This blog is NSFW, strictly +18yrs. I dive headfirst into trauma and gore and angst, so please consider this carefully and pay attention to warnings before reading any of my works.
Thus far, I write for Star Wars pretty exclusively, particularly The Bad Batch. I'm only just beginning to actually write things with the intent of sharing them, but requests and comments are always welcome, and all my love to rebloggers!
Hi. My name is StayCalm. And I'm a clone-a-hoilc. | 19 members
AO3 - We Must Prove Who We are Only to Ourselves (Doc's Misadventures)
If there is a trigger warning that you are concerned about but want to enjoy the story, please please please reach out! In many instances I can alter snip-its or tone things down, or at least highlight the sections in question so you can avoid them (I could do a vague summary for continuity).
Doc's Misadventures - Inspired by the prompts of Febuwhump2023, a female medic referred to as 'Doc' deals with the initial challenge of finding her place among the reluctant members of the Bad Batch. Wrought with unending struggles and both mental and physical disaster, a mutual tolerance slowly develops into acceptance and respect, and maybe something more...
OMG THERE BE FANART?! - I will absolutely add each and every bit of Doc fanart yall make to this little list, and I will love and treasure them and and you until I die!
Asks - Have a special request? Lemme know and I'll try to write you up something special to add to this lovely collection (a collection of 1 so far, but that will hopefully grow) - pspsps: my clone adoration is not limited to tbb! I'm happy to write with the others, too!
400 Follower Celebration Asks - Your OCs with various clones in various situations!
Spicy Stuff - 18+ nsfw independent fics with the boys from The Bad Batch. Minors: DNI. Everyone else: enjoy.
My Shame - WIPs that I just couldn't find the gumption to finish...
My Bingo Card - This is really for my personal reference, but can still be used to inspire Asks/Requests!
Unhinged Asks! - Collection of random asks that I've answered, both spicy and not
Prompt Lists - Choose a prompt, some characters, and whatever details yuh like, and slap that all in an Ask. We'll see what happens
I Ranted and Don't Know Where Else to Stash It - Might add more rants/ random headcanons later, maybe? This one's about the reoccurring theme of characters not allowing themselves to admit their mistakes so they double down instead
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Special thanks to: @chopper-base @staycalmandhugaclone and @sabaccsniper for this idea a month ago
Plot: Hunter isn't sure if he can be more than a soldier.
Warnings: Hunter's self-doubt
Word Count: 916
He was used to having to deal with dirty clothes, being a clone in the GAR. But, now, being around you, it was something new. He wanted to be clean, not smell likeā¦ well, like a soldier.
It didnāt help that they had been soaked in lake water. The feeling was bad enough as it crept into every crevice, but death of microorganisms permeated it. It would be fouler later, so that was his excuse. He still hadnāt thought about that in depth, so those feelings were still at the back of his mind. Theyād stay there, too, if he had his way with it. He wasnāt made for feelings. He was made for fighting.
But, it lingered. He didnāt want to smell like rotten, slimy lake around you, no matter what his beginnings were. You made him feel like he could breathe without the possibility of panic stealing it from him. The least he could do was keep you breathing easily around him, too.
Carefully, he removed his armor, then started in on his gloves slowly, feeling slightly self-conscious about it. As the gloves came off, his scars were easily visible from his early days of knife twirling and first missions. It wasnāt common for him to be aware of things at such a level as he was. The longer he was around you, got to know you, laughed with you, the more it itched at his consciousness.
In fact, he wasnāt oblivious to any of it. He always felt things like this around you. There had even been some small signs at the beginning. This little feeling ā warmth in his chest, a second thought at possible embarrassment, even a lingering desire to improve the Marauderās living space when you were around ā wasnāt expected, but that space existed behind his sternum. The space that expanded with your smile or when your lips were parted when you slept. It caused his nerves to awaken whenever your head tilted ā
No, no, he was a soldier.
Or, well, he had been. Nowā¦ now was different. Away from the GAR, away from the Empire as much as they could be, he wasā¦ Hunter. Sergeant ā no. Brother. Protector. If ever there was any time to figure out what more he could be, it was now.
Somehow, he still couldnāt willingly bring forth the consideration of doing things just for you because of that warmth that bloomed forth when you smiled. Each time he tried, his training kicked in.
Growing up, warmth wasnāt taught. It wasnāt earned. Each clone knew of duty, withstanding excruciating pain, treating brothers until they couldnāt work anymore. Dedicate themselves to the Republic. The Republic owned them and that was their duty.
No. No, that wasnāt their duty anymore. They were people. You had been trying to convince them of that whenever you could. Donāt get him wrong, he appreciated the efforts and it was good for Omega to learn as a young clone ā as a kid. As a little girl.
Besides, even if he could start to believe that his existence was worth more than a few measly credits, he had nothing to offer you. His scars proved that he was only good for fighting.
āHunter?ā you asked softly. He jolted, having thoroughly lost himself in his thoughts. It was not something he found himself capable of until he had been around you more. Was that what safety was? Being able to get lost in his thoughts? Finding your scent to be something he could be grounded in at the same time as his mind flew away with himself?
āYes?ā he asked, then cleared his throat from the slight tickle that threatened to take his voice. His breath was already gone when you smiled gently.
āIs everything alright?ā Your eyes were closer. You were closer. When had you gotten closer? No, this was fine.
He shook his head slightly. āYeah, all good.ā
Your brow rose. Clearly, he hadnāt convinced you, and you both knew it. Slowly, your eyes went down to his half-removed lake-soaked gloves. Too late, he couldnāt force the wet things back on to hide the scarring. Your gaze trailed over them and silently, your hands rose. Fingers met fingers in a cautious offer and he didnāt stop you as you started to remove them just as he had. They landed on the floor with a soft splot, but your fingers didnāt move from his skin. Nerves tingle from fingertips and up his arms. Each breath of his was filled with you over the lake smell and he had to fight to not pull away from you as your fingers began to trail down some of the more prominent scars.
āHow old are these?ā you asked in no louder than a breath.
āOld,ā he replied truthfully, his own breath not staying. āMy fault. Been fidgeting with knives ever since I could hold one. Itās normal.ā
āAh,ā you answered even more quietly. You didnāt back away. Maybe he didnāt smell as bad as he worried. Maybe, with your fingers on his, you were willing to stay as close to him as he cautiously wanted you.
When your eyes met his, he could see it ā and he knew it wasnāt something he was imagining, either, between the mere centimeters between you two and your shared breaths.
No. No, he could deserve this. He was more than a soldier. He could see that, now, as it reflected in your eyes and sounded whenever you said his name.
[Story break marker for screen readers.]
Knife twirl for everyone's convenience:
[Description: Hunter spins his orange glowing vibroblade between his fingers. The gif is zoomed in on his hand movements.]
What a stunning breath of insight. The pacing was amazing, the mental back and forth spot on, and the ending so gentle and perfect! Just went and made me fall in love with him all over again š„°š„°
Part (2) of Frozen Breaths - This can absolutely be read as a standalone fem oc x Crosshair fic, but for those familiar with Doc's Misadventures, this happens between An Ode to Artists and Fool's Errand.
Just a weee head's up: I've decided to end Divergent Paths with that previous chapter. I actually spent the last few weeks working on a little extra something something purely driven by the unhinged discussions in the Discord group, but then the house got sick (again), so I went back to the sick fic. As one does when ill. But I'm already over 3k words into that little surprise blorb, so hopefully it'll be ready soon. (Hint: non-Doc canon, but it involves Doc and Tech. And tentacles. There will be ample trigger warnings). There'll be one more chapter for Frozen Breaths (though I'm not sure which will come out first, this or the Tech thing).
Thereās a weight to illnesses, a deception brought by weakened muscles and aching joints and the nauseating dance of fire and ice. The way sweat soaked skin trembled from a desperate chill was a cruelty in itself, torturous and unrelenting as fever raged useless and merciless. Thereās a surrealness to it, a daze granting some intangible disreality to every wandering thought and illusioned memory; not enough to rob consciousness but yielding just enough uncertainty to obscure perception into half-truths and dreams.
Dreams, however, were far less cruel. In dreams, pain is known but not felt, cold is merely a word, and suffocation neednāt be feared. I would have liked it to be a dream, but the heaviness in my lungs, the exhaustion growing with each strained inhale bore no such kindness. That pain was real, as was the fear it carried; the knowledge that this wasn't something I might simply ignore and push through, the haunting certainty that the reason my body tremble and my chest ached was far worse than rote illness, and I found my thoughts falling down what nightmarish possibilities such a reality might bring, straining to force my awareness back into the world around me insteadā¦ to the coldā¦ the heatā¦ and painā¦ andā¦
A noiseā¦ noā¦ a voiceā¦ I think someone said my name. Quiet. Calling me. Some heartbreaking murmur braided through with concern and hope and dread.
āThink sheās wakinā up? Wanā me to get Tech?ā I knew that voiceā¦ deepā¦ rough, yet soft in a way that left me wanting to risk the hurt of waking just to remember himā¦ but the instant my eyes tried to flutter, the glaring light left me cringing away, eyelids slamming shut with a broken groan.
āI knew the lights were too kriffing brightā¦ā The low curse growled so near to me that I would have shied from it if not for the familiar safety it filled me with, body instead pressing nearer to him with some silent plea for helpā¦ for an escape from the pain pounding through my head, my chest, my every exhausted muscle as I trembled. āTurn these damn things off first, then tell him to get his shebs back here ā sheās just getting worse.ā
āHe said it would take a day or two.ā As he spoke, that blinding light blessedly vanished, the darkness encroaching in its absence seemingly absolute as I struggled to remember how to focus. āBe nice if the stormād clear upā¦ Then we could jusā get her to the Marauder ā get her somethinā thatād actually helpā¦ā Wreckerā¦ As awareness reluctantly pushed that heavy fog from my mind, I slowly began to rememberā¦ The ice planetā¦ the outpostā¦ that first hint of a fever Iād tried so desperately to ignore until my breath grew shallow, thick, and even speaking left me gasping.
Crosshairās arms tightened around me, but he offered no response. I could hear the slow sigh before footsteps retreated somewhere to my right. And then it was quiet. And dark. And so much harder to keep the seconds from blurring together, passing time measured only in the deafening booms of my heartbeat, the unsteady wheeze of strained breaths a mockery against the composed rise and fall of the lean form cradling me so carefully against him.
āYou chose a really shit time to try to die on us.ā He pressed the quiet grumble into my hairline, and I was almost certain he didnāt realize Iād heard him, but I managed an albeit faint disgruntled huff.
āMānotā¦ dying.ā I mumbled, voice cracking oddly. His chest hitched slightly as his attention darted down to me.
āYeah, say it again without the damn death rattle.ā He retorted. I tried to roll my eyes, but the sharp spike of pain it sent through my head made me tense hard enough for Crosshair to notice, concern instantly leaving him staggering between loosening his hold and tightening it, unsure how to help.
āMāfā¦ māfiā¦ā I tried to reassure him, but the moment I drew a breath deep enough to force out some manner of speech, it only proved him right, diaphragm instantly caving beneath the strain with a coughing fit that left my entire body jerking forward. I could barely manage to hold a fist toward my lips to cough into, focus narrowing at the grueling effort of trying to keep my throat open, trying to force air into lungs burning from the strain.
I donāt think I was coughing anymore, but the exertion of each breath was no less consuming. Shouting. Cursing. Maker, I hated the panic in his voice, some flittering sliver of thought aimlessly noting how, when he yelled like that, he kind of sounded like Techā¦
āā¦t helpi-ā¦ -st enough! Figureā¦!ā Snips of words. Something slid over my throat, quick and precise and surely not trembling as it paused at the pulse point just beneath the hinge of my jaw.
āā¦not enough inā¦! ā¦ needā¦ medication!ā Angryā¦ Tech was angry. My frown deepened as I struggled to shed the disorienting haze dragging my mind down, eyes fluttering with an unsettling listlessness as the warning alert trilled from a medscanner. That was the thing that drew me back, that sound that was so intertwined with panic and urgency and the dread that one of them was hurt, instantly hurling what pitiful traces of adrenaline my body still had through my chest with a rushed chill.
āHey! Easy, dammit!ā I fought to turn toward that hushed plea heād so vainly twisted into an order, grimacing against the stiffness in my neck even as I strained to see him, to focus, to find whatever injury had surely caused that terrifying alarm.
āEvelyn, please try to remain calm. I assure you, weāre doing everything we can to h-ā
āTurn the damn thing off!ā Cross snapped, arms tightening around me against the anxious, jilting way my limbs were moving, struggling to find purchase. I didnāt notice the quiet of the scanner being muted, the sharp wheeze catching in my own throat an odd mimicry of the alarm, mind faltering between that consuming need for air and the pressing worry nagging my every thought; the terror that someone was hurt and I should be helping themā¦
āEvelyn! Dank farrik! Evelyn, calm down!ā His raspy voice twisted into something closer to a snarl than an order though his touch remained only just firm enough to keep me pinned against him.
āHey; yellinā at her wonāt help!ā Wrecker chided. I fought the nauseating way the room continued to spin around me to try to find him; to make sure he was okay.
āI donāt see you doing a damn thing to help!ā
āEnough!ā Hunter barked over the both of them. Hunterā¦ Wreckerā¦ Tech, and Crosshairā¦ They were all hereā¦ all okayā¦ That only leftā¦
āEasyā¦ā I didnāt catch the look Hunter had shot his brother, but the way Crosshairās voice lowered into a quiet murmur, the concern sown through every syllable no longer masked beneath frustration and rage, the subtle tightening of his arms in an embrace that was far more desperate than restrictive as he spoke, hushed and gentle, āeasy, meshālaā¦ Just stay with meā¦ā I couldnāt help but lose myself in him for a moment, those meager traces of adrenaline abandoning me to the exhaustion and weariness that I didn't have to fight anymore if only because he was holding me.
āHer lipsā¦ā Hunter started in a near whisper.
āI am awareā¦ā Techās response held a sliver of impatience amidst a heaviness I so desperately wanted to ease. āWrecker and I have been attempting to construct an electrolysis generator by isolating specific chemical components from what limited gear we have. Once it is functional, it should provide enough oxygen to limit further hypoxia.ā I heard the words, each sounding clearly even through the persistent crackling that I couldnāt quite remember the source of, but as soon as he finished speaking, their meaning eluded me. Butā¦ Wrecker was helping him with somethingā¦ not Echoā¦ that felt importantā¦
Hunter asked him something, but my attention faltered, shifting to a barely there humā¦ Crosshair was sayingā¦ somethingā¦ couldnāt make it outā¦ but I felt the warmth creeping up his neck as he held me, eyes turning pointedly away, cheeks darkening at the recognition his hushed words sent through Hunter, the flash of surprise that stole over the normally composed Sargent for barely a breath before he quickly schooled his expression if only to grant his brother a feigned sense of privacy, and I belatedly realized why I couldnāt understand itā¦ Mandoāaā¦ he was speaking Mandoāa.
I wanted to press, to beg him to whisper whatever pleas or promises or temptations he hid between fleeting caresses of his lips dancing against my temple in a way I might understand, but there was a magic to not knowingā¦ and their soothing cadence robbed me of even the strength to keep my eyes open, body growing heavier with every heartbeat, falling limp, boneless against him as his arms tightened, crushing, desperate in those final wisps of consciousness.
Thereās an odd difference between hypoxia and acute suffocation; the panic and cold of being suddenly deprived of oxygen whether from merciless hands locked around your throat or from the icy flood of water invading lips and lungs and burning everything it touched; the quickness of how heavy your body suddenly gets, the darkness that closes in until thereās only pain and fear and the screaming race of your heartbeatā¦
Hypoxia is far kinder than that, but no less frightening for it. It kills quietly. Confusion stifling fear as awareness dims, symptoms sometimes too subtle to even be noticed. I knew that. Facts gleaned from memorized texts mingled with nightmares witnessed firsthand had ingrained into my mind dozens of signs to watch for, but that knowledge was useless when it was my own mind flickering and fading.
It wasnāt until the colors returned in a sudden rush that I realized how dull theyād become, heart pounding with renewed desperation to drive blood finally enriched with oxygen through my body. But it wasnāt enough. Force, it wasnāt enoughā¦ Evey breath hurtā¦ my lungsā¦ my throatā¦ My hands shook where they lay tucked against my chest, held there by something wrapped around me.
It took only a moment for that realization to send a fresh terror through me, torso lurching forward against that sense of restraint absent allowing even a fleeting thought toward what it was; who it was, and the flurried chorus of voices that followed was almost overwhelming.
āWait-wait!ā
āDonāt let her dislodge the tubing!ā
āWhoa, easy, Ev!ā
And closer, quiet in a way that somehow made it so much more clearā¦ a hushed murmuring followed by a low āshhhh.ā Crosshairā¦
I didnāt need to look to finally understand, belatedly recognizing the figures standing at the ready before me, frown deepening upon realizing I was looking at them through the detailed overlay of my HUD. I tried to glance around, as though I might find some reason to be wearing my bucket when the others werenāt, but Crosshairās arms merely tightened around me, his thumb dragging gently against my side where his brothers wouldnāt see.
āHey, you back with us?ā Movements still sluggish from agonizingly weak muscles, I turned my gaze toward Hunter and nodded, earning a small sigh of relief.
āEvelyn, you must keep still.ā There was something almost pleading in Techās voice, and that was enough to instantly demand my attention. āWeāve created a rudimentary electrolyzer to provide you with supplemental oxygen. However, the supplies we found arenāt innately compatible, so it was necessary to alter your air filtration system. Sudden movements could damage the junction.ā Biting back a groan at the stiffness in my neck, I struggled to look at what he was referring to and found myself staring for far too long at the tubes running from the lower half of my helm down to a barrel, webs of exposed and retaped cables snaking in and out of a now ruined lid. It took a moment longer to finally notice that the make-shift device was connected directly to his datapad.
ā-tāsā¦ sā¦. isā¦?ā I tried to force the question past trembling lips, but before I could truly remember how, a hand settled lightly around mine, and the look in those eyes rid me of even the memory of what objection Iād been trying to voice.
āIt will be alright.ā Tech murmured. I barely noticed the subtle tensing of Crosshairās form against my back, nor the way Hunterās brow hitched ever so slightly, but there wasnāt time to think on either as a sudden crackling broke the silence followed by a sharp pop! that left the room falling frightfully silent. Tech let out a slow, heavy sigh as he released my hand and turned his attention back to the device, to the now black screen of his datapad, and my heart dropped.
āI anticipated the electronic draw to eventually exceed its capabilitiesā¦ but I had hoped it would last substantially longerā¦ā His faƧade of annoyed impatience offered a poor mask for the dread surely twisting through his chest. That datapad wasnāt just a tool to himā¦
āWrecker, weāll need to finish the resister and get this connected to the generator immediately.ā It was a safety netā¦ a place to escape and hide when reality allowed no such reprieves.
āAlready on it ā letās go.ā And now it was gone; traded for a mere handful of breaths.
Wrecker didnāt shy from my gaze as he stepped forward to pick up the device, his scarred face heavy with a worry I didnāt have words to relieve.
Hunterās arms folded stiffly over his chest as he watched them go, crease etched deep between furrowed brows.
āThis damn storm is getting worseā¦ Doesnāt look like itāll start letting up for a few more days.ā He grumbled, eyes trailing over the shadowed ceiling overhead.
āIf that science project of his doesnāt work, sheās not going to last a few more days.ā Cross grumbled, and I let out a small scoff.
āDrā¦ drama queenā¦ā The little huff those scratchy words drew from Hunter was worth the effort, and my lips tilted into a weak smile behind my mutilated helmet at Crosshairās answering grumble.
āIām not the one passing out every five minutes.ā He shot back. I wanted to argueā¦ but could find no ground to stand on. My memories were hazy at best, lilting in and out amidst mere fractions of words that held little meaning. I remembered dragging myself from the abandoned bunkroom, but everything that followedā¦
āTech knows what heās doing.ā Hunter stated firmly. āThe fact that that thing worked at all is-ā There was no loud boom. No flicker of lights nor tremor through the metal floors. There was only a sudden, encompassing darkness as silence settled heavily through the outpost. No hum of power. No thrumming of life support fans. Only the distant, violent winds previously deafened by what noises we so readily ignored, and the building felt dead without them.
āGorramit! Tech!ā Hunter shouted, pausing for barely a half-dozen heartbeats before launching himself down pitch-black hallways, rapidly departing footsteps the only proof of his presence.
āKriffā¦ donāt move!ā Crosshair ordered, and I couldnāt silence the groan as he shuffled out from behind me. It didnāt matter how careful he tried to be ā even the slightest movement rekindled the violent throbbing in my head, body shivering anew absent the warmth of his touch, and how my muscles burned from that wretched tremblingā¦
āDammitā¦ā He growled under his breath, hesitating for just a moment longer as he held me, arm still wrapped behind my shoulders for support as his free hand hovered mere inches from the rim of plastoid following my jawline. But then he was gone, carefully leaning me against the rear wall before darting off after his brother.
The tubes running from my bucketās filters left my already wheezing breaths soundingā¦ hollowā¦ artificial in a way that further mocked how little relief those useless gasps actually gleaned from air already growing colder. I could almost hear their shouting in the distance. Blinding light flared so suddenly through the room that my entire body recoiled against the sharp spike of agony it sent through my head, and then it was gone again just as quickly, the blackness left in its wake all the more disorientating for it.
My feet dragged weakly against the cot, fingers clawing at my visor in a useless attempt to press against my still burning eyes. The groan that caught behind ground teeth broke almost instantly into a flurry of wet coughs, each one tearing at the already ruined flesh of my throat like vibroblades, lungs exhausted, desperate for respite. I didnāt realize Iād begun slipping until that chill of suffocation tried to steal through me, fingertips tingling with it as some fleeting threat of logic strained to force me upright once more, muscles burning from even that miniscule bit of effort needed to push myself panting back against the wall.
That wheeze was deafening again; jaw agape as I fought for every inhale with the same effort it took to try to push that breath back out. Maker, I was so tiredā¦ My hand slid from my helm, clutching uselessly at my chest, and I couldnāt remember if there had ever actually been light to begin with, if the darkness around me held anything beyond shadows and cold and pain. My heart ached from its futile thrumming, and still it wasnāt enough.
But there was something else in those shadowsā¦ a soundā¦ voicesā¦ I knew I recognized themā¦ trusted themā¦ and they were so distraughtā¦ why? My head spun, but I couldnāt let that thought go. Panic-fueled rage was all I could hear in those familiar shouts. Wrongā¦ Something was deathly wrong. Scowling, I strained to think. Missingā¦ something was missingā¦ No, just not here. The Marauderā¦ Someone needed supplies from the Marauderā¦ supplies I failed to bringā¦ Whoā¦ I think Iād seen Hunter recentlyā¦ could almost feel the residual heat of Crosshairās embraceā¦ And Techā¦ heād been with Wreckerā¦ right? Echoā¦ Where was Echo?
My head lolled toward my chest as I struggled to open my eyes. Couldnāt understand why I couldnāt seeā¦ Lightsā¦ I had my helm onā¦ my lightā¦ I couldā¦
Another flash of pain seared through my head as the lamp flared to life, but this time I strove to use that pain and what pitiful traces of adrenaline it wrought, blurry gaze darting unsteadily about for the rest of my kit despite the dizziness rekindled with each movement. The Marauderā¦ I had to get to the Marauderā¦
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A sudden illness overtakes Doc as she and her squad find themselves trapped in a wintry outpost.
This can absolutely be read as a standalone fem oc x Crosshair fic, but for those familiar with Doc's Misadventures (hi! I love you!), this happens between An Ode to Artists and Fool's Errand. (Sorry it took a bit - this ended up being longer than I meant it to. Also, there will be a part 2) Also also, another huge thanks to the lovelies in Discord for helping catching typos and encouraging me to make it worse!!
Denial comes far too easily in those early hours; when grogginess can be excused - expected after a long mission on a miserable world where the air had been laced with icy frosts, sore muscles mere consequence of trudging through shoulder-high snowbanks, and that pounding in my head nothing more than dehydration. But Echo hadnāt been shivering. Tech voiced no concerns about the climate controls or life support systems within the tiny outpost where weād taken shelter awaiting the storm to clear enough for us to try to reach our ship. And the thick layer of sweat soaking mockingly into my hair and plastering the suddenly too-rough fabric of my blacks against skin that hadnāt been nearly as sensitive the day before was far harder to dismiss.
Still, I willed myself to ignore it, to pretend, stifling the groan as I painstakingly swung my legs over the edge of a bed that could be called generous only in light of the offensively minuscule cots weād grown accustomed to aboard the Marauder, pointedly forbidding myself from noting the clear outline of dampness darkening the sheets where Iād laid, the tangy scent of sweat heavy in air that I struggled to breathe through the congestion already clogging my sinuses and settling deep into my lungs.
I couldnāt remember Crosshair leaving; only vaguely certain heād been here when Iād fallen asleep, cursing the stark chill of my body against his as we shivered beneath the lingering frost of the outside air. I hadnāt argued when Hunter volunteered to take first watch, nor when Tech agreed to take the second and Echo third, though some tinge of guilt reminded me that they hadnāt asked me purely from some sense of a pity I couldnāt let myself dwell on, at least not until I could breathe without my teeth clattering.
The small bunkroom was empty now, twin rows of perfectly kept bedding clearly illustrating that the others had yet to even attempt sleep. That should have bothered me more than it didā¦ couldnāt focus on it, though, not when it was such a struggle to merely heave my armor into place, lips pulling into a weak scowl at how nothing seemed to fit right though I couldnāt bring myself to care enough to try to figure out why.
The room spun for the first few steps toward the door, and I had to lean forward, hand darting out to one of the empty beds to steady myself, visor fogging at the suddenly too-deep breaths causing my body to rock slightly, jaw hanging open. Just a head rushā¦ Iād slept too longā¦
It lasted several seconds longer than it should have, but my balance gradually evened out to something near enough to normal for me to stand up once more, albeit with a slump that I begrudgingly blamed on a chill I knew had little to do with the cold.
Didnāt matter. We were on a mission. I couldnāt afford to hide away in the bunkroom in utter ignorance to the well-being of my squad. So, I walked, fighting the dizziness still taunting my every step, and I hated how I winced at the deafening hiss of the door sliding open, head throbbing in sync to my too-quick heartbeat.
It took a moment to catch the echo of voices humming from the far end of the hall, but just hearing them, knowing that they were near, granted both a comfort in the simple knowledge that they were here, that they were safe, as well as an encouragement to keep going, to fall into the rote motions of my role among them and treasure what mindlessness it might allow.
But then those distant voices fell silent, and I felt myself pause, tensing as my attention locked on the far corner.
āā¦Forceās sake.ā Crosshairās low growl pierced the quiet in time to the scrape of a chair being roughly pushed atop the hard floor, and I felt my shoulders draw back defensively before he even rounded the corner, those gleaming eyes already narrowed in a glare. āWhat the kriff are you doing out of bed?ā He practically snarled, and I couldnāt stifle the confused, āw-what?ā in time to make sense of his ire.
Ā āCross.ā Hunter called, hushed warning clear in the deep timber of his smokey voice. Crosshair shot an impatient scowl over his shoulder before turning his attention back to me.
āYouāre barely standing.ā He pressed, arms taut as they looped across his chest. āGet back to bed before I have to carry your sorry shebs there.ā
āWh- no, I'mā¦ Iām not going back to bed.ā I stated, tripping over my words initially before managing to hold onto a single thought.
āIntentionally placing additional strain on your already compromised system will only prolong your illness.ā Tech joined his brother in the hall, for once undistracted by some device or scrap of half-disassembled equipment, and my jaw ground at the imposing wall the two of them formed.
āItās just a cold.ā I dismissed vehemently, forcing my shoulders back and my chin up though they couldnāt see the frown tugging at my lips.
āUnless youāve preformed a rapid antig-ā
āI donāt give a damn if itās a cold or the kriffing plague,ā Crosshair interrupted, earning a sharp look from the brilliant pilot, āYouāre sick.ā
āIām-ā
āDoc.ā Hunter pressed, strides almost apologetic as he stepped into view. āNo oneās hurt. Thereās no reason for you not to get some rest.ā
āIām supposed to be monitoring life support.ā I argued, scowling at how weak it sounded. āAnd I have reports to writeā¦ they wantedā¦ā The illusion of strength wavered, posture faltering as a too heavy breath fluttered unsteadily through ground teeth, body seizing beneath a sudden tremor that caught with mocking clarity through my modulator, and I couldnāt risk looking at them as I pretended that shiver wasnāt bleeding into my voice, āA, umā¦ analysis onā¦ turning this place into aā¦ an emergency medcenter.ā My hand rose listlessly to motion toward the surrounding building as though I hadnāt noticed Crosshairās approaching footsteps, but when he reached for my helmet, when he pulled it free with movements far too careful for the impatience that had sharpened his words, I couldnāt hide the way my eyes ground shut against the blinding brightness of the hall, entire body curling forward with another violent shutter.
āIt would make a shit medcenter.ā That impatience was still there though heād lowered his retort to an oddly gentle whisper. āStorms make it too hard to reach. Analysis done.ā I let out a heavy breath, empty glare rising to find far too much concern in those attentive eyes for even the faƧade of my own annoyance.
āShe can do all that in here.ā Wrecker offered, rugged voice hushed into something far too timid for the powerful man. āThen we cān keep an eye on her, and she donāt gotta be all alone in there.ā Crosshair looked back toward the neighboring room though Wrecker remained just out of sight. When he turned back to me, however, it was with a silent plea that robbed whatever desperation for independence had driven me from the bunkroom in the first place, and I felt impossibly weak without it, head shifting in a barely-there nod.
Without waiting for any further prompting or arguing or delay, he crossed that final step, arm sliding tightly around my back until it seemed he was the only thing keeping me from crumbling, and I barely managed to bite back the whimper threatening to catch on a breath that shook even harder for the warmth I felt mocking me through the hard plates of armor between us.
āIāll getcha somethinā to rest on.ā I could hear the breadth of his smile as Wrecker tread quickly past us.
Now void of even my own denial, I turned heavily into Crosshairās embrace, slumping against his chest with a far too pitiful sigh, relieved at how readily he caught me, how his body curled so subtly around mine as his lips brushed against my hair.
āCome on,ā he murmured, easing me forward just enough to prompt a half-step, ābefore I really do have to carry you.ā I let out a small groan, more petulant than anything, but offered no further complaint before willing motion into my too-heavy limbs.
āā¦ hate being sickā¦ā I grumbled, and my heart jumped at the way his arms tightened around me.
āThen stop pushing yourself so damn hard.ā He growled, but there was a softness in that low rasp that left me pressing closer against him.
Within mere minutes, Wrecker had a mattress pressed against the base of the center console, where the vent filtered air heated by the internal components to offer a constant warm breeze that drew a shameless moan from me as I nestled beneath it, body still curled into Crosshairās side where heād wordlessly sat leaning against the small mound of pillows, armor cast aside that I might thrill in the feeling of his lean form cradling me against him.
āYeah, Cross did about the same thing.ā The towering man chuckled, earning a snarl from the sniper, but whatever scathing retort he nearly spat fell silent as I shifted more comfortably against him. My eyes roamed to the datapad hazardously draped across my thighs, mind anywhere but the useless report awaiting my attention.
āWhereāsā¦?ā I started to ask before biting back the question, heart twisting at the still gnawing ache of how readily Echo seemed to evade me.
āPatrol.ā Crosshair answered just a beat too sharply, and I felt myself wilt beneath something I didnāt want to name, be it guilt or sorrow or some crippling combination of the two, instead forcing my thoughts toward something just as worrying.
āDonāt want to get you sickā¦ā I whispered, teeth gnawing on my lower lip, and I nearly felt his eyes roll.
āWe donāt get colds.ā He practically scowled, earning a tiny huff of laughter from me.
My eyes ached from squinting at the screen for far too long, cursing the blurry text as my shoulders bucked with a poorly stifled cough. Cross was dozing lightly, head tilted back against the console as his torso rose and fell in a slow, lazy rhythm. With an impatient, resigned sigh, I let the datapad drop back down atop my thigh, shifting to rest my cheek heavily against his chest, envious of his effortless breaths as my own lungs ached with the effort.
Another cough left the air catching in my throat as I struggled to silence it, but another came immediately after, and another until I had to lock my hand over my mouth to stifle it, the gesture useless amidst the way my diaphragm bucked, heart sinking as the movement roused the barely conscious man I lay curled up against.
āMmā¦ you ākay?ā he mumbled, head rolling wearily toward me though he didn't bother with opening his eyes.
āHmā¦ m-hm.ā I tried to hum, but it sounded more like a grunt from the effort it took to control my traitorous lungs, and that guilt grew as his brows drew together, abandoning the fringes of sleep to look down at me. Lip caught between my teeth, I quickly lowered my head, cheeks warming from more than just illness.
āHey.ā He called more pointedly, and I reluctantly forced myself to meet his gaze as his free hand moved to whisper against my jaw before touching his wrist to my forehead, frown deepening. āā¦ youāre burning upā¦ā
I drew a short breath, excuse bating atop my tongue, but that little gasp was too much, body folding forward with a violent series of coughs. My throat burned from it, head pounding, spinning; all thought of dismissing his growing concern caving as my lungs screamed for air.
āKriff ā Tech!ā He shouted, but the others were already moving, crowding in as I clawed uselessly at my chest.
āThis is precisely why I suggested a preemptive-"
āJust do something, dammit!ā Crosshair snarled, hand sweeping along my back in a rhythm far too quick to offer any real comfort.
āM'fi- ā¦ m'fine.ā I wheezed, hunching forward slightly as though I might escape the blurs of dark expressions staring at me.
āI can hear your lungs from hereā¦ that's not fine.ā Hunter said, voice unnervingly quiet.
āItāsā¦ sā¦ā The slurred fragments of speech broke into a groan I couldn't bite back as another tremor tore through me, and I nearly whined as Crosshair pushed himself away, easing me down atop the creaky mattress alone.
Drowning. My jaw craned open with a gasp as that pressure in my chest suddenly grew, heels dragging atop the sheets as I struggled to haul myself back up. A flurry of shouted curses and orders boomed about the room as several hands grabbed onto my arms and shoulders, wrenching me upright. Too fast. The room spun, head lolling forward. Someone was yelling, and I strained to push through the heavy fog clouding my mind, wincing at the deafening crackle of air being drawn harshly through lips just hinting at a pained grimace.
ā-vere pneumonia, but for it to develop this quickly is-ā
āI donāt care about probabilities, Tech. What can we do to help her?ā I wanted to snap at Hunter for cutting his brother off. Again. But that panic of suffocation left my breath too ragged to even attempt speech.
āThis isnāt a medbay.ā Tech replied sharply. āThe supplies we have access to are extremely limited.ā
āSo, raid her damn medbag.ā Crosshair ordered, and I vaguely realized he was pressed against my left side with Tech hovering to my right, his hand still held firmly to my shoulder to steady me.
āI have.ā He bit back. āShe carries equipment and supplies for acute symptoms, not severe illnesses that require a full course of antibiotics and supplemental oxygen.ā I tried not to acknowledge the growing dread as I blinked back that lingering haze.
āYouāre saying thereās nothing in there that we can use?ā Hunter practically barked, and I finally managed to glance up to find him on a knee at the foot of the mattress, broad form blocking out the room around us.
āNo, Iām merely stating that weāre operating with sub-par supplies and conditions, so what relief we can realistically offer is less that ideal.ā
āHey.ā I grunted, striving for some sliver of mock-offence, but the sound was too brittle, voice frayed. Still, they instantly fell silent, attention darting back to me.
āI wasnāt implying any fault in how youāve packed your medbag,ā Tech offered, a softness in his words that made me want to melt against him, āhowever, circumstances like this arenāt generally considered during routine missions.ā
āāsā¦ ās notā¦ not thaā bad when āmā¦ s-sitting.ā I stammered, cursing how that relentless shiver broke my already weak voice and left my aching muscles burning from overuse. The way Hunterās expression darkened left me painfully certain none of them found any comfort in my attempted reassurance.
āThen we'll get you more pillows.ā He murmured, and I wanted to be annoyed at the glimmer of pity quieting that low rumbleā¦ but I treasured the little flutter of warmth it sent trilling through me, the tiny relief it offered from the nauseating dance of fire and ice churning beneath my skin.
āAre you able to drink?ā Tech's hand tightened around my shoulder for just a fleeting moment before finally moving away, and Crosshair took the opportunity to pull me more firmly against him as his brother reached for a canteen. āYou're losing a substantial volume of fluid. I can administer an IV if preferable, but you should at least attempt to have some water.ā I grimaced at the truth in his words, at how the clothes clung to my skin from an icy sweat that left the air around me too heavy, humid; stomach churning at the itch of it slipping down my neck and spine despite the violent chill that left my joints aching.
Heād removed the lid and brought the lip of the plastoid container to my lips before Iād even managed to nod, but I quickly pulled away, shaking hand wavering between us.
āI'llā¦ don'tā¦ hmmā¦ conā¦ contaminate itā¦ā My lips stumbled over the broken objection, jaw trembling too hard and breath stuttering too frequently for it to harbor any strength as a tiny whimper slipped between the words.
āI assure you, we have ample water sources.ā I wasnāt used to hearing him whisper. āRight now, keeping you hydrated is a far greater concern.ā And found myself unable to even try to doubt him. When he gently tilted the rim of the canteen toward me once more, I couldn't help but let my lips part for him, fingers automatically reaching for the canteen, too weak and unsteady to help, but he didn't brush me away.
My throat felt too stiff, the action of simply swallowing the cool water a far greater struggle than it should have been; what ought to be effortless suddenly clumsy as I struggled with just those few sips before faltering, choking, body jerking beneath harsh coughs that rekindled the consuming hurt shooting through my head with every frantic beat of my heart as my lungs burned from the strain.
Curses snarling through clenched teeth, Crosshair lunged forward with me, one arm wrapping around my chest to keep me steady while the other began to slam firmly between my shoulder blades as though he could help dislodge whatever miniscule traces of water left me sputtering for breath but he froze after the second one as my back arched away from him with a pitiful whine, and I told myself it was merely my own mind lapsing when I thought I felt his hands shake against me.
āI'llā¦ prepare an IVā¦ā The apology in Tech's voice left me wanting to scream an apology of my own. I wanted to beg them to just leave me to suffer through this in isolation rather than share in that suffering through vain attempts to help. I wanted to promise them that this would pass and I'd be fine, so they didn't need to regard me with a concern that left their footsteps muffled and speech lowered into careful whispers. I wanted to pretend that when Crosshairās hand returned to my back with a soothing caress rather than that nearly frantic tapping, I didn't crumble with something too close to a sob for any of us to pretend otherwise, that I didn't let myself turn toward him with desperate, jilted movements, legs tangling in the sheets as my arms tried and failed to reach for him; that I didn't let out that weak, broken whimper as he dragged me back against him, arms locking about my waist and chest, one hand clawing into my hair as my jaw craned open around strained breaths, each one wheezing in a way that left him tensing with dread.
I barely noticed Tech gently untangle my hand from Crosshair's shirt until the chill of disinfectant left me convulsing with another violent shiver.
āEasy.ā He murmured, āI'll try to be quick.ā I didn't turn away from the safety of Crosshair's embrace, face pressed against the crook of his neck as though I might simply disappear into his warmth.
I was no stranger to needles, nor did I share in the fear they so often brought, but the way the nerves shrieked beneath that small pinch left my entire body bucking with a strangled gasp. I didn't see the startled look steal over Tech's face, but I felt how his hands tensed around mine for just a brief moment before he eased the needle in deeper, a displeased hum catching behind ground lips. With a quiet tsk, he pulled back, thumb pressing firmly against the tiny puncture.
āApologiesā¦ I should have insisted on doing this earlier. Dehydration tends to make it substantially more difficult to place an IV, and it seems we can add hypersensitivity to your list of symptoms nowā¦ā He added with a slow sigh.
āYou missed it?!ā Cross nearly spat.
āDehydration results in reduced blood volume, making veins more likely to roll or collapse, which is precisely what-ā
āShe never missed your vein when-ā
āā¦Crossā¦ā I barely managed to mumble his name, face cringing at the pressure in my head growing with his every harsh word. His jaw clicked shut, body rocking with a forcefully controlled exhale as his thumb swept apologetically along my hairline.
āMaybe you should take a walk, Crosshair.ā Hunterās voice went quiet, and the room seemed to pause in its wake as the weight of the air grew stifling; the silence it wrought seeming only to emphasize the painful wheeze I was trying so hard to muffle.
āNo.ā He responded lowly, hard eyes locked on his brother with an unspoken threat that left my heart pounding even faster.
āYou donāt need to leave, but I would advise you focus on calming her rather than berating me.ā There was a compromise in his words as Tech broke that heavy silence that did little to ease the defensiveness leaving Crosshairās body taut around mine, but the seething man offered no rebuke as his brother began gently rolling up the sleeve of my shirt. I tried to bite back the little wince at how my skin balked at even that gentle pressure, but they both heard it, and his hands instantly paused.
āIt might be easiest to simply cut this.ā Tech offered, that foreign softness again sending a little trill flitting through my chest. I started to turn toward him, but abandoned the movement midway, head merely nodding weakly. I hated the way my body tensed for the coming shriek of tearing fabric, but his movements held such care that I didnāt feel the chill of metal as he eased the sheers between the fabric and his fingers, cutting through it so delicately that it wasnāt until feeling that rush of relief as that pressure around my arm suddenly vanished that I even realized heād started, body deflating against Crosshair with a breathy sob.
āShhā¦ā Another day, I might have smiled at the uncertainty in his hushed murmur, but in that moment, I merely treasured him for the comfort it offered, body shivering pleasantly at the dance of his breath through my hair.
āThis may be uncomfortable, but I donāt want to risk blowing another vein.ā Tech warned apologetically, and I didnāt need to look to know he was retrieving one of the thin lengths of elastic to tie around my arm. Still, I wasnāt expecting how it pinched as he tightened it, body cringing with a whimper I tried uselessly to bite back. Theyād never bothered me beforeā¦ but everything felt sharper, nerves panicking at every touch like it was fire.
āLook at me.ā Crosshairās hand slid from my hair to cup my jaw, raising my gaze to meet his despite how impossibly heavy everything felt, how my head lolled limply against his palm, eyes parted just enough to glimpse him. āJust focus on me.ā He ordered, and I tried to pretend I hadnāt felt the piercing chill dart through me as Tech disinfected the delicate skin in the crook of my elbow, how my muscles burned from that ceaseless tremble as I focused on meeting those piercing eyes.
āHā¦ h-hapā¦pily.ā I stammered with some heartbreaking facsimile of a smirk. The way his brow hitched ever so slightly with amusement was worth the effort, but it quickly faded back into that deep concern as my torso bucked with coughs I only barely managed to fight back, face turning into the gentleness of his palm for a long moment as I struggled to regain control of my diaphragm.
āI understand itās painful, but coughing is an important part of breaking up the infection in your lungs.ā Tech chided, cradling my arm patiently as he waited for it to pass. I couldnāt try to form a response for several seconds, the entirety of my dwindling strength focused solely on drawing air into my too tight chest.
āDā¦ diā¦ dizzy whenā¦ when I c-cough.ā I said, words blurring together between sluggish lips and clattering teeth, and I regretted admitting it the instant I heard the heavy breath leave his lips.
āWeāll check the facilities again for a supply of supplemental oxygenā¦ for now, just focus on breathing as deeply as you can.ā I let out a noncommittal hum, pointedly turning my attention back to the calluses of Crosshairās thumb shifting delicately along my cheek as Tech began feeling for a vein. āWould you like a warning?ā He barely whispered it, as though that might grant me some faƧade of denial that heād felt the need to even offer. I shook my head, willing it to just be done, that I might be allowed to simply close my eyes and escape for a moment.
āHey, eyes on me.ā Crosshairā¦ I think I tried to scowl at the order, head resting even more heavily into his touch. āDoc.ā He pressed. By the time the needle slid into my arm, Iād forgotten to anticipate the hurt it would bring, choked gasp ripping what little air Iād manage to drag into my lungs from me in a sudden rush. āā¦ okayā¦ easy, justā¦ just breathe with me.ā I hated the nervousness in his voiceā¦ It sounded wrongā¦ but I couldnāt bring myself to do anything more than huddle against him as my body trembled.
Next Chapter (coming soon since this was actually written and added retroactively...)
Continue Reading (Next arc)
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Part (5) of Divergent Paths, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
This was supposed to be the last chapter... but it was running too long, so I decided to split it
Warnings: Medical terminology, sexual tension, PTSD, guilt, reference to murder/ torture, snogging
WC: 3,437
āIf you havenāt found anything by now, I think itās safe to say Iām okay.ā It was more teasing than impatient. In truth, there was something delightful in listening to him orate each groove and bony process that might have caused bruising, in the effortless elegance with which his crisp voice danced about complex anatomical names and phrases despite the very real danger they might represent. Iād missed this, too. Maker, Iād missed so much in the months of anxiety and dread and guilt.
āIt can be difficult to account for coup-countercoup injuries with only a handheld scanner.ā He countered, drawing a soft sigh from me.
āAnything too small for that to find isnāt likely to pose any real threat.ā His lips bunched in that little scowl that screamed his desire to object, mind analyzing every angle for some means to disprove me and knowing that want came up short.
āUnlikely does not mean impossible.ā It was a weak argument, and he knew it, but I didnāt say that; I didnāt need to, and the way his cheeks warmed at the smile toying with my lips only made the prolonged check-up all the better. āI still advise you remain under observation for at least another dayā¦ but it would appear as though you managed to avoid serious injuryā¦ā His eyes swept almost mournful over my face, those yellow lenses nearly hiding the soft brown, ābeyond the obvious bruising, of course.ā He added, voice dropping with an apology he should never have felt the need to give.
āBruises heal.ā I replied gently. He let out a slow breath, index finger giving only an occasional tap against the medical scanner still in his hands.
āAll the same, I'll review your scans once more to ensure I havenāt missed something.ā That was as close to a dismissal as I was going to get, but still I found myself hesitating, unable to turn away from the worried determination painting subtle lines at the corners of his mouth. He didnāt notice until the silence lasted a beat too long, eyes flicking toward me with an uncertainty that made my heart jump. I almost hesitatedā¦ but heād seemed so undeterred when he took my hand mere moments priorā¦
I let out a slow, deep sigh as I stepped toward him, arms looping around his lower back with a gentle, featherlight embrace; one he could escape with the barest of withdrawals, but I needed him to know just how grateful I was; for his concern, his understanding, his willingness to talk to me when the others still tripped over the words.
āThank you.ā I whispered against his chest. He was still for a moment, air held in his lungs, arms flared ever so slightly, and I worried Iād overstepped; that Iād pushed too far and might rekindle the heartbreak from that moment heād shied from my touchā¦ but then his free hand settled lightly over my shoulder blade, the other thoughtlessly setting the tablet down on the bed or the counter or wherever was nearest before moving to slide softly along my lower back.
Iād planned to grant myself only time enough for a single, slow breath, and then I was going to pull away. I was going to give him his space for however long he needed it, but then his body shifted, embrace wrapping so firmly around me, I couldnāt help but let my torso arch forward, molding against his as his deceptively tall form curled around mine, head ducking down to rest his cheek against my temple, ruffling my hair in a thoughtless, firm caress that surely couldnāt be called a nuzzle, his own breath fleeing with a tension neither of us would draw attention to. Not yet. But I let my arms tighten. I let him feel every glimmer of affection and adoration that might be sown through something as innocent and tender and desperate as a hug might possibly portray, and I realized something as my own breath caught.
Some part of me had still feared that he might have reservations; that in our time apart, he had distanced himself from emotion and found logic wanting for reasons I ought stay; that heād concluded what chaos surely lingered in the days to come as we six struggled to settle into new norms and new roles governed by a love and lust that was anything but new couldnāt be justified by what use I had to the squad as a unit, but that embrace, the relief so shamelessly screamed in the way his fingers dug into the narrow gaps between my armor silenced even whispers of that doubt.
My hand slid up to card through the short curls at the base of his neck, fingertips tracing lightly over the band of his goggles as I tilted my head to just brush my brow against his chin, lips laxed in a gentle smile.
āThank you.ā I murmured once more, leaning back just enough to find his gaze, to let him see my own relief in the face of his, and his breath caught slightly, a tension returning to draw his shoulders back and straighten his spine as though belatedly remembering himself.
āO-of course.ā He stammered ever so slightly as he stepped back. āIāllā¦ inform you if I find anything of note.ā The subtle embarrassment in his voice as he quickly turned his attention to where heād thoughtlessly abandoned his datapad left me chuckling softly as I turned away.
There was a weightlessness to my step that I hadnāt realized Iād been without for so long, suffering beneath the guilt for wants Iād been ashamed of, fears of what retribution surely awaited me should they ever come to light, but now I was free of that, and the possibilities laid out before me in its absence were exhilarating, consuming my every thought as I tread quickly through the door. Too quickly.
I wasnāt paying attention; wasnāt thinking beyond the thrill lingering in the wake of Techās embrace, head bowed as though trying to hide the grin I couldnāt begin to fight from my lips, and I didnāt see him; didnāt notice how near Iād come to accidentally walking right into him, but the instant Echoās hand grabbed my arm, the instant his voice filled that small room, it didnāt matter what heād said nor how gently he held me. All I saw was that rage in eyes unfocused and hazy with illness, the venom in that remorseless threat, Iām not asking again, and my entire body froze, ice flooding my veins, panic locking my muscles taut, too terrified to move, to breathe, to even try to flee for what punishment it might bring.
āWhoa-whoa; easy.ā His arms flared, releasing me before my short, strangled gasp even fell silent. I saw him ā saw the sharp concern in the soft brown of his eyes, the way his shoulders dropped like it might lessen the intimidating visage of his powerful form, lessen the way his broad silhouette so effortlessly blocked the hallway, but I saw that nightmare just as clearly, how ruthlessly heād ground my face into the floor, twisting my arm behind meā¦
He took another step back, and my heart sank, chest bucking with a stolen breath as my gaze dropped, stomach twisting at the horrifying realization of what had just happened, the fear Iād let him see in me, the guilt and worry storming in his eyesā¦
āKriff, sorry; s-ā¦ I, umā¦ā I stammered, trying and failing to find some believable excuse that might give a reason ā any reason ā for my limbs to be shaking like they were; some way to convince him that it had nothing to do with him; that my mind had been broken and pieced back together too many times to even guess toward why such a touch might have so easily shattered me.
āY- uhā¦ j-just s-surprised me.ā The words caught and fumbled, and I knew he granted them no more belief than I did, stance still carefully loose, as unthreatening as he could possibly pretend to be even as that haunted corner of my mind screamed that it was a lie; that I needed to runā¦ to hide, and how I hated myself for it, for the realization that this ran deeper than a momentās surprise; that this wasnāt something I could just ignore, and the terror of how it would hurt him if he ever found outā¦ kriff, I could never let him find outā¦ So, I pushed it down. I let an impatient shame pinch my brows and pull my lips in a small scowl, and when he carefully lowered himself onto a knee before me, that guilt only grew.
āAlright, justā¦ just take a breath with me, okay?ā He murmured, the subtle, lilting accent in his deep voice almost disjointed in how utterly juxtaposed it was to the feral terror still making my heart race, because how could I feel like this when he spoke to me so softly? How could I shy so violently from his touch now when just moments prior Iād so eagerly lost myself in his embrace?
āDoc?ā He pressed in a quiet whisper, and I forced out a small huff, loathing the air of defeat that stole through me, the regret as I hesitantly glanced toward him.
āHey.ā He murmured in a barely there rumble that made my breath hitch, shoulders slumping as a tiny fraction of tension slowly began to drain from taut muscles and faintly trembling limbs. āSorryā¦ I shouldnāt have grabbed you like that.ā I let out an almost frustrated sigh.
āNoā¦ no, Iām sorryā¦ā I interjected, āYou shouldnātā¦ Dammit, you shouldnāt have to worry about justā¦ touching me like that.ā He let out a long, slow breath, eyes just as haunted as they were gentled by how intimately he knew the exact tang of my frustration and the helplessness it carried.
āAre you okay?ā He asked, and I felt myself pause; not because of the shame of the only answer I could think to give, but because that wasnāt what he was asking. He wasnāt dwelling on the moment of panic; not when he knew talking about such things would offer no relief. Not yet, at least; not when the adrenaline had yet to fade and memories still threatened to distort and degrade and ruin that happiness Iād only just been allowed to taste.
Stealing another quick breath, I glanced back toward the medbay where Tech was surely still scanning every snip of data until he could silence his own fears, and I nodded.
āYeahā¦ yeah; no brain bleeds or broken bones.ā I answered, voice still too thin but far steadier than Iād expected it to be, and I relished in the smile he offered. It was small, and neither could deny the heartbreak in it, but it was real.
The duality haunted me. This was the Echo I was used to: kind but honest, gentle but firm; yet the man that hurt me, the man that so effortlessly crippled me by twisting my shoulder from its socketā¦ that man was Echo, too; the monster he became when he had to.
āPle-ā
My breath caught at the ripple of that memory, finger tightening around the phantom trigger to murder that mercenary from so long ago, the one Iād tortured for the keycode to save the arc trooper now kneeling before me with that sad, knowing smile, and I leapt for even a tiny distraction.
āThat canāt be comfortable.ā The glimmer of accusation in my words as I glanced down at his legs earned a barely-there chuckle, but he didnāt deny it as he slowly rose to his full height, shoulders still slouched ever so slightly.
āTheyāre pretty much healed ā just a little sore if Iām on them too long.ā He replied, not dismissively, but clearly hoping to leave it at that. I let out a low sigh, attention lingering on the new prosthetics, the image of putrid wounds so poorly hidden beneath stolen bandages and wildly inadequate swaths of bacta long-since stained a far too dark red left me itching to beg him to show me, to let me see for myself that the skin hadnāt yielded from the dayās abuse and begun to fester anew, and I wondered how long it might take for that fear to fadeā¦ for any of those fears to fadeā¦
He didnāt mean to move when I reached for his hand, but I saw the little shift of his fingers, too eager for the coming touch to lie still. Despite the warmth that sight sent humming through my chest, I couldnāt bring myself to smile, not when the soreness he was referring to only plagued him because of secrets heād felt he had to keep because of me, because of the confusion of changing dynamics, the sudden need to second-guess every word and gesture to ensure some line wasnāt crossed that had been blurred long before I even knew it existed, and the heaviness in what was so nearly a gentle quiet weighed all the more merciless amidst the loss of his own tentative grin.
āIām sorry.ā My voice dropped into something almost too quiet to be a whisper, movements desperately gentle, reverent, as I cradled his hand between mine, fingertips tracing scars and veins and the creases adorning his palm. āDealing with wounds like thoseā¦ You must have been so afraid, and in so much painā¦ and to feel like you couldnāt ask for helpā¦ā He let out a slow sigh, head dropping though he seemed to lean ever so slightly closer; not crowding me, butā¦ close enough that I could hear his lips and tongue shifting over words he was still trying to find the will to say.
āThatāsā¦ not your fault.ā He finally admitted. Part of me wanted to ignore that claim, to dismiss it as an empty attempt to offer comfort; to free me of guilt, but that wasnāt Echoās way, so I found my breath quieting, stilling; waiting for something more. āItāsā¦ itās still hard to accept sometimesā¦ā He glanced down toward his new legs, such reluctance in hushed words colored only in various shades of shame; shame for the hurt heād caused and the hurt heād suffered, shame for being too proud or embarrassed or scared to ask for help, shame for needing help at allā¦
And there, again, those dual images clashed, because how could I possibly fear the gentle man before me? How could I bring myself to acknowledge that this was the same person that had left me shaking and broken barely more than a week past when now he stood so repentant and vulnerable, muscles atop his cheeks balled in a self-disdained scowl as he glared at the interplay of metals and silicas and engineering that was more deserving of awe than the disgust so evident in twisted lips and narrowed eyes?
I let out a slow breath as I guided his hand to my lips. It felt so natural. Like Iād kissed him a thousand times already with the promise of millions more awaiting, patient as though theyād never known the taste of doubt, and he shared so willingly in that unquestioning comfort as his touch spread out to cup my cheek before letting his thumb and forefinger toy with a loose strand of hair.
āIām here.ā The words washed from my lips as more plea than promise, and the ruin of a smile that sat so briefly but with such heaviness upon his battle-worn face left me stealing a step closer, grip tightening ever so slightly, anything to convince him that there were no conditions to my devotion; no reservations built on prejudice or pity.
āI know.ā He murmured, some glimmer of warmth managing to ease that weight from him as he leaned closer in turn, and there was no hesitation from either of us as my head tilted back.
He tasted like caf that had been forgotten for too long and now held a bitterness emphasized by the slight chill of his lips. Still, there was a subtle rhythm to how he kissed me, unrushed and unworried; and how could I not loop my arms around his neck in a gesture both yearning and lazy and unabashed by the breathy sigh that followed, before, with the same breath, letting myself sink back onto my heels.
His shame wasnāt gone, but it was softer. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to have those moments ā to acknowledge what heād lost and rage for it, but I didnāt need to. He didnāt need me to tell him things he already knew. He just needed to know that I could love him all the same; that I didnāt see him as less than whole even on days when he felt so terribly fractured.
With a final smile, my hands slid down his jaw as I began to ease back, attention flicking past him toward where his brothers surely lay in waiting, but, before I could so much as think to step away, his hold shifted, willing me back toward him with a desperate, āwaitā in the split second before he kissed me once more, breath nearly a growl as he pressed himself closer, scomped arm wrapping so tightly around my waist that my torso arched flush against his with a gasp that fell far too willingly into a muffled whimper, the sound devoured by his lips.
There wasnāt space left even to moan his name, nails catching on armor and cloth and hair as I lost myself in the suddenness of his need. It wasnāt until I heard the air catch between his teeth in a breathless hiss that I even realized how my body had rolled into him, hips grinding against his armor until he could feel me through even the thick durasteel shifting so cruelly between us. Part of me wondered if that fleeting murmur of friction would be enough; if such muted whispers of movement coupled with far too many months of repressed desires might bring him to the edge, and I found myself desperate to find out, to learn what other noises I might draw from him absent true touch.
But then he was pulling away, forehead brushing mine in what should have been affectionate yet earned only a flare of frustration as I strained to chase his lips once more. The breathy chuckle, the smile beaming across his face, the way his chest seemed to swell as he granted me exactly what I wanted for far too short an eternity, kiss nearly chaste amidst the thoughts raging through my mind; I couldnāt try to suppress the quiet groan from catching in my throat as he straightened up, the muffled sound only fueling his glee.
āSorry,ā he whispered, hand slipping so delicately down my cheek that I instantly felt myself melting into it, ājust had to make sure.ā My brows twitched together with confusion for the beat it took to remember how to speak.
āMake sure what?ā I practically mumbled, voice far more hoarse than Iād intended, and he answered only with that stunning smile, free of every memory of pain or loss or guilt for just a moment as he kissed me once more before finally stepping back, scomp still resting lightly around my waist.
āCome on.ā I couldnāt remember the last time Iād seen him like this: light. Happy. Truly happy. And whatever glimmers of my own fears lingered suddenly felt so foolish as I let myself be drawn nearer to him, idly following his every step in those few seconds in which we yet remained hidden from sight, body pressed so perfectly against his that even that damned armor felt inconsequential as I cursed how little distance lay between us and the cabin where light from the surrounding hanger already breached the Marauderās halls to jostle us back to a too impatient present.
Crosshair was waiting out there. As was Hunterā¦ and Wreckerā¦ And my heart fluttered once more at the trepidation of relearning each of them amidst this new reality. But that trepidation was no longer born of pure dreadā¦ Despite every sliver of common sense screaming that this was bound to break us, despite the danger constantly looming beyond every corner, I couldnāt deny the real reason my heart was racing as Echo finally stepped away from me in those last few meters to the yawning doorway atop the ramp, his lips still softened with a smile and swollen from my kiss. Despite everythingā¦ I was excited.
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@staycalmandhugaclone is BACK with a new chapter!!! *internal screaming* Canāt wait to jump back in!!!!!
First offā¦ an adorkable TECH HUG???
HE IS SO SWEET. He PUT DOWN HIS DATAPAD. If thatās not a sign this boy has the feels, I donāt know what is. š But seriously - I, as always, am so blown away by the vivid description and emotion in your writing. Even a simple hug can convey a whole arc of character development and emotion. Like he got all embarrassed and it was so adorkable. ā¤ļøā¤ļø Bit suddenly that bridge between them is reforged in just that moment. Ugh - gorgeous!!
And then Echo scared her by accident.
Goddammit hasnāt everyone on this ship learned not to sneak up on Doc already???
**sigh**
But seriously heartbreaking how she is flashing back to Echo hurting her. And even WORSE that Echo knows from experience, exactly what she is going through. ššš Itās heartbreaking.
But I love the way he is so gentle and patient with her, and understands. š«
Ugh I love it so so much. ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø I woul analyze this to death more but Iām literally falling asleep and I keep making typos nodding off. šš
But for real, so glad you are back and it absolutely made my day to read this chapter!!
I LOVE that you caught on to the importance of him putting down the datapad!! And, fuck, those two **needed** a damn hug! But maybe not as much as **I** needed that damn Doc/Echo kiss lmfao. But, uh... yeah, things are gonna be a little complicated... A person can't go through all the crazy I've done to that poor girl without there being a bit of fallout... And Echo is both the best and *worst* person to be strapped with this... oops lol
I hope you got good sleep! Look, I barely left you with anything to fret over! Mostly just happy fluff!!
I'm glad I'm back, too! But, damn it's hard to find time. My little guy is getting various kinds of therapy literally 5 times a week, plus various actual medical procedures. We're going to be in and out of hospitals a lot this months for several tests (nothing scary, just to information seeking), so juggling that and writing has been rough... but I'm still trying dammitš
Part (5) of Divergent Paths, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
This was supposed to be the last chapter... but it was running too long, so I decided to split it
Warnings: Medical terminology, sexual tension, PTSD, guilt, reference to murder/ torture, snogging
WC: 3,437
āIf you havenāt found anything by now, I think itās safe to say Iām okay.ā It was more teasing than impatient. In truth, there was something delightful in listening to him orate each groove and bony process that might have caused bruising, in the effortless elegance with which his crisp voice danced about complex anatomical names and phrases despite the very real danger they might represent. Iād missed this, too. Maker, Iād missed so much in the months of anxiety and dread and guilt.
āIt can be difficult to account for coup-countercoup injuries with only a handheld scanner.ā He countered, drawing a soft sigh from me.
āAnything too small for that to find isnāt likely to pose any real threat.ā His lips bunched in that little scowl that screamed his desire to object, mind analyzing every angle for some means to disprove me and knowing that want came up short.
āUnlikely does not mean impossible.ā It was a weak argument, and he knew it, but I didnāt say that; I didnāt need to, and the way his cheeks warmed at the smile toying with my lips only made the prolonged check-up all the better. āI still advise you remain under observation for at least another dayā¦ but it would appear as though you managed to avoid serious injuryā¦ā His eyes swept almost mournful over my face, those yellow lenses nearly hiding the soft brown, ābeyond the obvious bruising, of course.ā He added, voice dropping with an apology he should never have felt the need to give.
āBruises heal.ā I replied gently. He let out a slow breath, index finger giving only an occasional tap against the medical scanner still in his hands.
āAll the same, I'll review your scans once more to ensure I havenāt missed something.ā That was as close to a dismissal as I was going to get, but still I found myself hesitating, unable to turn away from the worried determination painting subtle lines at the corners of his mouth. He didnāt notice until the silence lasted a beat too long, eyes flicking toward me with an uncertainty that made my heart jump. I almost hesitatedā¦ but heād seemed so undeterred when he took my hand mere moments priorā¦
I let out a slow, deep sigh as I stepped toward him, arms looping around his lower back with a gentle, featherlight embrace; one he could escape with the barest of withdrawals, but I needed him to know just how grateful I was; for his concern, his understanding, his willingness to talk to me when the others still tripped over the words.
āThank you.ā I whispered against his chest. He was still for a moment, air held in his lungs, arms flared ever so slightly, and I worried Iād overstepped; that Iād pushed too far and might rekindle the heartbreak from that moment heād shied from my touchā¦ but then his free hand settled lightly over my shoulder blade, the other thoughtlessly setting the tablet down on the bed or the counter or wherever was nearest before moving to slide softly along my lower back.
Iād planned to grant myself only time enough for a single, slow breath, and then I was going to pull away. I was going to give him his space for however long he needed it, but then his body shifted, embrace wrapping so firmly around me, I couldnāt help but let my torso arch forward, molding against his as his deceptively tall form curled around mine, head ducking down to rest his cheek against my temple, ruffling my hair in a thoughtless, firm caress that surely couldnāt be called a nuzzle, his own breath fleeing with a tension neither of us would draw attention to. Not yet. But I let my arms tighten. I let him feel every glimmer of affection and adoration that might be sown through something as innocent and tender and desperate as a hug might possibly portray, and I realized something as my own breath caught.
Some part of me had still feared that he might have reservations; that in our time apart, he had distanced himself from emotion and found logic wanting for reasons I ought stay; that heād concluded what chaos surely lingered in the days to come as we six struggled to settle into new norms and new roles governed by a love and lust that was anything but new couldnāt be justified by what use I had to the squad as a unit, but that embrace, the relief so shamelessly screamed in the way his fingers dug into the narrow gaps between my armor silenced even whispers of that doubt.
My hand slid up to card through the short curls at the base of his neck, fingertips tracing lightly over the band of his goggles as I tilted my head to just brush my brow against his chin, lips laxed in a gentle smile.
āThank you.ā I murmured once more, leaning back just enough to find his gaze, to let him see my own relief in the face of his, and his breath caught slightly, a tension returning to draw his shoulders back and straighten his spine as though belatedly remembering himself.
āO-of course.ā He stammered ever so slightly as he stepped back. āIāllā¦ inform you if I find anything of note.ā The subtle embarrassment in his voice as he quickly turned his attention to where heād thoughtlessly abandoned his datapad left me chuckling softly as I turned away.
There was a weightlessness to my step that I hadnāt realized Iād been without for so long, suffering beneath the guilt for wants Iād been ashamed of, fears of what retribution surely awaited me should they ever come to light, but now I was free of that, and the possibilities laid out before me in its absence were exhilarating, consuming my every thought as I tread quickly through the door. Too quickly.
I wasnāt paying attention; wasnāt thinking beyond the thrill lingering in the wake of Techās embrace, head bowed as though trying to hide the grin I couldnāt begin to fight from my lips, and I didnāt see him; didnāt notice how near Iād come to accidentally walking right into him, but the instant Echoās hand grabbed my arm, the instant his voice filled that small room, it didnāt matter what heād said nor how gently he held me. All I saw was that rage in eyes unfocused and hazy with illness, the venom in that remorseless threat, Iām not asking again, and my entire body froze, ice flooding my veins, panic locking my muscles taut, too terrified to move, to breathe, to even try to flee for what punishment it might bring.
āWhoa-whoa; easy.ā His arms flared, releasing me before my short, strangled gasp even fell silent. I saw him ā saw the sharp concern in the soft brown of his eyes, the way his shoulders dropped like it might lessen the intimidating visage of his powerful form, lessen the way his broad silhouette so effortlessly blocked the hallway, but I saw that nightmare just as clearly, how ruthlessly heād ground my face into the floor, twisting my arm behind meā¦
He took another step back, and my heart sank, chest bucking with a stolen breath as my gaze dropped, stomach twisting at the horrifying realization of what had just happened, the fear Iād let him see in me, the guilt and worry storming in his eyesā¦
āKriff, sorry; s-ā¦ I, umā¦ā I stammered, trying and failing to find some believable excuse that might give a reason ā any reason ā for my limbs to be shaking like they were; some way to convince him that it had nothing to do with him; that my mind had been broken and pieced back together too many times to even guess toward why such a touch might have so easily shattered me.
āY- uhā¦ j-just s-surprised me.ā The words caught and fumbled, and I knew he granted them no more belief than I did, stance still carefully loose, as unthreatening as he could possibly pretend to be even as that haunted corner of my mind screamed that it was a lie; that I needed to runā¦ to hide, and how I hated myself for it, for the realization that this ran deeper than a momentās surprise; that this wasnāt something I could just ignore, and the terror of how it would hurt him if he ever found outā¦ kriff, I could never let him find outā¦ So, I pushed it down. I let an impatient shame pinch my brows and pull my lips in a small scowl, and when he carefully lowered himself onto a knee before me, that guilt only grew.
āAlright, justā¦ just take a breath with me, okay?ā He murmured, the subtle, lilting accent in his deep voice almost disjointed in how utterly juxtaposed it was to the feral terror still making my heart race, because how could I feel like this when he spoke to me so softly? How could I shy so violently from his touch now when just moments prior Iād so eagerly lost myself in his embrace?
āDoc?ā He pressed in a quiet whisper, and I forced out a small huff, loathing the air of defeat that stole through me, the regret as I hesitantly glanced toward him.
āHey.ā He murmured in a barely there rumble that made my breath hitch, shoulders slumping as a tiny fraction of tension slowly began to drain from taut muscles and faintly trembling limbs. āSorryā¦ I shouldnāt have grabbed you like that.ā I let out an almost frustrated sigh.
āNoā¦ no, Iām sorryā¦ā I interjected, āYou shouldnātā¦ Dammit, you shouldnāt have to worry about justā¦ touching me like that.ā He let out a long, slow breath, eyes just as haunted as they were gentled by how intimately he knew the exact tang of my frustration and the helplessness it carried.
āAre you okay?ā He asked, and I felt myself pause; not because of the shame of the only answer I could think to give, but because that wasnāt what he was asking. He wasnāt dwelling on the moment of panic; not when he knew talking about such things would offer no relief. Not yet, at least; not when the adrenaline had yet to fade and memories still threatened to distort and degrade and ruin that happiness Iād only just been allowed to taste.
Stealing another quick breath, I glanced back toward the medbay where Tech was surely still scanning every snip of data until he could silence his own fears, and I nodded.
āYeahā¦ yeah; no brain bleeds or broken bones.ā I answered, voice still too thin but far steadier than Iād expected it to be, and I relished in the smile he offered. It was small, and neither could deny the heartbreak in it, but it was real.
The duality haunted me. This was the Echo I was used to: kind but honest, gentle but firm; yet the man that hurt me, the man that so effortlessly crippled me by twisting my shoulder from its socketā¦ that man was Echo, too; the monster he became when he had to.
āPle-ā
My breath caught at the ripple of that memory, finger tightening around the phantom trigger to murder that mercenary from so long ago, the one Iād tortured for the keycode to save the arc trooper now kneeling before me with that sad, knowing smile, and I leapt for even a tiny distraction.
āThat canāt be comfortable.ā The glimmer of accusation in my words as I glanced down at his legs earned a barely-there chuckle, but he didnāt deny it as he slowly rose to his full height, shoulders still slouched ever so slightly.
āTheyāre pretty much healed ā just a little sore if Iām on them too long.ā He replied, not dismissively, but clearly hoping to leave it at that. I let out a low sigh, attention lingering on the new prosthetics, the image of putrid wounds so poorly hidden beneath stolen bandages and wildly inadequate swaths of bacta long-since stained a far too dark red left me itching to beg him to show me, to let me see for myself that the skin hadnāt yielded from the dayās abuse and begun to fester anew, and I wondered how long it might take for that fear to fadeā¦ for any of those fears to fadeā¦
He didnāt mean to move when I reached for his hand, but I saw the little shift of his fingers, too eager for the coming touch to lie still. Despite the warmth that sight sent humming through my chest, I couldnāt bring myself to smile, not when the soreness he was referring to only plagued him because of secrets heād felt he had to keep because of me, because of the confusion of changing dynamics, the sudden need to second-guess every word and gesture to ensure some line wasnāt crossed that had been blurred long before I even knew it existed, and the heaviness in what was so nearly a gentle quiet weighed all the more merciless amidst the loss of his own tentative grin.
āIām sorry.ā My voice dropped into something almost too quiet to be a whisper, movements desperately gentle, reverent, as I cradled his hand between mine, fingertips tracing scars and veins and the creases adorning his palm. āDealing with wounds like thoseā¦ You must have been so afraid, and in so much painā¦ and to feel like you couldnāt ask for helpā¦ā He let out a slow sigh, head dropping though he seemed to lean ever so slightly closer; not crowding me, butā¦ close enough that I could hear his lips and tongue shifting over words he was still trying to find the will to say.
āThatāsā¦ not your fault.ā He finally admitted. Part of me wanted to ignore that claim, to dismiss it as an empty attempt to offer comfort; to free me of guilt, but that wasnāt Echoās way, so I found my breath quieting, stilling; waiting for something more. āItāsā¦ itās still hard to accept sometimesā¦ā He glanced down toward his new legs, such reluctance in hushed words colored only in various shades of shame; shame for the hurt heād caused and the hurt heād suffered, shame for being too proud or embarrassed or scared to ask for help, shame for needing help at allā¦
And there, again, those dual images clashed, because how could I possibly fear the gentle man before me? How could I bring myself to acknowledge that this was the same person that had left me shaking and broken barely more than a week past when now he stood so repentant and vulnerable, muscles atop his cheeks balled in a self-disdained scowl as he glared at the interplay of metals and silicas and engineering that was more deserving of awe than the disgust so evident in twisted lips and narrowed eyes?
I let out a slow breath as I guided his hand to my lips. It felt so natural. Like Iād kissed him a thousand times already with the promise of millions more awaiting, patient as though theyād never known the taste of doubt, and he shared so willingly in that unquestioning comfort as his touch spread out to cup my cheek before letting his thumb and forefinger toy with a loose strand of hair.
āIām here.ā The words washed from my lips as more plea than promise, and the ruin of a smile that sat so briefly but with such heaviness upon his battle-worn face left me stealing a step closer, grip tightening ever so slightly, anything to convince him that there were no conditions to my devotion; no reservations built on prejudice or pity.
āI know.ā He murmured, some glimmer of warmth managing to ease that weight from him as he leaned closer in turn, and there was no hesitation from either of us as my head tilted back.
He tasted like caf that had been forgotten for too long and now held a bitterness emphasized by the slight chill of his lips. Still, there was a subtle rhythm to how he kissed me, unrushed and unworried; and how could I not loop my arms around his neck in a gesture both yearning and lazy and unabashed by the breathy sigh that followed, before, with the same breath, letting myself sink back onto my heels.
His shame wasnāt gone, but it was softer. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to have those moments ā to acknowledge what heād lost and rage for it, but I didnāt need to. He didnāt need me to tell him things he already knew. He just needed to know that I could love him all the same; that I didnāt see him as less than whole even on days when he felt so terribly fractured.
With a final smile, my hands slid down his jaw as I began to ease back, attention flicking past him toward where his brothers surely lay in waiting, but, before I could so much as think to step away, his hold shifted, willing me back toward him with a desperate, āwaitā in the split second before he kissed me once more, breath nearly a growl as he pressed himself closer, scomped arm wrapping so tightly around my waist that my torso arched flush against his with a gasp that fell far too willingly into a muffled whimper, the sound devoured by his lips.
There wasnāt space left even to moan his name, nails catching on armor and cloth and hair as I lost myself in the suddenness of his need. It wasnāt until I heard the air catch between his teeth in a breathless hiss that I even realized how my body had rolled into him, hips grinding against his armor until he could feel me through even the thick durasteel shifting so cruelly between us. Part of me wondered if that fleeting murmur of friction would be enough; if such muted whispers of movement coupled with far too many months of repressed desires might bring him to the edge, and I found myself desperate to find out, to learn what other noises I might draw from him absent true touch.
But then he was pulling away, forehead brushing mine in what should have been affectionate yet earned only a flare of frustration as I strained to chase his lips once more. The breathy chuckle, the smile beaming across his face, the way his chest seemed to swell as he granted me exactly what I wanted for far too short an eternity, kiss nearly chaste amidst the thoughts raging through my mind; I couldnāt try to suppress the quiet groan from catching in my throat as he straightened up, the muffled sound only fueling his glee.
āSorry,ā he whispered, hand slipping so delicately down my cheek that I instantly felt myself melting into it, ājust had to make sure.ā My brows twitched together with confusion for the beat it took to remember how to speak.
āMake sure what?ā I practically mumbled, voice far more hoarse than Iād intended, and he answered only with that stunning smile, free of every memory of pain or loss or guilt for just a moment as he kissed me once more before finally stepping back, scomp still resting lightly around my waist.
āCome on.ā I couldnāt remember the last time Iād seen him like this: light. Happy. Truly happy. And whatever glimmers of my own fears lingered suddenly felt so foolish as I let myself be drawn nearer to him, idly following his every step in those few seconds in which we yet remained hidden from sight, body pressed so perfectly against his that even that damned armor felt inconsequential as I cursed how little distance lay between us and the cabin where light from the surrounding hanger already breached the Marauderās halls to jostle us back to a too impatient present.
Crosshair was waiting out there. As was Hunterā¦ and Wreckerā¦ And my heart fluttered once more at the trepidation of relearning each of them amidst this new reality. But that trepidation was no longer born of pure dreadā¦ Despite every sliver of common sense screaming that this was bound to break us, despite the danger constantly looming beyond every corner, I couldnāt deny the real reason my heart was racing as Echo finally stepped away from me in those last few meters to the yawning doorway atop the ramp, his lips still softened with a smile and swollen from my kiss. Despite everythingā¦ I was excited.
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Part (4) of Divergent Paths, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
This convo got away from me a bit... oops
Warnings: Some boundary discussion and relationship clarification. Sorry, nothing spicy here beyond some kissing
WC: 3,399
The visage shared between the clones was nearly identical, but that near perfection only made their differences all the more brilliant, because genome couldnāt control choice. How they spoke. How they moved. How they loved. The way Echo held me was dictated not by genes collated and manipulated and combined for the creation of some mindless killer. The way he felt beneath my hands as I stole idol caresses of what flesh I could reach between planes of armor I found myself tugging uselessly at, the way his breath fluttered in a silent laughter that danced so softly through my hair between kisses trailing the ridge of my brow, the shamelessness of a smile he made no effort to hide, eyes and lips and every fiber of his being alight with an unapologetic mirth, a happiness that was pure in a way so few things are; it was precious and quiet and perfect, and so uniquely him despite cultivated similarities and training, and I knew Iād never feel anything like it ever again.
It was because of that fleeting purity of a joy so rarely felt amidst the tragedies of war that I lingered in his embrace far longer than I should have, feet once more firmly on the ground as we granted ourselves however long we could to bask in silent kisses and breaths too quiet to be a moan but far from the innocence of a mere sigh, and when the rhythmic thuds of footsteps climbing up the Marauderās ramp echoed through the hall, the flare of disappointment that settled between us held a gentle humor, rife with the knowledge that such interruptions would forever threaten these stolen moments, and the confidence that weād never let such threats taint them.
āI trust Iām not interrupting anythingā¦ā Techās voice held the faintest touch of impatience as he called from just beyond the portcullis, and I felt myself tense at the sound; at the knowledge of just how uncertain things yet stood between us, āespecially given the potential for aggravating possible head trauma.ā Echo didnāt miss the sudden stiffness of my shoulders, embrace tightening in silent reassurance before reluctantly stepping back and turning an unamused glare upward as the door slid open.
āAh. Good.ā The brilliant man stated, and neither of us missed the audible discomfort in those short words. I didnāt try to look toward him, tongue slipping over my lips as a barely suppressed anxiety danced beneath my skin like an itch willing my limbs to fidget, but Echoās taste still lingered, rich and warm, and that realization was a more welcomed distraction than I could ever find words for.
āWhile I donāt doubt your capabilities under normal circumstances, I donāt feel it appropriate to self-diagnose when your mental faculties could be impaired.ā He continued after descending the ladder, and I belatedly drew a breath to try to answer, straining to keep from wondering if he noticed the undeniable disarray of Echoās armor from my wandering hands, how unkempt our hair had become, and how our lips were still swollen from heated kisses, but that fear delayed my response just a beat too long, and the doubt that stole through him sent something sharp twisting through my chest.
āUnlessā¦ youād prefer we summon a 501st medicā¦?ā He offered, head lowering ever so slightly. I saw the confusion in Echoās eyes as he glanced between us and felt another pang of that anxiety. Of course, Echo didnāt know why such tension lingered between his brother and I; he didnāt know about the harshness of Techās tone during our flight to the Resolute; the way Iād been alienated from our squad in the aftermath of his illness; not the details, at least.
āNo.ā I said, cringing at the almost meek hush stifling the word, and I quickly cleared my throat to try again. āNo, itāsā¦ Youāre right, and I think this is something best kept between us.ā I added with a small grimace, loathing the thought of how such a discussion might escalate if Kix found out what happenedā¦ Whenā¦ Kriff, he probably already knew ā had probably heard a retelling of the entire fight from one of the regs whoād seenā¦ but that was a problem Iād deal with later. For now, I glanced toward Tech with a fresh flare of that nervousness. āIfā¦ if you donāt mindā¦?ā
His shoulders sank at the way my voice dropped into something too near a mumble, but he merely responded with an almost gentle, āof course.ā
āEv?ā Echo whispered, and my heart jumped as he shifted toward me, at the subtle way he just barely leaned between me and Tech, brows drown together in a hesitant frown. In a moment of boldness, I reached out to slide my fingers through his, but that frown didnāt waver as I drew his hand up to press softly against my lips, offering him a smile that couldnāt quite reach my eyes.
āItās alright.ā I murmured before turning and starting up the ladder. It wasnāt until I reached the top, door hissing shut behind me that he spoke up, quiet but stern.
āWhat the kriff was that?ā He nearly growled. Tech was silent for a moment, and I told myself I wasnāt eavesdropping despite how my breath stilled, steps softening, slowing.
āI may haveā¦ reacted poorly earlierā¦ā Despite the memory of how Iād broken as heād shied from my touch, despite the hurt that lingered from his earlier anger, his disdain that would take far more than a murmured apology to heal from, despite how unsure I was toward where we stood with one another, still my heart melted at the troubled tone sinking through his words, the hint of something that wasnāt quite confusion though was too soft to be frustration. I could so clearly picture the little crease between his brows and how it would make his goggles shift ever so slightly as his gaze turned blindly toward the ground, mind working through whatever left him so troubled.
āSuppose thatās probably my fault, too?ā I almost missed Echoās reply, his voice dropping, torn between annoyance and guilt in a way that left my breath catching, muscles taut with the threat of turning around, of retracing my steps until I could trap him in my arms once more.
āYour actions, or inaction as it were, certainly contributedā¦ but, no.ā Tech answered with a slow sigh. There was a pause, and I wondered if his lips were shifting with some further explanation he was still at war with. It was only when I heard that first step climbing up the ladder that I even noticed how Iād leaned toward them, desperately trying to catch every word, and my chest jerked with a sharp gasp, adrenaline darting through my veins as I quickly turned back and sped through the cabin as fast as I could, footsteps carefully silenced lest he hear me and realize just how closely Iād been listening. As it was, I could only hope Iād made it through the adjacent doorway before he caught up with me and didnāt stop until I reached the medbay, heart pounding, but the instant I slid into that painfully familiar room, I froze.
A week. Had it really only been a week since Iād left, racing alongside Echoās barely stable form to the far more capable facilities of the Resolute? It looked so paltry now. A single bed surrounded by cabinets with doors so askew and dented that it was wonder the contents didnāt tumble out at the first taste of turbulence. A single bed that had seen far too much painā¦ too much blood.
I couldnāt remember every drop of crimson that had been cleaned from a floor that was long since showing its abuse, tread worn nearly smooth underfoot, but I remembered enough. I remembered Crosshairās shout as Iād dealt with that dangerous hematoma on his back. I remembered my horror that first moment Iād seen Wrecker, form beyond lean from a lifetime of starvation. I remembered how gently Echo touched me in the wake of that mercenaryās attack, and how gently I touched him in turn every time he came to me with aching muscles he couldnāt reach. I remembered how Tech had clung to me as his body seized and trembled beneath the crippling withdrawal from those wretched sporesā¦ and how heād shied from me as though I were a stranger to him once more.
It was with that heaviness that I held myself still as the door opened, unable to turn to face him, unable to risk what I might see when he looked at me.
āDoc?ā He called, pausing just outside that open doorway. āAre youā¦ alright?ā My chest shook with an inhale too sharp and jagged to fully silence, head dropping but still refusing to glance toward him.
āYeah.ā I murmured, the word hushed with a discomfort I couldnāt begin to hide. Jaw grinding, I stepped closer to the bed, allowing a hand to rest idly atop the dark sheet though I made no move to sit. āThisā¦ isnāt a complicated examination.ā I continued quietly, āItās okay if youād prefer one of the others do it ā Hunter or Echo both have the knowl-ā
āEvelyn.ā Iād never heard him call my name like that, elegant voice dropping into a whisper that sent a shiver lighting up my spine. It left me paralyzed as he stepped lightly around me, not feigning even an illusion of ignorance toward how near to me he stood, and I tried to ignore the sudden stiffness in my throat.
āIf I may,ā he paused for only the briefest of moments, allowing just enough time for me to object if I wantedā¦ but of course, I remained silent, waiting with every sliver of patience I could find in hopes of gaining even a trace of understanding. āIām afraid Iā¦ appear to have made things worse earlierā¦ and I assure you that was not my intent.ā My lip ached from how it ground between my teeth as I struggled to draw a steady breath.
āYou donāt have to explain, Tech.ā I murmured, words almost rushed. āYou donāt owe me an explanation for why something makes you uncomfortable, and I-ā
āEvelyn.ā He pressed, head ducking down in a silent plea for me to meet his gaze. I nearly denied him, nearly found the strength to refuse that I might be spared the pain of everything I so feared to see in those brilliant eyes. But I couldnāt... not when he called my name so softly. Defeat cloying through my chest, bracing for a rejection I hadnāt even allowed myself to pretend I could endure, I reluctantly looked up, and the weight that rested atop his shoulders was far more crippling to witness than it might have been to carry myself.
āMy earlier reaction wasnāt caused by anyā¦ aversion to you. I recognized the likely trajectory in how the squadās dynamic was changing and had hoped to avoid contributing to an already complex situation.ā It almost sounded like an apology, but my thoughts were spiraling too much to make sense of it, something between hesitation and confusion drawing a faint divot between my brows.
āYouā¦ā I started, the sound barely stumbling over my tongue as I worked back through his every word for some deeper meaning. āYou donāt need a reason to not want to-ā I wasnāt trying to argue; I wanted only to give him an out, to avoid assumptions that might result in furthering the discomfort I thought Iād caused, but the way his expression softened left the words falling silent, and when his hand slowly reached for me, fingers delicately sliding around mine to pull the limb toward him, I found myself freezing, eyes locked on his as he seemed to study every movement, every sliver of where his skin touched mine as he thoughtlessly pressed against the little notch just beneath the pad of my thumb, counting my too-quick pulse without further preface or comment.
āGiven recent events, Iām inclined to dismiss your tachycardia, but I would advise you avoid further stress or strenuous activity for at least 72 hours.ā There was a brief moment where my cheeks only darkened at the implication, but the bark of laughter that followed held no shame nor anxiety or doubt, because the only thing I could be certain of was just how stressful the coming days were all but guaranteed to be. He seemed to pause, taken aback by the outburst, but then the ridiculousness of his own statement dawned on him, shoulders dropping with a sigh just softened by the hint of a smirk toying with his lips, and I could have sobbed at the sight of it.
āPerhapsā¦ā His gaze dropped slightly as he continued, voice lowering into something not quite a whisper but too gentle for anything else, āI can be of assistance inā¦ alleviating some of that stress?ā My eyes instantly snapped up to his, body freezing as my heart jumped, mind both racing and utterly empty as I tried to guess his meaning, but the way his lips tensed, drawing back from that little smirk into something far more nervous, I felt myself hesitate.
āThere was noā¦ safe way to handle this situation.ā It felt like I couldnāt breathe as I listened, waiting, hoping for the answers Iād been desperate for for what felt like hours now. āAbove all, we agreed that your comfort needed to be our priority, thus any discussion that might result in, well, putting you in an uncomfortable situation was unanimously discouraged; however, we also acknowledged the harm in keeping such knowledge from you.ā I watched the hint of a scowl twist his face just enough for his goggles to shift, annoyed at the conflicting truths that had clearly tortured him over the last several months, and I struggled with how to respond; how to balance a sympathy and want to grant freedom from that frustration, not just for him but for myself as well, with the still prominent hurt that something so profound had been kept from me when they knew how cruel that had been.
āApproximately 78% of known sentient life participates in polygamy.ā The words could so easily have found themselves in any one of his endless rants, spoken absent care or thought toward how such a fact might let the mind wander, but that analytical detachment wasn't there nowā¦ It was spoken with a nervousness that was so foreign to him. āDespite this majority, the practice is still met with heavy societal stigmas ranging from dismissal or disapproval to extreme disgust, discouraging many from speaking openly about it.ā His thumb tapped softly against my wrist, a gentle ticking that I wasnāt sure he even realized he was doing.
āIf the offer was presented, and such anā¦ unconventional dynamic didn't align with your preferences, it would likely have resulted in expounding negative consequences even if we attempted to maintain a solely platonic friendship.ā That frown deepened, thumb nearly fluttering now. āI suggested Crosshair discuss the possibility with you on Scarif as he was in the best position to speak with you in a manner that would grant insight without causing excess concernā¦ā I needed only a moment to remember; the beach, the fallout after Iādā¦ rescued Echo from that mercenaryā¦ how new and tentative my relationship with Crosshair was and the insecurities that came with, and I couldnāt help but scoff.
āI imagine he loved that ideaā¦ā The way his attention shifted back to me held such a strange familiarity, and it didnāt take long to realize why.
āActually,ā He corrected, āCrosshair was agreeable.ā I was so stunned by his words that I barely had time to process them before he continued. āEven he couldnāt deny the detriment in allowing things to continue as they were.ā It felt like the air had been ripped from my lungs, confusion warring with the objection twitching atop my tongue.
āBut then you were summoned by the 104th.ā He explained, voice dropping, and I tried not to show the rush of ice that flooded my chest at the mere thought. āAnd circumstances have not improved since then, certainly not for such a delicate topic.ā I went quiet, and I knew he could tell the difference between this silence and the last, I could hear it in how careful he was to soften his breath, gaze studying me with a knowing tension.
āAnd now?ā I finally asked, all but ignoring the cause for that tension as I subtly pulled my shoulders back, forcing my spine straight once more. āYou all clearly spent quite a bit of time discussing this whenever I was out of earshot.ā I blamed the adrenaline for how my voice twisted slightly with something too angry to be called frustration but too weary to be rage. āIs the plan for me toā¦ rotate whose bed I sleep in?ā I blamed the dread that still lingered in the mere memories of that decrepit cell for how my skin crawled beneath his touch. āHave you already worked out a schedule?ā Still, I blamed myself for the hurt in his eyes as his grip tightened in the split second before he released me.
āAh, Iā¦ No.ā It was rare for even that brief stutter to rob his eloquent voice of the confidence usually so ingrained in his every word. āI do not believe such a sudden transition would beā¦ comfortable for any of us.ā I saw the way his chest stiffened around breaths now far less controlled, fingers clenching in an almost anxious rhythm at his sides as his gaze darted from the cabinets to the bed to anywhere but me, and a shaky, hurried breath fled me in a sharp sigh.
āIām sorry.ā I whispered, hand reaching up to rub harshly at my eyes as I forced myself in check. āThat was uncalled for.ā He merely watched as I took a tiny step back, arms shifting to wrap nervously around myself. āThis is justā¦ Itās a lot, and Iā¦ donāt knowā¦ what to expect, what to ā how to think orā¦ā I let out an almost growled breath, annoyed with how I stumbled over the words.
āEvelynā¦ā It wasnāt that gentle, imploring murmur. His voice now held a confusion of his own, like he was preparing to say something heād presumed obvious. āYour relationship with one of us does not define your relationship with all of us, and vise versa.ā My eyes snapped back to his, freezing as he spoke, attention suddenly hanging on his every word. āAs I understand it, all thatās changed is an agreement that should something develop beyond your current relationship with Crosshair, and now Echo, then there would be no offense from pre-existing partners.ā
I blinked, stunned into a very different silence as I thought over those words again. And again, unsure if I felt ashamed from how simple he made it seem or from how Iād let myself merely expectā¦ what? For there to suddenly be something intimate and personal with each of them in the midst of a day? That Iād assumed theyād expect such things of me despite the constant displays of respect and affection theyād given me for over a year?
I still wasnāt sure what might happen when I walked out of the ship, when I eventually rejoined the others with the knowledge that I was allowed to want themā¦ with the knowledge that they wanted me, tooā¦ but hearing him say it like that, knowing now, that what might happen was a matter of potential rather than expectation, it shifted such a crippling weight from my shoulders that I couldnāt silence the way my breath fled me in a shaky rush, and the way Tech mirrored me with a little sigh of his own was just enough to ease my lips into a faint smile.
āWhile I agree that this is a topic in need of a much more in-depth discussion,ā he started, voice just soft enough to draw my gaze back to his, āI really must insist on allowing me to, at the very least, scan you for potential intercranial swelling.ā The breathy chuckle that left me was far more unsteady than Iād expected, and the flare of alarm that shot through him only pulled another bout of quiet laughter from me.
Next Chapter
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Part (3) of Divergent Paths, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
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Warnings: Uh. Profanity. And. Kissing. Guys. There's proper fucking kissing in this one! Some talk of amputation
WC: 4,682
Mandoāa
Haarāchak ā damn it!
Narāsheb ā shove it up your ass
Skanah ā very hated person/ "fucker"
āYouāre such an ass.ā I cursed against his lips, nearly sobbing from the sudden lightness of reality, the euphoria of finally being free from that crippling, constant guilt, and whatever retort he tried to hum in response was lost as I dragged myself even closer, desperate for another kiss, another taste of him, another promise that this was real; that he was still mine.
Crosshair's breath caught with a subtle laugh, but there was a tension in it; a hesitation ruining the sarcastic faƧade that normally came so easily to him. Still, he kissed me back all the same, hand slowly dragging through my hair to cradle the back of my head, his every movement so painfully careful; delicate. Despite his care, my cheek throbbed, my nose ached, and my head was pounding. But, Maker, I couldnāt bring myself to care.
āYouā¦ You let me thinkā¦ā I couldnāt say it, couldnāt stand to think about how certain Iād been that Iād lost him; lost all of them, my voice breaking with a grief I was still trying to let go of.
āI thought it was too late.ā He admitted, head dropping slightly, though he didnāt pull away, still resting on a knee before me as he gently touched his brow to mine. āFigured youādā¦ That Iād pushed too farā¦ā It was such a rare, devastating thing to hear that doubt in his voice, āThat Iād pushed you away.ā My heart stuttered at that quiet admission, and my every fiber screamed to fix it, to chase all whisper of that doubt from him, but this was too important to yield beneath that want for peace.
āI thought you were trying to push me away.ā The horror that shot through him as he finally met my eyes nearly wrenched the air from my lungs, but I held myself still, needing him to understand how his silence had hurt me, how their secrets had led to this, āI thought you didnāt trust me, and you wanted to... end things on your terms.ā I didnāt allow him enough time to recover, to form a reply before adding in something too close to a mumble, āWhich, apparently, wasnāt as farfetched of an accusation as I thought it wasā¦ā
His hands drew back to just whisper against my jaw, expression turning somber in a way that made me pause, holding my breath to better hear what he might say.
āItāsā¦ complicated.ā He grumbled, earning a weary huff from me, but he merely shifted to nuzzle his lips against my neck before continuing. āSharing you with the othersā¦ Itās different than if it was with anyone elseā¦ with a reg.ā My stomach leapt at hearing him say it so bluntly, that fluttering of wings within my chest nearly making me gasp, but the way he snarled that last word brought me back. I knew he meant Jester, but that wasnāt who came to my mind amidst the face of his rage.
āAnd Echoā¦?ā I pressed, words direct though my tone softened in a plea to really talk about this; to keep from falling into defensive posturing and inevitable frustration, and, at the way his shoulders tensed, jaw grinding as he fell silent for a long moment, I feared it would come to exactly that, but then he drew a deep, slow breath and held it for a beat. Two. Three, and then released it.
āI overreacted with Echo.ā He admitted, voice low, reluctant, and I was too stunned to react, eyes wide, but then a laughter escaped me that was so sudden, so impossibly light, that he could only stare before letting out a scoffed chuckle of his own.
āI thought you were trying to kill him!ā I retorted.
āI was.ā His answer only made me laugh harder. It was senseless. And what heād done warranted a far longer conversation, but I needed to laugh at it, needed to regard all of this with anything other than the hurt and blame that could so easily have sent us all spiraling even further.
āThatās more than an overreaction, Crosshair!ā His lips bunched at my scolding. Still, he didnāt try to shrug my arms from where they yet lay about his shoulders, nor did his own touch weaken as he rolled his eyes, but then he leaned even closer, chest tightening slightly as his words fell into a mournful whisper.
āI thought Iād lost you.ā He secreted the words against my neck, slitted gaze staring blindly at the slowly darkening bruise but careful to avoid my eyes. āAnd then Echoā¦ Felt like that proved it.ā There was no embarrassment in it, no blame. There was only a deep, resigned sorrow that threatened to ruin me anew. Movements languid, as though he might feel how my hands delighted in that closeness despite the heavy plastoid between us, I leaned back, fingers tracing the elegant lines of his chestplate as I robbed him of the safety in that proximity, of that obscurity in hiding too near to truly see.
āAsk me.ā It was an invitation rather than an order, but it held the same weight. Still, his brows hitched, the barest glimmers of a cocky smirk toying with his lips.
āI think youāve already answered that pretty clearly.ā He hummed, body curling closer to mine with a spark of that breathtaking glee nearly hidden beneath a far safer hunger, but my hands held firm, forbidding him from crossing that precious little distance, from avoiding this, and an unspoken understanding chased that mirth from his face, leaving something far quieter in its wake. His jaw shifted behind closed lips, as though tasting each word before letting himself speak.
There was a pause, just a fleeting, terrifying handful of seconds. His eyes fled mine, dropping to where my scarcely packed bag lay forgotten at our feet, contents half scattered where it fell, and I could feel the tension in his muscles, how near he was to pushing himself up and simply walking away. I wondered what mocking comment might drip from his tongue as he denied me, dismissed the entirety of this mess in favor of the simplicity Iād robbed from him.
But then those eyes flicked back up to me, sharp and merciless and so desperate to hide the fear in them.
āDo you,ā He finally asked, āstill want me?ā It wasnāt a whisper, but he couldnāt seem to keep his voice from dropping, nearly squirming beneath how that question tore far too deeply through him to manage anything more, and I found myself reaching up for his hand, fingers threading through his as my breath threatened to falter, loathing that heād ever felt the need to doubt such things even as my heart soared at this moment of vulnerability he was giving me.
āYes.ā I promised; begged; gaze unwavering with a plea for him to believe me, and I shifted, dragging his palm up to press my lips against it. āThereāsā¦ a lot we need to work onā¦ both of usā¦ but, I want you, Crosshair.ā I lived for the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as I pressed the words into his skin between barely-there kisses, between tiny hitches in my breath as my other hand reached for him as well, cradling his with a touch far too desperate to be gentle. āIāll always want you.ā
Ā His thumb traced precious nothings atop my skin, and I shuddered at the way the nerves trilled with glee, static following in his wake in some vain plea to remember that feeling even if only for a heartbeat longer. Still, that tender caress couldnāt keep my own doubts at bay forever, couldnāt silence the reason my mind rebelled relentlessly against this despite how I craved to feign ignorance to the dangers looming so obviously before us.
āButā¦ Cross,ā this time, it was my turn to hide, almost shielding myself behind our interwoven hands. āare you really okay with this?ā I hadnāt begun to work through my own feelings aboutā¦ āusā becoming far more complicated, but none of that mattered if any of them held even a glimmer of reservation.
āIt wouldnāt be the first time a squad has shared.ā That teasing drawl slid back into his seductive rasp, and I couldnāt fight the little thrill it sent dancing about my chest, but I managed to meet his smirk with an unimpressed glare. He let out a slow, almost impatient breath. āIām sure thereāll be someā¦ adjusting.ā He added in a low grumble, and my own doubt resurfaced.
āHow do I do this?ā I barely breathed it, shoulders hitching about my neck as my heartbeat quickened. āI donāt want you to feel like you arenāt enoughā¦ā His own breath caught, and I could see how that fear resonated with him, and the odd calm that followed in merely hearing me say it. He offered no feigned smile, no cocky retort as he leaned forward to rest his brow to mine once more, words a hushed promise against my lips.
āWeāll figure it out.ā There was a confidence in that soft murmur that I wanted to doubt; I wanted to scream the simple fact that such a vague reassurance was nowhere near enough to soothe the endless insecurities bubbling up inside me. But I did believe it. I believed him, and the comfort that belief gave me left the air fluttering passed my lips in a shaky breath, terrified of the hope it brought. So, I kissed him. I kissed him because I was afraid, but I trusted him; because I wanted to be ashamed but wasnāt, Because, more than that fear and doubt and shame, I wanted this. I wanted him. And Echoā¦ Hunterā¦ Kriff, how far would this go?
āYou might want to start with the arc.ā He added, lips just hinting at his usual scowl as he pulled away almost too soon, eyes nearly rolling as he added, āTechās going to be pissed if he breaks those new legs from all the pacing he was doingā¦ā
It had been a slow thing; growing some sliver of acceptance between the 99 and what few legions we frequented, an acceptance initially enforced more by their leaders than any sense of brotherhood, though some had finally begun to see passed idiotic excuses to alienate and mock. As Crosshair and I made our way back through the Resolute, however, the berth regs gave us as we passed, the way they avoided nearly the entire quadrant of the hanger housing the Marauder screamed that any such familiarity was forfeit, and my stomach ached at the knowledge that Iād shared more than a small portion of the blame for that.
Some semblance of a desk had been thrown together near the ramp where Tech seemed to be tooling about with cables of something I was almost certain hadnāt come from our ship. Wrecker sat with his back resting against one of crates holding his brotherās make-shift workshop, expression sullen as he spoke in a voice far too quiet to be heard across the half-dozen meters separating us, and I felt a flutter of doubt that nearly left me nauseous. I was walking into this with no idea what to say; what to assume about the near useless hints Hunter had given me; where I might be overthinking things, overstepping, versus what might be seen as playing dumb and avoiding emotions now believed to be obvious.
Crosshair must have noted the tiny hesitation in my stride, gaze shifting toward me, but before he could speak, Hunter stepped out from the cabin doorway, eyes instantly locking on mine with a look of such stunned surprise that it should have left me laughing, and yet I found myself frozen, some voice screaming in the back of my mind that Iād already mistaken everything, and now it was too late to take it back. But then I watched his shoulders fall with a sigh of relief deep enough to catch his brothersā attention, watched the tentative but earnest beginnings of a smile wash over him, and the way that smile sent my heart jumping nearly blinded me to the equally surprised looks from Wrecker and Tech.
āTold yuh heād-ā Whatever Wrecker was about to say ended in a huffed chuckle as Tech slammed his hip roughly against the larger manās shoulder. My cheeks burned as I quickly made my way toward the ramp, leaving Crosshair back with the others. Another rush of heat and static danced through my chest as I met Hunterās gaze, fighting back the flurry of questions, of possibilities and thoughts Iād pushed down for so long now dangling painfully within reach.
āIs Echoā¦?ā I asked quietly, calmly; as though there was some chance he hadnāt noticed the frantic thudding of my pulse.
āInside.ā He nodded toward the cockpit, shifting to take a half-step back so I could pass by him more easily. I started to move, but paused, unsure if there was something more I should say; unsure where to start, but he merely nodded again with a smile far too gentle for the frenzy warring within me. Still, I didnāt waste the excuse to continue forward, unsure if I was rushing toward Echo or running from Hunter, but both granted an almost crippling cocktail of anxiety and confusion and want.
The Marauder was quiet beyond the muffled voices from outside as Hunter joined his brothers. I almost paused, desperate to hear them, to steal what knowledge I could between low chuckles rich with a lightness I hadnāt heard from them in far too long, but I didnāt. It didnāt feel right. And whatever secrets they shared, they owed to me to say to my face. Soon. But Crosshair was right. I couldnāt let Echo continue torturing himself over what happenedā¦ nor would I let him find some way to hide from me again.
He wasnāt pacing when I reached the entry into the cockpit. If Hunter hadnāt said otherwise, I might have believed the ship to be empty, but then I started down the ladder, and there was no doubting the source of the impatient, growled sigh that greeted me.
āHaarāchak, Hunter!ā I froze at the venom in his voice, one foot still on the ladder for a half-beat before taking that final step, āfor the last time, take your damn advice and narāsh-!ā
āOh?ā I refused to acknowledge the reason my heart was pounding, why my eyes were locked so pointedly on the back of the chair where the arc sat almost fully hidden from view, nor the way my body tensed at how quickly he leapt to his feet, those new legs nearly tangling beneath him as he spun around to face me in a flurry of panic I knew too well. āWhat advice has Hunter been giving you?ā
Another day, his reaction may have left me laughing, but not now. Not for this. Not when the dread in his eyes only grew the longer he stared at me, like each beat of silence screamed anew of the terrible distance between us. I hated it; hated that my presence left him so disjointed; that this man whoād been trained to survive the impossible, whoād lived through unspeakable horrors and not only found the strength to keep fighting but did so without losing the warmth in his smile now stared at me like I was something to be feared. I hated that heād been reduced to this speechless visage of taut muscles and held breath at the mere sight of me when Iād spent months yearning for just a glimpse of the fondness heād once regarded me with.
My chest hitched slightly, jaw snapping shut as I let my gaze fall lest he see some trace of unshed tears.
āI thoughtā¦ā I started, but had to pause to swallow back the stiffness in my throat before trying again. āI thought we could try this wholeā¦ talking thing again.ā Still, I could hear the grief cloying my voice, and it only made it harder to risk looking at him. So I didnāt. Nor did I bother pretending my averted gaze was some subtle mercy to grant him an illusion of privacy. I just couldnāt stand to see him looking at me with that fear, that regret.
He let out a ragged breath, knuckles cracking from how tightly his fingers clenched.
āLook, I didnātā¦ I ā kriffā¦ā He stammered, hand reaching up to drag through his hair, absently working over his temples before letting the limb drop heavily back to his side. āI ā Iām sorry, I-ā
āDonāt.ā I shouldnāt have said it; shouldnāt have risked manipulating his thoughts toward any of this with such a pitiful plea, but I couldnāt take the hurt of hearing him say he hadnāt meant it; that the possibilities Iād only just begun to entertain, to let myself hope for, were gleaned from simple misunderstanding.
āAfter... after all thatā¦ which part are you apologizing for?ā There was such a faint hint of accusation in those words, and I couldnāt tell if I wanted to lean harder into a rage that would only leave me cold, or if there was some point in pretending that exasperation was born of anything more than my own self-doubt. I found myself falling somewhere in-between; drowning in anger and sorrow and guilt as months of denial and hiding, of empty pretense and suppressed desires trapped behind good intentions finally lay exposed, raw and real and veiled only in the silence stretching out between halted breaths.
And he said nothing, chest tight though his shoulders seemed to hang listless amidst the weight of an answer he knew he didnāt need to voice, and that was what finally sparked an earnest flare of fury absent any trace of that earlier hesitation. I deserved an answer, dammitā¦
āYou lied to me; stole from me; you lied to your brothers; you put every one of us in danger, and I still almost l-ā The word shattered as a sob finally broke through. He wasnāt looking at me anymore, head bowed as he merely listened, as he let himself bear the brunt of my rage even as it tore at my heart with the same merciless hurt as it did his.
āI almost had to take more of your legs, Echo.ā I barely whispered it, knowing the horror those words brought me, however crippling it might be, was nothing compared to how theyād haunt him, how his body nearly flinched from muscles locking taut, brows pinching above eyes that still refused to meet mine. āI should haveā¦ It wasā¦ it was a stupid risk not to, and I should never have been put in that position.ā I tried to cling to that angerā¦ tried to blame him, but I could see the heaviness of it all threatening to crush him; the guilt, the fearā¦ the realization of just how close heād come to losing even more of himselfā¦ and I felt how near I was to that same flurry of emotion, because logic would never be enough to free me of the blame curling around my heart, reminding me that heād only isolated himself like that because of me, because of the choices that Iād made and the distance they created between us, a distance Iād done nothing to heal.
But now, through accident and impulse, we stood atop a cliff-face, toeing the edge, begging the other to be the first to jump, and I couldnāt deny the way my heart ached beneath the fear that, after everything that had finally brought us to this moment, he might yet refuse me.
āWhy did you kiss me, Echo?ā It sounded broken, torn between denial and mourning as my gaze fell, awaited the fall of the executionerās axe. I didnāt see the stillness settle over him, the hesitation before he drew a carefully slowed, silent breath.
āYou know why.ā It wanted to be a growl, but he kept his voice almost painfully flat, even; and I wanted to scream.
āClearly, I donāt!ā The words were harsh, shattered beneath a grief too raw to keep locked away any longer, tears finally trailing down my face as my eyes snapped up to find him standing so impossibly still before me, the co-pilotās seat unapologetic as it loomed between us. But I saw the tension yet held in his stance, the subtle downward tug of lips and brow as though bracing for some punishment I was suddenly afraid might retch from me amidst too many emotions and sleepless nights and unanswered questions.
āI came hereā¦ Iā¦ dammit, I donāt know what I was expecting!ā I sobbed, āBut it sure as hell wasnāt to see you look at me likeā¦ā I couldnāt say it, couldnāt admit how his earlier fear had wounded me, how it seemed like heād already accepted that heād never see me again, my arms locking around my chest as though it might ease the agony tearing through me. āWhyā¦ Why did you kiss me?ā But then he answered me. And I froze.
āBecause I wanted to.ā He replied, and there was a shift in his stance; so subtle, I nearly missed it. But his shoulders seemed broader; his eyes darker, and I felt my heart jump at the sight of it. āBecause Iāve wanted to since that skanah mercenary laid his damn hands on you and you still trusted me enough to let me help.ā Now, he was growling. āSince I first heard you laugh at those stories about Fives.ā Walking forward with such perfectly even strides; slow, not to give me time to run, but to savor the sight of my breath quickening, deepening with every step. āSince that day I woke up with you in my arms like youād always belonged there.ā Until mere inches separated us as he towered over me. āIāve wanted to for so longā¦ and I thought Iād never get another chance. That's why I kissed you.ā
I should have been afraid. I should have remembered how easily heād overpowered me in the midst of his illness; how heād hurt me. But I looked up at those pale-gold eyes, at pupils blown wide with hunger, at skin now boasting a warm hue rather than the unnatural paleness of when Iād met him, at hair delightfully messy, the sides overgrown just enough to curl and ruin the normally neat fohawk; at lips parted ever so slightly, teasing the memory of his taste.
āWhy didn't you kiss me sooner?ā I could feel the heat of his breath as he stood before me, body curling subtly around mine.
āA lot of reasons. None of them good.ā He murmured, eyes flicking to my lips though he held himself so carefully still.
āWhy aren't you kissing me now?ā I asked, voice a barely-there whisper and invitation and plea, but he didn't rush forward like I thought he would, like I hoped he would, instead weighing my question carefully before answering.
āBecause, if I kiss you again, I'm not going to stop.ā It was a threat as much as it was a promise, footsteps silent as he inched closer still, just enough to make the rear wall of the cockpit press against my back.
āGood.ā I was moving before the absently mumbled word fully escaped me, hands locking around his jaw, fingers tangling into the satin curls just escaping the lower edge of his cybernetic, practicality and boundaries and logic forgotten as he met me with the same fire. No. Not forgotten. Ignored. Intentional and willful and eagerly ignored as his arm locked around my lower back, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that left me gasping as he shamelessly pressed himself against me, breastplate nearly bruising my chest, scomp sliding around my waist, caging me.
To call it a kiss was far too tame. He devoured me, lips and jaw and body all moving in a hypnotic rhythm, as his hand abandoned my hip to drag up my spine, touch firm, unrepentant of how my shirt caught on fingertips digging in to my back, my shoulders, practically wrenching me away from the wall solely so he could pull me closer.
Iād tried not to wonder, not to imagine and dreamā¦ but when idle thoughts turned to fantasies Iād pretended not to have, Iād presumed Echo to beā¦ gentleā¦ soft. Iād envisioned hesitant touches and frequent glances seeking reassurance. But reality burned far hotter. He didnāt hesitate because the moan that caught in my throat screamed my consent louder than any murmured permissions, because there was no misunderstanding why my body arched so willingly into his, and whatever timidness might have subdued his hunger was forfeit after so many months of stifled want.
My breath caught as his hand darted down to my thigh, his body bucking just enough to hoist me up so my legs might lock about his hips, and whatever objection I had was briefly lost in the rush of heat burning through those eyes as he looked at me with something far deeper than the lust Iād expected in that moment. Devotion. Adoration. An awe that left my cheeks burning and heart racing even more frantically. My arms looped around his shoulders with reverence of my own, the weight of shared breath hot and intoxicating between us as I held myself back a moment to savor this, smile just toying with my lips as he stretched forward to taste me again, though this time with some hint of a softness that sent a shiver dancing across my skin.
āStay.ā He whispered the word against me, like he was begging for his life rather than what few weeks I might have been gone.
āEverythingās going to get complicatedā¦ā I warned, though even I could hear how little resolve lingered in the words.
āI donāt care.ā He panted, reaching up to kiss me once more, and, without bothering to pull back, repeated that little plea. āStay.ā I had to fight myself to pull back, lips still parted in an invitation I had only belatedly managed to stifle between ground teeth.
āNo more hiding.ā It wasnāt an order, but it was far from a request as I held his gaze, arms shifting to wrap almost covetously around his head that my fingers might toy with those soft, ebony curls. He didnāt respond immediately, and I loved him for it; for the show that he was really hearing me, thinking over my demand before answering with a slow nod, and I thanked him with another kiss, forehead resting lightly against his as I tried to gather my thoughts enough to voice them.
āAnd thisā¦ me andā¦ and the othersā¦ā I still tripped over the words, still struggled with the very concept of it, though he didnāt so much as flinch, āPromise me youāll tell me ifā¦ if somethingās wrongā¦ Talk to me instead of...ā
āInstead of fighting it out with Crosshair?ā He offered, and I could hear that little smirk, could feel the tiny huff of laughter, but his smile only grew as I shot him a glare.
āI promise.ā He agreed in such a soft murmur, I couldnāt help but melt against him, body curling around his before kissing him once more, and I relished the way he relaxed beneath my touch, that hunger quieted that we might simply enjoy this moment for what it was: permission to feel without shame, to want without guilt, and to hold without doubt, because there wasnāt room for such things amidst the relief and joy in how his lips danced against mine, the warmth of his arms around me and mine around him, the comfort Iād feared forever lost to us settling gently about the silence that no longer felt heavy or strained.
āAnd Echo?ā I whispered his name against his lips almost reluctantly, allowing myself just one more second of that kiss as he hummed back. āIf you tore open those ulcers again, Iām going to break my vow to do no harm.ā His laughter was almost worth all the stress that had brought us here.
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Part (3) of Divergent Paths, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
HUUUGGEEE thanks to my discord loves! Both for their support and proofreading!
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Warnings: Uh. Profanity. And. Kissing. Guys. There's proper fucking kissing in this one! Some talk of amputation
WC: 4,682
Mandoāa
Haarāchak ā damn it!
Narāsheb ā shove it up your ass
āYouāre such an ass.ā I cursed against his lips, nearly sobbing from the sudden lightness of reality, the euphoria of finally being free from that crippling, constant guilt, and whatever retort he tried to hum in response was lost as I dragged myself even closer, desperate for another kiss, another taste of him, another promise that this was real; that he was still mine.
Crosshair's breath caught with a subtle laugh, but there was a tension in it; a hesitation ruining the sarcastic faƧade that normally came so easily to him. Still, he kissed me back all the same, hand slowly dragging through my hair to cradle the back of my head, his every movement so painfully careful; delicate. Despite his care, my cheek throbbed, my nose ached, and my head was pounding. But, Maker, I couldnāt bring myself to care.
āYouā¦ You let me thinkā¦ā I couldnāt say it, couldnāt stand to think about how certain Iād been that Iād lost him; lost all of them, my voice breaking with a grief I was still trying to let go of.
āI thought it was too late.ā He admitted, head dropping slightly, though he didnāt pull away, still resting on a knee before me as he gently touched his brow to mine. āFigured youādā¦ That Iād pushed too farā¦ā It was such a rare, devastating thing to hear that doubt in his voice, āThat Iād pushed you away.ā My heart stuttered at that quiet admission, and my every fiber screamed to fix it, to chase all whisper of that doubt from him, but this was too important to yield beneath that want for peace.
āI thought you were trying to push me away.ā The horror that shot through him as he finally met my eyes nearly wrenched the air from my lungs, but I held myself still, needing him to understand how his silence had hurt me, how their secrets had led to this, āI thought you didnāt trust me, and you wanted to... end things on your terms.ā I didnāt allow him enough time to recover, to form a reply before adding in something too close to a mumble, āWhich, apparently, wasnāt as farfetched of an accusation as I thought it wasā¦ā
His hands drew back to just whisper against my jaw, expression turning somber in a way that made me pause, holding my breath to better hear what he might say.
āItāsā¦ complicated.ā He grumbled, earning a weary huff from me, but he merely shifted to nuzzle his lips against my neck before continuing. āSharing you with the othersā¦ Itās different than if it was with anyone elseā¦ with a reg.ā My stomach leapt at hearing him say it so bluntly, that fluttering of wings within my chest nearly making me gasp, but the way he snarled that last word brought me back. I knew he meant Jester, but that wasnāt who came to my mind amidst the face of his rage.
āAnd Echoā¦?ā I pressed, words direct though my tone softened in a plea to really talk about this; to keep from falling into defensive posturing and inevitable frustration, and, at the way his shoulders tensed, jaw grinding as he fell silent for a long moment, I feared it would come to exactly that, but then he drew a deep, slow breath and held it for a beat. Two. Three, and then released it.
āI overreacted with Echo.ā He admitted, voice low, reluctant, and I was too stunned to react, eyes wide, but then a laughter escaped me that was so sudden, so impossibly light, that he could only stare before letting out a scoffed chuckle of his own.
āI thought you were trying to kill him!ā I retorted.
āI was.ā His answer only made me laugh harder. It was senseless. And what heād done warranted a far longer conversation, but I needed to laugh at it, needed to regard all of this with anything other than the hurt and blame that could so easily have sent us all spiraling even further.
āThatās more than an overreaction, Crosshair!ā His lips bunched at my scolding. Still, he didnāt try to shrug my arms from where they yet lay about his shoulders, nor did his own touch weaken as he rolled his eyes, but then he leaned even closer, chest tightening slightly as his words fell into a mournful whisper.
āI thought Iād lost you.ā He secreted the words against my neck, slitted gaze staring blindly at the slowly darkening bruise but careful to avoid my eyes. āAnd then Echoā¦ Felt like that proved it.ā There was no embarrassment in it, no blame. There was only a deep, resigned sorrow that threatened to ruin me anew. Movements languid, as though he might feel how my hands delighted in that closeness despite the heavy plastoid between us, I leaned back, fingers tracing the elegant lines of his chestplate as I robbed him of the safety in that proximity, of that obscurity in hiding too near to truly see.
āAsk me.ā It was an invitation rather than an order, but it held the same weight. Still, his brows hitched, the barest glimmers of a cocky smirk toying with his lips.
āI think youāve already answered that pretty clearly.ā He hummed, body curling closer to mine with a spark of that breathtaking glee nearly hidden beneath a far safer hunger, but my hands held firm, forbidding him from crossing that precious little distance, from avoiding this, and an unspoken understanding chased that mirth from his face, leaving something far quieter in its wake. His jaw shifted behind closed lips, as though tasting each word before letting himself speak.
There was a pause, just a fleeting, terrifying handful of seconds. His eyes fled mine, dropping to where my scarcely packed bag lay forgotten at our feet, contents half scattered where it fell, and I could feel the tension in his muscles, how near he was to pushing himself up and simply walking away. I wondered what mocking comment might drip from his tongue as he denied me, dismissed the entirety of this mess in favor of the simplicity Iād robbed from him.
But then those eyes flicked back up to me, sharp and merciless and so desperate to hide the fear in them.
āDo you,ā He finally asked, āstill want me?ā It wasnāt a whisper, but he couldnāt seem to keep his voice from dropping, nearly squirming beneath how that question tore far too deeply through him to manage anything more, and I found myself reaching up for his hand, fingers threading through his as my breath threatened to falter, loathing that heād ever felt the need to doubt such things even as my heart soared at this moment of vulnerability he was giving me.
āYes.ā I promised; begged; gaze unwavering with a plea for him to believe me, and I shifted, dragging his palm up to press my lips against it. āThereāsā¦ a lot we need to work onā¦ both of usā¦ but, I want you, Crosshair.ā I lived for the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as I pressed the words into his skin between barely-there kisses, between tiny hitches in my breath as my other hand reached for him as well, cradling his with a touch far too desperate to be gentle. āIāll always want you.ā
Ā His thumb traced precious nothings atop my skin, and I shuddered at the way the nerves trilled with glee, static following in his wake in some vain plea to remember that feeling even if only for a heartbeat longer. Still, that tender caress couldnāt keep my own doubts at bay forever, couldnāt silence the reason my mind rebelled relentlessly against this despite how I craved to feign ignorance to the dangers looming so obviously before us.
āButā¦ Cross,ā this time, it was my turn to hide, almost shielding myself behind our interwoven hands. āare you really okay with this?ā I hadnāt begun to work through my own feelings aboutā¦ āusā becoming far more complicated, but none of that mattered if any of them held even a glimmer of reservation.
āIt wouldnāt be the first time a squad has shared.ā That teasing drawl slid back into his seductive rasp, and I couldnāt fight the little thrill it sent dancing about my chest, but I managed to meet his smirk with an unimpressed glare. He let out a slow, almost impatient breath. āIām sure thereāll be someā¦ adjusting.ā He added in a low grumble, and my own doubt resurfaced.
āHow do I do this?ā I barely breathed it, shoulders hitching about my neck as my heartbeat quickened. āI donāt want you to feel like you arenāt enoughā¦ā His own breath caught, and I could see how that fear resonated with him, and the odd calm that followed in merely hearing me say it. He offered no feigned smile, no cocky retort as he leaned forward to rest his brow to mine once more, words a hushed promise against my lips.
āWeāll figure it out.ā There was a confidence in that soft murmur that I wanted to doubt; I wanted to scream the simple fact that such a vague reassurance was nowhere near enough to soothe the endless insecurities bubbling up inside me. But I did believe it. I believed him, and the comfort that belief gave me left the air fluttering passed my lips in a shaky breath, terrified of the hope it brought. So, I kissed him. I kissed him because I was afraid, but I trusted him; because I wanted to be ashamed but wasnāt, Because, more than that fear and doubt and shame, I wanted this. I wanted him. And Echoā¦ Hunterā¦ Kriff, how far would this go?
āYou might want to start with the arc.ā He added, lips just hinting at his usual scowl as he pulled away almost too soon, eyes nearly rolling as he added, āTechās going to be pissed if he breaks those new legs from all the pacing he was doingā¦ā
It had been a slow thing; growing some sliver of acceptance between the 99 and what few legions we frequented, an acceptance initially enforced more by their leaders than any sense of brotherhood, though some had finally begun to see passed idiotic excuses to alienate and mock. As Crosshair and I made our way back through the Resolute, however, the berth regs gave us as we passed, the way they avoided nearly the entire quadrant of the hanger housing the Marauder screamed that any such familiarity was forfeit, and my stomach ached at the knowledge that Iād shared more than a small portion of the blame for that.
Some semblance of a desk had been thrown together near the ramp where Tech seemed to be tooling about with cables of something I was almost certain hadnāt come from our ship. Wrecker sat with his back resting against one of crates holding his brotherās make-shift workshop, expression sullen as he spoke in a voice far too quiet to be heard across the half-dozen meters separating us, and I felt a flutter of doubt that nearly left me nauseous. I was walking into this with no idea what to say; what to assume about the near useless hints Hunter had given me; where I might be overthinking things, overstepping, versus what might be seen as playing dumb and avoiding emotions now believed to be obvious.
Crosshair must have noted the tiny hesitation in my stride, gaze shifting toward me, but before he could speak, Hunter stepped out from the cabin doorway, eyes instantly locking on mine with a look of such stunned surprise that it should have left me laughing, and yet I found myself frozen, some voice screaming in the back of my mind that Iād already mistaken everything, and now it was too late to take it back. But then I watched his shoulders fall with a sigh of relief deep enough to catch his brothersā attention, watched the tentative but earnest beginnings of a smile wash over him, and the way that smile sent my heart jumping nearly blinded me to the equally surprised looks from Wrecker and Tech.
āTold yuh heād-ā Whatever Wrecker was about to say ended in a huffed chuckle as Tech slammed his hip roughly against the larger manās shoulder. My cheeks burned as I quickly made my way toward the ramp, leaving Crosshair back with the others. Another rush of heat and static danced through my chest as I met Hunterās gaze, fighting back the flurry of questions, of possibilities and thoughts Iād pushed down for so long now dangling painfully within reach.
āIs Echoā¦?ā I asked quietly, calmly; as though there was some chance he hadnāt noticed the frantic thudding of my pulse.
āInside.ā He nodded toward the cockpit, shifting to take a half-step back so I could pass by him more easily. I started to move, but paused, unsure if there was something more I should say; unsure where to start, but he merely nodded again with a smile far too gentle for the frenzy warring within me. Still, I didnāt waste the excuse to continue forward, unsure if I was rushing toward Echo or running from Hunter, but both granted an almost crippling cocktail of anxiety and confusion and want.
The Marauder was quiet beyond the muffled voices from outside as Hunter joined his brothers. I almost paused, desperate to hear them, to steal what knowledge I could between low chuckles rich with a lightness I hadnāt heard from them in far too long, but I didnāt. It didnāt feel right. And whatever secrets they shared, they owed to me to say to my face. Soon. But Crosshair was right. I couldnāt let Echo continue torturing himself over what happenedā¦ nor would I let him find some way to hide from me again.
He wasnāt pacing when I reached the entry into the cockpit. If Hunter hadnāt said otherwise, I might have believed the ship to be empty, but then I started down the ladder, and there was no doubting the source of the impatient, growled sigh that greeted me.
āHaarāchak, Hunter!ā I froze at the venom in his voice, one foot still on the ladder for a half-beat before taking that final step, āfor the last time, take your damn advice and narāsh-!ā
āOh?ā I refused to acknowledge the reason my heart was pounding, why my eyes were locked so pointedly on the back of the chair where the arc sat almost fully hidden from view, nor the way my body tensed at how quickly he leapt to his feet, those new legs nearly tangling beneath him as he spun around to face me in a flurry of panic I knew too well. āWhat advice has Hunter been giving you?ā
Another day, his reaction may have left me laughing, but not now. Not for this. Not when the dread in his eyes only grew the longer he stared at me, like each beat of silence screamed anew of the terrible distance between us. I hated it; hated that my presence left him so disjointed; that this man whoād been trained to survive the impossible, whoād lived through unspeakable horrors and not only found the strength to keep fighting but did so without losing the warmth in his smile now stared at me like I was something to be feared. I hated that heād been reduced to this speechless visage of taut muscles and held breath at the mere sight of me when Iād spent months yearning for just a glimpse of the fondness heād once regarded me with.
My chest hitched slightly, jaw snapping shut as I let my gaze fall lest he see some trace of unshed tears.
āI thoughtā¦ā I started, but had to pause to swallow back the stiffness in my throat before trying again. āI thought we could try this wholeā¦ talking thing again.ā Still, I could hear the grief cloying my voice, and it only made it harder to risk looking at him. So I didnāt. Nor did I bother pretending my averted gaze was some subtle mercy to grant him an illusion of privacy. I just couldnāt stand to see him looking at me with that fear, that regret.
He let out a ragged breath, knuckles cracking from how tightly his fingers clenched.
āLook, I didnātā¦ I ā kriffā¦ā He stammered, hand reaching up to drag through his hair, absently working over his temples before letting the limb drop heavily back to his side. āI ā Iām sorry, I-ā
āDonāt.ā I shouldnāt have said it; shouldnāt have risked manipulating his thoughts toward any of this with such a pitiful plea, but I couldnāt take the hurt of hearing him say he hadnāt meant it; that the possibilities Iād only just begun to entertain, to let myself hope for, were gleaned from simple misunderstanding.
āAfter... after all thatā¦ which part are you apologizing for?ā There was such a faint hint of accusation in those words, and I couldnāt tell if I wanted to lean harder into a rage that would only leave me cold, or if there was some point in pretending that exasperation was born of anything more than my own self-doubt. I found myself falling somewhere in-between; drowning in anger and sorrow and guilt as months of denial and hiding, of empty pretense and suppressed desires trapped behind good intentions finally lay exposed, raw and real and veiled only in the silence stretching out between halted breaths.
And he said nothing, chest tight though his shoulders seemed to hang listless amidst the weight of an answer he knew he didnāt need to voice, and that was what finally sparked an earnest flare of fury absent any trace of that earlier hesitation. I deserved an answer, dammitā¦
āYou lied to me; stole from me; you lied to your brothers; you put every one of us in danger, and I still almost l-ā The word shattered as a sob finally broke through. He wasnāt looking at me anymore, head bowed as he merely listened, as he let himself bear the brunt of my rage even as it tore at my heart with the same merciless hurt as it did his.
āI almost had to take more of your legs, Echo.ā I barely whispered it, knowing the horror those words brought me, however crippling it might be, was nothing compared to how theyād haunt him, how his body nearly flinched from muscles locking taut, brows pinching above eyes that still refused to meet mine. āI should haveā¦ It wasā¦ it was a stupid risk not to, and I should never have been put in that position.ā I tried to cling to that angerā¦ tried to blame him, but I could see the heaviness of it all threatening to crush him; the guilt, the fearā¦ the realization of just how close heād come to losing even more of himselfā¦ and I felt how near I was to that same flurry of emotion, because logic would never be enough to free me of the blame curling around my heart, reminding me that heād only isolated himself like that because of me, because of the choices that Iād made and the distance they created between us, a distance Iād done nothing to heal.
But now, through accident and impulse, we stood atop a cliff-face, toeing the edge, begging the other to be the first to jump, and I couldnāt deny the way my heart ached beneath the fear that, after everything that had finally brought us to this moment, he might yet refuse me.
āWhy did you kiss me, Echo?ā It sounded broken, torn between denial and mourning as my gaze fell, awaited the fall of the executionerās axe. I didnāt see the stillness settle over him, the hesitation before he drew a carefully slowed, silent breath.
āYou know why.ā It wanted to be a growl, but he kept his voice almost painfully flat, even; and I wanted to scream.
āClearly, I donāt!ā The words were harsh, shattered beneath a grief too raw to keep locked away any longer, tears finally trailing down my face as my eyes snapped up to find him standing so impossibly still before me, the co-pilotās seat unapologetic as it loomed between us. But I saw the tension yet held in his stance, the subtle downward tug of lips and brow as though bracing for some punishment I was suddenly afraid might retch from me amidst too many emotions and sleepless nights and unanswered questions.
āI came hereā¦ Iā¦ dammit, I donāt know what I was expecting!ā I sobbed, āBut it sure as hell wasnāt to see you look at me likeā¦ā I couldnāt say it, couldnāt admit how his earlier fear had wounded me, how it seemed like heād already accepted that heād never see me again, my arms locking around my chest as though it might ease the agony tearing through me. āWhyā¦ Why did you kiss me?ā But then he answered me. And I froze.
āBecause I wanted to.ā He replied, and there was a shift in his stance; so subtle, I nearly missed it. But his shoulders seemed broader; his eyes darker, and I felt my heart jump at the sight of it. āBecause Iāve wanted to since that skanah mercenary laid his damn hands on you and you still trusted me enough to let me help.ā Now, he was growling. āSince I first heard you laugh at those stories about Fives.ā Walking forward with such perfectly even strides; slow, not to give me time to run, but to savor the sight of my breath quickening, deepening with every step. āSince that day I woke up with you in my arms like youād always belonged there.ā Until mere inches separated us as he towered over me. āIāve wanted to for so longā¦ and I thought Iād never get another chance. That's why I kissed you.ā
I should have been afraid. I should have remembered how easily heād overpowered me in the midst of his illness; how heād hurt me. But I looked up at those pale-gold eyes, at pupils blown wide with hunger, at skin now boasting a warm hue rather than the unnatural paleness of when Iād met him, at hair delightfully messy, the sides overgrown just enough to curl and ruin the normally neat fohawk; at lips parted ever so slightly, teasing the memory of his taste.
āWhy didn't you kiss me sooner?ā I could feel the heat of his breath as he stood before me, body curling subtly around mine.
āA lot of reasons. None of them good.ā He murmured, eyes flicking to my lips though he held himself so carefully still.
āWhy aren't you kissing me now?ā I asked, voice a barely-there whisper and invitation and plea, but he didn't rush forward like I thought he would, like I hoped he would, instead weighing my question carefully before answering.
āBecause, if I kiss you again, I'm not going to stop.ā It was a threat as much as it was a promise, footsteps silent as he inched closer still, just enough to make the rear wall of the cockpit press against my back.
āGood.ā I was moving before the absently mumbled word fully escaped me, hands locking around his jaw, fingers tangling into the satin curls just escaping the lower edge of his cybernetic, practicality and boundaries and logic forgotten as he met me with the same fire. No. Not forgotten. Ignored. Intentional and willful and eagerly ignored as his arm locked around my lower back, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that left me gasping as he shamelessly pressed himself against me, breastplate nearly bruising my chest, scomp sliding around my waist, caging me.
To call it a kiss was far too tame. He devoured me, lips and jaw and body all moving in a hypnotic rhythm, as his hand abandoned my hip to drag up my spine, touch firm, unrepentant of how my shirt caught on fingertips digging in to my back, my shoulders, practically wrenching me away from the wall solely so he could pull me closer.
Iād tried not to wonder, not to imagine and dreamā¦ but when idle thoughts turned to fantasies Iād pretended not to have, Iād presumed Echo to beā¦ gentleā¦ soft. Iād envisioned hesitant touches and frequent glances seeking reassurance. But reality burned far hotter. He didnāt hesitate because the moan that caught in my throat screamed my consent louder than any murmured permissions, because there was no misunderstanding why my body arched so willingly into his, and whatever timidness might have subdued his hunger was forfeit after so many months of stifled want.
My breath caught as his hand darted down to my thigh, his body bucking just enough to hoist me up so my legs might lock about his hips, and whatever objection I had was briefly lost in the rush of heat burning through those eyes as he looked at me with something far deeper than the lust Iād expected in that moment. Devotion. Adoration. An awe that left my cheeks burning and heart racing even more frantically. My arms looped around his shoulders with reverence of my own, the weight of shared breath hot and intoxicating between us as I held myself back a moment to savor this, smile just toying with my lips as he stretched forward to taste me again, though this time with some hint of a softness that sent a shiver dancing across my skin.
āStay.ā He whispered the word against me, like he was begging for his life rather than what few weeks I might have been gone.
āEverythingās going to get complicatedā¦ā I warned, though even I could hear how little resolve lingered in the words.
āI donāt care.ā He panted, reaching up to kiss me once more, and, without bothering to pull back, repeated that little plea. āStay.ā I had to fight myself to pull back, lips still parted in an invitation I had only belatedly managed to stifle between ground teeth.
āNo more hiding.ā It wasnāt an order, but it was far from a request as I held his gaze, arms shifting to wrap almost covetously around his head that my fingers might toy with those soft, ebony curls. He didnāt respond immediately, and I loved him for it; for the show that he was really hearing me, thinking over my demand before answering with a slow nod, and I thanked him with another kiss, forehead resting lightly against his as I tried to gather my thoughts enough to voice them.
āAnd thisā¦ me andā¦ and the othersā¦ā I still tripped over the words, still struggled with the very concept of it, though he didnāt so much as flinch, āPromise me youāll tell me ifā¦ if somethingās wrongā¦ Talk to me instead of...ā
āInstead of fighting it out with Crosshair?ā He offered, and I could hear that little smirk, could feel the tiny huff of laughter, but his smile only grew as I shot him a glare.
āI promise.ā He agreed in such a soft murmur, I couldnāt help but melt against him, body curling around his before kissing him once more, and I relished the way he relaxed beneath my touch, that hunger quieted that we might simply enjoy this moment for what it was: permission to feel without shame, to want without guilt, and to hold without doubt, because there wasnāt room for such things amidst the relief and joy in how his lips danced against mine, the warmth of his arms around me and mine around him, the comfort Iād feared forever lost to us settling gently about the silence that no longer felt heavy or strained.
āAnd Echo?ā I whispered his name against his lips almost reluctantly, allowing myself just one more second of that kiss as he hummed back. āIf you tore open those ulcers again, Iām going to break my vow to do no harm.ā His laughter was almost worth all the stress that had brought us here.
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First, cut through with the certain and specific actions of Crosshair: admitting wrong doing and confessing his deepest, most personal insecurities. In the sexiest way possible, of course.
The second, and more final of the twin deaths was courtesy of Echo causing full and irreversible cardiac arrest: transforming under duress from a sullen, timid, nervous shell of a man who knows he done fucked up, into a a confident, hungry, dangerous fucking ARC who knows exactly what he wants and respectfully says he wonāt stop if he starts kissing her again.
Holy. FUCK.
Internal combustion has commenced. I am melting like the fucking Wicked Witch. I AM UNWELL. Actually, not just unwell @staycalmandhugaclone - I am literally deceased. 5-10 business days required for recovery.
In all seriousness, huge shoutout for your incredible prose on this chapter. This line, in particular got me all in my feels:
The emotional depth, the giddiness, the intense relief, the willingness to cast off the guiltā¦ justā¦ š« .
And Echo in this chapterā¦. š„µš„µš„µ. I literally cannot stress this enough - HOLY SHIT. Screaming into a pillow over here.
Iām going to need sedation when if Doc has one of these heart-to-hearts with Hunter. Fuuuuuuuuck.
You are truly making dreams come true over here - with maximum angst and suspense. Brilliant, as always. ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø Canāt wait for the next chapter!
I'm ashamed to say I definitely allowed more than the requested 5-10 business days for recovery š
I honestly rewrote this a few times because it felt too aggressive, and then it felt too passive... which just wouldn't do. I may be a bit obsessed with letting Echo showcase that he is, in fact, a badass.
My heart keeps doing a little flutter at your compliment for the prose. I never really thought of the more flowery bits as prose, but, fuck, you right š« š„°
And... I have something planned for Hunter. All Imma say is that it's not likely to be, uh, flowery
Well... We're all sick... again. Which means, I've been a useless couch potato, but imma spend a minute saying hi on here while the coffee lets me pretend I have energy. uuggghhhh...
Part (3) of Divergent Paths, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
HUUUGGEEE thanks to my discord loves! Both for their support and proofreading!
Also - apologies to those who requested to be added to the taglist a while ago and are only just getting added! Welcome!!
Warnings: Uh. Profanity. And. Kissing. Guys. There's proper fucking kissing in this one! Some talk of amputation
WC: 4,682
Mandoāa
Haarāchak ā damn it!
Narāsheb ā shove it up your ass
Skanah ā very hated person/ "fucker"
āYouāre such an ass.ā I cursed against his lips, nearly sobbing from the sudden lightness of reality, the euphoria of finally being free from that crippling, constant guilt, and whatever retort he tried to hum in response was lost as I dragged myself even closer, desperate for another kiss, another taste of him, another promise that this was real; that he was still mine.
Crosshair's breath caught with a subtle laugh, but there was a tension in it; a hesitation ruining the sarcastic faƧade that normally came so easily to him. Still, he kissed me back all the same, hand slowly dragging through my hair to cradle the back of my head, his every movement so painfully careful; delicate. Despite his care, my cheek throbbed, my nose ached, and my head was pounding. But, Maker, I couldnāt bring myself to care.
āYouā¦ You let me thinkā¦ā I couldnāt say it, couldnāt stand to think about how certain Iād been that Iād lost him; lost all of them, my voice breaking with a grief I was still trying to let go of.
āI thought it was too late.ā He admitted, head dropping slightly, though he didnāt pull away, still resting on a knee before me as he gently touched his brow to mine. āFigured youādā¦ That Iād pushed too farā¦ā It was such a rare, devastating thing to hear that doubt in his voice, āThat Iād pushed you away.ā My heart stuttered at that quiet admission, and my every fiber screamed to fix it, to chase all whisper of that doubt from him, but this was too important to yield beneath that want for peace.
āI thought you were trying to push me away.ā The horror that shot through him as he finally met my eyes nearly wrenched the air from my lungs, but I held myself still, needing him to understand how his silence had hurt me, how their secrets had led to this, āI thought you didnāt trust me, and you wanted to... end things on your terms.ā I didnāt allow him enough time to recover, to form a reply before adding in something too close to a mumble, āWhich, apparently, wasnāt as farfetched of an accusation as I thought it wasā¦ā
His hands drew back to just whisper against my jaw, expression turning somber in a way that made me pause, holding my breath to better hear what he might say.
āItāsā¦ complicated.ā He grumbled, earning a weary huff from me, but he merely shifted to nuzzle his lips against my neck before continuing. āSharing you with the othersā¦ Itās different than if it was with anyone elseā¦ with a reg.ā My stomach leapt at hearing him say it so bluntly, that fluttering of wings within my chest nearly making me gasp, but the way he snarled that last word brought me back. I knew he meant Jester, but that wasnāt who came to my mind amidst the face of his rage.
āAnd Echoā¦?ā I pressed, words direct though my tone softened in a plea to really talk about this; to keep from falling into defensive posturing and inevitable frustration, and, at the way his shoulders tensed, jaw grinding as he fell silent for a long moment, I feared it would come to exactly that, but then he drew a deep, slow breath and held it for a beat. Two. Three, and then released it.
āI overreacted with Echo.ā He admitted, voice low, reluctant, and I was too stunned to react, eyes wide, but then a laughter escaped me that was so sudden, so impossibly light, that he could only stare before letting out a scoffed chuckle of his own.
āI thought you were trying to kill him!ā I retorted.
āI was.ā His answer only made me laugh harder. It was senseless. And what heād done warranted a far longer conversation, but I needed to laugh at it, needed to regard all of this with anything other than the hurt and blame that could so easily have sent us all spiraling even further.
āThatās more than an overreaction, Crosshair!ā His lips bunched at my scolding. Still, he didnāt try to shrug my arms from where they yet lay about his shoulders, nor did his own touch weaken as he rolled his eyes, but then he leaned even closer, chest tightening slightly as his words fell into a mournful whisper.
āI thought Iād lost you.ā He secreted the words against my neck, slitted gaze staring blindly at the slowly darkening bruise but careful to avoid my eyes. āAnd then Echoā¦ Felt like that proved it.ā There was no embarrassment in it, no blame. There was only a deep, resigned sorrow that threatened to ruin me anew. Movements languid, as though he might feel how my hands delighted in that closeness despite the heavy plastoid between us, I leaned back, fingers tracing the elegant lines of his chestplate as I robbed him of the safety in that proximity, of that obscurity in hiding too near to truly see.
āAsk me.ā It was an invitation rather than an order, but it held the same weight. Still, his brows hitched, the barest glimmers of a cocky smirk toying with his lips.
āI think youāve already answered that pretty clearly.ā He hummed, body curling closer to mine with a spark of that breathtaking glee nearly hidden beneath a far safer hunger, but my hands held firm, forbidding him from crossing that precious little distance, from avoiding this, and an unspoken understanding chased that mirth from his face, leaving something far quieter in its wake. His jaw shifted behind closed lips, as though tasting each word before letting himself speak.
There was a pause, just a fleeting, terrifying handful of seconds. His eyes fled mine, dropping to where my scarcely packed bag lay forgotten at our feet, contents half scattered where it fell, and I could feel the tension in his muscles, how near he was to pushing himself up and simply walking away. I wondered what mocking comment might drip from his tongue as he denied me, dismissed the entirety of this mess in favor of the simplicity Iād robbed from him.
But then those eyes flicked back up to me, sharp and merciless and so desperate to hide the fear in them.
āDo you,ā He finally asked, āstill want me?ā It wasnāt a whisper, but he couldnāt seem to keep his voice from dropping, nearly squirming beneath how that question tore far too deeply through him to manage anything more, and I found myself reaching up for his hand, fingers threading through his as my breath threatened to falter, loathing that heād ever felt the need to doubt such things even as my heart soared at this moment of vulnerability he was giving me.
āYes.ā I promised; begged; gaze unwavering with a plea for him to believe me, and I shifted, dragging his palm up to press my lips against it. āThereāsā¦ a lot we need to work onā¦ both of usā¦ but, I want you, Crosshair.ā I lived for the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as I pressed the words into his skin between barely-there kisses, between tiny hitches in my breath as my other hand reached for him as well, cradling his with a touch far too desperate to be gentle. āIāll always want you.ā
Ā His thumb traced precious nothings atop my skin, and I shuddered at the way the nerves trilled with glee, static following in his wake in some vain plea to remember that feeling even if only for a heartbeat longer. Still, that tender caress couldnāt keep my own doubts at bay forever, couldnāt silence the reason my mind rebelled relentlessly against this despite how I craved to feign ignorance to the dangers looming so obviously before us.
āButā¦ Cross,ā this time, it was my turn to hide, almost shielding myself behind our interwoven hands. āare you really okay with this?ā I hadnāt begun to work through my own feelings aboutā¦ āusā becoming far more complicated, but none of that mattered if any of them held even a glimmer of reservation.
āIt wouldnāt be the first time a squad has shared.ā That teasing drawl slid back into his seductive rasp, and I couldnāt fight the little thrill it sent dancing about my chest, but I managed to meet his smirk with an unimpressed glare. He let out a slow, almost impatient breath. āIām sure thereāll be someā¦ adjusting.ā He added in a low grumble, and my own doubt resurfaced.
āHow do I do this?ā I barely breathed it, shoulders hitching about my neck as my heartbeat quickened. āI donāt want you to feel like you arenāt enoughā¦ā His own breath caught, and I could see how that fear resonated with him, and the odd calm that followed in merely hearing me say it. He offered no feigned smile, no cocky retort as he leaned forward to rest his brow to mine once more, words a hushed promise against my lips.
āWeāll figure it out.ā There was a confidence in that soft murmur that I wanted to doubt; I wanted to scream the simple fact that such a vague reassurance was nowhere near enough to soothe the endless insecurities bubbling up inside me. But I did believe it. I believed him, and the comfort that belief gave me left the air fluttering passed my lips in a shaky breath, terrified of the hope it brought. So, I kissed him. I kissed him because I was afraid, but I trusted him; because I wanted to be ashamed but wasnāt, Because, more than that fear and doubt and shame, I wanted this. I wanted him. And Echoā¦ Hunterā¦ Kriff, how far would this go?
āYou might want to start with the arc.ā He added, lips just hinting at his usual scowl as he pulled away almost too soon, eyes nearly rolling as he added, āTechās going to be pissed if he breaks those new legs from all the pacing he was doingā¦ā
It had been a slow thing; growing some sliver of acceptance between the 99 and what few legions we frequented, an acceptance initially enforced more by their leaders than any sense of brotherhood, though some had finally begun to see passed idiotic excuses to alienate and mock. As Crosshair and I made our way back through the Resolute, however, the berth regs gave us as we passed, the way they avoided nearly the entire quadrant of the hanger housing the Marauder screamed that any such familiarity was forfeit, and my stomach ached at the knowledge that Iād shared more than a small portion of the blame for that.
Some semblance of a desk had been thrown together near the ramp where Tech seemed to be tooling about with cables of something I was almost certain hadnāt come from our ship. Wrecker sat with his back resting against one of crates holding his brotherās make-shift workshop, expression sullen as he spoke in a voice far too quiet to be heard across the half-dozen meters separating us, and I felt a flutter of doubt that nearly left me nauseous. I was walking into this with no idea what to say; what to assume about the near useless hints Hunter had given me; where I might be overthinking things, overstepping, versus what might be seen as playing dumb and avoiding emotions now believed to be obvious.
Crosshair must have noted the tiny hesitation in my stride, gaze shifting toward me, but before he could speak, Hunter stepped out from the cabin doorway, eyes instantly locking on mine with a look of such stunned surprise that it should have left me laughing, and yet I found myself frozen, some voice screaming in the back of my mind that Iād already mistaken everything, and now it was too late to take it back. But then I watched his shoulders fall with a sigh of relief deep enough to catch his brothersā attention, watched the tentative but earnest beginnings of a smile wash over him, and the way that smile sent my heart jumping nearly blinded me to the equally surprised looks from Wrecker and Tech.
āTold yuh heād-ā Whatever Wrecker was about to say ended in a huffed chuckle as Tech slammed his hip roughly against the larger manās shoulder. My cheeks burned as I quickly made my way toward the ramp, leaving Crosshair back with the others. Another rush of heat and static danced through my chest as I met Hunterās gaze, fighting back the flurry of questions, of possibilities and thoughts Iād pushed down for so long now dangling painfully within reach.
āIs Echoā¦?ā I asked quietly, calmly; as though there was some chance he hadnāt noticed the frantic thudding of my pulse.
āInside.ā He nodded toward the cockpit, shifting to take a half-step back so I could pass by him more easily. I started to move, but paused, unsure if there was something more I should say; unsure where to start, but he merely nodded again with a smile far too gentle for the frenzy warring within me. Still, I didnāt waste the excuse to continue forward, unsure if I was rushing toward Echo or running from Hunter, but both granted an almost crippling cocktail of anxiety and confusion and want.
The Marauder was quiet beyond the muffled voices from outside as Hunter joined his brothers. I almost paused, desperate to hear them, to steal what knowledge I could between low chuckles rich with a lightness I hadnāt heard from them in far too long, but I didnāt. It didnāt feel right. And whatever secrets they shared, they owed to me to say to my face. Soon. But Crosshair was right. I couldnāt let Echo continue torturing himself over what happenedā¦ nor would I let him find some way to hide from me again.
He wasnāt pacing when I reached the entry into the cockpit. If Hunter hadnāt said otherwise, I might have believed the ship to be empty, but then I started down the ladder, and there was no doubting the source of the impatient, growled sigh that greeted me.
āHaarāchak, Hunter!ā I froze at the venom in his voice, one foot still on the ladder for a half-beat before taking that final step, āfor the last time, take your damn advice and narāsh-!ā
āOh?ā I refused to acknowledge the reason my heart was pounding, why my eyes were locked so pointedly on the back of the chair where the arc sat almost fully hidden from view, nor the way my body tensed at how quickly he leapt to his feet, those new legs nearly tangling beneath him as he spun around to face me in a flurry of panic I knew too well. āWhat advice has Hunter been giving you?ā
Another day, his reaction may have left me laughing, but not now. Not for this. Not when the dread in his eyes only grew the longer he stared at me, like each beat of silence screamed anew of the terrible distance between us. I hated it; hated that my presence left him so disjointed; that this man whoād been trained to survive the impossible, whoād lived through unspeakable horrors and not only found the strength to keep fighting but did so without losing the warmth in his smile now stared at me like I was something to be feared. I hated that heād been reduced to this speechless visage of taut muscles and held breath at the mere sight of me when Iād spent months yearning for just a glimpse of the fondness heād once regarded me with.
My chest hitched slightly, jaw snapping shut as I let my gaze fall lest he see some trace of unshed tears.
āI thoughtā¦ā I started, but had to pause to swallow back the stiffness in my throat before trying again. āI thought we could try this wholeā¦ talking thing again.ā Still, I could hear the grief cloying my voice, and it only made it harder to risk looking at him. So I didnāt. Nor did I bother pretending my averted gaze was some subtle mercy to grant him an illusion of privacy. I just couldnāt stand to see him looking at me with that fear, that regret.
He let out a ragged breath, knuckles cracking from how tightly his fingers clenched.
āLook, I didnātā¦ I ā kriffā¦ā He stammered, hand reaching up to drag through his hair, absently working over his temples before letting the limb drop heavily back to his side. āI ā Iām sorry, I-ā
āDonāt.ā I shouldnāt have said it; shouldnāt have risked manipulating his thoughts toward any of this with such a pitiful plea, but I couldnāt take the hurt of hearing him say he hadnāt meant it; that the possibilities Iād only just begun to entertain, to let myself hope for, were gleaned from simple misunderstanding.
āAfter... after all thatā¦ which part are you apologizing for?ā There was such a faint hint of accusation in those words, and I couldnāt tell if I wanted to lean harder into a rage that would only leave me cold, or if there was some point in pretending that exasperation was born of anything more than my own self-doubt. I found myself falling somewhere in-between; drowning in anger and sorrow and guilt as months of denial and hiding, of empty pretense and suppressed desires trapped behind good intentions finally lay exposed, raw and real and veiled only in the silence stretching out between halted breaths.
And he said nothing, chest tight though his shoulders seemed to hang listless amidst the weight of an answer he knew he didnāt need to voice, and that was what finally sparked an earnest flare of fury absent any trace of that earlier hesitation. I deserved an answer, dammitā¦
āYou lied to me; stole from me; you lied to your brothers; you put every one of us in danger, and I still almost l-ā The word shattered as a sob finally broke through. He wasnāt looking at me anymore, head bowed as he merely listened, as he let himself bear the brunt of my rage even as it tore at my heart with the same merciless hurt as it did his.
āI almost had to take more of your legs, Echo.ā I barely whispered it, knowing the horror those words brought me, however crippling it might be, was nothing compared to how theyād haunt him, how his body nearly flinched from muscles locking taut, brows pinching above eyes that still refused to meet mine. āI should haveā¦ It wasā¦ it was a stupid risk not to, and I should never have been put in that position.ā I tried to cling to that angerā¦ tried to blame him, but I could see the heaviness of it all threatening to crush him; the guilt, the fearā¦ the realization of just how close heād come to losing even more of himselfā¦ and I felt how near I was to that same flurry of emotion, because logic would never be enough to free me of the blame curling around my heart, reminding me that heād only isolated himself like that because of me, because of the choices that Iād made and the distance they created between us, a distance Iād done nothing to heal.
But now, through accident and impulse, we stood atop a cliff-face, toeing the edge, begging the other to be the first to jump, and I couldnāt deny the way my heart ached beneath the fear that, after everything that had finally brought us to this moment, he might yet refuse me.
āWhy did you kiss me, Echo?ā It sounded broken, torn between denial and mourning as my gaze fell, awaited the fall of the executionerās axe. I didnāt see the stillness settle over him, the hesitation before he drew a carefully slowed, silent breath.
āYou know why.ā It wanted to be a growl, but he kept his voice almost painfully flat, even; and I wanted to scream.
āClearly, I donāt!ā The words were harsh, shattered beneath a grief too raw to keep locked away any longer, tears finally trailing down my face as my eyes snapped up to find him standing so impossibly still before me, the co-pilotās seat unapologetic as it loomed between us. But I saw the tension yet held in his stance, the subtle downward tug of lips and brow as though bracing for some punishment I was suddenly afraid might retch from me amidst too many emotions and sleepless nights and unanswered questions.
āI came hereā¦ Iā¦ dammit, I donāt know what I was expecting!ā I sobbed, āBut it sure as hell wasnāt to see you look at me likeā¦ā I couldnāt say it, couldnāt admit how his earlier fear had wounded me, how it seemed like heād already accepted that heād never see me again, my arms locking around my chest as though it might ease the agony tearing through me. āWhyā¦ Why did you kiss me?ā But then he answered me. And I froze.
āBecause I wanted to.ā He replied, and there was a shift in his stance; so subtle, I nearly missed it. But his shoulders seemed broader; his eyes darker, and I felt my heart jump at the sight of it. āBecause Iāve wanted to since that skanah mercenary laid his damn hands on you and you still trusted me enough to let me help.ā Now, he was growling. āSince I first heard you laugh at those stories about Fives.ā Walking forward with such perfectly even strides; slow, not to give me time to run, but to savor the sight of my breath quickening, deepening with every step. āSince that day I woke up with you in my arms like youād always belonged there.ā Until mere inches separated us as he towered over me. āIāve wanted to for so longā¦ and I thought Iād never get another chance. That's why I kissed you.ā
I should have been afraid. I should have remembered how easily heād overpowered me in the midst of his illness; how heād hurt me. But I looked up at those pale-gold eyes, at pupils blown wide with hunger, at skin now boasting a warm hue rather than the unnatural paleness of when Iād met him, at hair delightfully messy, the sides overgrown just enough to curl and ruin the normally neat fohawk; at lips parted ever so slightly, teasing the memory of his taste.
āWhy didn't you kiss me sooner?ā I could feel the heat of his breath as he stood before me, body curling subtly around mine.
āA lot of reasons. None of them good.ā He murmured, eyes flicking to my lips though he held himself so carefully still.
āWhy aren't you kissing me now?ā I asked, voice a barely-there whisper and invitation and plea, but he didn't rush forward like I thought he would, like I hoped he would, instead weighing my question carefully before answering.
āBecause, if I kiss you again, I'm not going to stop.ā It was a threat as much as it was a promise, footsteps silent as he inched closer still, just enough to make the rear wall of the cockpit press against my back.
āGood.ā I was moving before the absently mumbled word fully escaped me, hands locking around his jaw, fingers tangling into the satin curls just escaping the lower edge of his cybernetic, practicality and boundaries and logic forgotten as he met me with the same fire. No. Not forgotten. Ignored. Intentional and willful and eagerly ignored as his arm locked around my lower back, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that left me gasping as he shamelessly pressed himself against me, breastplate nearly bruising my chest, scomp sliding around my waist, caging me.
To call it a kiss was far too tame. He devoured me, lips and jaw and body all moving in a hypnotic rhythm, as his hand abandoned my hip to drag up my spine, touch firm, unrepentant of how my shirt caught on fingertips digging in to my back, my shoulders, practically wrenching me away from the wall solely so he could pull me closer.
Iād tried not to wonder, not to imagine and dreamā¦ but when idle thoughts turned to fantasies Iād pretended not to have, Iād presumed Echo to beā¦ gentleā¦ soft. Iād envisioned hesitant touches and frequent glances seeking reassurance. But reality burned far hotter. He didnāt hesitate because the moan that caught in my throat screamed my consent louder than any murmured permissions, because there was no misunderstanding why my body arched so willingly into his, and whatever timidness might have subdued his hunger was forfeit after so many months of stifled want.
My breath caught as his hand darted down to my thigh, his body bucking just enough to hoist me up so my legs might lock about his hips, and whatever objection I had was briefly lost in the rush of heat burning through those eyes as he looked at me with something far deeper than the lust Iād expected in that moment. Devotion. Adoration. An awe that left my cheeks burning and heart racing even more frantically. My arms looped around his shoulders with reverence of my own, the weight of shared breath hot and intoxicating between us as I held myself back a moment to savor this, smile just toying with my lips as he stretched forward to taste me again, though this time with some hint of a softness that sent a shiver dancing across my skin.
āStay.ā He whispered the word against me, like he was begging for his life rather than what few weeks I might have been gone.
āEverythingās going to get complicatedā¦ā I warned, though even I could hear how little resolve lingered in the words.
āI donāt care.ā He panted, reaching up to kiss me once more, and, without bothering to pull back, repeated that little plea. āStay.ā I had to fight myself to pull back, lips still parted in an invitation I had only belatedly managed to stifle between ground teeth.
āNo more hiding.ā It wasnāt an order, but it was far from a request as I held his gaze, arms shifting to wrap almost covetously around his head that my fingers might toy with those soft, ebony curls. He didnāt respond immediately, and I loved him for it; for the show that he was really hearing me, thinking over my demand before answering with a slow nod, and I thanked him with another kiss, forehead resting lightly against his as I tried to gather my thoughts enough to voice them.
āAnd thisā¦ me andā¦ and the othersā¦ā I still tripped over the words, still struggled with the very concept of it, though he didnāt so much as flinch, āPromise me youāll tell me ifā¦ if somethingās wrongā¦ Talk to me instead of...ā
āInstead of fighting it out with Crosshair?ā He offered, and I could hear that little smirk, could feel the tiny huff of laughter, but his smile only grew as I shot him a glare.
āI promise.ā He agreed in such a soft murmur, I couldnāt help but melt against him, body curling around his before kissing him once more, and I relished the way he relaxed beneath my touch, that hunger quieted that we might simply enjoy this moment for what it was: permission to feel without shame, to want without guilt, and to hold without doubt, because there wasnāt room for such things amidst the relief and joy in how his lips danced against mine, the warmth of his arms around me and mine around him, the comfort Iād feared forever lost to us settling gently about the silence that no longer felt heavy or strained.
āAnd Echo?ā I whispered his name against his lips almost reluctantly, allowing myself just one more second of that kiss as he hummed back. āIf you tore open those ulcers again, Iām going to break my vow to do no harm.ā His laughter was almost worth all the stress that had brought us here.
Next Chapter
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K, so my usual rhythm is to go through and worship my lovelies who've commented and reblogged my shit before posting a new chapter; however, I have scant little time (what else is new), and really need to be focusing on prepping the house for my mom's visit and my little guys second (!!?!) birthday this week!
So, throwing this chapter into the ether with promises to spend time just catching up and responding to everyone next week - otherwise, I might not be able to post until Sunday, and... listen... I'm way too excited to hold onto this that long...
