#non-binary oc

Five figures around the fire, the back of one large man or creature hunched over, another man's figured covered in front, some what seemed to be members of the Candescent Creed, which was odd in of itself, and a... wolf? Familiar, in its shape. But no, it couldn't be.

They were all awake in hushed conversations.

You don’t move, careful to think of your way around before the wolf moves. Its head lifts, ears pricking forward, body tensing in a way that sends a familiar chill down your spine.

A voice that haunts your dreams rises in the silence of the forest.

“We’ve got company,” Kattigan says calmly.

Not loud. Not startled. Certain.

Your breath catches as you take a small step back in shock. No, not him, it couldn't be–

Another voice cuts through the quiet as the group in now at attention. This time the voice that pushes forward is female, also familiar. “We know you're out there. So you can either show yourself or deal with wolfie here. Your choice."

You exhale once, slow, then step forward into the firelight.

Hands open. Weapons visible but untouched. You let the hood fall back just enough for your face to be seen.

The reaction is immediate.

For half a heartbeat, Thimble's gaze is sharp, assessing. Then, her eyes widen, breath catching hard enough that you hear it over the fire.

“…Shadow?” she gasps.

She’s flies over in an instant, crossing the space between you before anyone else can react. She stares at your face, searching, cataloging, then lets out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a laugh.

“Shadow,” she says again, louder now. “Holy shit!”

The rest of the group now turns to where you've appeared.

"Shadow? Who is- Shaper!" A familiar, deep accent rings through your ears as Teor turns and recognizes you immediately.

He rushes forward, boots thudding against the ground as he closes the distance in three long strides. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he’s staring at something that shouldn’t exist.

“How are you alive?" He says, his full mane now greying, a new scar or two since you last saw him. But strong. Still strong and wise and the face of a friend that you can't help but feel at ease with.

"Some healing poultices and a shit ton of luck. I nearly died before Bloom found me. She healed me just enough to get us out of the battlefield but she got caught while I was resting under some tree branches and–" I let out harsh breath as I look down. "Anyways. I've survived. But they were still after me so I hid."

He stops in front of you, staring, and then his hands are on your forearm, grip solid and familiar, pulling you forward into a crushing embrace that knocks the air from your lungs.

“You’re alive,” he breathes. “That is what matters."

You let yourself lean into it, just for a second, before returning the clasp, grounding yourself in the solid reality of him. “Still breathing,” you murmur.

Teor laughs, sharp and incredulous, and pulls back enough to look at you properly, hands still braced on your shoulders. “And what is this shadow Thimble speaks of?" He looks over at the pixie, still hovering by.

“Its their cover. Thjazi thought it best to hide their real identify so that the Tachonis wouldn't find them as easy." Thimble says, settling on my shoulder. "Which reminds me..."

A silence fills the space as I turn to look to my friend. "What?"

"Do they not know?" Teor says, glancing between me and Thimble.

"Know what?" I speak again. "What happened?"

Thimble carefully places her hand on my shoulder as she sits, eyes downcast. "Thjazi– he's–" she takes a deep breath. "He's dead."

I freeze then, my body turning to ice as the man who saved my life, who gave my life new meaning and direction was suddenly... gone. "What do you mean dead? Who." I say quieter than I mean to.

"Casimir and the Tachonis. The whole fucking Sundered Houses. They killed him in front of all of Dol-Makjar and we couldn't save him." Thimble's voice trembles, devastation lacing every word. I knew what this meant to her, what it means to all of us here.

A rage, steady burning grew within me. Once silent, never too consuming, now flushes over my skin as my eyes dart to the unfamiliar faces in the group. "Then why are you with these two? Are they your prisoners? Were they involved?" My voice does not rise, but my anger does. A quiet storm as I slowly inch forward towards the young man with glowing tattoos, and the demon by his side. Candescent Creed. Sundered House.

"Oh! We did not– we were not–" The younger man speaks first, a nervous edge to his polished voice as he shifts his body back.

The demon in the baby blue frilled dress steps forward, hands out gesturing wildly as she covers the boy. "Hi! I'm Tyranny, this is Wick. We totally weren't involved in that stuff. Wick here actually tried to help Hal and everything, but well, things didn't going to plan so Thjazi still died and all. Unfortunately. Sorry." She adds posthumously. Her bluntness shoots through as the last of her words settle into my stomach.

Thjazi, dead.

The once silent man from earlier finally interjects, a person I had been avoiding facing since I first heard him speak out.

"These two are harmless, mostly. Casimir and those lordy bastards are the ones who are to blame here." His gravely tone hits me with a sharpness I'd not felt in a while. Not since I last laid eyes on the man I once called my best friend, my comrade. The man I trusted more than anyone, until I didn't.

I don't speak for a moment as I let my eyes shift towards his still form. Still a hunter, he stands just outside the group, always assessing and calculating. But there's a wall now, one that's been built since I last saw him, and I know that if I saw myself reflected back in his eyes, I'd see the same.

"Vale." I don't break my gaze.

"Shadow." He says in a bored, near mocking tone. But in it, a small crack. His gaze is softer.

Our stare off lasts a moment before I pull my focus towards the group, assessing.

I could still feel his gaze burning into the side of my head.

Thimble moves off my shoulder, now flying in front of my vision as I take in the makeshift camp. "Why are you out here then? If Thjazi's gone, are you running?"

"Casimir." Thimble says, venom lacing every syllable. "Fucking bastard's gonna get what's comin' to him."

I nod, understanding, "Good."

"What about you? Why are you here in the woods alone?" Teor speaks up, gesturing for me to sit as the group shifts back to the logs, tensions easing. I still stand, not planning to stay much longer if I can help it.

"Been undercover for some years, was helping Thjazi. We were working on finding some... items, but I hit a dead end recently." I keep my focus on the fire. "Been trying to find my way back to reassess. Pick up new leads, anything." I can still hear the forest around me, the people, but I'm on edge. Even if they were old comrades, friends at one time, there are too many variables here.

"What items?" Kattigan's voice pops up from my left, the same calm and gravely tone picking at my nerves once again. The way he acts so nonchalant makes me want to–

My thoughts are cut off by Thimble. "Yeah, maybe it'll give us some clues or why those asshole Houses decided to act against him now! He kept your work with him pretty secret, even from me. I only knew the bare minimum." Her face fills with hesitancy and doubt, her voice tinged with slight regret. Or resentment? I can't tell.

I guess anyone in Thjazi's circle is now a suspect to Thimble, thanks to Casimir.

I look around the group, tense. "Thimble's the only one I'd be okay sharing this information with. No offense Teor, but I haven't seen most of you in years and some of you I have high fucking doubts about so... as much as I'd like to just share information willy nilly that I promised Thjazi I'd guard with my life, I'd rather not."

I could see the ease of Thimble's shoulders at that.

"What is willy ni–" Teor starts, confusion as his features before he's cut off.

"Still keeping secrets then ey?" A gruff chuckle from Kattigan.

"That's fucking rich coming from you." I snap back, my gaze boring into his face. New wrinkles, new greys. Same eyes. My jaw tense as I try, and fail, to not notice.

"Okay, what the hell is up with the two of you? Last I knew you guys were attached the hip in the Rebellion." Thimble says as she flutters up between our line of sight, hands up in placation.

"Yes, we were all quite close." Teor says eyes darting between me and Kattigan. He knew why, but doesn't dare say a word. He lets the tension hang in the air instead, lets us work things out like he always did.

Which they never did.

"Well, now we're not. So. Guess that clears things up." I turn around and walk towards the tree line. "Thimble, if you want that info then I'll tell you now. But after that I'm gone."

"Wait!" Thimble says rushing up. "Hold on, you said your lead went cold right? Why don't you come with us? We could use the extra help and maybe you can find some answers." She pauses, gaze down at a charm on her side. A fairy charm. "He... Thjazi kept a lot of secrets, and you were one of the biggest ones. Maybe you could help us figure this thing out, avenge him. Set this right."

With Thjazi gone, I had to revaluate. Regroup. And I can't do that here, not with the man that made emotions boil so quickly, ones that I'd long since shoved and locked away. No, I need to get out of here soon.

"Thimble I- I don't know. I'm used to the shadows, I don't do whatever the hell this is anymore." I say, tone softening at the pixie.

"It is true, we could use your assistance. Even if you are of the shadows, you once were of the light with us. You worked such shadows alongside us. You can once again no?" Teor says, hopeful. "And truthfully, I would much like to know of your life since I have last seen you. I had thought you dead this entire time."

My jaw tenses, eyes looking out to the forest ahead. Familiar, comfortable, the loneliness that's become a balm and a shield against the cruelty of the world after the Shaper's War. Being in such company again would bring heartache just like before. Just like now. Just like Thjazi.

"Fuck." I let out with a harsh sigh. "Fine. For Thjazi. And truthfully, I just want to watch those fuckers that killed him rot."

I turn, Teor now standing as his arm reaches around my shoulders to drag me across the camp. "Wonderful! Come, sit. Tell us then, what came of you after the final battle?"

I sit down, but my body and mind still on high alert as I slowly tell my story. I keep certain details out due to our mixed company, while my eyes actively avoid the brown ones from across the fire.

Now set on a new path without much choice, what came from here... only time would tell.

Hive’s face whipped one way then the other, their dark hair lashing their cheeks. Every face around them looked as oblivious as could be. Fuck. They knew that voice.

They dodged down crowded streets, ducking along alleys, taking the quickest route they knew in a direction they’d promised themself never to go. The voice resurged, not so faint, but irregular, as though a mind could be out of breath.

Where… am I? So hungry…

Hive winced, recalling a very similar internal monologue. Where was he? How could he possibly be in range? Even for this broken up attempt to communicate. Their mind strained. It amazed them that other people couldn’t hear it. Apparently this was a private call. Fuck. Not good. Not good at all.

They got three blocks too far north before they stopped and ducked into a doorway, breathing too hard, head spinning, arms tight across their chest. Images of the empty apartment flooded their brain, images of Bucky standing in the hall and wondering, maybe even searching. They stood shivering and hugging themself.

They wished they could ignore the voice, go back, get some sleep, rest their aching bones…

Help me… Hive, please…

They whimpered and squeezed themselves tighter, pinching their arms through their hoodie. They had to go. The whimper became an angry whine. They jabbed a foot into the wall and cried out, tears filling their eyes.  Then they turned, limping, back towards the apartment.

They didn’t stay long, just long enough to pull out their notebook and scribble their apologies, and to take advantage of the quiet.

Ady?

Hive! I need help…

You’re out? How?

Complicated. Can we – I need to see someone. A – a friendly face. Meet me?

A friendly face… Hive wasn’t sure if they wanted to laugh or throw up.

Where?

They figured something out. A meeting place, crowded enough to allow them anonymity and somewhere people tended not to give a shit who was around anyway. Hive only knew it because it was about the only place they’d observed Bucky attending other than work and the grocery store. If there was anywhere a metal hand around a tumbler could go unnoticed through sheer lack of interest, it was that shithole. And if there was anywhere no one would have a hope of recalling the faces of two fugitives tomorrow morning…

It took them a while to get together some supplies, not having much stashed and lacking the cash to do things the easy, legal way. The limp added an unnecessary challenge to the game of going unnoticed. A couple of security guards had to develop sudden nosebleeds but eventually they were standing on the street above the basement bar, chewing their lip as they stared down the iron stairs. Ady… Their skin crawled. They could feel their control, their entire presence, slipping. Just like it had before. When the only way to resist was to play a sick game of musical chairs in their own body, everyone trying not to be the one in control when the music stopped...

Steady… Invisible hands held them and pushed them gently but firmly back into themself. We don’t have to do this, but if we’re going to then we should get it over with. Standing out here isn’t safe.

He needs our help. He isn’t going to hurt us.

And if he only just got out, he may have information we can use.

A deep breath of the foetid gutter-tinged air did more to upset their stomach than soothe their nerves but it did help to drive them off the street. He was sitting at a table in the corner. His cheeks were more hollow than ever. He was staring at a drink in front of him as though he’d forgotten how to transfer the liquid to his mouth. Thinking about it, it might have been years since the poor bastard was last allowed to pick up his own glass, or have a glass at all. A mutant who could do what he could certainly couldn’t be allowed any more freedom than absolutely necessary. That leash was kept tight. How he had ever slipped it was a mystery. They slid into the opposite chair.

“You came.” The fact sounded like it caused him pain.

“I, yeah, ‘course I did. You needed help.” They toed the duffel bag towards him under the table, regretting it when their toes ached dark and hot, nausea surging in their gut. They were pretty sure their foot would be vivid purple when they got home and took that sock off. “This is for you. I can find you somewhere to stay. You'll need to, you know, keep your head down for a little while…” For a moment they pictured Bucky’s expression should they show up on the doorstep with another stray in tow. No, wouldn’t work. But their old hideout was probably secure enough for a day or two while they figured out how to get him a long, long way away. They weren’t sure exactly how far the enemy’s reach extended but it was a fair bet that nowhere inside the US would be safe enough. Maybe Bucky knew more about where someone like Ady could go unnoticed with some basic precautions. Somewhere remote enough that his nightmares would trouble no one but the wildlife. “Does it work on animals?” Hive winced even as the words left their mouth. They hadn’t intended to ask. It could at the very least have waited. What a time for their vocal chords to detach from their brain.

Ady’s head dipped, hiding his face deeper in the shadows of his hood. He’d never really made his peace with the shaved head, they knew. Endless exploratory surgeries were the lot of captive mutants but when your abilities were so very brain-centred… well, his skull had been drilled into so many times, it was amazing there was enough left to hold his brain in.

“No, ‘it’ doesn’t. They can’t hear me, or if they can then they don’t understand. And I can’t make – it doesn’t affect them.” They saw him shiver inside his heavy coat.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have – you know what I’m like.”

“What you’re all like…” he curled a little tighter, peeking up at them out of the dark, more fearful than angry. “You seem like just… you. How are the rest of them do-”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about them.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I never wanted to hurt any of you.”

“Don’t, Ady.”

“Lex – have you – has he -”

“Fucking stop. Christ, learn when to fucking stop.”

He flinched as though they’d struck him, and their stomach clenched as though the blow had rebounded. Their skin felt icy cold but the cold was radiating from somewhere much deeper. They needed to get out from under Ady’s pale, watery gaze. It was deceptive, that look, and they knew it as well as anyone. It was so lost, so full of need for care, connection, and it crept in, touching what you wanted no one to know was there. They shoved away from the table so hard their chair rocked. Ady looked up in panic and Hive allowed him a muttered “bathroom” to quiet his alarm. But all they got to soothe their own distress was dingy tile and a cracked mirror under a flickering, stained light bulb. They needed a deep breath but that was a bad idea in here. They tried taking in a series of tiny gasps until they had a lungful to exhale slowly.

Lex… What fucking right did he have? How dare he? They leant over the chipped sink, close to retching, gripping the edge until they recognised the blood running from under their fingernails. Fuck. When had they last lost control like that? Oh, of fucking course. Ady. Poor Lex had always turned the lash inwards when he couldn’t hold out any longer. They stared at the blood – the only wholesome colour in the hopeless little room. It was lucky that, however their power worked, it left no open wounds; this place was a paradise for every kind of crap you didn’t want in your bloodstream. They stopped the bleeding and – wound or no wound – scrubbed their hands under the hottest water they could coax from the rusty tap. Then they stared at their reflection a little longer, willing the hectic blotches out of their cheeks, face divided into misaligned halves by the long scar in the glass.

Ady… Not what their custodians had called him, of course. He’d long acquired the nickname "Leash” when Hive was brought in.

I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… I only wanted – I wanted you to say he’d come back. That he wasn’t… and I hadn’t… I never wanted to kill anyone. I promise. Hive? Are… are you coming back?

Now wasn’t that the question. The supplies they’d collected for him were still under the table. If they walked right out, he could take them and go and they didn’t know where he’d end up or how long he’d last but they would have done something for him, more than anyone had done for them when they first got out. They could walk out guilt-free. And who would have little enough heart to blame them for steering clear of someone who’d done the things Ady had?

We would.

Things he was forced to do…

The voices didn’t come from Ady, or anywhere else outside their own head. It made them that much harder to shut out and their owners knew it.

It isn’t truer for Bucky than it is for Ady just because Ady hurt us.

They never took that fucking collar off him. What could he have done that he didn’t try?

“That he said he tried…” Hive muttered, unable to meet their own eyes in the mirror. They needn’t speak aloud to be heard but it felt better to hear their own words on the outside.

Like we did?

“We’re different.”

How do you figure that out?

“We are killers.”

You are, you mean.

“Fine, I am.”

And if you don’t take us back out there, I will. He’s no guiltier than we are. He needs help.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Hive glowered down at their shoes then rammed the bolt back. The glare melted away as soon as they saw the helpless fear on Ady’s face, even shrouded deep in that coat. Just looking at it made the sweat run faster inside Hive’s hoodie, already too many layers for comfort in the bar’s close atmosphere.

They slid back into their seat. A drink had appeared in front of them.

“Got you a drink. To say sorry. And thank you, for coming when I called. I’d have understood if you’d ignored me.”

They eyed the glass. “You have money?”

“A little.” His eyes shifted away, gluing his gaze to the corner of the table. Hive heard what he didn’t say.

They lowered their voice. “Didn’t pay for it, huh?”

He gave his head a tiny shake. They could see his hands were twisting in his lap. Part of them was glad he felt guilt or anxiety or both. An uncharitable part they tried to silence, but not one they could blame on anyone else.

“You need to be careful. You know it leaves traces sometimes, and this place has a lot of potential witnesses. It’d be really easy to wind up back home if the wrong person sees.”

His hands tugged at his sleeves. He thought they were telling him off. And in their world that meant pain was sure to follow. They swallowed a mouthful of sharp memories and lifted their glass.

“It’s okay. You aren’t in trouble. I just need you to be careful, okay? I don’t want either of us going back there.”

He made a strange jerky movement towards them as they sipped; they guessed he’d wanted to reach for their hand. Seemed like he’d decided against it as he flinched back again, though Hive hadn’t even reacted. Did he – they thought they might have heard him whimper. God, he was going to be hard work. They took a breath, and a longer drink. The faint burn in their throat wasn’t especially pleasant but the room was so hot. It was starting to spin. Too many voices. Too many sounds and textures and moving bodies. When had the lights become so bright? Their stomach churned. They tried to grip the glass again only to find their fingers numb and clumsy. Ady was rocking, the movement nauseating to focus on.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m

“Ady…” Their mouth felt like it was full of cloth. “What did you do?”

It wasn’t Bucky who left the building and began to scour the streets for a trace of Hive's direction. The agency steering his body might have owed him a great deal but they were not the same. This individual stalked his target from block to block with predatory focus as much as he covered the ground with a soldier’s discipline, quartering his territory systematically. As his hunt drew out longer and longer frustration began to infect him. Sickening him. Turning his determination into anger. His pace quickened into a wolfish lope, but he was becoming inescapably aware that his search was directionless. Hive could be anywhere. Any building. Any subway. They could be on a Greyhound headed right across the country. What possible hope did he have of finding them? His pace ground to a halt. Strength flooded out of him. The impulse to find them kept up its powerful beat in his chest but it was futile. He breathed hard. Air felt thick. Heavy and poisonous. Foul in his mouth. Nowhere to go. No forward path. Where were they?

 When the hand fell on their shoulder, it felt like a hundred kilo weight. They slumped underneath it. A whisper of protest was the most they could utter as their hood was dragged down and light flooded their face. Someone was speaking, low and even, over their head. Their ears were ringing. They were pulled from their seat and steered by their elbows back towards the toilet, past the rotting bathroom door and down a gloomy passageway. Whatever Ady had given them turned every sense up to one hundred. No useful input, nothing they could trust to get their bearings, only an assault of sound and light and smell.

Uneven, mouldering carpet caught their toes and they went sprawling, the pain in their foot amplified unbearably. More pain exploded from their knees. The impact travelled the length of their spine in an instant. The strong, single sensation broke part way through the lethal fog in their brain, and at last they could fight. They launched themself up from the floor and fresh agony burst in their skull when it collided with a chin. Both Hive and their escort toppled, crying out and clutching their heads. Commands were yelled. Ady whimpered. Movement. Behind them. Chairs scraping.

There was a moment, just one, in which the swimming weight resettling on their brain lightened a little, and Hive lashed out with all their strength. Blood poured down their face and chest from their suddenly gushing nose. Someone else was yelling in horror and a heavy body crashed into them, slamming them into the wall. Something wrenched in their shoulder and they fell sobbing back to the floor, the falling weight still on top of them. They lay with their streaming nose in the disgusting carpet and an immovable weight crushing their lungs. At first the weight thrashed wildly, grinding Hive’s torso into the floor. Their lungs caught fire. Their chest was burned. The struggles became weaker, and finally there was only the suffocating mass on top of them. Someone dragged it off and hauled Hive to their knees. How many were there? Bloody hands held them in place. There was a commotion, a yell, behind them.

“Hold her. I’ve had about enough of this shit. Just get the fucking collar on her, will you? Or do you want to die too? And you, get him out of here.”

Ady whimpered again and Hive felt a new familiar pressure on their mind. They mentally squirmed to escape the snare but they were out of practice. They couldn’t break free.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m sorry…

They stilled, waiting motionless while a heavy ring of metal was fastened shut round their throat. They couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move. It was too sudden. Their mind moved like it was setting in cement. The metal contacts were as ice cold as they remembered against the sides of their neck.

Can… anyone…? We need to…

No reply. They ran out of strength to plead. Air felt like acid as it half-filled their aching lungs.

Someone help me… please…

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” - Nelson Mandela