#reader whump

Your trick was: caffeine. You had discovered in college that if you drank caffeine on an empty stomach, you could stay extra focused for hours on end. Obviously, this wasn’t good for your health. Or your stomach. But usually you would finish whatever project it was you were laser focused on within the day, so the strain on your body wouldn’t last that long.

This was lasting very long. Very very long. And you had no idea of the passage of time. There was no sun peeking through curtains to inform you that you had worked through the night, or disgruntled roommate checking in to wonder why you hadn’t emerged all day. Donnie’s brothers were very well used to his overworking tendencies, so they paid it no mind he was only coming out for coffee and pop tarts. What they didn’t realize was that you were still in the lair, all assuming you had gone home after the first night. So none had thought to go in to check on the lab.

Here lies the dilemma. It had been maybe 64 hours since you had slept or properly consumed anything besides coffee and a singular package of pop tarts, frequently forgetting about the pile of snacks Donnie kept leaving on your desk. Your back was stiff, muscles sore, and your throat was starting to feel incredibly dry. But all your attention being on finishing your project meant all your physical awareness was finely tuned out.

Except that little tickle in the back of your throat.

It started maybe 5…. 6 hours ago. It was a little bothersome, making you clear your throat and drink a little more coffee to soothe it. But it kept coming back. The tickle started to become a little painful, and clearing your throat turned into small dry coughs. You were drinking more and more coffee to try and wash down the feeling or maybe chase away the dehydration. Your lips started to feel dry, then your eyes, joining in with your uncomfortably dry throat. By the time evening rolled around, your chest was burning terribly, and a migraine had started to thrum with your pulse. Having finished your pot of coffee maybe 2 hours ago and hadn’t bothered to go make more, you were thinking you just needed to get more to drink.

You took a small pause in your welding to push up your goggles and wipe at your dry eyes, when suddenly your vision blurred. For a second, you suddenly found your body lurching to the side off your chair before you caught yourself on the side of the desk.

‘Huh… that was weird. Maybe I’m just tired. I’ll go make more coffee.’

Donnie had been bringing you refills whenever he had gotten up to make more, but you had finished your pot twice as fast as usual. You moved to the side of your chair to stand, and your feet touched the ground with your full weight. To your surprise, your knees almost buckled underneath you, and blackness started to creep in the edges of your vision.

Your body felt weak, and your muscles ached. Keeping a death grip on the edge of the table, you took a slow step towards Donnie’s part of the lab, then another. You blinked rapidly to try and chase away the encroaching darkness creeping in your vision, but too soon your eyesight went dark, and it felt like your brain was shutting down. Internally, you were panicking and fighting to stay conscious, but all you could manage was weakly calling out for Donnie before you blacked out. You didn’t even feel yourself hit the ground.

Donnie, on the other side of the lab, had pulled away from his computer moments before to rub a hand down over his face. This line of code was driving him crazy and he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. He briefly heard the scrape of (y/n) pushing their chair away from the table, and expected to hear your footsteps head past him to the small bathroom in the back of the lab. He took a moment to flag this line of code- again, for further meddling later. The genius turtle had to admit he was reaching his limits on staying awake and figured it was time he took himself and (y/n) to bed.

But where was (y/n)? They hadn’t come in to greet him yet. Were they just adjusting their chair? That was when he heard it.

“d….don nie…” your voice called out weakly, strained, and barely above a whisper before he heard a light thud from the other room. Had you dropped something? He quickly pulled himself to stand and made his way to the other room to check on what it was you needed.

There. On the floor. You laid still and unmoving on your side against the cold floor.

“(Y/N)!!!!” Donnie exclaimed. Startled, he rushed to your side and dropped down beside you, pulling you into his lap. “(Y/n)! (Y/N)!!!!” He shook you slightly trying to rouse your attention, but your eyes were closed and your body fully limp in his arms. Unresponsive. Quickly, he felt for your pulse, sighing when he found it, but worried by the heightened pace. Donnie scooped you up into his arms and quickly carried you towards the med bay across the lair.

He made his way out of his lab and passed the living room where Mikey and Leo were watching a movie on the TV, and Raph was making a sandwich in the kitchen.

“Huh? Donnie? Is that (y/n)? I didn’t see them come in… are they asleep??” Leo asked when he saw Donnie rush out holding you in his arms.

“No time. (Y/n) fainted in the lab.” Donnie rushed out and speed walked through the clear plastic panels into the med bay, ignoring the startled ‘WHAT’ echoed by Leo and Mikey, and what sounded like Raph choking on his sandwich.

He laid you out gently on the padded white exam table, 3 sizes too big for you, and rushed around the drawers and cabinets. He acquired a stethoscope, thermometer, blood pressure pump, and various other tools to properly check your health and brought them over to the table beside you just as his brothers rushed in.

“ANGELCAKES ARE YOU OKAY??? Ow-“ Mikey rushed in pushing past Leo and Raph and dramatically ran to your side before Raph smacked the back of his head.

“Mikey, chill out. Give ‘em some room.” Raph growled out, trying to pull his dramatic little brother back while Leo stepped forward.

“Donnie, what happened to (y/n)?”

Donnie was now wearing the stethoscope and had the end pressed to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing strained.

“Hmm… heart palpitations… lungs… crackling sound… that can’t be good.” Donnie was muttering notes under his breath, reaching up to place his hand over your forehead. He found a scorching hot fever and his heart sank. Only then did he turn to Leo. “We… we’ve been working in the lab the past few days… pretty intensely….” Donnie winched. “In hindsight, we did not take as many breaks as we should have. It appears (y/n) has collapsed from exhaustion.” Donnie’s eyes went downcast. He looked equally tired, but guilt was weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“They’ve been here all along?? We thought they went home days ago. Aren’t they usually the one making sure you’re eating and taking breaks to sleep?” The shock in Leo’s voice was clear. You were usually so doting with Donnie, cooking his favorite foods and dragging him off to bed with you to make sure he was well taken care of when he got too involved in his work. It appears this time the tables were turned. “They were helping you with a project? Have they been eating enough?” Leo pressed.

That seemed to have caught Donnie’s attention and he suddenly turned back to continue his check on you. “Yes, I’ve been bringing them snacks whenever I’d get up for coffee. They must’ve been weakened from lack of rest and dehydration…. I’m going to check their blood pressure.” Donnie wrapped the cuff around your arm, and started to inflate it when you started to stir.

“Huh… that doesn’t look good.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a deep breath. The bright lights making you wince and shut your eyes again. You moved to bring a hand up to your face but was surprised to feel the tug of something around your arm.

“Mmh? Donnie…? What time is it…” You stretched, confused as to why your body ached so much. Why was he looming over you? And his room was never this bright or cold.

“(Y/n)! Thank goodness… Darling, when was the last time you ate?” Donnie held your shaky hand in his and gently stroked his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hm…? The uh…. Pop tarts you gave me…”

Donnie sighed in relief, remembering he had brought you a package of pop tarts to set on your desk just that afternoon.

“Right after we took a nap together.”

Then Donnie blanched.

“Sweetheart… our last nap together was almost 3 days ago. What happened to the snacks I was leaving on your desk…?” He asked, trying to be hopeful. They had disappeared each time he had returned, so he assumed you had eaten them.

“3 days…? Oh…. Um… they were in the way, so I moved them to the bench for later…. I must’ve forgotten about them.”

Leo slapped a hand over his face. He was realizing you and his brother had more in common than he thought.

“Mikey, can you please go make some soup? Raph, please let dad know that (y/n) will be staying over for the next few days.” Mikey did a mock salute and rushed to the kitchen to make some light chicken noodle soup and Raph left to find Master Splinter in his plant room. Leo went to grab some clean blankets and a spare pillow from their storage room.

Your breathing was labored in the now quiet room. You turned your head to the side to rest against the cool pillow as you gazed up at Donnie with your shiny dazed eyes, cheeks flushed and red. “I almost finished the motherboard… just gotta… add the red and yellow wires…” You trailed off as your eyes slid shut. They burned with exhaustion and the light was hurting your head.

Donnie leaned in close and cupped your cheek gently, and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. His brow furrowed with worry, but his eyes were soft with adoration. “You did an amazing job. I’ll finish it up later, you just get some rest. Okay?” His thumb stroked your cheek.

“Mh hm… don’t forget the… polyimide adhesive tape…’s under my jacket…” You mumbled as you easily slipped into sleep.

Donnie smiled at you. He loves you. He loves that you taught yourself engineering to help him out with his workload. But right now he was regretting it, seeing the heavy bags under your eyes as you slept soundly. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.

When you learned that it was difficult for him and his brothers to do the delicate work of designing circuit boards for their tech, he was surprised you immediately showed interest in learning. He admittedly didn’t take you very seriously at first. But then you started joining him in the lab on long nights to study books you had checked out from the library on basic engineering, he taught you how to assemble his tech and how to solder and weld the machines together into things that would help them on patrol and repair things around the lair. He still remembers the first thing you’d ever made. The poorly soldered little metal band he wore around his right pinky finger.

Leo came back in with the blankets in tow. “Should we move them to your bed?” He asked Donnie.

“Not yet, I need to set them up with an IV to get some fluids in them first. I suspect they’re very dehydrated, on top of the general exhaustion.” Donnie was swaying in place. He looked exhausted, and Leo felt worry for you and his brother. It had been a long time since you last let him overwork himself to this extent. He blamed himself for not checking in on his brother sooner.

”Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll set up (y/n)’s IV and keep an eye on them.”

”But (y/n)….”

”-Would want you to rest.” Leo finished with a knowing smile.

Donnie sighed and looked you over. Leo unfolded the blanket and draped it over you so you wouldn’t get cold. Donnie fussed with bringing the edge right up under your chin and fixed your hair. He didn’t want to leave you in here, but he knew Leo was right. He wouldn’t be much use to you if both of you collapsed from exhaustion, so he relented.

”Wake me up if you need anything.” Donnie stood up on shaky legs.

”Uh huh.” Leo put his hands on Donnie’s shoulders and led him out of the med bay.

”And I mean anything-“

“Of course Donnie, now go to bed.” Leo pushed him out in the direction of their bedrooms. Raph and Mikey in the kitchen watched as Donnie trudged and swayed towards his bedroom, and disappeared into the darkness swinging his door shut.

“Duuude. Do I gotta start hiding the coffee again?” Mikey said from where he was chopping veggies for your soup.

Leo pointed at Mikey, “No more caffeine for those two for a month!”

Raph grunted a laugh.

Leo had set up your IV, just like Donnie had taught him. After an hour and a half, your body had absorbed most of the fluids, so Leo felt satisfied enough to wake you up. He shook your shoulder a bit to wake you up. You were deep asleep. The soup at your bedside that Mikey had brought in had cooled to a safe temperature, so he wanted to make sure you ate something hearty before he sent you back to bed.

”Mmh?” You finally started to stir.

”(Y/n), wake up. You’ve got to eat something.” Leo coaxed.

Your eyes fluttered open and immediately winced at the bright light. Leo stood over you to shield your eyes from the overhead light as you adjusted.

“Where’s Donnie?” You asked a bit dazed, looking around. The tickle in your throat was now a scratchy and irritated pain. You coughed hard into your fist.

”He went to bed. Here, Mikey made you some soup. It should still be warm enough.” Once you had sat up he handed you the bowl.

“Try and eat as much of it as you can, so you can take your medicine.”

You hummed in response, stifling another cough. You balanced the soup in your lap and slowly ate, spooning the warm chicken stock and veggies into your mouth. It soothed your throat, and with a few more bites you felt less shaky. You ate slowly, but you managed to finish almost the entire bowl.

Leo looked pleased and handed you your meds to swallow. Mikey poked his head in through the door to check on you as well.

”How’s angelcakes feeling?”

You paused a long moment as you sipped at a glass of water.

“Better.” You croaked. You still felt absolutely dreadful, but, “the soup helped. Thank you Mikey.”

The orange ninja beamed. Raph also peaked in over his little brother’s shoulder.

Leo looked back to you and took the bowl and spoon from your lap. He checked your IV pack and saw that most of it was gone. Your eyes looked heavy again as your body begged for more rest.

”I think it’s time you got some more sleep.” Leo mothered you. He tried to lift the edge of the blanket to cover you as you lay down but your hand stopped him.

Your red rimmed eyes were distant, and you cleared your throat as you found your words. “….Can I go to Donnie’s room? Please?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile at the innocent request. “Sure thing. Come on-“ You sat back up and Leo removed your IV. He motioned for you to adjust yourself, and Leo wrapped you up like a burrito in the blanket before scooping you up and carried you out of the med bay.

Mikey chuckled and rushed over to open Donnie’s door for you and his brother.

”Special delivery!!” He called into the darkness of Donnie’s room. A groan echoed out as the exhausted purple turtle was woken up. Leo carried you in and Donnie scooted over to make room for you to be deposited on his bed.

”Thanks Leo… hey babe…” Donnie greeted you sleepily, sitting up in bed as he received you and untangled you from the blanket.

Leo quietly walked out of the room to give you two privacy, and shoved Mikey’s face out of the way so he could close the heavy metal door behind him.

You stifled a cough, and reached out for Donnie in the darkness. The purple turtle dipped down into your embrace, and smooched your flushed red cheek. His arms slid up your back, and he pulled you flush against him in a warm embrace. He patted around for the edge of the blanket, before pulling it up and covering the both of you. He sighed deeply as he relaxed again against the pillows with you wrapped up in his arms.

”Thanks for helping me….. but please don’t ever do that again.” He mumbled against the crown of your head.

”Do what?” You asked, already half asleep.

”Collapse.”

You hummed a little laugh and snuggled in impossibly closer.

”I’ll do my best…”

Donnie pressed another quick kiss to your head, and you both quickly slipped back asleep.

Knowing that he was the main entertainment for the afternoon, Factorial hurried to take his spot before the three vixens, lounging on marble benches in loose, borderline indecent outfits they could only allow themselves to wear in private environments. The stone must be cool, Factorial thought. The sweltering weather only worsened his already subpar state. To prepare him for the showcase, he ate less and completely stopped drinking water by yesterday evening - it made him look just like Matsui wanted: lean, yet with defined muscles. His head was spinning, his fur stuck to his damp skin, his body burned underneath his kimono even if it was opened to display his chest. 

For now, the best he could do was not think about the heat and focus on what mattered: pleasing the audience. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Present yourself, Factorial.” Matsui topped her command off with a flick of her wrist. 

“Yes, miss!”

He did what he was trained to do and quickly fell down to his knees. Factorial sat down and spoke, eyes cautiously fixed on the floor. 

“In the name of my beloved wife, Yamada Matsui, I welcome you into this household.” He turned towards the silver furred female sitting to his owner's left. “Welcome, Lady Kamura Shion.” He bowed, touching his forehead to the pavement. He turned to the red-haired vixen of smaller stature on her right. “Welcome, Lady Otone Karuto.”

His ears caught a small hum of approval from his wife. But he wasn't done yet. 

“Thank you, my benevolent Mistress, for having the chance to entertain you this afternoon.” 

As he bowed, Matsui placed her bare foot on his head, pressing it further to the ground. 

“Good boy.” She turned to her friends, her cup-bearing hand motioning to one of the attendants. “Now, ladies, I came up with a new game. I think it is perfect for the evening.”

Factorial eyed the large golden rings brought in at her request. He knew them well, very well by this point - after all, tens of hours of training made him intimately familiar with their weight and shape. Although what was to follow wouldn't be simple, it was fairly easy in execution thanks to his preparation. 

Matsui continued as the servant split the stack of rings in three parts, passing them around to the vixens. Although the rules were not yet set up, Karuto and Shion already glanced between them and Factorial. “The idea is simple. He stands a distance away and we throw a set amount of rings toward him, one at a time. The less he catches, the more points you receive.”

“I’ve practiced with javelins recently.” Said Shion, smirking. “This should be easy.”

Matsui scoffs, lifting her foot up from Factorial and motioning him to stand at the other end of the garden. He takes off at the speed of light. “Don't be so hasty. I've trained him well. I seldom manage to make it difficult for him myself. Do you really think you could do better?”

Karuto’s eyes follow Factorial as he runs, seven bushy tails swaying behind him. Her eyes discreetly scan the tables nearby. “Don't worry, I'm not a greenhorn either. I believe a bet is in order?”

“Three thousand each. The winner gets it all.” Shion’s proposal earns nods from the other women. “Any more rules, Matsui?”

She raises up, gracefully, her silken robes so thin they show her slim body underneath, flow as she positions herself across from Factorial. He can't help but be jealous of how thin they look. 

“Besides throwing it within reasonable reach for him, we need to give him a chance, after all…” She casts her smug gaze over Factorial. The boy swallows - this cannot mean anything good. “...All moves are allowed. I'll start.”

With a flick of Matsui's wrist the ring is released into the air. Factorial’s grey eyes track it, sending signals into his brain and then the rest of his body; he leaps upward, his seven tails flexing to balance him. Without much trouble the ring ends up in his firm grasp. Factorial glances down at it, but is quickly distracted. His ears angle towards the women. 

“Tsk tsk tsk!” Shion clicks her lips, attracting his attention. “Catch, boy!”

The ring flies further away from him this time, threatening to go over the tall fence. There's no way he would reach it normally, but it's not that big of a challenge for his training. Factorial speeds towards it, eyes scanning the garden for any stepping stone. He finds it - a flower crate. A very careful jump lands his bare foot on the edge of it, getting him a boost. He flies upwards, tails synchronised with the jump in a powerful flap, letting him grab the toy and fall down. The ring ends up looped around his arm. 

Karuto is next; she tosses her ring without warning right behind him. Factorial puts his foot on the wall and pushes his body backwards. Just as the ring passes by the fox catches it straight on his neck, proceeding to the ground in an elegant salto. He springs upright, puts his hands to the sides and proclaims proudly:

“Ta-dam!”

Panting, he looks to see their reactions. Shion nods in approval, the other noblewoman smiles silently. Matsui looks back at them with a proud smirk. 

“Gorgeous, isn't he?” Matsui's singular tail, traditionally the only kept out amongst the upper class, sways in flaunt. “My boy is the most handsome.”

The other women approve, their eyes roaming up and down the male fox, visibly more interested in his chest than his agility. Factorial's ears settle down as he slowly drops his arms; his smile sulks temporarily, disappointed at the lack of recognition, but he shakes it off in the most literal sense, sending droplets of sweat and stray hairs to the sides. His collar rattles silently, name tag clicking against the buckle. 

“But is he truly wonderful underneath? Or did you just paint those abs over him, huh?” Shion asks playfully, raising her cup towards Factorial in the distance. “Show us a bit more.”

“With pleasure.” His wife turns back. “Dog?”

The response comes immediately. 

“Yes Miss?”

“Strip your top. Show us your body.” All tails on the audience flick impatiently. He feels their eyes bore into him, waiting impatiently. Even the maids steal jealous glances. 

They wished they would get in on the action too. This thought makes his skin crawl. His habit stays strong and Factorial buries fear behind happy thoughts. That trick was nice, right? If only Matsui could pet him now! She didn't do that because - obviously - she couldn't be seen being so soft to him. But in private she did, sometimes. It was their nice little secret. 

He nods, his smile returning at the mental image of affection. “Of course, miss!”

He quickly throws off his kimono, letting it fall to the ground; it doesn't stay long as a servant picks it up before scurrying away. He's just a tiny bit sad to see it go - the cover was comforting. But it was what he was meant for, and he should be proud of it. He was a pretty fox, right? 

Doing what he was taught to, he flexes, hardening his biceps. The skin is soft there, unmarred, perfectly tended to, providing a perfect sight of his brimming with muscle, akin to a pillow overstuffed with plumage. A twist to the side showcases the well defined triceps; clenching his fist displays his strong wrist tendon. 

Below his neck his chest was clearly defined; breasts and abs, hard enough to notice and fondle but seated on a lean enough body not to look threatening. His chest was wrapped in leather straps dyed blue that stuck tightly to him, forcing his breasts out for ease of access and a feminine look. His nipples were struck through with small, spiked barbells, big enough to comfortably pull in case Matsui desired to hear him squeak. Muscular as it was, the texture of his chest was imperfect - it was wholly entwined in a tangleweb of white scar tissue, darker, raised burn marks and plasters. Plasters over plasters, bandages upon bandages covering sections of his torso where fresh wounds still lingered. They adhered to him, covering as little of his body as possible to let Matsui make use of all of him. Though usually the bindings were soaked in blood and rarely changed to slow healing, they were changed for the occasion. Visible from a distance were also small patches of dirty black across his body, down from below his navel and up to his neck. On its sides they were small, left over from Matsui's cigarettes, but as the marks followed down to his chests, they became bigger sometimes, the symbol of Mora visible on closer inspection; the more disgusting, infected or botched burns were hidden away behind his plasters. Besides covering his ugliness, the bandages concealed his lower ribs, perfectly visible against his skin. 

It's true that he was hoping to catch some leftovers from the vixens’ dinner. Matsui always gave him some when he acted well. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday morning - to make his muscles as visible as possible for the party. Luckily, the stress of performing and the fear of punishment pushed the hunger away, for the moment at least. 

Factorial did his best not to think about his body as he presented himself. Noticing it would only distract him; distraction would mean making a mistake. Making a mistake - punishment. He could not embarrass Matsui in front of her friends by messing up his routine. Besides, he was quite used to them by now: the tightness of his harness, making it harder to breathe and the pain on his stomach, feeling as if knives dragged through it as he turned and leaped. All in all, he thought, it was not too bad; when his body was being “chiseled”, Matsui left him to fight off the ongoing infection instead of scrambling to close any new wounds. It was the little ray of sunshine in this situation that Factorial welcomed with open arms. If this is what it took to rest, he would take it gladly. 

But their gazes… He could not dismiss them. These weren't what he was used to - mockery, indifference or cruelty. It was something else: lust, wormlike,  crawling in their minds, tapping against the glass of reality to gauge how long they would need to wait before their fantasies could come to life. It happened every time they visited. Matsui had to please her guests, convince them of her greatness and thus make them more lenient towards whatever scheme she was weaving. Factorial knew he had to play along; it was his purpose to please. His body was not his own. Matsui, in her twisted empathy, advised him to detach from any idea of physical dignity. If he never considered his body as part of himself, she claimed, it wouldn't hurt as much. But how was he supposed to push his body away when pain constantly reminded him it was his? Besides, wasn't it the whole point of his male existence, to suffer and please his wife? 

If so, then… Why couldn't he bear it? Why couldn't he do what he was meant to, be a good boy and be proud of it? Be happy that they touch him, give him attention, use him for what he was destined to be used? Why couldn't he forget about it, the way their slimy, wet tongues dragged across his suffering body, their hands pinned his to the ground and crawled across his stomach down to his-

Factorial can't hold it - the shudder crawls across his bare body, but he manages to turn around just in time to hide his stomach visibly clenching in disgust. He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the fear-induced nausea that grips his very soul. He felt ashamed. He didn't know why he was like this. As a dog he should be proud to be touched like that, but - against his training - he… 

He didn't want them to touch him… Not like that.

Factorial swallows heavily, flexing his arms to stop the tremble and shakes his head to chase away the bad thoughts. Luckily, the women didn't seem to notice. 

“What a pretty boy he is.” Shion says, smacking her lips ostensibly. “I don't see why you would complain. He's got a pliable personality and good genes.”

“I don't like redheads, personally. They're so awfully tough. What fun is it when you can't get a reaction out of them?” Bored, Karuto tosses her next ring towards the male fox. Factorial stumbles and collapses to the ground, but manages to catch the toy before it touches down. The pain doesn't matter - what does is that he didn't disappoint his mistress before her friends. 

Matsui throws hers, flying directly towards Factorial. He catches it without problem, quietly sighing in relief at their seeming disinterest in his body. Usually he would be scared of getting vixens bored, but this time, just this once, he allowed himself to feel relieved at disappointing them. He should be punished, yes, but pain was better than the… the touching. 

“Ladies, ladies. That is the very point, isn't it?” The play continues, but their attention is not on the sickly dog jumping and rolling for their entertainment. “He is a wimp. He cries and screams at anything I do. How am I supposed to improve at my trade if he reacts this way every time?”

Factorial's wife always scoffed at this part of him. He was pretty, undoubtedly, loyal and innocent - traits that made his pain threshold all the lower. Torture was an art, a difficult one that could provide hours upon hours of entertainment. It could get repetitive though - that is why constant experimentation and creative inspiration is necessary. The only way to improve, learn what hurts him the most? Practice, which was difficult if there was no reference scale. “He just stops responding when it gets too much for him.” Matsui adds, looking at her dog leaping into the air. “That's all.”

Karuto hums in agreement. “Might be troublesome, yes, if that's what you want to do with him. But why would you? Isn't he a nice enough toy?”

“He's doing too good, girls.” Shion smirks. “Check this out.”

The vixen throws the object forward, watching as Factorial's eyes lock onto it. Just as he reaches out for it, Shion summons a thunderbolt next to him, emitting a loud crack right by his left ear. The women laugh as Factorial shrieks and falls down, curling into himself and covering his ears. He whimpers softly, unsure of what happened or what is about to happen. His hands remain firmly pressed to his head, shielding his most delicate area from harm. The conversation continues, unaffected by the act of petty cruelty. 

“I wanted a red fox not only to be my training ground, but also to accompany me through life. Hold me up with his dependable stoicism, be the only person I can fully rely on to do a good job. One that will come when called, of course, but retain character.” She frowns, looking back at her property, now carefully getting up with a confused expression. Another piece is thrown his way; he clumsily catches it. “Not this soft rag of a male. All he does all day is reply “yes miss” to anything I say. Not a bit of challenge, no hardness of character. It is enjoyable to wipe his smile clean off his pretty face, but it does get boring sometimes.”

“From what you've said, he sounds a bit… Childish, so to speak.” 

Factorial continues securing more and more hoops, regaining most of his lost rhythm. He tries not to listen to what is being discussed - not out of curiosity, but simply because hearing slander about himself would only scare him. It was also distracting. He made a mistake once, he shouldn't make more. Or at least let Matsui get points. He shouldn't embarrass her in front of her friends. 

“Call him by the name, Karuto. He is simply retarded.” Matsui waves over to one of her staff who promptly brings a pillow, stop which rests a silver ring, different to the ones already being thrown. The edges on this one are thinner, far thinner. “He acts like a pup despite being six centuries old. He did not grow up. I tried to torture it out of him, but he's too stupid to even understand a message as clear as this. He talks to plushies, he wants to play Temari, cuddle, draw childish nonsense; no interest in politics, poetry, literature or art. I wanted a male, but I got stuck with a deficient snot-nosed brat instead.”

Factorial listens closely, but feels nothing when she calls him that. It wouldn't be the first time he's heard this. By all accounts, he thinks, she's right… He should be majestic, he should be proud and stoic, yet here he is, acting like a kit. She's so kind to keep him despite his flaws. She said other mistresses would have their dogs put down at this point, so every day, no matter how painful or difficult, was her mercy. All Factorial could do to thank her was be the best male he could ever be. 

Factorial jumps up to reach the next projectile, quietly whizzing through the air.  

A splash of red erupts as soon as his hand touches the deceptively bladed edge of the ring. He screams out as the trap slices clean through his skin, digging through his muscles and stopping with a slight whirr only when it reaches his fingerbones. Crimson stains his kimono, face, hair… The splash dyes the grass he falls on. His lip begins to tremble as he clutches his wounded hand. Though blood swamps the injury, he can clearly see the bloodied bone poking from underneath the ravine wrought out in his delicate palm. 

Meanwhile, the vixens muse. They don't laugh, don't taunt, they don't even chuckle. They look on with vague amusement as Factorial fights the searing pain radiating from his hand. He lowers his head to hide the tears beginning to pour from his eyes. He takes short, shaky breaths to try and calm his nerves. 

His ears turn back, picking up the footsteps of a maid approaching with bandages. One of them was always there to quickly close any and all wounds they could, doing their best to make Factorial presentable. He looks towards her and stares at the pack in her hands - there were always mild numbing salves in there, applied to let him continue his performances. Trembling, teary-eyed, he looks at the medic with gratefulness in his eyes. 

“No. We’re not done yet, kit.”

Both kitsune turn towards Matsui, now raising her hand in protest. The maid is confused. She looks at her paymistress, and then back at Factorial. His eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. His lower lip is trembling silently, silently mouthing “no”. The servant seems hesitant, but her gaze houses no empathy for Factorial; she bows her head and backs off, uncaring of Factorial’s pleading expression. 

He chokes back tears, turning to look at Matsui’s feet. It’s difficult to get the words out. “Mis… Miss… Can I-I bandage… M-my hand?”

Shyly, he moves his sight up at Matsui’s face - not her eyes, never her eyes - making sure to look as pitiful and pathetic as he can. It’s what she liked, and if she liked it, she might show him a scrap of mercy. “P-please…?”

Factorial’s eyes find no kindness, only frigid indifference. Behind Matsui, her friends smile expectantly, eager to see where the situation will go. “I will not repeat myself. Your hand won’t fall off, will it now?”

“No, Miss…” Factorial looks down, sniffling. “It w-won’t…”

“Good.” She snaps her fingers - another one of the staff bows and scurries out of the garden back into the house. “Now, my friends… How about I introduce you to someone who will prove my point?”

The dog's head drops, one hand still clasped over the bleeding injury. Crimson continues to soak into the lush, well-maintained grass below. He breathes. In. Out. In. Out. The tears seem to have no end. It wasn't the first time he was injured, but the wound itself was only half of the reason for his despair. 

“Ow, does it hurt, little one?” Karuto smiles, approaching Factorial and crouching beside him. He doesn’t dare to look her in the eyes. “You’re cute when you cry.”

Her hand reaches out and pats his head in a fake gesture of comfort. Factorial chokes back a sob. 

He knows that it is his purpose. He remembers what he was taught - this is the only thing males are good for, besides mating. He was born to please his wife, and Matsui happens to love his tears. Her happiness is his happiness…

But he couldn't convince himself to believe that at this very moment. He didn't want her to do anything to him. 

It didn't make him happy. 

He wasn't a good dog. He wasn't a good husband. 

Maybe… 

Maybe he deserved whatever came next…

“Ah, there it is. Our very special guest.”

All eyes in the room turn towards the returning maid. Upon seeing the orange item in her hands, Factorial's eyes widen. 

It is a simple plushie, about the size of two of his tails, resembling a carrot. It has two big, green leaves for hair - with thread-sown patterns - and tiny stumps for arms and legs, as orange in colour as its body. Two big eyes, with rosy circles underneath and a tiny smile below them face him. 

His ears lean back. The pain in Factorial's hand hasn't subsided, but his mind is now fully devoted to Mr. Carrot, now exchanging hands and ending up in the grasp of Shion. 

“Fufu, it's quite a pretty toy.” She grabs it roughly, turning it around in her hands, examining it from every angle. “What's his name, hm?”

Factorial's mouth opens to answer, but no words come out. Conflict starts within his soul: his mind tells him that he must answer, but his heart… It begs them not to hurt him, not like that. But Matsui surely knows all about Mr. Carrot. 

“He… He's…” He tries to speak, but the thoughts of them breaking the stuffy, tearing his little limbs from its body, flood his head. Tears come in increased numbers. It's difficult to speak. His vision is a blur of green, white and red, covered and made unclear by his wet eyes. “He's… Please…”

“What? What are you moaning about, dog?” Karuto crosses her arms, tail swishing in growing excitement. The competition is long forgotten in the minds of all three women. “Weren't you taught to answer the questions of your superiors?”

“Don't hurt him… Please…” He begs, making sure to lay his head as flatly against the ground as he can manage in a pathetic bow. “Not him…”

“Ugh. Stupid animal.” Matsui frowns and starts approaching Factorial. He raises his eyes slightly, only to jolt upward when he sees the look of displeasure on her lips. “That's what I meant when I said he is retarded. He's not deaf, obviously. He just doesn't understand spoken language it seems. Or worse… He’s being disobedient.”

His hands shoot out to grab her wrist as she bundles up a fistful of his hair and pulls up, forcing him to his knees. “If that is the case… Looks like he needs punishment, right, Mr. Carrot?”

“So that's the name, huh? Fittingly idiotic.” Karuto scoffs, smiling. She then takes the plush from Shion and wiggles it around, facing the male, impersonating his toy with a higher, more childish voice. “Oh boy! My buddy has been a very bad fox and needs to be set straight! Mistress Matsui, isn't that right?”

“Mhm. Watch closely, carrot, so you might remind him later.” Factorial moans in pain but is soon silenced by a hard slap on the cheek. The force of the blow is hard enough to free him of Matsui's grasp and send his face jolting away. Blood fills his bruised mouth - his teeth clamped down on his tongue. His head is spinning, his mouth is full of blood, but Factorial manages to remember the proper etiquette - instead of spitting it out, he lets the red mess flow out of his mouth on its own. 

His mind is blank, thoughts oscillating uselessly around the numb pain on his face. His owner’s voice fails to register in his ringing ears. A mix of spit and blood drips continuously downwards, overwhelming Factorial’s mouth with the familiar, metallic taste. He can feel his cheek and lips starting to swell. After searching inside his mouth with his tongue, the conclusion that he didn’t lose any teeth this time provides him with a meager shred of comfort. 

“When a vixen, especially your wife, asks - you answer.” Even without looking up, he can feel the piercing gazes of the women boring into his skull. “Why did you not do as you were taught?”

Any consideration of the reason isn’t necessary as Factorial shuffles up from the ground. His healthy hand rests on his cheek, now starting to color different shades of red and purple as blood from ruptured vessels gathers under his skin. The other he curls into his sleeve, aiming to staunch the bleeding as best he can while using his elbow to prop himself up to a kneeling position. 

“I w-was… Scared”, he admits. But not for himself, no. He could take any pain, any injury - it would be a simple matter of the recovery time after one was inflicted. Lash marks heal, a torn body stitches itself back together - but Mr. Carrot would not survive being tossed into the fireplace, as many toys before him were. “I don’t want him t-to be hurt…”

“I see.” Matsui’s response is cold, yet a hint of cruelty underlines the words that follow. “This plush is important to you. Is it not, dog?”

Unwillingly, he nods. Despite his powerlessness to stop whatever Matsui has in mind for his punishment, Factorial backs up his gesture with a short sentence, remnants of his survival instincts smoldering in his brain. “I… I like how it looks…”

Matsui smiles. There it is, she thinks. The cornerstone of good torture - a weak spot. Now? It was only a matter of capitalising on it. 

Dismissively, she turns her back towards him and addresses her guests. “It appears as if we have a traitor in our midst, ladies. This unassuming plush has become the instigator of a rebellion.” The woman turns to Karuto, smiling in jest. “You clearly encourage him to be disobedient. What have you in your defence, Carrot?”

“Oh… Um… I’m guilty, but I was just listening!” The carrot is made to “respond”, Karuto waving around its stubby arms in dramatic fashion. “It’s him! He thinks about straying from you, Lady Matsui!”

“Such an admission from your dearest friend, Factorial!” Shion exclaims, smiling, her hand on the arm of Karuto who is barely holding in a laugh. “What a twist! You trusted him, didn’t you…”

The messenger of Mr. Carrot chimes in. “And you looked so cute… To think you’ll need to be put down…” Speaking with her own voice, she then sighs. “What a waste.”

“No! No, no, no…” Factorial stumbles forward, trying to get up. Panic rises in his heart - any mention of disobedience was a certain road to death. Matsui has told him about foxes whose wives had their dogs killed for mere attempts at disobedience. Wasting his owner’s mercy would be an unimaginable act of entitlement. “That’s not true, miss! I promise, please believe me!”

A theatrical turn of the head and crossing of arms signifies suspicion of the vixen. “Why should I trust you, hm? The words of Carrot are at least worthy of investigation.” She glances towards her slave, a slight frown of disappointment on her lips. “A very pointy investigation, long and arduous and going on and on until your mind opens to me like a book, revealing all the evil you’ve hidden away in your little mind.”

Factorial crawls up to her sandaled feet and lays his head on the grass before her. “No! No, please! I’m good, miss! S-see?” He places his swollen, bloodied lips on her shank, kissing her foot in a pleading gesture. “Please… Please…”

“Hm. I suppose I could trust you.” She lifts her leg a bit, making Factorial increase his sycophancy twicefold, thankful for her mercy. “But a white carpet would look so beautiful…”

“I c-can do so much more than look nice, miss!” His eyes begin to sting yet again, this time - for a different reason altogether: fear. She was not joking. Matsui had many fox furs in her home. He didn’t know when she got them nor who she made them out of, but - with how often she mentioned skinning him for his hide - they must have come from males. He would not want to be one of them. “I can s-sing!” He hums a quick, panicked tune. The melody is offset thanks to his voice cracks. “See? I can dance too, I can massage feet, I can cook- I-I’ll scream nicely just…”

He uses his long sleeve to wipe the leftover blood and tears from his face, trying to look proper - to no avail. His split lip bleeds bright red again. 

“Please…”

A deep breath fails to calm him down. His hands grab Matsui’s foot tighter, afraid that letting go would mean certain death. Factorial places his forehead on it, hoping, praying she gives him another chance. His ears are flat against his head, tails flush against the ground. He looks small. Pathetic. 

“Don’t kill me…”

He sobs weakly. 

Just as she likes. 

Finally, Matsui makes a sound. 

She laughs. 

“Well”, she says, her ears bouncing slightly as her chest rises and falls with each burst of vicious joy, “since you ask properly, I’ll give you a chance.”

Factorial’s ears instantly point back up, tails starting to swish again. He smiles, kissing her skin between frantic exclamations of gratitude. Matsui snorts and kicks her leg up, smashing against his nose as she releases her foot from his worshipping grasp, but Factorial seems to think nothing of it. He sits down, hands straight against the ground and between his legs, looking joyfully up at her. She continues. 

“I will allow you, dog, to prove your loyalty to me.” She reaches into her robes, retrieving a pair of polished, silver handcuffs. Despite their ornamental nature, Factorial learnt their true durability on countless occasions as the bit into his wrists, scarring the skin around them to this day. “Put them on, hands behind your back.”

“Yes, miss!” He takes them and quickly locks one over his left hand, moving them both backwards and skillfully cuffing himself with the other ring. There are only three hoops of chain between them, making any hand movement painful. Despite the imminent pain, this was good - this was familiar territory. “What next, miss? You can do anything you like!”

Matsui reaches into another of her pockets and retrieves her cotton handkerchief. Most vixens used silk, but the red haired vixen - with her extraordinary fortune - could afford to have one made of such rare, exotic material, to blow her nose into at that. A luxury item of this sort could buy a small home near the mid-rim of the capital. 

“That I know, male. And I intend to make use of that.” Her voice grows colder, commanding. The object is tossed towards him unceremoniously. “Unfold it and put it over your face. When you’re done, lay back.”

The white ears in the room sulk for a moment in confusion. How was he supposed to do that without his hands free? Defaulting to what he knows, he drops forward on the grass and crawls towards the tissue. Using his front teeth to grab the fabric, it is quickly unfolded, the open material visibly larger than his head. Not bothered in the slightest by the still-wet fabric, he bites down on the lower part. Factorial rolls over, using his nose and chin to position the cloth over his head. 

Blinded, he could not see Matsui taking a kettle from one of her staff.

Mizuki could hold the vision no longer. Before Miko’s eyes, the scene crumbled away, its disgusting image mercifully falling to darkness.

—

Factorial looks up at himself in the mirror. He’s still not in the best of shapes, at least in terms of his face. Above his neck, each exposed patch of skin was tightly wrapped in a thick layer of snow-white bandages, hiding away everything but his eyes, mouth and ears - though the skin on them was raw red, chipping away in flakes, the fluff inside and around them seemed undisturbed. 

Despite the grim image one could imagine, his tails remained raised as he turned back towards his bed. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened and, ultimately, it was of no consequence. He would heal eventually, he always did - no matter what Matsui thought up and tested, the skin seemed to grow back with a rugged persistence, smooth as if nothing happened. What did matter was that they were alive. 

I couldn’t just regrow my hide, could I? Hehe. I’m not that good yet.

His steps are wobbly, even despite the amazing counterbalance of his tails. There was something in his drink again, but this time it was the good stuff. He took two sips and it stopped hurting, sharp stinging turning to warmth, as if he was sitting by a cozy fireplace. He didn’t know if it was approved by his wife or sneaked in by one of his handlers, but Factorial would still make sure to be extra good to everyone around.

Especially that Mr. Carrot, now comfortably reclined on his big pillow, was safe with him. Matsui could have taken him away like all the other toys he’s befriended over the years, yet she spared him. He didn’t know why, nor did he care. 

“Are you comfy?” The fox says, tossing himself on the bed. It was the fluffiest thing he’s ever felt - that was definitely how clouds felt. That obviously didn’t mean he gave up on his dream of sleeping on one some day!

There, obviously, is no answer to his question - at least from the toy itself. The silence stopped bothering him after he learned to let his thoughts flow and soon heard their voices as if they were real. 

Comfy as can be, Factorial. 

He nods, smiling. “Great. Let’s go back to sleep then… I hope you don’t feel too sad about not reading again.” He takes the plush in his hand, fluffing his pillow with the other. “It’s just that… My face hurts when I speak out loud. I’ll have to whisper for a bit more.”

Um… I feel sad, to be honest. But not about reading. I could have… I should have stayed quiet back in the garden. Factorial’s imagination paints a concerned frown over the carrot’s smiling face. 

“Silly. I told you not to, remember?” His tails wrap around his body, clad in a blue  robe meant for sleeping. Two of them weave behind his arm and push Mr. Carrot closer, making sure he is warm too. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. Miss Karuto forced you to speak.”

His eyes take on a stern, lecturing look as he continues. “They would have punished you. It would hurt.”

But…

“No buts, Mr. Carrot. I promised to protect you, didn’t I? It’s alright - I know you were scared.” Factorial’s gray eyes look into the thread-woven eyes of the toy. “I know how that feels. It makes you do or say bad things.”

He tries to force the memories back, but against his best wishes he glances towards the empty cage in the corner of the room. 

I… Thank you, Factorial. You’re kind to me, but you don’t have to. I’m just a carrot, after all.

“Don’t say that. I have to be kind to you - that’s what friends do, right? You’re my friend.” Factorial buries his covered nose into the plush, rubbing it gently to show affection. “And it doesn’t matter that you’re a carrot. You’re just like me.”

Though reality can’t facilitate it, in Factorial’s mind, Mr. Carrot nods. He leans closer, nuzzling into Factorial’s chest for safety. His promise in mind, Factorial wraps his fluffy tails around them just a little tighter. 

A smile graces his lips. It was usually there when Matsui wasn’t around.

“I look like a snowball with all those bandages on my face, don’t I? Hehe.”

“Hello,” Jasper said gently, “feeling any better?”

Y/N gulped.

“Whatever you’re going to do to me, please just make it quick,” she whispered.

Jasper blinked, puzzled.

“Well, all right, if you think that would be better…”

Y/N nodded, steeling herself for whatever horrible thing Jasper was going to do to her. She screwed her eyes shut, repeating over and over again in her head that it would all be over soon.

She felt the monster open her mouth and push something chalky inside. Then something cold pushed against her lips, the liquid inside sloshing against her skin.

“Um, you need to drink it,” Jasper said.

Y/N drank it, bracing for the bitter taste of poison. She was surprised to find it was just water. Oh, right, the poison would probably be in the pill she just swallowed. How long until she was dead? Was this the fast-acting kind or the slow-acting kind?

“Are you okay? You’re crying…”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and stared into Jasper’s deep red ones. His brows were knitted together in what looked like worry.

“Do you not like taking pills?” he asked, “I could try to find some liquid pain relievers if that would be less uncomfortable for you…”

What? Pain relievers?

“You… aren’t you going to eat me?” Y/N sniffled.

“What? No, I would never-… is that what you thought I was going to do this whole time?”

Y/N’s lower lip trembled. More tears streamed down her face, and this time she was aware of them.

“Oh my goodness, no.” Jasper said.

He moved his arms toward her then pulled them back, as though unsure what to do to comfort her. Y/N was glad he opted not to touch her.

“I’m so sorry if I gave you that impression, I would never hurt a- what I mean to say is- I’m not that kind of drider.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Y/N mumbled.

“Please don’t hurt yourself trying to think too much,” Jasper said, “I think you have a concussion which might be why you’re so… um… flighty. That and I don’t think you’ve ever seen a drider before.”

“Well,” Y/N said, “I thought you were something Dungeons and Dragons made up…”

“I don’t know what that is, but we’re definitely not made up. Besides, don’t all made-up things come from some form of truth?”

“Poetic.”

“Sorry… but all dragons and made-up things aside, you really ought to rest some more.”

“O-okay.”

Jasper went to turn away, but then he turned back.

“Oh yes… if you can promise you won’t aggravate your injuries again, I can remove the webs.”

Y/N almost sobbed in relief. Her muscles had gone stiff from being cocooned for so long.

“Yes please.”

Jasper came closer and used his sharp clawed finger to cut away the webbing, being careful to not graze Y/N’s skin. Y/N stretched, and tried to sit up further, but started to get tangled in the hammock again.

“Oh dear,” Jasper said, quickly righting her, “I think I better find you better sleeping arrangements.”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Y/N agreed.

“Yes. I… did go scavenging for you earlier while you slept. Would this be better for you?”

Jasper brought over a mattress and a sleeping bag, carrying them as though they only weighed that of a textbook.

“Where on earth did you find all that?”

“This forest is what you humans call a national park. The people in charge used to rent out these… um, I’m not sure what you’d call them… wooden caves maybe? They used to rent them out to people, and they were full of human stuff. They’ve been abandoned for a while now but the in-charge people still left everything in the caves. This padded block thing felt soft enough so I thought maybe you’d like to sleep on it?”

Y/N giggled a little.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… I’ve never heard of someone refer to a mattress as a padded block thing.”

“What is a mattress?” Jasper asked indignantly, “that doesn’t describe the object at all. This is padded and blocky and it’s a thing. My name for it is clearly the better one.”

Y/N busted out laughing. Jasper smiled a little, shaking his head. He helped her arrange the mattress and the sleeping bag how she liked, and gave her space to tuck herself in. Y/N still hoped all this was just a bad dream, but if anything good was to come out of it, she was beginning to have a very different view on spiders.

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I was hiding from Wolffe; from the way his voice had threatened to break when last we spoke, from the tension that stole the effortless visage of command from him whenever we’d found ourselves alone. I was hiding from the squad that I could no longer think of as mine, from the longing in their eyes for a time that was now gone and would never again grant us the incredible breadth of comfort once gleaned from the sense of family we had found in each other, now felt only with a nostalgia tarnished by the horrors filling these past few days.

I wanted to weep anew at the thought of those coming farewell’s weighted beneath guilt and regret and the want for a denial we knew to be useless. In that moment, I longed to let myself be weak; to beg Hunter to tell Wolffe to leave that I wouldn’t have to face him at all, and I hated myself for that weakness.

The gentle dance of his touch stilled; fingers half buried in my hair as he subtly turned his gaze toward me; waiting. I drew a slow, resigned breath, held it in a final plea for even a few seconds’ more of a delay, and finally let it out in a controlled sigh as I pulled away from him.

“Thank you.” I whispered, eyes raising to just glimpse his. His thumb swept once more along the length of my neck before finally letting his hand fall briefly to my arm and then to the floor near his waist.

“Don’t need to thank me, Doc.” He replied softly, attention carefully locked on me. My lips drew up in an empty smile as I turned to glance thoughtlessly around the room. When I began to draw movement back into my limbs, weight shifting to balance atop a knee in preparation of forcing myself to my feet, Hunter quickly reached back out to me, arm looping around my shoulders as though anticipating the way my muscles would instantly waver at that first hint of strain. I was no stranger to the way grief and fear and panic left one so hopelessly drained yet always found myself unprepared for how ruthlessly that exhaustion struck. Unphased, I leaned into his support; let myself rely on his strength in the absence of my own as he carefully pulled me up alongside him.

“If we stay in here much longer, they might get the wrong idea.” I muttered, peaking towards him to see the way his brow cocked in surprise, but he let out a quiet chuckle at the weary smirk I managed to shoot him.

“The last thing I need is Crosshair hearing those kinds of rumors from regs…” He grumbled back, and I was shocked at how easily the huff of laughter escaped me. “Are you okay to walk?” He asked, voice dropping into a whisper as though that might prevent it from robbing us of that brief, precious moment of lightness. I nodded, forcing my back straight despite the reluctance weighing down my shoulders. “Alright.” He murmured and I tried to ignore the chill left in the wake of his touch as he slowly stepped away from me.

Whatever conversation had filled the silence beyond the office walls ceased with a harsh finality the instant that door began to open. I could feel Hunter standing just behind me, attention still following my every movement as though I might tumble without warning. Cody was the first to approach me, helm tucked under his arm and expression still somehow void of the disappointment I kept expecting to find.

“Commander, I-” He dismissed whatever attempt at an apology I was still trying to piece together with a simple wave of his hand and subtle shake of his head.

“Just get to the barracks and try to get some rest.” The innate authority in his voice was softened by a compassion that I still found myself shocked to hear from someone in his position and could only respond with a small nod.

“I can come back tomorrow – answer any other questions you have.” I offered, but he again dismissed it.

“Between what you’ve already told me and what I discussed with Commander Wolffe, there’s no need for that. Just take some time; try not to lose yourself in what happened.” He barely whispered those final words, willing them into me with a quiet understanding that I couldn’t begin to pretend I didn’t need. He ducked his head in a small bow before stepping past me into his office, and I hesitated just a moment longer before turning toward Wolffe.

“Guess I overestimated myself.” I mumbled, voice straining past the stiffness in my jaw, and I wasn’t sure how to respond to the subtle feeling of Hunter’s hand coming to rest against the armor sweeping across my lower back, nor my inability to deny the depth of comfort it gave me.

“No one’s holding that against you.” He replied softly before his gaze shifted to the man behind me. “Take care of her.” There was none of that disdain he’d once regarded Hunter with; no sneer of disapproval, and Hunter mirrored that unspoken respect with a silent nod.

“Wolffe.” I called hesitantly just as he’d begun to walk away, nearly cringing at the remorse in my own voice; the threat of shame. “I don’t… Will you tell the others I’ll be okay? I just… I can’t…” How could I explain the way it would cripple me to see their guilt again? To hear their apologies despite knowing they’d done nothing to warrant such sorrow?

“Don’t worry about them.” He explained, voice quiet but no less commanding for it. “Just be safe, kid.” There… just lingering beneath that infallible composure… Even Wolffe couldn’t keep the traces of an apology from his farewell. Gaze falling lest I note even a glimmer of regret in those stern eyes, I fought to offer some trace of a smile before turning away. The sense of finality in that farewell left my breath trembling slightly, and even the way Hunter shifted nearer to me did little to ease the sense of loss twisting through my chest.

-

“Cody’s already granting us clearance for the mission details.” He didn’t look at me when he said it, gaze once more hidden behind that dark visor as we walked unhurried through the corridors of the Negotiator. “You don’t have to, but if you want to talk about it…” My head fell slightly at the gentle invitation, and I knew he could hear how my heartbeat quickened at the mere thought. When I gave no answer, he didn’t press, but I couldn’t dispel the tension that lingered in the silence between us.

“I don’t think Wrecker’s ever going to let you go off on another mission without us.” He added a moment later, somehow managing to sow a wisp of humor into his voice, and a small scoff escaped me.

“Even if it’s the 104th calling you again?” There was something beneath the teasing lilt in his voice, but I was too weary to try to name it.

“Given my track record, I don’t think he’ll hear any arguments from me…” I grumbled.

“I didn’t know I’d be working with them this time until after I’d boarded the transport.” His helm shifted toward me, and I could easily picture the way his brows had surely risen above eyes widened with surprise. “But, no.” I added quietly, pace unchanged as I tried not to think too deeply on the painful words slipping over my tongue. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to work with them again.” Hunter stopped walking. I didn’t, intent on not falling back into the remorse that was all too eager to overwhelm me again.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, treading back to my side. I gave a weak shrug, collecting my thoughts a moment before responding.

“Too much has changed… Besides, they have a jedi watching their backs. Without me, you lot only have dumb luck and sheer stubbornness.” A quiet chuckle just sounded through his comm system, and I found myself joining him in with a snicker of my own as his hand reached up to lightly jostle my helmet. It was heartbreaking – that conscious understanding that I no longer belonged with the 104th, but I had harbored no doubts that it was the right choice; that the 99 had become my family in a way the others never could.

-

“Doc!” Wrecker’s shout boomed through the nearly empty barracks, and I barely had time to draw in breath for a reply I never got to speak before his arms locked around my waist to hoist me up in an embrace far softer than his normal hugs. Still, laughter sputtered from my lips at the welcomed display of affection I would always treasure from the man, hand automatically darting out to his shoulder to steady myself despite the knowledge that he’d never let me fall.

“It’s almost like you missed me or something.” I teased, earning a brilliant smile from him that was so utterly free of shame or hesitation as he gently set me back down.

“Those regs need to find their own nat-born next time! It’s not fair for them to just come and steal yuh away whenever they want.” He complained, hands lingering on my hips for just a moment longer to ensure I was steady before stepping back.

Two rows of double bunks stretched out before me in a room designed to hold at least a company of one hundred though the entirety of it had been reserved for our tiny squad. Crosshair stood leaning against one of the upper bunks a few rows away with his arms wrapped tightly across his chest, attention locked on me from the corner of his eye while Echo and Tech sat together atop a lower cot a mere handful of strides from the door, the telltale mess of cables strewn between them warning of some half-started project.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” I reassured him in a gentle sigh. “Pretty sure this was a one-time thing.” I could see the concern lingering in his gaze despite his efforts to hide it beneath his usual glee, the subtle threat of anger it fueled, and had to look away.

“Hey stranger.” I said softly. His chest bucked slightly around a sharp breath, mouth just beginning to open before closing tightly in a final bout of hesitation, but then he let out a small huff, forcing some of that tightness from his shoulders.

The instant I glimpsed him, the arc quick pushed himself to his feet, eyes torn between meeting my gaze and darting away as his jaw tensed around whatever attempt at a greeting caught in his throat. Had he been there when I first landed? Had I simply been too lost in my own thoughts to notice? My heart sank at the thought, just managing to offer the ghost of a smile in the face of how stiffly he held himself.

“Hey.” He whispered, and I heard clearly the apology in it, but it was nothing like those plaguing every word uttered amongst the 104th. There was a warmth in his apology; a subtle self-deprecation softened with something near enough to humor that my smile bloomed with relief.

“I see you two have been making the most of this little vacation.” I started, looking pointedly at the assortment of mysteriously procured supplies. He glanced quickly over his shoulder as though he’d forgotten the project entirely before turning back to me.

“Echo suggested a few interesting modifications to his cybernetic legs.” Tech stated before his brother could try to explain. “This is merely the initial prototype. Rebuilding his legs entirely will take significantly longer than a few days, but this will allow us to test the efficiency of our new design.” I looked back to the arc with surprise and found him fighting a sheepish grin.

My head fell toward my chest, stomach churning with regret for having offered at all despite Tech’s automatic “thank you.” Swallowing back the anxiety threatening to coil through my gut, I finally let myself glance toward the tall sniper still watching me from just the corner of his eye, and the little thrill of glee that seeing him shot through me offered a precious sliver of relief. He barely reacted as I approached him, head just shifting to follow my movements until barely a foot lay between us, and I let out a heavy sigh full of mock guilt and remorse.

“Wow.” I chirped, pleased to hear they’d managed to be so productive despite how strained things had been over the past few weeks, “Let me know if you need any help synching it to the neural interface.” Echo’s face darkened for barely the breadth of a heartbeat, but it was enough to remind me that the effortless connection that once came so easily to us still lay far beyond my grasp.

“I may have jinxed myself.” I muttered, and a quiet chuckle escaped me at the way he cocked his brow, unimpressed by my admission. “Was I right? Did you mope the entire time I was gone?”

“Yes.” Hunter called from the front of the barracks, kindling my chuckle into a short burst of laughter as Cross shot his brother a lethal glare.

“Just got back and you’re already trying to cause trouble.” He growled under his breath, earning a coy smirk from me. Only then did he begin to abandon that impartial veneer, weight shifting as he pushed himself away from the bunks to reach for me, and I could feel my entire body lighten with the deep sigh that fled my lips at that first rush of warmth from his embrace.

“Are you okay?” He asked, words barely audible as they danced through my hair. The rote reassurance so nearly fell from my lips absent a moment’s thought before catching in my throat. I could feel him tense in those brief seconds of hesitation before I reluctantly shook my head.

“Not yet.” I answered, voice heavy with every unspoken reason forbidding me from trying to convince him otherwise. “But I’m really glad to be back.” He went still for a long moment, but then his arms tightened almost harshly around me, body curling over mine as though he might hide me from what darkness lingered behind the veil of empty smiles.

We both knew there would be no walking away from the damage wrought during my time apart from them, but I let myself relish that moment of stillness; the hum of quiet conversation between Hunter and Wrecker, the rhythmic clicks and hisses of tools augmenting metal and wire beneath Echo and Tech’s ministrations, the steady thrum of Crosshair’s heartbeat dancing against me as I rested my forehead to his neck, shamelessly letting myself vanish in that heady spice and tang of blasterfire. Every day spent fighting this war brought untold risks and dangers, but I held no reservations that this was exactly where I belonged, and no threat was great enough to see me leave them for even a moment more.

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