multimuse.

maybe it was one of us. come on.

get off me gaywad!

i'm just not gonna freak out.

they were doing weird cult shit in the woods.

i really think you need to talk to them.

don't shut me out.

fսck it. you want to just get a pizza and a quart of fudge ripple? we can eat it on the roof.

i literally just told you to go fuck yourself, and you're asking me out?

[name], have you been chronic smoking?

you knew.

i was just decoy, biyatch.

do be quick, every minute away from you is torture.

they worked for 12 days and nights to feed the very fire that destroyed their home.

you can't… you can't just doordash human entrails.

what the fuck, [name]?

i know he doesn't want to talk to me, but if you could just put him on for one second.

you know, it's okay to be angry about what happened to [name].

handy lesbians for the win.

i deeply appreciate it, my queen.

i know it's disgusting but i think we should start eating more of it.

loser says what?

are you asking me if i want to go or telling me i have to?

give it to me!

please, come stay in my room.

we call to [name]. now with the wilderness, guide us.

they've just returned to a place that waits for all of us.

after everything that's happened, you're worried about the dishes?

did you just say chronic?

the reality was that even if rescue came, they could never go home again.

i've scouted every inch of this place for miles.

how's this story for you? once upon a time, a bunch of teenage girls got stranded in the wilderness and they went completely fսcking nuts.

happy? that way, when i flatline, everyone will know they can go to lunch.

if you're up for it? i feel like we could both stand to get out of this house.

that's backwards, moron.

can't believe we didn't eat that bitch first.

my best friend is dead.

if i died tomorrow, what would people say at my funeral?

oh, what is even happening right now?

yeah, it's a miracle she survived… before, you know, we survived.

i deeply appreciate it, my queen.

have you seen anything while you're out there?

before we get started, congratulations to the winners of capture the bone, a name i still think we should consider workshopping further.

handy lesbians for the win.

like, sorry i'm not psyched to hear some bullshit story about our adventures in the woods.

fuck, just run.

i've fucking had it with this shit!

the fact that you even think i would is insulting.

i know someone smokes in here. who's got a lighter?

this is insane. we're not doing this anymore.

i just... wanted to teach them a lesson.

long gone were the days when hercules had wanted to stand among the gods. whatever longing he had once carried for olympus had been buried centuries ago beneath grief, war, and too much blood spilled in too many lifetimes. the gods had taken enough from him to poison even the memory of worship, and it return hercules had spent years trying to understand what exactly he was supposed to be. half god. half mortal. never fully accepted by either side. for a long time he had fought desperately for olympus' approval, believing that if he served them well enough, bled for them enough, perhaps he would finally belong somewhere. instead, all it had earned him was loss.

so eventually his loyalty shifted. if the gods were capable of cruelty, then perhaps mortals deserved his protection far more. that belief had followed him through every life he built afterward. kingdoms rose and fell around him while hercules learned how to become someone new each time history forced him to disappear again. a mercenary, a traveler, a protector. this time, he had become a soldier. perhaps it was foolish to think no one noticed the things that made him different. the unnatural strength beneath his skin. the way wounds closed faster than they should. the way he could survive injuries that would kill ordinary men. but the modern world had stopped believing in gods long ago.

myths had become stories for books and filmes, distorted versions of truths no one alive could truly imagine anymore. to them, hercules was simply another decorated soldier, strong, stubborn, difficult to kill. a hero if they chose to call him one. if only they knew how much he hated that word. war suited him in ways he wished it did not. there was something brutally familiar about it. violence had followed hercules through every century of his existence, and though he often dreamed of peace, he no longer knew how to live without conflict clawing at the edges of his life. even after returning home, some part of him remained trapped in battlefields overseas, unable to let go of the instinct to protect, to fight, to throw himself between danger and innocent people without thinking twice.

that instinct was what had brought him here. the emergency room around him was chaos, shouted orders, rushing footsteps, blood staining white floors beneath harsh fluorescent lights. hercules sat slumped against the edge of the hospital bed while a nurse pressed trembling hands against the gunshot wound in his chest. another bullet remained lodged near his shoulder, buried deep enough that even he could feel how badly it interfered with his healing. blood had soaked through his shirt long before the ambulance arrived, dark crimson still slipping steadily between the nurse's fingers no matter how much pressure she applied. by all logic he should have looked worse than this, weaker, paler even.

instead, he remained awake. breathing rough, but steady. his body was already trying to repair itself beneath torn flesh, stubborn divinity fighting against mortal limitations in a way no human body should have been capable of. it was subtle enough that no one had fully noticed yet, though the confusion in the nuses' eyes lingered longer every time they checked his vitals.

the nurse beside him shouted urgently for a doctor, panic sharpening her voice as more victims from the shooting were pushed through the emergency room doors behind them. hercules' gaze followed the movement automatically until he spotted the medic approaching through the chaos. even injured, his attention remained fixed on everyone else in the room first. the civilians screaming in pain. the teenager crying into bloodied hands across the hall. the paramedic trying desperately to keep pressure on another man's neck wound. others needed help more than he did.

that thought settled into him with the same certainty it always had. ❝ i told her i'm fine, ❞ hercules muttered hoarsely, though blood still stained the corner of his mouth when he spoke. his eyes lifted briefly toward the doctor approaching him before glancing back toward the overcrowded room beyond. ❝ there are people here worse than me. ❞ the words sounded calm despite everything, almost detached, as though the bullet in his chest were little more than an inconvenience. perhaps to him they were. pain had stopped frightening hercules a very long time ago.

his jaw tightened slightly when another wave of pressure hit his shoulder, but still he refused to move away from the doctors hands. ❝ help them first, ❞ he insisted more firmly this time, something tired roughening his voice. ❝ i'll live. ❞

the  nurse’s  voice  cut  through  the  emergency  room,  tight  with  panic,  and  jules  followed  it  without  hurrying  in  a  way  that  would  have  looked  almost  insulting  if  her  hands  had  not  already  been  pulling  gloves  from  the  box  before  she  reached  the  bed.  the  man  sitting  there  was  enormous  in  that  ridiculous  carved-from-stone  way  some  soldiers  seemed  to  cultivate  either  through  genetics,  gym  equipment,  or  a  very  serious  unresolved  relationship  with  danger.  blood  covered  his  shirt.  blood  stained  his  mouth.  there  was  a  chest  wound,  a  shoulder  wound,  and  a  nurse  pressing  down  with  the  desperate  focus  of  someone  trying  to  stop  a  sink  from  flooding  by  arguing  with  the  tap.  and  the  patient,  because  of  course,  was  awake.  of  course  he  was  awake  and  telling  everyone  he  was  fine.  jules  stopped  beside  the  bed,  looked  at  the  blood  soaking  through  the  nurse’s  hands,  then  at  him,  then  at  the  monitor,  and  her  expression  did  not  shift  into  awe,  concern,  or  anything  close  to  the  reverence  people  around  him  seemed  to  be  fighting  with.  «  that  is  a  fun  thing  to  say  while  actively  bleeding  into  my  trauma  bay,  i  got  it  clean  just  this  morning,  two  hours  of  scrubbing  for  nothing,  thanks  for  that.  »

she  took  over  pressure  from  the  nurse  with  a  firm,  practised  motion,  not  gentle  enough  to  indulge  him,  but  careful  enough  to  keep  him  alive,  which  was  more  important  than  whatever  masculine  after-school  special  he  was  trying  to  perform.  her  eyes  flicked  toward  the  wound  at  his  chest,  then  his  shoulder,  then  the  way  his  breathing  dragged  slightly  on  the  right  side.  not  collapsed,  maybe  not  yet,  but  enough  that  she  hated  it.  enough  that  she  immediately  hated  the  calmness  in  his  voice  too,  because  calm  patients  were  sometimes  fine,  and  sometimes  they  were  about  thirty  seconds  away  from  turning  the  floor  into  a  crime  scene.

«  trauma  panel,  type  and  cross,  portable  chest,  fast  scan,  and  someone  page  surgery  if  they  haven’t  already,  »  she  said,  the  words  snapping  out  as  she  leaned  closer,  pressing  down  harder  when  the  bleeding  tried  to  push  back  against  her  palm.  «  and  get  me  more  gauze.  actual  gauze,  not  the  sad  napkins  pretending  to  be  gauze.  »  someone  moved.  good.  people  did  that  when  you  sounded  like  you  knew  what  you  were  doing.  her  gaze  returned  to  him  just  as  he  looked  past  her  again,  toward  the  rest  of  the  emergency  room,  toward  the  civilians  crying  and  the  medics  shouting  and  the  awful  human  orchestra  of  too  many  people  hurting  at  once.  jules  followed  his  line  of  sight  for  half  a  second,  then  looked  back  at  his  face  with  a  flatness  that  made  the  whole  hero  thing  feel  deeply  inconvenient  rather  than  noble.

«  no.  »  that  was  all  she  gave  him  at  first.  she  shifted  her  hand,  felt  the  slick  warmth  under  her  gloves,  and  tried  not  to  think  about  how  many  times  she  had  watched  people  use  other  people’s  emergencies  as  an  excuse  to  ignore  their  own  bodies.  doctors  did  it.  soldiers  did  it.  surgeons  did  it  with  the  sort  of  religious  commitment  that  made  her  want  to  throw  a  clipboard  at  them.  heroes,  apparently,  did  it  too.  «  you  don’t  get  to  triage  yourself  just  because  you  have  a  martyr  complex.  »  her  voice  stayed  even,  almost  bored,  though  her  fingers  were  already  working  quickly  around  the  torn  fabric  near  the  wound  and  it  was  obvious  that  her  mind  worked  even  faster.  «  other  people  are  being  handled.  see  that?  doctors.  nurses.  medics.  very  dramatic  lighting.  lots  of  shouting.  everyone  has  a  job.  yours  is  sitting  there  and  not  making  me  find  out  how  heavy  you  are  when  you  pass  out.  »

the  nurse  beside  her  gave  a  breath  that  might  have  been  a  laugh  if  she  had  not  looked  so  close  to  crying  five  seconds  earlier.  jules  did  not  look  away  from  him.  there  was  something  wrong  with  his  vitals.  not  wrong  in  the  usual  way,  either.  his  pressure  was  lower  than  she  liked  but  not  as  catastrophic  as  it  should  have  been,  his  pulse  was  steadier  than  it  had  any  business  being,  and  he  was  sitting  upright  with  two  bullet  wounds  like  this  was  an  awkward  scheduling  conflict.  she  had  seen  strange  before.  she  had  grown  up  with  strange,  honestly.  her  parents  had  once  tried  to  treat  a  fever  with  chanting,  lavender  smoke,  and  a  bowl  of  river  stones,  so  she  was  not  exactly  new  to  people  making  biology  weird.  but  this  was  different.  this  was  the  body  doing  things  bodies  were  not  supposed  to  do  and  pretending  no  one  would  notice.  unfortunately  for  him,  jules  noticed  everything  she  was  not  supposed  to  notice.  it  was  basically  her  worst  habit.

«  you’re  compensating  weirdly,  »  she  muttered,  more  to  herself  than  to  him,  then  leaned  in  enough  to  check  his  pupils.  «  annoyingly  weirdly,  actually.  which  I’m  sure  is  very  special  and  meaningful  to  whatever  tortured  backstory  you’ve  got  going  on,  but  I’m  going  to  need  you  to  save  it  for  after  the  bullet  stops  trying  to  become  a  permanent  resident.  »  her  fingers  moved  to  his  neck,  checking  pulse  again  because  the  monitor  could  lie  and  bodies  lied  more  often,  especially  bodies  attached  to  stubborn  men  with  blood  in  their  teeth.  she  gave  him  a  quick  once-over,  cataloguing  details  without  pausing  long  enough  for  anyone  to  mistake  the  attention  for  admiration.  shoulders  tense.  jaw  locked.  pain  controlled.  too  controlled.  breathing  deliberate.  eyes  awake,  aware,  irritatingly  focused  on  everyone  except  himself.

great.  self-sacrificial  and  observant.  her  least  favourite  combination.  «  does  your  chest  hurt  more  when  you  breathe  in?  don’t  say  no  if  the  answer  is  yes  because  you  think  it  makes  you  sound  brave.  it  makes  you  sound  like  paperwork.  »  a  medic  tried  to  cut  in  from  somewhere  behind  her,  saying  something  about  another  incoming  patient,  a  teenager,  unstable,  possible  abdominal  bleed,  and  jules  nodded  without  turning  around.  «  take  them  to  bay  three.  ortho’s  not  needed  there,  trauma  is.  tell  reyes  I  said  if  he  argues  with  me,  I  will  personally  haunt  him  through  the  call  room  coffee  machine.  »

he remained concealed within the shadows at first, allowing the darkness gathered along the edges of the room to hide the shape of him from her eyes. even now, after years spent among mortals, shadows still clung to aidoneus as though they remembered what he once was. as though the underworld itself refused to release him completely. the dim light above barely reached the corners of the room, leaving him half swallowed by blackness while he watched jo wilson slowly begin to wake. it would take her time to understand where she was, time to remember.

the former god remained silent while she stirred, his gaze fixed carefully upon her with the same cold patience he had once reserved for souls arriving at the gates of the dead. this situation was unfortunate, though perhaps inevitable. mortals always forced complications into his existence eventually. especially the ones foolish enough to stand too close to him.

the attempt on his life had changed everything. the bullet itself would never have harmed him, not truly. human weapons were insignificant against what rested beneath his skin. but if he had stopped it openly, if he had allowed instinct and power to surface in front of witnesses, zeus would have known immediately. the olympians always knew when divine power disrupted mortal balance too violently. and aidnoneus had not abandoned his throne beneath the earth only to be dragged back there like a disobedient exile. so instead, someone else had bled for him. someone he had learn to love, to cherish to care for even in this mortal land.

and now jo wilson was here because she was skilled enough to keep that love alive. even if bringing her here against her will would undoubtedly complicate matter further. his men had handled things poorly. brutally. predictably mortal in their methods. aidoneus disliked unnecessary panic, though fear had always followed him naturally no matter what name he carried. in the underworld they had feared him because he ruled the dead. here, among mortals, they feared him because empires built on violence always demanded monsters at their center.

perhaps nothing about him had truly changed after all, only the kingdom. jo finally opens her eyes fully then, confusion beginning to settle across her features while she tries to understand the unfamiliar room around her. aidoneus waits a moment longer before finally stepping away from the shadows themselves. darkness trails reluctantly across his coat as hands though unwilling to release him into the light entirely. for the briefest seconds, his eyes gleam crimson, ancient, inhuman.

then the color fades back into an ordinary shade of blue before she can fully question it. another mask carefully restored. ❝ doctor jo wilson. ❞ her name leaves his lips low and composed, cold enough to immediately command attention without ever needing volume. he watches her carefully while approaching movements measured and impossibly calm for a man standing at the center of a kidnapping. there is something deeply unsettling about him even in stillness. not because he appears violent, but because he appears utterly in control.

❝ i apologize for the manner in which my men brought you here, ❞ aidoneus says after a moment, voice smooth enough to almost sound sincere. ❝ the circumstances demanded urgency rather than politeness. ❞ his gaze drifts briefly toward the closed door before returning to her again, thoughtful now, calculating beneath the surface. ❝ you were not harmed. that was the only instrusction that truly mattered. ❞

there is a pause then, subtle but deliberate, as though he is considering how much truth she can survive at once. ❝ i require your skills, doctor wilson, and unfortunately for both of us, discretion is no longer optional. ❞ the shadows around the room seem to deepen slightly as silence settles between them again. not enough to expose what he truly is, only enough to remind the world that something ancient still breathes beneath the skin of the man standing before her.

«  oh,  hell  no.  »

it  came  out  rough,  scraped  through  her  throat,  but  it  was  still  hers.  angry  before  it  was  afraid.  her  body  tried  to  move  too  quickly  and  punished  her  for  it  with  a  sharp  roll  of  dizziness,  but  jo  pushed  herself  upright  anyway,  one  hand  braced  against  whatever  surface  they  had  left  her  on,  fingers  curling  hard  into  the  edge  until  the  room  stopped  doing  that  fun  little  spinny  thing  that  usually  meant  anaesthesia,  drugs,  concussion,  or,  apparently,  kidnapping  by  a  man  who  introduced  himself  like  he  was  about  to  host  a  very  creepy  board  meeting.

she  stared  at  him,  blinked  once,  and  then  looked  around  the  room  properly,  taking  inventory  because  panic  was  useless  unless  it  had  somewhere  to  go.  door.  no  windows  she  could  reach.  too  much  shadow.  expensive  walls.  closed  space.  no  phone.  no  visible  medical  supplies.  no  chart.  no  consent.  no  badge.  no  one  from  the  hospital.  her  stomach  turned  cold  and  hard,  but  her  mouth  kept  moving  because  that  was  better  than  giving  him  the  satisfaction  of  watching  her  freeze.

«  you  apologise  for  the  manner?  »  jo  repeated,  and  there  was  a  laugh  under  it,  short  and  sharp  and  absolutely  humourless.  «  wow.  okay.  great.  thank  you.  i  feel  so  much  better  now.  really.  kidnapping  is  so  much  more  acceptable  when  the  guy  responsible  has  manners.  »

her  gaze  flicked  over  him.  jo  had  met  men  like  that  before.  not  exactly  like  him,  because  most  of  them  did  not  come  with  the  whole  haunted  castle  energy  and  weird  eyes  that  she  was  absolutely  not  dealing  with  yet,  but  men  who  thought  calm  meant  power,  men  who  thought  control  made  them  untouchable,  men  who  used  their  tragedy  like  a  weapon  and  expected  everyone  else  to  bleed  quietly  around  it. that  part  she  knew.  she  shoved  herself  fully  upright,  jaw  tight,  pain  sparking  down  her  neck  when  she  moved  too  fast.  she  ignored  it.  she  had  ignored  worse.  she  had  worked  eighteen-hour  shifts  on  bad  sleep,  cut  people  open  with  her  hands  shaking  and  her  life  falling  apart  outside  the  OR,  survived  foster  homes  and  paul  and  the  kind  of  fear  that  learned  your  schedule.  if  he  wanted  a  soft,  grateful,  obedient  doctor,  he  had  grabbed  the  wrong  woman.

«  and  do  not  stand  there  and  tell  me  i  wasn’t  harmed  like  that  makes  you  less  of  a  criminal.  i  was  drugged,  dragged  out  of  my  life,  dumped  in  a  room,  and  now  you’re  hovering  in  the  dark  doing  your  whole...  »  she  gestured  at  him  with  one  irritated  hand,  looking  him  up  and  down,  «  emotionally  constipated  vampire  billionaire  thing,  like  that’s  supposed  to  make  me  listen.  »

her  pulse  hammered  under  her  skin.  too  fast.  adrenaline.  maybe  whatever  they  had  given  her  wearing  off.  she  could  feel  the  medical  part  of  her  brain  trying  to  separate  itself  from  the  rest,  cataloguing  symptoms,  calculating  risk,  looking  for  the  cleanest  exit.  the  human  part  of  her  wanted  to  throw  something  at  his  head.  both  parts  were  jo,  which  meant  neither  one  planned  on  sitting  quietly.

months had passed, though aidoneus had long since stopped counting them properly. time had become meaningless after grief settled inside him like rot beneath stone. days disappeared behind the locked doors of his office while the world outside continued moving without his permission, and he had allowed it. allowed the loneliness to swallow him whole because loneliness, at least, had always been familiar. unlike love. unlike hope, unlike the unbearable fragility of mortal lives he had once foolishly convinced himself he could protect.

since the death of his wife and unborn child, something inside him had hollowed beyond repair. even now, he could still hear the silence that followed the doctor's words that night. the silence after failure, after loss. a silence no god should have ever been forced to endure. most days, he blamed jo wilson for it. perhaps unfairly. perhaps because blaming her remained easier than fancing the truth, that death had always followed him eventually, no matter how desperately he tried to outrun what he was. he had abandoned the underworld, abandoned olympus, endless chains for something painfully human, and the world had punished him for the arrogance of believing he could ever live differently.

and jo ... jo had simply stood in the middle of the tragedy when fate finally came to collect its debt. that was why she remained trapped there. not merely because he needed her skills. not merely because she knew too much. but because some cruel part of him could not bear the thought of allowing the last witness to his failure to walk free while he remained buried beneath it.

the mansion itself had become unbearable months ago. too many memories clung to the walls, echoes of laughter in empty halls, soft footsteps where silence now loved permanently. he rarely returned anymore. rarely stepped beyond the confines of his office at all. yet tonight necessity had dragged him back into the world whether he wished for it or not. war had begun circling him like wolves scenting weakness.

another clan had noticed his withdrawal. his silence. the absence of the monster they once feared enough to avoid provoking. men had begun dying because of it. loyal men. men who still believe in him despite the ruin he had become. and aidoneus could no longer heal them himself, not without risking olympus noticing. not without risking zeus dragging him back beneath the earth in chains forged from divine obligation and ancient humiliation. so once again, he found himself standing outside her door.

one hand rested against the handle for several long seconds before he finally entered. guards stationed nearby immediately straightened at the sight of him, but he dismissed them with little more than a glance. silence followed in their absence while he stepped deeper into the room. jo stood facing the window. for the first time in months, he truly looked at her. he had not realized how thin captivity had made her. had not cared enough to ask how his men treated her while he drowned inside himself. in his mind, whatever suffering she endured had once felt justified. a punishment for surviving where his family had not.

now, standing ther e beneath dim light and old shadows, the certainty of that punishment felt less solid than before. still, his expression remained cold. controlled, the grief buried beneath his ribs had long since sharpened itself into something crueler. ❝ doctor wilson. ❞ her name left his lips low and sharp enough to cut through the room instantly. crimson flickered briefly behind his otherwise human eyes before disappearing again beneath calm restraint. even now, weakened by grief, there remained something deeply unnatural about him.

before she could speak, he continued. ❝ before you decided to waste your enegy screaming at me, understand this, you will be coming with me tonight. ❞ his voice remained perfectly composed, almost emotionless in a way that made the threat far more unsettling. ❝ whether you walk beside me willingly or are carried there makes little difference to me presently. ❞ he knew she hated him. knew she likely carried enough fury to burn entire cities to the ground if given the chance.

but hatred no longer frightened aidoneus. nothing she could possibly say would rival the things he had already whispered to himself in empty rooms at three in the morning. every accusation, every cruel truth. he had lived beside them for months now. if he had possessed any other option, he would never have stood before her again, not her, never her. yet that tiredness settles visibly across his features when he finally speaks again, quieter this time. ❝ my men are dying. ❞

the words seem heavier than they should be. there is no pride left in them now, only necessity. ❝ i cannot take them to hospitals. i cannot heal them myself. ❞ his jaw tightens slightly after the admission, subtle frustration flickering beneath his calm exterior. ❝ and despite everything that has happened ... ❞ his gaze finally settles fully onto her again. ❝ you are still the best surgeon i know. ❞ for the first time since entering the room, something in his expression fractures slightly then. not enough to expose weakness completely.

only enough for her to glimpse the man buried beneath the skin, the monster, the grief. ❝ i would not be here if there were any other choice. ❞

then  she  hated  herself  for  wondering.  of  course  they  were.  meredith  would  look.  bailey  would  tear  the  city  apart.  link  would  look.  people  would  look,  because  she  was  not  that  girl  anymore,  the  one  who  disappeared  from  foster  homes  and  got  written  down  as  difficult  before  anyone  bothered  asking  why  she  kept  running.  she  had  a  life  now.  a  daughter.  friends.  a  name  people  knew.  but  knowing  that  did  not  open  the  door. jo  had  gotten  good  at  measuring  time  by  the  humiliations.  food  once  a  day  if  someone  remembered.  water  that  tasted  like  pipes.  showers  only  when  she  nagged  hard  enough.  fresh  clothes  when  someone  felt  generous.  a  bathroom  trip  when  they  decided  she  had  behaved  enough  to  be  treated  like  a  person  instead  of  badly  stored  medical  equipment.

some  guards  were  fine.  fine  was  a  low  bar.  fine  meant  they  did  not  shove  her  unless  ordered,  did  not  laugh  when  she  asked  for  soap,  did  not  throw  food  at  her  feet  like  she  was  supposed  to  crawl  after  it.  one  or  two  had  been  almost  decent.  extra  water.  proper  food  sometimes.  one  had  once  asked  if  she  wanted  the  light  dimmed  less,  like  the  question  embarrassed  him.  then  they  stopped  coming.  when  she  asked,  someone  told  her  they  had  died.  jo  had  said  nothing.  not  because  she  did  not  care.  because  she  did.  because  that  was  the  stupid,  inconvenient  part  of  being  her.  people  could  be  part  of  the  machinery  keeping  her  locked  up,  and  still,  when  she  heard  they  were  dead,  something  in  her  chest  tightened  before  she  could  stop  it.

she  hated  that  too.  this  time,  they  did  not  make  her  nag.  that  was  the  first  sign  something  was  wrong.  they  brought  her  to  the  bathroom  without  asking,  gave  her  more  time  than  usual,  left  clean  clothes  within  reach.  not  new,  not  hers,  but  clean  enough  that  it  made  her  suspicious  instead  of  grateful.  captivity  taught  quickly  that  kindness  usually  came  with  a  bill  attached.  jo  had  known  that  before  this  place.  as  a  kid.  as  a  teenager.  as  a  wife.  every  version  of  herself  that  had  learned  to  read  a  room  before  stepping  fully  into  it.

wet  hair  clung  to  her  face  while  she  dragged  a  comb  through  it  with  more  force  than  necessary while she waited for whatever the bill this time would be.  the  woman  in  the  mirror  looked  wrong.  pale,  lips  cracked,  cheeks  too  sharp,  clothes  hanging  loose.  she  looked  like  a  doctor  misplaced  into  a  morgue  drawer  and  forgotten  there.  still  jo  wilson,  though.  that  was  the  part  none  of  them  understood.  she  could  be  thinner,  exhausted,  furious,  half-starved  of  sunlight  and  worn  down  by  silence,  but  she  was  still  jo  wilson.  she  had  built  herself  out  of  less  than  this.  she  had  put  herself  through  med  school,  changed  her  name,  survived  paul,  survived  sleeping  in  her  car,  survived  every  person  who  thought  rough  hands  and  a  louder  voice  meant  ownership.  so  when  the  door  opened  and  his  voice  cut  through  the  room  like  he  had  any  right  to  say  her  name,  something  inside  her  caught  fire  so  fast  it  almost  felt  like  relief.

doctor  wilson.  the  cup  holding  her  toothbrush  left  her  hand  before  he  could  get  any  further.  fit  flew  across  the  room  and  smashed  against  the  wall  close  enough  to  him  that  one  of  the  guards  outside  made  a  sound.  ceramic  splintered  over  the  floor,  toothbrush  skidding  under  the  cabinet,  and  jo  did  not  look  away  from  hades.  aidoneus.  whatever  name  he  used  to  feel  less  like  a  man  who  kidnapped  women  and  locked  them  away  until  they  were  useful  again.

«  no.  »  her  voice  came  out  rough  from  disuse  and  anger,  then  louder,  because  anger  was  easier  than  shaking.  «  no.  i  will  not.  and  no,  you  don’t  get  to  do  that.  you  don’t  get  to  walk  in  here  after  months  and  say  my  name  like  we’re  in  an  OR  and  you’re  requesting  a  consult.  you  want  a  doctor?  call  an  ambulance.  »  she  grabbed  the  next  thing  within  reach,  the  plastic  comb,  and  hurled  it  too.  it  hit  one  of  the  guards  near  the  door  instead  of  him,  and  jo  did  not  even  blink.  good.  someone  had  been  hit.

«  oh,  suddenly  you  need  me?  that’s  hilarious.  really.  incredible  timing.  because  you  know  what  i  need?  my  life  back.  my  daughter.  sunlight.  a  bed.  a  toothbrush  that  wasn’t  apparently  my  only  available  weapon.  »  her  laugh  came  out  sharp  and  ugly,  nothing  amused  inside  it.  «  and  now  what?  you  want  to  carry  me  around  again?  drug  me?  drag  me  out  like  a  goddamn  doll  because  your  men  are  bleeding  and  you  remembered  i’m  there?  »  she  stepped  back  when  he  came  closer,  not  because  she  wanted  to,  but  because  her  body  still  understood  threat  faster  than  her  pride  could  override  it.  the  movement  made  her  angrier.  she  hated  the  tiny  animal  intelligence  of  survival,  hated  that  some  part  of  her  still  knew  how  to  make  herself  smaller  even  while  her  mouth  was  trying  to  burn  the  room  down.  so  she  stepped  forward  again.

her  hand  found  the  sink.  the  next  thing,  she  did  not  even  know  what  it  was,  only  that  it  had  weight.  a  soap  dish,  maybe.  it  flew  across  the  room  and  shattered  near  his  feet.  another  guard  moved,  and  jo  grabbed  the  folded  towel  beside  her  and  threw  that  too.  stupid,  useless,  soft,  but  it  hit  him  in  the  face  and  made  him  stop  for  half  a  second. that  was  enough.  «  but  you  do  not  get  to  stand  there  and  talk  to  me  about  dying  men  like  you  care  about  human  life.  you  kept  me  in  a  box  for  months.  you  let  people  throw  food  at  me.  you  let  them  decide  whether  i  got  to  shower.  you  let  them  decide  whether  i  got  to  see  enough  light  to  keep  my  body  from  falling  apart,  and  now  you  want  to  look  at  me  like  i’m  supposed  to  be  moved  because  your  men  are  bleeding?  »

her  chest  rose  too  fast.  a  small  bottle  went  next,  spinning  through  the  air  and  hitting  someone  with  a  dull  plastic  thud.  she  did  not  care  who.  hades,  guard,  wall,  floor,  it  did  not  matter  as  long  as  something  moved  because  she  made  it  move.  her  body  had  become  unreliable  in  here.  dehydration,  poor  nutrition,  stress,  likely  vitamin  deficiency,  muscle  loss,  sleep  disruption.  she  knew  every  clinical  word  for  what  had  been  done  to  her,  and  somehow  that  made  it  worse.

«  you  blamed  me  because  your  wife  and  your  child  died  and  i  was  the  only  living  person  left  in  the  room  you  could  punish.  »  her  mouth  tightened,  eyes  bright  with  fury  she  would  rather  choke  on  than  let  fall.  «  i  did  everything  i  could.  do  you  hear  me?  everything.  i  had  no  team,  no  proper  set-up,  no  full  history,  no  safe  transfer,  no  time,  and  no  consent  from  anyone  involved  because  you  kidnapped  me  instead  of  taking  her  somewhere  equipped  to  help  her.  i  am  good,  oh  yes  i  am  good,  i  am  the  best  actually,  thank  you  for  noticing.  but  i  am  not  magic.  i  am  not  god.  apparently  that’s  your  department,  and  look  how  well  that  worked  out.  »

the  words  landed  cruel,  and  some  part  of  her  knew  it.  another  part  of  her  did  not  care.  not  right  then.  she  grabbed  the  spare  cup  by  the  sink  and  launched  it  at  him  too.  it  caught  one  of  his  men  on  the  head instead,  and  when  the  man  cursed,  jo’s  head  snapped  towards  him.  «  oh,  sorry,  did  that  hurt?  should  i  apologise  for  the  manner  in  which  i  threw  it,  or  is  that  only  cute  when  your  boss  does  it?  »  her  gaze  cut  back  to  hades.

«  so  go  ahead.  keep  blaming  me  because  it’s  easier  than  admitting  you  failed  her  before  i  ever  touched  a  scalpel.  blame  me  for  your  men,  too.  blame  me  for  the  war  outside,  for  the  blood  on  your  floors,  for  every  body  your  choices  keep  stacking  up,  because  that’s  what  men  like  you  do,  right?  you  make  a  mess  big  enough  to  bury  a  city,  and  then  you  find  a  woman  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  it  so  you  can  call  it  her  fault.  »  jo’s  voice  shook  at  the  end,  but  it  did  not  soften.  «  and  you  want  the  truth?  fine.  here’s  the  truth.  if  you  had  loved  her  better  than  you  hated  being  powerless,  maybe  she  would  have  had  an  actual  hospital,  an  actual  team,  an  actual  chance.  maybe  your  child  would  have  had  one  too.  you  chose  yourself.  and  then  you  buried  them  and  called  it  my  failure  because  you  were  too  much  of  a  coward  to  call  it  yours.  »

the  room  seemed  to  tighten  around  that.  maybe  the  guards  felt  it.  maybe  he  did.  jo  barely  cared.  she  yanked  open  the  nearest  drawer  and  threw  whatever  was  left.  toothpaste.  wrapped  soap.  another  comb.  one  after  another,  fast,  messy,  furious,  not  caring  who  she  hit  as  long  as  she  hit.  «  but  here’s  the  part  you’re  not  going  to  like.  you  cannot  force  my  hands  to  be  steady.  you  cannot  threaten  competence  out  of  me.  you  cannot  drag  me  into  a  room  full  of  dying  people  and  expect  the  same  woman  you  starved  and  locked  away  to  perform  miracles  because  now  it  is  inconvenient  for  you  that  i  hate  you.  »

her  eyes  cut  to  the  door,  then  back  to  him.  the  doctor  in  her  was  already  awake,  building  a  picture  from  the  few  facts  he  had  given  her.  men  dying.  clan  war.  no  hospitals.  no  divine  healing.  trauma  cases,  probably  gunshot  wounds,  stab  wounds,  blood  loss,  shock.  she  hated  that  her  mind  did  it.  hated  that  some  trained,  stubborn  part  of  her  still  moved  towards  the  problem  even  while  the  rest  of  her  wanted  to  watch  his  world  collapse. she  did  not  let  that  show.  she  would  not  give  him  that.  «  you  can  drag  me  there,  sure.  you  can  throw  me  over  someone’s  shoulder,  put  a  guard  at  my  back,  make  a  whole  terrifying  little  production  out  of  it,  whatever  helps  you  sleep  in  your  creepy  castle  at  night.  »  her  jaw  tightened,  and  she  looked  at  him  like  she  knew  exactly  what  he  was  doing.  like  fear  had  reached  her,  yes,  but  it  had  not  owned  her.

«  but  you  cannot  force  me  to  use  my  brain.  you  cannot  force  my  hands  to  save  anyone.  and  that’s  why  you’re  standing  here  trying  to  scare  me  instead  of  just  ordering  me,  because  you  know  the  difference.  »  now  that  she  had  run  out  of  objects  to  throw,  it  was  only  her  pride  she  could  counter  him  with.

i found this list and kinda fed into it each time i got the flu or a migraine, and u know what, it's just me revealing just how much i love the caring threads and the soft threads and the fondly exasperated "let me help you" threads! use at your pleasure, DO NOT ADD TO THE LIST NOR EDIT IT! i will be changing it accordingly!

" i found you passed out in the kitchen. you wanna stop working yourself so hard? or do i need to keep hitting the gym to carry you to bed every day? "

" you're burning up. "

" your neighbour called me and said you could use a nurse. looks like they were right, too. "

" you were told to take it easy, so... yeah. this is kinda on you. "

" you took a sick day. you NEVER take a sick day. so yeah, i got worried, and i figured i'd come over and keep an eye on you. "

" you texted me a long and incoherent text that held about 90% of the emoji list and about four different languages. figured it wouldn't hurt to drop by and see how you were doing. "

" how long have you been sick for? and don't lie. "

" you look like hell. "

" i brought you some soup; let me heat some up for you? "

" okay. it's time you went to the hospital. "

" hey… hello there, sleeping beauty. you gave me a bit of a scare yesterday. how are you feeling? "

" i swear, if you even think of getting out of that bed… "

" you know when i said to call if it's an emergency? a fever is most DEFINITELY considered an emergency! "

" if you think you're going to work like this, you better think again. "

" don't worry. my family swears by this remedy; just let it work its magic and you'll feel good as new in no time. "

" I don't care about getting sick. i'm not leaving you until you're back to full health. "

" you didn't stop to think that this might happen when you're burning the candle at both ends? "

" yeah, I can play the role of nurse AND say "I told you so" at the same time, actually. "

" you better drink every last drop of this tea, no matter how disgusting it is. "

" i told my boss it was an emergency so they've given me a full week to look after you. "

" quit being so stubborn and get into BED! "

" what part of doctor's orders hasn't sunk in yet? bed rest! for the WEEK! "

" right, where do you keep your saucepans? i'm going to make you my famous noodle soup. it's a cure-all, i'm telling you! "

" hey, unless you're going to the bathroom or the sofa, I don't want to see you out of that bed. got it? "

" when are you gonna start letting people look after you, huh? "

" i know, i know, i turned off all the lights once i figured you had the migraine. you want some tea? water? "

" don't be mad, but i saw your fridge, and... it frightened me. so i've taken you back to my place, and i'm gonna get deliveroo to bring some groceries to your place tomorrow. okay? "

" i know your appetite is a little off, so i ordered in a whole tonne of options. just try a little bit of something, please? for me? "

" i've brought half a pharmacy, enough movies and boardgames to last us a decade, and every single snack i could fit into the basket at the grocery store. so sit your butt down, eat your soup, and try and make the most of your bed rest for the next week, will you? "

ACTION PROMPTS ( SEND THE FULL LINE! and feel free to reverse if u wish! ):

[ TOUCH ]: sender gently rests a hand against the receiver's forehead to check their temperature.

[ DAMP ]: sender presses a cool cloth against the receiver's face, neck and forehead to try and lower their fever.

[ BLANKET ]: sender wraps another blanket around the receiver to try and stop them from shivering.

[ SPOON ]: sender gently coaxes spoons of soup into the receiver's mouth to build up their strength after an illness.

[ CARRY ]: sender, finding the receiver weakened/unconscious on the floor, immediately lifts them up and carries them back to bed.

[ AROUND ]: sender keeps a protective arm around the receiver to help them walk without the risk of stumbling or collapsing.

[ STAY ]: sender decides to stay by the receiver's bedside after learning that they're sick.

[ HAIR ]: sender smooths back the receiver's hair in a soothing gesture to try and help them go back to sleep.

[ TILT ]: sender tips a bottle of water up for the receiver to sip from.

[ HUM ]: sender hums/sings to soothe a sick receiver back to sleep.

[ BACK ]: sender gently rubs the receiver's back, either to soothe them or warm them while they're unwell.

[ SHARE ]: sender climbs into the receiver's sickbed with them, wrapping their arms around them to offer warmth and comfort.

[ SHOWER ]: sender, learning the receiver has a high fever, takes a cold shower with them in order to lower their temperature.

[ WAKEN ]: the receiver wakes up in bed, having been found unconscious by the sender and carried into the bed from the floor.

up for adoption: will halstead (chicago med), erin lindsay (chicago pd), emma nolan (the pitt), frank langdon (the pitt) samira mohan (the pitt) spencer reid (criminal minds), max goodwin (new amsterdam), lauren bloom (new amsterdam), zara knight (chicago/criminal minds oc), wes mitchell (fbi international) & derek morgan (criminal minds) wes mitchell (fbi international) jo wilson (fandomless) derek shepard. ( fandomless. ) jules millin (fandomless) mika yasuda. ( fandomless. )

i found this list and kinda fed into it each time i got the flu or a migraine, and u know what, it's just me revealing just how much i love the caring threads and the soft threads and the fondly exasperated "let me help you" threads! use at your pleasure, DO NOT ADD TO THE LIST NOR EDIT IT! i will be changing it accordingly!

" i found you passed out in the kitchen. you wanna stop working yourself so hard? or do i need to keep hitting the gym to carry you to bed every day? "

" you're burning up. "

" your neighbour called me and said you could use a nurse. looks like they were right, too. "

" you were told to take it easy, so... yeah. this is kinda on you. "

" you took a sick day. you NEVER take a sick day. so yeah, i got worried, and i figured i'd come over and keep an eye on you. "

" you texted me a long and incoherent text that held about 90% of the emoji list and about four different languages. figured it wouldn't hurt to drop by and see how you were doing. "

" how long have you been sick for? and don't lie. "

" you look like hell. "

" i brought you some soup; let me heat some up for you? "

" okay. it's time you went to the hospital. "

" hey… hello there, sleeping beauty. you gave me a bit of a scare yesterday. how are you feeling? "

" i swear, if you even think of getting out of that bed… "

" you know when i said to call if it's an emergency? a fever is most DEFINITELY considered an emergency! "

" if you think you're going to work like this, you better think again. "

" don't worry. my family swears by this remedy; just let it work its magic and you'll feel good as new in no time. "

" I don't care about getting sick. i'm not leaving you until you're back to full health. "

" you didn't stop to think that this might happen when you're burning the candle at both ends? "

" yeah, I can play the role of nurse AND say "I told you so" at the same time, actually. "

" you better drink every last drop of this tea, no matter how disgusting it is. "

" i told my boss it was an emergency so they've given me a full week to look after you. "

" quit being so stubborn and get into BED! "

" what part of doctor's orders hasn't sunk in yet? bed rest! for the WEEK! "

" right, where do you keep your saucepans? i'm going to make you my famous noodle soup. it's a cure-all, i'm telling you! "

" hey, unless you're going to the bathroom or the sofa, I don't want to see you out of that bed. got it? "

" when are you gonna start letting people look after you, huh? "

" i know, i know, i turned off all the lights once i figured you had the migraine. you want some tea? water? "

" don't be mad, but i saw your fridge, and... it frightened me. so i've taken you back to my place, and i'm gonna get deliveroo to bring some groceries to your place tomorrow. okay? "

" i know your appetite is a little off, so i ordered in a whole tonne of options. just try a little bit of something, please? for me? "

" i've brought half a pharmacy, enough movies and boardgames to last us a decade, and every single snack i could fit into the basket at the grocery store. so sit your butt down, eat your soup, and try and make the most of your bed rest for the next week, will you? "

ACTION PROMPTS ( SEND THE FULL LINE! and feel free to reverse if u wish! ):

[ TOUCH ]: sender gently rests a hand against the receiver's forehead to check their temperature.

[ DAMP ]: sender presses a cool cloth against the receiver's face, neck and forehead to try and lower their fever.

[ BLANKET ]: sender wraps another blanket around the receiver to try and stop them from shivering.

[ SPOON ]: sender gently coaxes spoons of soup into the receiver's mouth to build up their strength after an illness.

[ CARRY ]: sender, finding the receiver weakened/unconscious on the floor, immediately lifts them up and carries them back to bed.

[ AROUND ]: sender keeps a protective arm around the receiver to help them walk without the risk of stumbling or collapsing.

[ STAY ]: sender decides to stay by the receiver's bedside after learning that they're sick.

[ HAIR ]: sender smooths back the receiver's hair in a soothing gesture to try and help them go back to sleep.

[ TILT ]: sender tips a bottle of water up for the receiver to sip from.

[ HUM ]: sender hums/sings to soothe a sick receiver back to sleep.

[ BACK ]: sender gently rubs the receiver's back, either to soothe them or warm them while they're unwell.

[ SHARE ]: sender climbs into the receiver's sickbed with them, wrapping their arms around them to offer warmth and comfort.

[ SHOWER ]: sender, learning the receiver has a high fever, takes a cold shower with them in order to lower their temperature.

[ WAKEN ]: the receiver wakes up in bed, having been found unconscious by the sender and carried into the bed from the floor.