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oneshots/short series taglist: @whumpsday @jumpywhumpywriter

"Give it up," Whumper repeated. "I know where to stab to kill someone. This isn't my first rodeo."

No. No. No. Caretaker couldn't be dying. For the first time ever, Whumpee hadn't been alone. For the first time ever, Whumpee had a family in Caretaker. Even if it was just one person. Even if their relationship didn't fit traditional moulds, like parent-child, or siblings, or anything. They had Caretaker. Caretaker had been their everything in the past months.

But Whumper had come back. And they had come back with a vengeance, targeting Whumpee's only solace, knowing that if they took Caretaker, Whumpee would go with them. Not physically, maybe — and only because Whumpee didn't have access to the knife Whumper had stabbed Caretaker with, if they did, they would've slit their throat with it when they saw Caretaker wasn't going to make it — but emotionally. Whumpee would check out. Whumpee would be Whumper's, fully Whumper's, again. Because Whumper couldn't have that. That Whumpee's heart belonged to someone else.

"Give it up," Whumper said for the third time. Whumpee was still pressing on the wound, but blood was seeping through their fingers. Caretaker's precious blood.

"I—" Caretaker tried, but they coughed.

"Don't talk," Whumpee said between sobs. "Don't talk. Save your energy. I'll fix this. You'll be okay."

Caretaker slowly reached up and cupped Whumpee's face. Their palm was bloody from where they'd pressed it against their own wound, but Whumpee didn't care. It was Caretaker's touch. So gentle. So soft.

They couldn't talk. But they could communicate. And Whumpee knew exactly what they were communicating.

I love you. I'll always love you.

Tears trickled down Whumpee's cheeks. "I'll fix this," they whispered. "I'll fix it. I swear to you, Caretaker, please, just hold on, just a little longer, please—"

"That's enough." Whumper grabbed Whumpee by the hair and pulled them away. As soon as the support of their knees was yanked away from under Caretaker's head, it lolled to the floor, to the side, almost like Caretaker was nothing but a dead body by now. But they were still alive. They were. There was still a chance of saving them.

"No!" Whumpee screamed, kicking and scratching and doing whatever they could to get back to Caretaker. "Let me go!"

"They're as good as dead," Whumper growled. "Give it up."

"No, I can save them, I just need a little time, I just—"

Whumper let go and punched them in the face. Whumpee fell to the floor, blood running from their nose. They didn't care. Caretaker had a much bigger problem, and Whumpee tried fruitlessly to crawl back to them and save them. Whumper stepped on their back, keeping them down. "They're dead. Look at them."

No, there was still a little movement to their chest. Rising and falling. They were still breathing. "Let me go," they begged, begged, because Whumper liked it when they begged, and maybe they would overlook the horrible, horrible choice they'd made in getting attached to somebody else.

Whumper sighed and stepped off. Whumpee immediately scrambled to get back to Caretaker.

It was too late. The small movements of breathing had ceased. When Whumpee put a hand on Caretaker's chest, they didn't feel a heartbeat. Caretaker was still smiling serenely, an expression that would be frozen on their face forever now. Their eyes were still open, though fixed on nothing. Whumpee let out an inarticulate scream.

"Happy now?" Whumper asked.

Whumper was good. They were good at tracking Whumpee, good at destroying everything dear to Whumpee, good at trying to get them back. But they'd made one fatal mistake in their calculations; they assumed that once Caretaker was gone, Whumpee would simply go back to being theirs.

But their time with Caretaker had changed them.

"That's not..." You trail off. Maybe it'll be better if she thinks you just don't like spaghetti. "Thank you, Freddie."

She stands up from the table and goes to the counter, grabbing a loaf of bread. You mourn not getting to try the spaghetti — it smells delicious, and after two days of not eating, you're sure it would've been heavenly. But a sandwich is good. It's sustenance.

"What would you like in your sandwich? And don't just try to please me. Tell me what you really like."

"I like salami," you say timidly. Does she have salami at home?

"Salami. Okay." She goes to the fridge and takes out some salami, then arranges it in a layer on top of the bread. "Anything else?"

"Just salami is fine. Thank you, Freddie."

She puts the plate in front of you, at the same time taking the untouched spaghetti. A sandwich. Way more manageable. You wait for Freddie to sit back down, and you take your first bite.

Oh.

It's... very good. The salami is not the cheap kind the facility had. It's so tasty. You can't help yourself, you can't even sit and wait for Freddie to start eating as well, you scarf it down like... well, like you haven't eaten in two days.

When you next look up, you find Freddie staring.

"Sorry," you say, the word just slipping out despite you having no real idea what you did wrong.

"No, it's fine. Do you want another sandwich?"

You swallow. The taste of bread and salami lingers. You desperately want more. But you've already exhausted Freddie's kindness, you can't possibly ask for even more.

"No, thank you. It was delicious."

"It's really no bother," she assures you. "Are you sure you don't— Here." She stands up, grabbing the loaf of sliced bread and the packet of salami, placing both in front of you on the table, presumably so you can make your own sandwich. "Have as much as you like."

~

She immediately jumped off the ladder, not even caring to put the door back in place. She rushed out to the back of the shop, to the dumpster, frantically opening the lid to reveal several bags of trash. She tore through them all, looking for her love. She found no trace of her.

Of course. What were the chances of Priscilla making it back in time to find her?

She jumped back into her car and headed to the junkyard.

Priscilla was immortal — as in, she reincarnated into different bodies in different times. It always took some time, but she eventually regained her memories every time. This time, her body was a woman's called Rita. Rita was one of three children, absent father, seamstress mother. She had to drop out of school to support her family.

It didn't matter. Rita wasn't real. Not really. It was Priscilla inhabiting her body. And as soon as she regained consciousness, she sneaked off, crossed borders, came back to the same repair shop where she'd left her girlfriend last time when her body got old and frail.

Her girlfriend was similarly immortal. 03 — her full name being 7583703 — could keep going so long as she was kept in somewhat working conditions. Parts changed, swapped out, old stuff being replaced by new technology.

But she wasn't in the auto repair shop. And if she was in the junkyard, possibly unresponsive, it would take Priscilla a very, very long time to find her.

But she would find her. There was no world in which she wouldn't.

She got to the junkyard and got out of her stolen car — Rita never got her driver's licence, but it didn't matter, Priscilla knew how to drive — and started yelling for 03. There were no others around.

"Fuck, please, please, answer me..." she muttered. 03 was the love of her life. They had found each other through time and space, every time, no matter what body Priscilla came back in, no matter what 03 looked like, they always found each other.

"Here," came a weak, distorted voice. It didn't even sound like 03 anymore.

Priscilla ran over to a pile of junk and started throwing stuff away, slowly revealing a rusted, dysfunctional 03. "Oh dear..." she said, gently tracing 03's jawline. "I'll help. It's okay."

"I know," 03 said. "Like always."

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"Did you like your family too much?"

Priscilla scoffed, but... Rita's family was sweet. With her having run off, she didn't know what would become of them.

Still, 03 was more important.

"I like you most," she said. "Come on..." She gently lifted 03's metallic body out of the pile of trash and brought her to the car.

"You have freckles now," 03 pointed out. After so many bodies, so many lives, Priscilla wondered how 03 still found ways to note her favourite features.

"Yeah. And you have a rusted voicebox. What happened in the attic?"

"The new owner found me. I pretended to be unresponsive. I knew you'd find me anyway."

Priscilla smiled, though it was a little pained. What if she didn't find her? What if she lost 03 forever?

Disassembling 03 for cleaning was as natural as breathing by now. Priscilla made sure to scrub every part of her thoroughly, making sure the rust was gone, parts were well-oiled, and she shoplifted any part that needed to be replaced.

Soon, 03 was back to functional again.

"I like the new arm," 03 noted, making small rotations with it. "When the last one was crushed, I... It hurt."

Priscilla sat down on the curb. Cars were whooshing by. Nobody paid them any attention.

03 sat down next to her.

"What was it like?" 03 asked. "Your life this time."

"Nothing notable. I'm just glad to be back with you."

"Come on. There must've been something noteworthy. A crush, maybe."

Ah. So that was what was on 03's mind. Priscilla smiled. "You know you're my one and only."

"Well, as Priscilla, yes. But you weren't Priscilla for a long time again. How old is this body?"

"23."

"There was nothing in those 23 years?"

"Well... I suppose... I don't know. I liked my mother. And my siblings. It's always... You know it's always a little..." She trailed off, frowning. "I don't like leaving people. But whenever I get my memories back, there's no way I can stay. When I know you're waiting for me."

"You don't have to come back to me just because of that," 03 said. "If you ever find someone more—"

"Stop. I won't. I love you."

03 smiled to herself. "I love you too."

"What have you done in the last 23 years?"

"Mostly hid out in the attic. Sometimes, when I didn't hear anyone in the shop, I'd go downstairs and guzzle a bunch of oil. You know I like the taste of it. Poor man running the shop had called the police multiple times, but of course, no sign of a break-in."

Priscilla smiled. "It must be boring. Waiting for me all the time."

"Not all the time. You come back, and we spend decades together. Usually. When there's no freak accident."

"Come on, I got hit by a car once."

"Because cars were invented in the last century. Who knows how many more times there will be? And you remember that wild beast attacking you?"

"That was ages ago."

"Still. I never like to... to see you go like that. I prefer being by your bedside, when you're old, and comfortable. I like being able to say goodbye, even if it's more of a see you later."

Priscilla tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You know... I've been through so many bodies. Ruined so many lives."

There was a beat of silence. Priscilla didn't continue. 03 didn't cut in.

"Do you ever... wonder if it's just habit at this point?"

03 looked away. She looked like she'd just heard the words she had been afraid to hear in her millenia of lifetime. "Not for me," she said quietly.

"Yeah..." Priscilla looked up, staring at the sun about to go down. "Sorry. That was a weird thing to say. Do you always like me equally?"

"Yes."

"Even in the male bodies?" she asked playfully, wiggling her eyebrows. 03 pushed her a little.

"It doesn't matter to me. You're my Priscilla."

"And you're my 03. Sorry for bringing up so many weird topics today. I guess... I guess you're right. I did like this body's family a lot. You know, I wonder... I wonder what became of them after I left."

"Maybe we should go back. Together."

"They're countries away."

"We have time."

Priscilla let out a little laugh. "That we do. That we do."

"I'm serious. Let's go back. I could meet your family—"

"My family has been dead for 3000 years. They're not my family. I don't need them."

"You're worried what they'd think of me."

Priscilla looked down at her lap. "I just don't want them to hurt you," she mumbled. "I'm not ashamed of you, I just... What if they want to take you apart? Turn you in to the government? Anything like that. I don't trust them."

"I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

"What?" Priscilla's head snapped to her. "You're not— What are you saying?"

"You can never bring me around anywhere. You're forced to live out your eternity watching out for me. It's already been 3000 years. That's how many human lives?"

"It doesn't matter. I love you. That's what lovers do: watch out for each other."

"I just hold you back."

"Are you trying to break up with me?"

It was 03's turn to look down at her lap. "No... Not really... I don't want to... I just... I feel bad..."

Priscilla reached out and grabbed 03 by the face, turning her head so she was facing her. "Do not. I choose to come back for you every time because you're my everything. What is eternity, if I can't spend it with someone I love?"

03 was tearing up. This new technology was really something else. Priscilla just wished her tear tank wouldn't be emptied out for the first time since her arrival because of her.

"One day, you'll get bored of me," 03 said. "And then— And I won't know. I'll just know that decades passed and you didn't come back. And I think of that, in the decades when you're not here. And it makes me so— so—"

"Hey. 03. Listen to me. I will always come back."

"You don't know that. What if one time you don't regain your memories?"

Priscilla swallowed. "If this has been going on for millenia, I don't have reason to doubt it'll go on for more."

"But you don't know that."

"Yeah, well, what if you fall into such disrepair I can't fix you? What if the twenty years I spend away from you is too much? What if one day I can't shoplift parts for you? Don't you think I think about this stuff too?" Priscilla let go, tears of stubborn determination stinging her eyes. "I think about this. I thought about this today, when I couldn't find you."

Silence stretched between them.

"I don't want to be a burden," 03 said again.

"You're not. 03, I... I'd be lost without you. Please, just promise me you'll be around for as long as I am. I know that's selfish. But please."

"I'll be around for as long as I can," she said gently.

Priscilla scooched over, so their shoulders were touching. The sun had gone down. It was getting chilly.

"Wanna break into a motel room?" Priscilla asked.

03 grinned at her. "You know it."

~

"Slow down," they said with a small laugh.

"Whumpee?" came Leader's voice from behind them, and Caretaker painfully tore themself away from Whumpee so Leader could take a look as well.

"It's them!" Caretaker exclaimed. Leader walked over and took a good look at Whumpee — scrutinising. Almost like they didn't believe it was really Whumpee.

"Where were you? We all tried calling."

"Ah," Whumpee said, rubbing the back of their neck awkwardly. "I needed a bit of a break, I guess. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"You ought to be. Everyone was worried sick. If you needed a break, there are protocols for that, I would've granted—"

"I'm back now," Whumpee cut in gently. "I won't go away again."

Leader nodded. "Well, it's good to have you back."

—

It was so mundane. A spoon had clattered to the floor when Caretaker was preparing lunch. They didn't even realise what a fatal mistake that had been on their part until they turned around and saw Whumpee curled up in their chair, hands over their ears, rocking back and forth. "Whumpee?"

In the past few days, Whumpee hadn't told them where they'd gone away to, no matter how many times they asked. But they'd spoken of their little outing so nonchalantly, so casually, that Caretaker assumed they really did just need a break. This was the first time they considered the other option — that Whumpee lied to spare them.

"Whumpee, are you okay?" they tried gently. Whumpee was mumbling to themself, seemingly oblivious to Caretaker prodding. "Whumpee, hey—"

"Get away from me!" they said, kicking Caretaker when they tried to reach out and touch them. Caretaker jumped back.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, Whumpee, it's me—"

"Get away from me! Get away!"

The shouting brought the team together in the small kitchen, and everyone was just as flabbergasted as Caretaker. Nobody had ever seen Whumpee so freaked out. Crying, even. Whumpee wasn't a crier. Or, hadn't been.

"Whumpee?" Leader tried, but Whumpee kicked and screamed and wouldn't let anyone approach. "Okay, everyone, out."

"But—" Caretaker tried, but Leader shut them down.

"Out. I'll take care of Whumpee."

Caretaker didn't know what that entailed. They wanted to know. They wanted to be there. They wanted to help. But Leader was the leader for a reason, and so they nodded and left their best friend in their care.

They went back to their room and sat on the bed. They could still hear Whumpee's terrified cries from the kitchen.

You take a tentative step towards her. Then another. Soon, you're walking inside the lion's den, deeper and deeper, entering through a doorway into a baby blue kitchen with a round table and four chairs. You awkwardly sit down, hands folded in your lap.

"Oh my," Freddie says, brows furrowing. What now? What did you do? Did you make a mistake? "In this light... Oh dear. I couldn't see it that well in the park, but you're... Did someone hurt you?"

You stay quiet. You might've done many uncharacteristic things during your brief relationship with Freddie, but you're certainly not about to sell out your handler. She only did what she had a right to do.

Freddie goes on, undeterred. "That building. I know there's something shady going on in there."

No, she doesn't know. Nobody outside the facility knows. At most, she has a hunch. And if you don't confirm her hunch, she has no way of verifying it.

"I'm sorry for being unsightly," you say instead, and she once again hurries to correct you.

"No! No, that's not— I'm sorry, did it come off that way? I just... I'm worried about you. You don't have anywhere to stay, anything to eat, and you're hurt. Maybe a visit to the hospital..." She trails off. "Well, that can all happen after we ate. After you ate. Do you like spaghetti?"

You've never had spaghetti.

"Yes," you say anyway.

"Great. I have some leftover from yesterday, I think it'll be enough for the two of us."

Freddie heats it up in the microwave, then plates it and places one plate and utensils in front of you. You stare at it.

She takes a seat across from you and takes a fork in her hand, so you follow her example and take the fork as well. She doesn't start eating. She seems like she's waiting for you to start. Your stomach rumbles.

It's... a lot of pressure, suddenly. You don't know how to eat pasta. You've never had pasta.

~

It wasn't going away. No matter how much Whumpee thrashed, it wasn't going away. "Let me out of these fucking restraints!" they cried. "I need to— I need to—"

"You don't need anything. Needs are for people."

"I—" The protest died in their throat. The burning was too much, they couldn't even argue. Their personhood wasn't the point right now, the point was that their veins felt like they were on fire, like insects were crawling under their skin, and there was nothing they could do about it. "Just make it stop!"

"No can do. Even if I wanted to, at this point, the antidote would probably leave you worse off than if we just let it do its thing."

"I don't care! Give me the antidote!"

"Ah-ah," Whumper chastised, and Whumpee got the sense they were quite giddy this was going so well for them. Not so well for Whumpee. "You'll just have to take this as a learning opportunity; you're learning patience, self-control—"

"Let me out of the fucking restraints!"

"I'll leave you to calm down," they said, picking up their clipboard they used to jot down any significant side effects or, well, intended effects. "I'll check in about an hour from now."

"This will last an hour?" they asked, voice high-pitched and hysterical.

You stop. You arm stays halfway outstretched towards the jacket she gave you, but you slowly lower it. As if you had the right to take it with you, regardless of whether Freddie was mad.

You don't know what to say, so Freddie keeps talking.

"I just... I don't know, to imagine you having sat here all day, I mean, it's five o'clock now, I left at seven... And you just sat here, staring at the wall?"

That's not all that unusual. You had to stare at walls for longer back in the facility. You're used to staring at walls. It's safe. There's not much that can go wrong when you're just staring at a wall.

Your stomach growls.

"Oh dear... You didn't even eat? All day?"

"I'm okay," you finally say, desperate to finally make her stop worrying. It's fine. You're fine. Everything is fine, and she's done more than enough for you by letting you know where the key to her house was.

"I'm making you some food. This isn't negotiable."

She's not your superior. Or your handler. She's not part of the organisation. By all accounts, you don't have to obey.

But she's shown kindness to you. And now she wants to feed you. And you're... so hungry.

~

"Okay," Medic gave in. "I have to— I have to tend to Whumpee's arm, that was a nasty wound I saw there, and I have to, I have to look at your abdomen, the enemy got you quite good—"

"Medic, shut up," Leader said sternly. "You're not looking at any injuries when we get back."

"It's my job—"

"Your job right now is staying alive," they said. "I won't have you arguing with me. I'm the leader for a reason. And you of all people should know better when to order bed rest for someone, even if that someone is you."

Medic coughed again. Leader felt them placing more and more of their weight on them. They were about to pass out, Leader realised in the back of their mind before Medic slumped against them. They picked them up in a bridal carry.

"Idiot," they grumbled as they swiftly carried Medic back to the team vehicle and laid them in the backseat.

"What happened?" Caretaker asked once they got back as well, and Leader just pointed to the unconscious Medic. "I saw the enemy fire a shot at them, but I didn't think—"

"You're driving. As fast as you can. The stupid idiot was talking about treating others even as they collapsed, so ideally, we need to make it to base and treat them while they're unconscious. If we don't, they'll fight us all the way."

Caretaker nodded. "Whumpee still isn't here—"

"For fuck's sake!" Leader hit the top of the car. "Where are they? We need to move fast!"

"There," Caretaker pointed out timidly. There, in the distance, was Whumpee, stumbling towards the car.

"Caretaker, go and bring them here," they barked the order, and Caretaker was immediately off to help them while Leader stayed behind, guarding Medic's unconscious body. Once everyone was in the car, Caretaker took off, and just like instructed, they broke several speed limits on the way back to base.

Whumpee was sobbing all the way there. Medic had been right — that wound on their arm was gnarly. "What do we do without Medic?" Whumpee asked hysterically. "My arm, I can't move it—"

"We do what we have always done before, before this team ever had a medic on board. We treat it ourselves," Leader said, constantly looking in the rearview mirror to see if they were being tailed.

"I don't know anything about medicine!"

"Caretaker will take care of it, then. But I don't have time for a breakdown, Whumpee, keep it together."

There was some mumbling from the backseat, and Leader immediately turned to Medic. They were mumbling the names of different medicines, half-passed out. They must've distantly registered they were talking about Whumpee's wound.