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Summer Milky Way at The Pinnacles Desert, Western Australia

Nikon d810a – 50mm – ISO 4000 – f/2.8 Foreground: 7 x 25 seconds Sky: 30 x 25 seconds iOptron SkyTracker

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Framed

Maya bishop x reader x carina deluca

a/n: hey guys I'm pretty much new to writing, hopefully you guys enjoy this oneshot story :)

The sterile white walls of the facility seemed to mock you. You couldn't believe this was happening. Carina, her face a mask of concern that you now saw as manipulation, and Maya, her usual fiery spirit dimmed by what you perceived as a betrayal, had brought you here. "This is for your own good," Carina had said, her voice soft but firm, as they guided you through the imposing doors. Maya hadn't met your eyes, her silence a heavier accusation than any words.

Rage simmered beneath your skin. How dare they? How dare they decide this for you, without truly understanding? You were angry, hurt, and utterly alone in this place that felt like a prison. You turned to face them, your voice sharp, "You can't do this to me! This is insane! I hate you both!" The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your fractured trust.

Maya finally looked at you, her eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own, but it was too late. The damage was done. Carina stepped forward, reaching out a hand, but you recoiled as if burned. "Don't touch me," you spat, your gaze fixed on Maya, the one person you thought would always have your back. "You both just signed your own death warrants in my book."

The days that followed blurred into a monotonous cycle of therapy sessions, medication, and forced group activities. You remained defiant, your anger a shield against the perceived injustice. You refused to engage, to open up, to let them see the vulnerability that lay beneath your hardened exterior. Each therapist's attempt to "reach" you was met with stony silence or biting sarcasm. You saw their concern as a performance, their understanding as a lie.

Maya and Carina visited, their faces etched with a mixture of worry and a weariness you couldn't bring yourself to empathize with. Maya would try to speak, to explain, to apologize, but you'd cut her off, your words laced with the bitterness of your betrayal. "What do you want me to say, Maya? That I forgive you for locking me up? That I'm grateful for this 'help'?" Carina would attempt a gentler approach, her voice laced with a practiced calm, but you saw through it. "You think this is going to fix me?" you'd sneer. "You're just trying to control me, both of you."

You found yourself watching them, analyzing their every move, searching for any crack in their facade. You noticed the way Maya flinched when you spoke to her, the way Carina's smile never quite reached her eyes. It fueled your anger, solidifying your belief that they were orchestrating this entire charade, perhaps even enjoying your suffering. You were determined to make them regret this, to show them the consequences of crossing you.

One afternoon, during a particularly grueling individual therapy session, the dam finally broke. Not in a way that led to understanding or healing, but in a torrent of raw, unfiltered fury. You unleashed every ounce of your resentment, your pain, your accusations. You screamed at the therapist, at Maya and Carina who were observing from behind the one-way mirror, at the very walls that held you captive. You hurled insults, replayed every perceived slight, and declared your unwavering intention to make them pay. The outburst left you trembling, spent, but with a chilling sense of clarity: you would not be broken here. You would find a way out, and when you did, they would face the full force of your wrath.Six months later, the sterile white walls of the psychiatric facility finally receded, replaced by the stark, unforgiving reality of the outside world. You walked out not with a sense of freedom, but with a cold, hard resolve that had solidified during your involuntary stay. The time spent institutionalized, though meant to break you, had instead forged you into something sharper, something more dangerous. You had meticulously observed, learned, and planned.The police academy became your new battleground. It was a place where your controlled anger, your sharp intellect, and your newfound ruthlessness could be honed into a weapon. You excelled, driven by a singular purpose: to gain the power and authority to ensure no one could ever control you again. You pushed yourself relentlessly, the grueling physical and mental demands a welcome distraction from the lingering shadows of your past. You became a ghost in your own life, expertly weaving a narrative of a reformed individual, all the while harboring a deep-seated plan.Maya and Carina became distant memories, deliberately erased from your life. You changed your number, moved to a different part of the city, and severed all ties. When chance encounters were unavoidable, you’d offer a polite, almost imperceptible nod, your eyes holding a chilling emptiness that made them recoil. You saw their attempts to reconnect, their hesitant smiles, as pathetic pleas for forgiveness you would never grant. Their concern was a brand you refused to acknowledge, their past actions a debt that remained unpaid. You were on a new path, a path paved with justice, and they were no longer part of its landscape.

The air in the fire station clinic was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low hum of emergency equipment. You stood by the double doors, your posture rigid, a silent sentinel. The weight of the uniform felt both foreign and familiar, a new skin you were still getting used to. Your gaze swept over the room, cataloging every detail, every potential threat, every exit. This was your domain now, a place where order was paramount.Then, the doors swung open, admitting a wave of concerned faces. Among them, you saw Maya and Carina. Their expressions were a mixture of relief and apprehension, a stark contrast to the controlled calm you’d cultivated. Carina’s eyes widened in surprise, and Maya’s breath hitched, her hand instinctively reaching for Carina’s arm. They looked at you, a stranger in uniform, guarding a doorway that had once been a threshold to a shared life.You met their gazes, your expression unreadable. There was no flicker of recognition, no warmth, just the cool professionalism of an officer on duty. You offered a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment of their presence, before turning your attention back to the doors, your duty calling you away from the ghosts of your past. The clinic was a place of healing, but for you, it was a post, a barrier, a reminder of the distance you had placed between then and now.

The sudden commotion shattered the clinic's fragile peace. A patient, eyes wild and unfocused, lunged at Maya, their movements erratic and violent. In an instant, your training kicked in. The controlled calm you projected evaporated, replaced by a surge of protective instinct. You moved with a speed that surprised even yourself, intercepting the attacker before they could inflict any real harm.Your hands were firm but not brutal as you subdued the struggling individual, bringing them down to the floor with practiced efficiency. Carina rushed to Maya's side, her face pale with fear, but Maya, though shaken, was unharmed. You remained positioned between them and the now-restrained patient, your gaze sharp, assessing the situation."Are you alright, ma'am?" you asked Maya, your voice level and professional, betraying none of the complex emotions churning beneath the surface. You met her wide, startled eyes, the shared history momentarily flashing between you, before you refocused on your duty, ensuring the immediate threat was neutralized and the clinic returned to a state of order.

As the adrenaline subsided, a tense quiet settled back into the clinic, punctuated only by the muffled sounds of paramedics attending to the agitated patient. Carina, her arm still around Maya, finally looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and a dawning recognition. Maya, catching her gaze, followed suit, her expression shifting from shock to a profound, unspoken understanding.You maintained your professional demeanor, your gaze sweeping the room to ensure no further disturbances. "The situation is under control," you stated, your voice steady. You offered a brief, almost imperceptible nod to Maya, a silent acknowledgment that passed between you, a flicker of the past in the present. Then, with the practiced economy of movement, you stepped back, resuming your post by the doors, the silent guardian once more, leaving Maya and Carina to process the unexpected reunion in the sterile confines of the clinic.

The sterile air of the hospital room felt heavy, thick with unspoken questions. You sat on the edge of the bed, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to the turmoil in your mind. Carina and Maya had been evasive, their stories riddled with inconsistencies, but today, something felt different. A fragile resolve had settled over them, a shared decision to finally lay bare the truth.Maya began, her voice soft, almost a whisper, recounting the days leading up to your admission. She spoke of your mother's visits, her increasingly frantic pleas for you to be "helped," her descriptions of your behavior growing more alarming with each telling. Carina added details, the doctor's consultations, the fabricated reports of suicidal ideation, the manufactured evidence of self-harm. It was a carefully constructed narrative, designed to paint you as a danger, a narrative your own mother had so expertly crafted.The realization hit you like a physical blow. Your mother, the person you trusted most, had orchestrated this. The betrayal was a bitter pill, a sickening twist of the gut. Tears welled, not of sadness, but of a cold, hard anger. You looked at Carina and Maya, their faces etched with remorse and a shared burden, and understood. They hadn't wanted this, but they had been manipulated, caught in the crossfire of your mother's desperate, misguided actions. The hospital wasn't a place of healing; it was a prison built on lies, and the architect was the one person you never suspected.

You took a deep, shaky breath, the anger slowly giving way to a profound sadness. You looked at Carina and Maya, their faces a mixture of guilt and relief. You reached out, your hand finding Carina's, then Maya's."It's okay," you said, your voice raspy but firm. "It wasn't your fault. You were just trying to do what you thought was right. And Mom... she was probably scared. Scared of things she didn't understand." A small, sad smile touched your lips. "We'll figure this out. Together."