I know you do mostly shipping but would you be able to do something with Wattson and Caustic like as father daughter kind of?
Note(s): Mentions of Natalie’s injuries, mentions of Caustic’s past crimes. Even though this is sfw, my blog is not, so please do not follow me if you’re under 18! Also, I actually LOVE writing the legends dynamics that aren’t romantic. They’re family and friends damn it.
Alexander Nox wanted children.
An oddity of which would baffle the majority of true crime journalists that investigated his supposed death and suspected reappearance. He never took a wife during his time on Gaea and rarely was it that he dated. His relationships were usually short lived, ended due to his dedication to his work, and when he truly became invested in the pursuit of improving the gas that corroded any living tissue it came into contact with, children became the last thing on his mind.
Dr. Caustic forgot almost entirely about the desire after entering the Apex Games. If he couldn’t have children before, certainly now it would be impossible -- not only because of his age, evident by the graying hairs in his beard and temples, but because he could have no further evidence that he escaped the Humbert Labs fire.
When he met Ms. Paquette, he admired her mind. He still does -- so young and still so ingenious. The ring is a modern marvel, an engineering feat that Dr. Caustic still believes she should be awarded for.
As she answered his questions about the ring, he began to admire her for other things. That despite her intellect, she still managed to be bright, chipper. That despite losing someone so important to her so young, she made silly puns, collected the other Legends like they were as much family as the man she buried.
She is a bright spot in a dark world, a light that illuminates the room. She squealed and grinned when he found her Nessie in the ring, begged him to keep it, saw the sides of him that he would not allow the other legends to see.
Dr. Caustic is brutal. He will never not be. Observation of death is not only his study, it is his passion. His life.
Right, now, though, it’s the last thing he wants.
He sits next to Ms. Paquette’s bed, watching her prone face. Dr. Caustic finds very little truly wrong in the world -- has watched the process of death closely, has made sure he can annotate the process as it happens.
It seems wrong now to watch Natalie so still. She is always moving, full of energy -- he has watched her rub a balloon on her head, squealing when the static tickles it way across her scalp. He has watched her laugh after making a silly pun that only someone with knowledge of electricity could understand. He has watched her chatter about the ring, about the developments she’s discovered in furthering her research, about the improves she wants to make. To see her still, unconscious, injured...
It makes his blood boil, makes him glad that Revenant discovered their plot. He hopes the simulacrum touches Ms. Andrade with its deadly fingers, that it chokes the air from her lungs and leaves her in the same condition that she flippantly disregarded Ms. Paquette in.
If Ms. Paquette does not recover, he might even ask it to allow him the honor.
Dr. Caustic looks at her hand, resting above the blanket. She’s dressed in a hospital gown, her golden hair spread across the pillow, and it occurs to him that he should look into getting a hair brush -- that feeling her hair tangled from resting on it for so long will bother her.
He rises, meaning to approach Wraith’s dorm, ask if she has one that she can lend him in the event that Ms. Paquette awakens -- she is the only one who will understand the show of tenderness, the only one that won’t be unsettled by it -- when Ms. Paquette stirs.
“Ms. Paquette,” he says in a rush, sitting back down, his elbows dropping to rest on the edge of her mattress his gathering up her hand. It’s cold and he hopes he can warm it between his fingers. She sighs, her eyes fluttering open, slivers of blue appearing behind the thick line of her blonde lashes.
“Doctor... Caustic...” she whispers back, voice croaking from lack of use. She’s been unconscious for the better part of the week, waking only twice for brief periods of time only to fall right back into her slumber. All the breath leaves his lungs and Dr. Caustic twists his head to cough into his bicep. “You should... have some water...”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re the one in need of something to drink,” says Dr. Caustic. Incredible. She’s just woken up and already she’s more concerned for his health than her own. He goes to stand, to find a nurse that can bring her a proper meal -- only for her smaller hand to tighten around one of his larger ones, as strong as she can manage as she comes to.
“Ms. Paquette, it is imperative I call a nurse to take your vitals-”
She looks at him with those eyes like the sky, endlessly blue, and her lower lip puckers out like she’s pouting. Dr. Caustic feels something clench in his chest, thumping wetly, constricting and not for the first time, he wishes he could have protected her from this. He stares at her for a long moment then with a huff, he sits back down.
“Fine. But I will be calling Ms. Che to run diagnostics on you.” He says, fishing out the phone given to him that he’s still not quite sure how to use. He places it on his thigh, opening the screen, and navigating to his contacts.
“Tell her... nothing hertz...” Ms. Paquette says and his toxic green eyes flicker from his phone screen up to look at her, deadpan. The instant he meets her eyes, her lips pull into a smile, tired but bright and all at once, the light has turned back on in Dr. Caustic’s world.
Alexander Nox wanted children. Dr. Caustic forgot entirely about it, removed himself from the name that so many accused him of being born with. Natalie Paquette made him remember.
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