He's heavy. Everything is so fucking heavy. It baffles him. How can a being so devoid of substance be subject to such immense gravity? It’s unbearable. He feels as if his body is being sucked towards the hungry earth, the ground opening its jagged maw to consume him. He wishes it would just get on with it. Let the world swallow him. He knows that if it did, it would spit out his bitter bones in distaste anyway.
OR:
Vessel is alone. Author is Going Through It, and was writing about their feelings when they realized, "Hey. I know a guy." Pronouns were swapped out and now it's a character study.
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I maybe shed a tear or two proof-reading, so apologies for any errors! Warning for major character death ❤️️
***
Try not to imagine Dean growing old with Castiel at his side, the angel agonised that he can do nothing to heal his hunter’s ailing body. Dean sitting on the porch drinking whiskey and recounting tales of his youth with Sam, and Cas smiling quietly because he’s heard it all before but hearing it again is his favourite way to pass the time.
Don’t think about Dean accepting it all with that wry smile he always wears, and holding Cas’ hand while the angel tries to think of some way, any way, that he can follow the hunter when the life finally ebbs out of him. For where Dean will go, Castiel cannot follow, and for that his heart breaks a thousand times over. Don’t think about Cas crying: he normally does it in private where Dean can’t see, because he doesn’t want his hunter to see him break apart.
Don’t dare to imagine Dean unable to drive Baby any more, but looking at her longingly and stroking her as memories twist his lips into a smile. Castiel driving, taking Dean on long road trips just because he can. Then shorter ones, because Dean gets tired and sore quickly and likes to be near their home.
You mustn’t think of Dean breathing his last, lying comfortably in Castiel’s arms as they stare up at the stars together. He had known it was his last sunset, and had asked Cas to drive them to the beach so they could watch it go down together, the explosion of burnt crimson across the skies as the sun bleeds into the ocean for the final time. Castiel kissing Dean’s lips as the life bleeds away from him so that he knows how loved he is, and even the broken tears of an angel aren’t enough to bring him back.
Imaging Castiel taking it hard is the worst. The angel curling up on Dean’s bed and screaming as his heartbreak courses through him, through his very being, destroying him and even having his wings torn off didn’t feel as painful as this. Pleasing with anybody out there to take everything he has and more, if he can just see the face of his hunter one more time. Castiel will be all right; the pain will lessen and he will learn to smile for Dean instead of cry, but the bad days will still come from time to time.
And if you do have to imagine it, if you just can’t help yourself, then try not to cry, because they wouldn’t want that. Because Castiel is out there somewhere, behind the wheel of the Impala, thinking of Dean and smiling. Because the life they shared was beautiful and vibrant and exquisite, and one Castiel knows will stay with him until the end of time. They lived for each other, died for each other, and would do it all again if you asked them to. As Castiel wanders amongst humanity, he’s alone but never lonely: the memories of the years with his hunter are all he needs to keep him safe.
As the earth changes and the people around him ebb and flow, the skies above the fallen angel will remain forever the same, and Castiel knows that when he looks up towards Heaven that his hunter will be the star shining the brightest. Waiting for him. So they can finally, blissfully, as in love as they always had been on earth, burn out together.
He missed Rhett. He missed him so damn much. Every fiber of his entire being was hurting. Two months had already passed. He barely ate or slept anymore. In the rarest of occasions that he did, the horrible sound of creaking metal, screaming voices, heat and fire had him jump out of his bed gasping frantically for air.
The terrible realization hit him every time like a ton of bricks, crushing his soul. Every drawn breath filling his lungs was a desperate plead. Rhett. Rhett...
I’m leaving Link, I  know how it is to feel unwanted.
Rhett’s voice still echoed in his mind, his kind green eyes were looking back at him, full of tears. He would never forget the huge fight they had that morning. Accusations were thrown at each other, harsh words exchanged, words that now Link wished they have never left his mouth.
Rhett had banged the door behind him and he just stood there watching him go.
Breathe..breathe..he had to breathe.
He realized that he was clutching at his throat with his both hands. His nails were digging into the soft flesh, leaving behind half crescent marks. He let his hands fall down to his knees, looking at his open palms for a moment like it was something foreign to him. He laid back to bed and turned to his side clasping his knees to his chest. He began sobbing uncontrollably.
A warm hand pushed back the sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead.
Shhh. .shhh… shh ..baby…it’s ok.. I am here.
A firm chest was plastered against his back. He leaned to the touch as soft lips kissed his temple and a beard grazed his flushed cheeks. Link was wrapped inside a cocoon of a warm body,arms and legs all over him and all around him.
Soft breaths on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine ,a familiar voice was lulling him back to sleep.
“…And I will catch you if you fall, you’ll never have to ask me why..”
He was there..
X
I should probably apologize but it just wouldn’t leave me alone.
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So stupid to think the new building would be safer, that no one would find it. Gun fire sprayed the front entrance; he’d counted four bodies on the floor before the wall to his right exploded, and then the one behind him too. Plaster and chunks of wall rained down around them and the only thing he could think to do was grab her and run.
Darcy had been walking by when the fight broke out. A mid-morning coffee run for the labs no doubt; she always stopped by the vendor in the foyer around this time. Not that he’d purposely planned to be there when she did or anything... Or maybe he did. He just... He missed her. Missed seeing her. Missed coming home to her and waking up beside her. Missed everything about her. And even if it was just a few minutes to look at her in passing, it slapped a band-aid on a bigger hole for the time being.
When the bullets started flying, he’d dropped the files in his hands and lurched toward her.
Completely frozen, she stood by the coffee vendor with her iPod in hand and a shocked, terrified look on her face. He dove toward her, wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled them down and to the floor, out of the line of fire. Taking the gun from his back, he stood to return fire, taking a quick survey of the area, of how many had infiltrated. Black tac gear, head to toe, and armed to the teeth, they moved across the floor in a tight formation. Professionals. And then the all-consuming boom rocked the very floor out of from beneath them. They had no other choice but to move.
Whoever had infiltrated the building had set up timers in various areas and the walls just kept coming down. They dodged debris, plaster, and glass, rebar sticking out dangerously in some places. Gunfire followed at their heels, and he turned them down a hallway, leading them toward an exit. But boom after boom redirected them until they were stuck, enclosed in a room that was little more than shambles, but just enough to pen them in.
It was cover from bullets, but it left them cornered and he worried how long the ceiling would last. He examined where they’d come in through, knelt in the scattered fragments to test the crisscrossing metal beams and chunks of concrete in the way. If the structure was strong enough, he might be able to move some pieces, create an opening, get them out. He could hear the fight going on outside, knew the team had answered, and he trusted them to do what they had to. But they needed out, and he needed to help.
“Steve,” Darcy whispered.
“Just... Just gimme a minute. I think... If I can just get this piece to move...”
“Steve, I think... I think I’m dying.”
He turned around abruptly, his gaze falling to her. Her back was against the wall, hair clinging to the damp, pale skin of her face. She’d been hit, a stray bullet that he hadn’t seen coming. Her hand was pressed to her stomach, blood pulsing out from between her fingers. A cold feeling rushed over him from head to toe and he moved toward her.
“No, hey, Darcy, look at me. You’re gonna be fine.” He undid his suit, shoved it down to his waist and pulled his undershirt up and over his head. Balling it up, he tucked it under her hand, pressed down against her wound. He cringed as she let out pained groan. “I’m know, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you need to keep pressure on it, okay?”
Her breath left her in a shaky, wet gasp. “You called-- You called me sweetheart.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. “Yeah, of course I did. You’re still... You’re always gonna my girl, huh?”
She blinked quickly, tears clouding her eyes. “I wish... Wish it was different. Wish we could go back. We...” She closed her eyes, her head falling back against the wall. “I loved you so much.”
“I still do. Hey, I still love you.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing tears back from her cheeks. “I screwed up. I- I put work first. I didn’t know how to balance things. But I missed you. God, Darcy I missed you so much. And I regret it, every day. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”
Her eyes opened, tears clinging to her lashes. “You’re so bad at talking,” she snorted, offering a wobbly smile. “You remember... the first time we met... God, it was a disaster. You were s-such a dork.” She laughed, but her expression spasmed with pain. “I loved it. I loved...” Her breathing picked up and her eyes grew distant.
“Darcy, hey... What’d you love? Huh? Talk to me?” He tucked his fingers behind her neck, held her head up when it seemed too heavy for her. “C’mon, sweetheart, talk to me.”
“’m so tired,” she whispered, licking her dry lips. She blinked quickly, tears falling, and her eyes darted up to him. “You have to take care of Jane. Make sure she eats, okay? She forg-- forgets s’mtimes.”
“You’re gonna do that. That’s your job.” He sniffled, shaking his head. “You’re not going anywhere, okay?” He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “Darcy, please... Please, I can’t lose you.”
She reached up with her good hand, her palm flat against his chest, and she tapped her thumb against his heart, just like she used to at night, before they’d fall asleep, and in the mornings, when she was just waking up. “Just double checkin’ your old ticker’s workin’.”  A sob welled up in his throat.
His fingers shook in her hair as he tipped his head down, his mouth hard against hers. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t close your eyes, okay?”
“Steve!?” he heard then, just on the other side of the wall.
“Bucky!” he shouted back. “Bucky, the wall. We need the wall down. Darce-- Darcy’s hurt. I-- I don’t know what to do. I don’t...” He looked back at her, his eyes darting over her face. “Keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Hey, look at me...” He rubbed his thumb down her cheek. “You remember all those times I said we’d take some time off, huh? Go on vacation somewhere warm. You brought all those brochures, you remember? You got that grass skirt, you wore it all week to send me a message. I...” He shook his head. “We’ll go. We’ll go tomorrow, okay? Just, just stay with me. Please.”
He could hear the wall crumbling behind him, could hear the whine of metal as the beams were moved, could feel the dust falling from the ceiling.
“They’re almost here. Help’s coming. Darcy, open your eyes. Darcy, fuck.”
Her eyes fluttered and her lips curled faintly. “Language,” she mouthed.
He let out a breathless laugh, kissed her hair. “I bought a ring,” he confessed shakily. “Before I screwed it up. I bought a ring.” His fingers trembled against her neck, searching out her pulse. “It was always you, sweetheart. I’m just slow. I didn’t fix it quick enough. I didn’t... I dragged my feet. I’m sorry. I... I’ll do it right this time.”
Cool air from outside flowed in, he felt it break against his back, and he turned his head to see Bucky, and Thor behind him, dirty and stressed.
“You see? They’re here. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He lifted her from the ground then, his heart climbing his throat when she didn’t make a noise, not even in complaint, her head lolling to his shoulder. But her hand... Her hand touched his heart. “C’mon, Darcy. Stay with me.” He climbed out of the hole, clutching her close, and hurried down the hall.
Steve ran. He dodged the mess on the floor, jumped over piles of debris, ducked under crossing beams, and nearly crashed through a glass door, but he made it. He made it.
“Hey, we’re here. Darcy, we’re here.” He gave her a little shake, but she didn’t move. “Darcy?”
Her hand slid limply from his chest and his breath caught. “Sweetheart?”
Cho appeared in front of him, yanking on his elbow, directing him to the table to lay her down. And he stared, at her pale skin and still form, his heart hitching in his chest. Cho and her nurses gathered around Darcy, pushing him back, out of the way, while they exchanged medical garble at each other that he only vaguely understood.
He stared, watched them struggle to bring her back, felt the world fade down to that moment, to her hand hanging off the table and her face so unnaturally still.
Steve pressed a hand to his chest, tapped his fingers there, and whispered, “Please.”
i’m willing to write a sequel to clear up the ambiguity of the ending if anyone’s interested...
