, could sense a need, a pull, similar to how she felt when someone was injured.

~~~

(ch 7)

The door flew open, like she knew it would, although she flinched anyway at the speed with which he crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. His concern overshadowed his pain, which was magnified tenfold this close, bleeding through his very pores. She stared up into his amber eyes, wondering how he could possibly stand it.

~~~

(ch 7 again)

Darian's hurt expression and emotions barely registered as she flipped over and started crawling, ignoring the way her body was screaming at her. He moved, kneeling down in front of her to stop her. He held out his hands, but didn't touch her.

"Stop, just stop. I'll get you a mirror. You're hurting yourself," he said. 

~~~

(ch 17)

His mind retreated from the pain of his skin burning as his shield flickered and the claws raked his mental barriers. He was happy to die protecting his people, but gods, he had wanted to take this bastard out first.

The power in his Source guttered, and he fell to his knees, steeling himself. At least the ifrit would burn him alive before it could gain control of his mind. 

~~~

(ch 30 - the sentiment is there lol)

It fucking felt like she was ripping his heart from his chest. He might as well kneel at her feet and slit his throat, if she was going to reject him after all. But she held him against her, their breath mixing in the small space between them. And mind to mind, where it was impossible to lie, she shared her truth. 

~~~

(ch 30.75)

"I'll help," Darian said. He grabbed a bucket, and they set to work cleaning up the mess Alaia had made.

The view of her fae warrior mate kneeling on the ground with dirt on his hands was surprisingly endearing. 

~~~

(ch 34)

She jerked in surprise at the feel of the smooth, cool bark on her bare skin, but he made sure she didn't care about that long. Kneeling in front of her, [redacted sexual activities 😅]. 

~~~

(ch 38)

He broke out in a cold sweat. "Gods. Six weeks. The way you looked when you turned up, he'd been doing that to you for six weeks?" Black spots swam in his vision when she nodded. A low rumble from the other males filled the room, filled his own chest, but he dropped to his knees in front of her, bowing his head.

"I should've searched for you sooner. I'm so sorry. I'm not worthy to be called your mate, and you would be well within your rights to reject me right now. No one would blame you." He felt the tears come, blinked them back. He didn't even deserve to cry. He waited for her to sever the bond. 

~~~

(ch 45)

*Are you angry with me?* Her mind voice was small, and her grip loosened.

*No!* His response was immediate and vehement.

But when Anahi extended her hand, Alaia released him to take it. And she wouldn’t look at him while the seraph princess tucked her under her wing. Shame leaked out of her.

The emotion was like a veritable punch in the gut, as was the loss of her contact. All the strength left him, and he fell to his knees. 

~~~

(ch 45 again) 

Anahi smiled and released Alaia, who went to Kadin in something resembling a daze. He swept her under his wing, and with a remorseful glance at Darian, exited the foyer. Anahi and the rest of the seraph quickly followed.

Darian hunched over his knees, gasping for air. Alaia, they had taken her. They had taken her, and she had gone. She’d left him. 

~~~

(ch 46 - kind of) 

Alaia was feeling much more like herself by the time the allotted hour had passed. Enough so that she wondered if she’d been drugged. She’d mentioned something of the sort to Kadin, and he’d definitely looked concerned, so it must be a possibility.

It was certainly the only reason she could think of as to why she’d walked away from her mate after he’d fallen to his knees, looking like someone had gutted him.