#unresponsive

"Mariano--Mariano, my hearth in the winter, can you hear me?" Robbie asked, eyes smarting with tears. There was no answer. He was almost afraid to touch him any further.

But he had to. He had to know what news he would be delivering to Bastian when he found him, deeper in this awful fort. Trembling, Robbie took a deep breath.

His fingertips pressed to the soft column of Mariano's neck, just under the curve of his jaw. Silence met Robbie, as terrifying as the emptiness he knew he'd face in just under a millennia when not even the pact would sustain his mage and dragon any longer. He never thought he'd face it so soon.

Mariano wasn't even past his mid-thirties.

Just as the looming chasm threatened to swallow Robbie whole, he felt a flutter. There was the tiniest tap against his fingertips, sedate and slow. Robbie sobbed.

All the sorrow was squashed in an instant, replaced with hope as bright and intense as the magic Mariano could summon to his palms. He dropped his head to Mariano's chest, ear over where his pact brand lay, and listened to the slow, faint beat of his heart. Robbie felt him breathe, too slowly to be noticed in the panic that had gripped him.

Bastian had mentioned something like this before--a way to sedate a pact-bearer for days and days without hurting them. A misuse of a potion meant for emergency travel, for sure, but...it was safe.

Mariano was too pale, too still, too empty, but he wasn't gone. He was simply tucked away for the time being, locked deep within his own mind and chest. Robbie gathered Mariano up in his arms, bringing his head to his shoulder with a hand in blood-soaked hair.

He needed to move. Bastian was still hidden away. There could still be stray soldiers about, ready to pounce on the one responsible for painting their stone walls red with their numbers' blood.

First, though, he needed to feel that too-slow heartbeat against his own chest. He needed to feel how even in a tight hug, Mariano breathed. He could spare thirty more seconds to bask in the knowledge that Mariano might stick around for a bit longer.

Robbie pressed his face into the crook of Mariano's neck. He breathed in the smoky, floral, ozone smell he so associated with the man that lingered under the stink of blood. He cried.

Once he could stand without his knees threatening to give out, he gathered Mariano into a bridal carry and rose. His mage hung lifeless in his grip, but with his head on Robbie's shoulder it felt less grim. He was always telling Mariano that he should rest more. Like this, he could pretend the stubborn man had finally listened.

Robbie didn't worry as he stepped out of the room to furious shouts and the sounds of swords being drawn. Now, Mariano was depending on him to keep him safe. Robbie wouldn't let him down.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper

The debrief had said the guy was quirkless, but one look at the shoes on his feet told Izuku otherwise. 

Now, four hours and twenty-five minutes later, he’s lying on the floor of his kitchen unable to move. 

His nose is pressed at an uncomfortable angle, mere inches from where his coffee mug was smashed to pieces when he dropped it. 

He’d felt this odd pain in the base of his spine when he got off of patrol, and after his post-shift nap, it had only been higher up on his back and twice as intense. 

Apparently, when it got to his head, he was due to lose all motor functions. Great!

The good news is that Katsuki should be home any minute, and he can pull Izuku out of this cold, black coffee puddle. Maybe he’ll even put him back in bed if he’s feeling generous. 

He’s not sure how long he waits. His eyelids have drooped close, though he couldn’t open them if he wanted. He spends a while trying to determine if he’s breathing or not, but his whole body is so uncomfortably numb that he gives up. 

Soon enough, the door opens and Katsuki’s gym shoes are kicked off into their cubby. 

“‘M home.” He grumbles, probably not expecting an answer because Izuku is usually still napping when Katsuki gets back from his morning gym run. 

Izuku isn’t sure what Katsuki notices first, maybe his socked feet lying on the ground, or the bits of red, blue, and yellow ceramic that probably skidded across the room. 

“Deku? Did you fuckin’ fall?” His husband scoffs, rounding the corner to see Izuku sprawled on the floor, “Oi, get up dumbass.” 

Izuku mentally winces, not prepared for the absolute earful Katsuki is going to give him later. 

Katsuki walks closer, nudging the broken pieces of mug away, “Izuku?” 

Ah, he’s anxious. 

Izuku might’ve predicted this issue if he had thought a little harder. He’s not in any real danger, so there’s no need to worry-

“Izuku?!”

But he doesn’t know that. 

“No come on,” Katsuki mumbles out loud, trying to reason logically like Izuku knows he does when he’s scared, “he hit his head and passed out- no, there’s no blood. He was tired? Maybe he wanted to sleep on the floor…”

Katsuki comes up behind him and drops to his knees, rolling Izuku over. 

Light flashes in front of his eyes, but he’s powerless to blink at the sudden flash. Katsuki curses when his head flops back and smacks the tile. Stars fly across the black of his eyelids. 

“Izuku, wake up.” Katsuki presses his fingers under Izuku’s jaw and curses. 

There’s no way this quirk stopped his heartbeat- right?!

Katsuki pries one of his eyelids open. The cool air burns but he doesn’t flinch. 

His pupil must not react either, because before he knows it Katsuki is tugging him into his arms with a frantic whimper and launching himself across their living room. 

Katsuki places a leg in between Izuku’s own and wraps one of his arms under Izuku’s shoulders so he can use the other to propel them into the sky. 

The wind whistles by Izuku’s ears as Katsuki wastes no time getting them to what he can only assume is the hospital a few blocks away. 

The strain his arm must feel right now can only be extremely painful but Katsuki makes no sign of it. 

Izuku can feel them descending, just as Katsuki’s grip on him begins to slip. Katsuki stumbles a bit on the ground, lurching forward but being sure to keep Izuku’s body in his solid grip. 

“HEY!” He shouts as soon as they step through the sliding doors of the emergency bay, “I NEED A DOCTOR NOW!”

“Sir please don’t-”

“Pro hero Dynamight!” Another nurse interrupts the first, rushing towards them, “What are his vitals?”

Izuku feels himself get flipped onto a gurney, lying face up on the cold, thin fabric. He can feel everything down to his hair follicles itching to form goosebumps. 

He hears the nurse gasp as soon as his hair falls out of his face. 

I might be wearing pajamas, but I’m still the number one hero, he figures. I’d recognize All Might in his pajamas.

“Is that-”

“Someone who needs a fucking doctor?!” Katsuki growls, “YES.” 

The nurse barks a few orders at her coworkers and, from what Izuku can tell, sprints with him down the hallway. 

“Vitals?”

“No.”

The cart shudders when she briefly trips, “N-No? What do you mean-”

“I mean he wasn’t fucking responsive. I came home and he was on the fucking floor. No pulse, no breathing, no pupil dilation.” Katsuki’s voice moves to his other side, and there’s more movement before Izuku is lifted over to a different bed. 

The nurse hooks a machine up to him to start pumping his chest while she darts around him, checking various other vitals. 

“Shit.” She whispers to herself, pressing her warm hands into his wrist harder. 

Someone slams open the door, running to Izuku’s side. His hearing blurs while they yell orders at each other, pricking Izuku with various needles. 

“C’mon.” A new, higher-pitched male voice grunts in his ear as what he can assume is a shot of adrenaline is pumped into his fresh IV. 

“You said you found him like this?” Another female voice asks, farther in the corner of the room where he figures Katsuki is watching. 

“He passed out, there’s no obvious trauma. I have no fucking idea why.” Katsuki grunts, voice warbling. “He was on patrol a few hours ago but there was nothing in the report that would warrant this.”

“It’s not looking…” She pauses, “It’s not ideal, but we can’t rule out the possibility of it being a quirk.”

“Nothing is rousing him. We can keep the compressions going, but his body isn’t showing postmortem symptoms. I think, truly, if he comes back it will be regardless of what we do.”

Katsuki sighs, “I’m going to call his mom. Take the machine off him, she shouldn’t see him like this.”

Izuku’s head jostles as they remove the machine, his chest already feeling the ache and forming bruises. 

The nurse clamps a heart rate monitor onto his finger and leaves his side, rolling whatever monstrosity of a contraption they had waiting for him on a cart out of the room. 

It’s completely silent for a few minutes, not even the usual steady beep of his heart that he associates with the hospital to keep him company. 

The door swings open and footsteps move towards his side. 

He knows it’s Katsuki as soon as their hands touch. 

His husband’s warm hands cup his own, rubbing circles into his skin. 

“If you die on a random ass fucking Thursday morning when you’re not even working I’ll make sure they send you to whatever hell exists for idiots like you.” 

Izuku laughs inwardly, enjoying Katsuki’s touch. 

“Shitty prank. You broke your favorite mug.”

Ah damn, he forgot about that. 

Katsuki’s hair tickles his forearm as the man presumably leans down, pressing his lips to Izuku’s inner wrist, “If you leave me I’ll never forgive you.” He stretches a hand over Izuku’s stomach, resting it on his soft sleep shirt. “I love you, I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

“Come back to me, Izuku.”

“Hero, what’s going on?” he says in a soft voice. 

For a few more seconds, they just stand there. Villain trying to calm the worry rising in his chest with every second Hero doesn’t respond. 

Hero chews on the skin inside her cheek, tears welling in her eyes. She finally focuses on Villain and shakes her head, “You were right.” 

Slowly, she unzips her jacket and pulls it down for Villain to see. Her arms are covered in bruises, so is what he can see of the rest of her. 

“Will you help me?” She asks, voice breaking. 

Villain nods, “Of course.” 

He leads her into the living room and sits her down on the couch. She pulls her jacket back over her arms and zips it up. Villain digs through a bin of blankets and tosses one her way, then takes another one out and sets it on the chair next to the couch. 

“Tea?” he asks, already walking to the kitchen. 

She nods, “Yes please.” 

He dips into the kitchen and calls out, “What kind? I’ve got…well how about you just tell me what you like and I’ll bring it over.” 

“Green tea would be great if you’ve got it,” she calls back. 

He rustles through the cabinets and pulls the box out triumphantly, “Green tea: check!” 

He swears he hears her chuckle and he smiles to himself while pouring boiling water into mugs.  Villain sets the mugs on a plate, the tea bags next to them and digs into his cupboard for the sugar. He gets out a few packaged snacks and sets them on the plate and picks it up and brings it into the living room. 

The blanket he tossed onto the chair for himself is on the couch next to Hero now, her eyes dart from him to the cushion, then back to him. He smiles warmly, sets the plate down on the coffee table and plops onto the couch, leaving a cushion between them. 

“I didn’t want to guess on how strong you liked your tea, so I just bought the bag. Take whichever mug you want, I’ll drink whatever. Sugar if you want it, take some snacks, anything you want.” 

Hero smiles and takes the smaller mug. She cups her hands around it and closes her eyes for a second before reaching out and grabbing the tea bag from the plate. She rips the wrapper and dunks it into her mug, swirling it around for a few seconds. 

Villain takes the other mug and does the same with his tea bag, then reaches to grab a package of cookies from the plate.

Villain looks over to her, trying to gauge how to start the conversation. She’s taking a sip of the tea, letting it sit in her mouth before swallowing. He clears his throat and reaches for the remote, “Music?” 

Hero nods, “Sure.” 

He nods and pulls up instrumental music. “This work?” 

She nods again and smiles, “Yeah, thanks.” 

He sets the remote on the coffee table and opens his cookie bag. He offers it to her first, then takes one out when she rejects it. 

“Do…you wanna talk about it?” He asks, wiping the cookie crumbs on his blanket. 

She bites her cheek and shakes her head, “Not right now.” 

Villain shifts into a more comfortable position and nods, “Do you want to talk about anything?” 

She nods, but doesn’t say anything. Villain inhales sharply and sets his mug on his knee. “What about the weather? It’s been crazy lately! I mean- 20’s then 50’s and even the 70’s? What’s up with that? My perennials started to sprout and now I’m afraid they’re gonna freeze next week.” 

Hero chuckles softly and smiles, “Yeah, it’s fucking with my migraines, the pressure change really messes me up.” 

“Migraines suck!” Villain says, leaning forward slightly. “It’s like. Hey do you want to have a constant owch pain in your head? Too bad, here you go!” 

Hero snorts and nods, “Yeah it’s horrible. And it’s so much worse because Superhero wants me to-”

She cuts herself off and looks at her hands, suddenly very interested on the border of the blanket. She bites the inside of her cheek and her brows furrow. She shakes her head and inhales shakily. 

“Yeah, I remember.” Villain says, picking at his fingernails. 

Hero looks up, “What do you mean?” 

He shakes his head, “It was a long time ago…and I’ve changed a lot since then, but I used to be you. Or…I did what you do. I wasn’t you…obviously.” 

“You worked with Superhero?” Hero asks, disbelievingly. 

He nods and takes a deep breath. “I know what he’s like. Used to think that him pushing me was what was best for me…just like you do. But then…” 

He shakes his head and lifts his shirt up, showing off a long, jagged scar along his abdomen. 

“He told me that…everyone fights dirty and I needed to be prepared for it. So he used a piece of broken glass and…” he makes a slicing motion along the length of the scar and drops the shirt, covering the scar once again. 

Hero looks at the floor, “I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Villain responds. “Anyway, he told me I couldn’t go to the hospital and had to patch it up myself, because there would be a time where I wouldn’t have the hospital as an option. And naturally, I couldn’t take care of it because I was nineteen…it got infected…and he dropped me off at a hospital. No money, no support, and he pretty much erased my existence.

After a few days in a coma, I figured out he wasn’t worth feeling sad over and I made sure that he could never actually succeed in what he’s been planning.” 

“What’s he been planning?” Hero asks, opening a bag of cookies.

Villain scoffs, “Of course he stopped telling people. He wants to branch out. Cover more cities, get more power. More control. That way he can take over everything. Make it so no one steps out of line, no one can do anything he doesn’t approve of. Of course, that’s not how he says it. He just ‘Wants to be able to keep more people safe.’ And the only way he can do that is by ‘Being able to monitor people who risk the safety of others.’ Which could be anyone, by the way, so he’d have to monitor everyone.” 

Hero shakes her head, “Why hasn’t he…I mean. Why does he let you…y’know? How come-”

“He doesn’t think I’m enough of a threat to kill me.” Villain interrupts. 

She nods to herself, “Is he right?”