I want to see more of the Broken Pieces crew living their best life in that nice little house. Show me the fluff! Maybe they get a dog.
Awww, thank you so much! Like all my readers, I am incredibly attached to my Broken Pieces Crew, but other than the completely overdue Christmas Special that I have planned, I don’t know what’s left for them except completely tooth-rotting fluff. Is that what you whumpers want??? Fluff???
As for a dog.....I can see Beth and Daniel arguing about what breed would be best for the house and Jay’s nerves. They expect Jay to want to do all kinds of research, pick the genetically perfect choice, but Jay quietly, adamantly says they will only take a dog from the pound. They got rescued from a cell and given a second chance. By God, they’re gonna do that for a dog too.
The trip there is overstimulating. Beth keeps watching Jay squeeze their eyes shut and tap their fingers on their chest in time with their heart, but they won’t leave yet, despite the noise and the lights and the metal that are obviously bothering them. Beth and Daniel finally crouch down to offer their fingers to a middle-aged beagle who might be a good fit when they realized Jay is nowhere in sight.
A few breathless minutes find them staring at a kennel where Jay is petting the largest gray monster they have ever seen. He’s a Great Dane, the attendant explains, a dog who got dropped off after his owner, a sweet old deaf lady, passed away. While he’s got the best temperament and responds to non-verbal commands, he hasn’t been adopted because he’s skittish around loud noises and, well....he’s used to being an indoor dog. Beth looks over to where the dog is flopped over into Jay’s lap while Jay, finally relaxed, closes their eyes and stokes the dog’s ears. She throws up her hands and starts cursing in Spanish. Daniel signs the paperwork.
Thus begins the most spoiled years of that dog’s second life. Despite the fact that Daniel lugs bags of the most expensive dog food into the house, Beth can’t help but feed him scraps while she’s cooking. The Great Dane spends most of his days loyally following Jay, resting his head on the 28-year-old’s knee as he sits at the computer, on the couch, or in the garden. At night, he jumps into Jay’s bed where they collapse together in a tangle of lanky limbs. Beth would complain (especially about the drool) but Jay rarely has a nightmare again. Feeling a warm, steady heartbeat beneath them and smelling the unmistakable smell of dog breath can’t help but remind them that they are so, so far away from that dark basement cell. They are loved. They are needed. They are not alone.
On cool nights, the trio walk the dog through the neighborhood. To Jay’s delight, they find that with a 150-pound dog with them, people don’t approach without their permission. Their don’t stare at Jay’s scars or shaking hands. Then, one evening, a little girl, no older than 5 keeps peaking out from behind her parents’ legs at Jay and their pet. From a few feet back where he walks arm-in-arm with Beth, Daniel smiles as Jay beckons her forward.
“He is very kind. If you want to say hello, I mean. He really likes it when you pet him right here.”
The dog sits as Jay scratches him behind the ear and the girl approaches and stretches up on her tiptoes to do the same.
“What’s his name?”
“Neo.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s silly!”
“It is a bit of a funny name. I like it because if you rearrange the letters, it spells the number one.”
“And he’s the number one dog?” Neo wags his tail. Maybe Jay smiles.
Hello! This is an entry in the Broken Pieces series. The previous piece is Kind Restraints and can be found by that title or the tags of any of the main characters.
“We have a problem.”
Special Agent Daniel Wei looked up from his desk at Morgan Security to find his boss scowling down at him. He took a sip of coffee.
“You remember that Jonathan kid?”
Daniel nodded. How could he forget?
Despite the “Security” in the name Morgan Security, most of his assignments since joining the firm eight years ago were pretty tame. Intimidation was the name of the game for the most part. Sometimes he got to make people feel safe. Those days he drank less coffee and whistled on the car ride home.
What happened with the kid...? Daniel hadn’t seen anyone hurt that badly since his time in the service. He tried not to dwell on the fact that all that damage was done a 26-year-old civilian just protecting his job, but the image of Jay’s protruding ribs still woke him up at night.
“It’s his caretaker. Apparently she ordered Jones around like a schoolboy. Spit in Wilson’s face for good measure. They’re off the case, effective immediately.”
“Who is she?”
“Some brood named Evelyn or Emily or something, though the boys are calling her something else.”
Daniel’s boss chucked. Daniel didn’t.
“Look, Wei, I know it’s not your usual gig, but this whole thing is still on a need-to-know basis. I got managers breathing down my neck that nobody else even hears a fart about what happened.”
Unceremoniously, he dropped a bundle of blue medical files on Daniel’s desk.
“As of now, you’re the kid’s case worker for the firm. You screw this up and it's your neck on the line, not mine, you hear me? The whole thing was fucked from the start if you ask me.”
Daniel didn’t hear him. All he could see were the pictures closely documenting the welts, cuts, and bruises down Jay’s left side. They must have been taken the night of his rescue sometime after Jay passed out in Daniel’s trunk.
The agent took another long drought of coffee. Apparently he was going to have more nightmares tonight.
Daniel arrived early at the hospital the next morning.
Jay was already awake. A nurse in pink patterned scrubs slowly spooned swallows of lukewarm eggs into the patient's mouth.
Daniel looked away.
He pretended it was for Jay’s sake. Being spoon fed had to be a humiliating reminder of the computer scientist’s immobilized hands.
In reality, he couldn’t handle the look in Jay’s eyes.
Jay stared unseeing at the blank hospital wall in front of them. It was as if they came back to themselves any further they’d have to feel the pain and trauma and heartbreak of everything they went through and, at least now, early in the morning, forced to rely on strangers and IVs and pain meds just to survive, Jay’s body couldn’t handle it. It reverted into an empty shell.
Instead, Daniel found the figure slumped near the opposite wall. Elizabeth “Beth” Martinez, 38-year-old Art Department secretary at Landring Community College, looked like she’d collapsed more than fallen asleep in the stiff metal chair by Jay’s bed. Her mouth hung open a little and her hands stretched out on the armrest toward Jay. A rumbled duffel bag huddled under her feet. It couldn’t have held more than two sweaters and three pairs of socks, but Beth obviously wasn’t leaving that room unless she had to.
A flurry of movement brought Daniel’s eyes back to the nurse and her charge.
“We’ve just got a new protein shake in. It’s chocolate! I know it’s just breakfast, but you need to get some meat on your bones.”
She set the brown liquid and straw within reach of Jay’s mouth, but instead of taking a sip, Jay’s eyes went wide.
Jay lashed out, spooking the nurse and sending thick chocolate liquid puddling across the tile floor. Before Daniel could blink, Beth was by Jay’s side, rubbing their back as they buried their face in her neck.
“It...It’s poisoned. You never know how it’s gonna hurt you, but it always does. I know, I know I need it. I have to stay alive, have to keep them away from you, but I’m tired, Beth. I’m so weak and tired, I don’t know what to do…”
With gentle hands, Beth gripped both sides of Jay’s face. She moved them upward until she could look Jay in the eyes.
“Jay, when you were at Princeton and your dad died and you drove miles and miles home in your roommate’s car just so you could be there for your mom as soon as possible, were you weak for wanting to sleep when you got back?”
“N...No.”
“It’s okay to be tired, Jay. It’s like, I don’t know, warriors on watch. You’ve done your job protecting us. Now it’s your turn to rest so we can take care of you.”
Daniel Wei left the hospital without a word. He had work to do.
***
Weeks later, the agent returned to find Jay sitting at a table on the other side of the room. Their hands were still in splints. They still had dark circles under their eyes. They stared at the table like its solid plastic was grounding them.
Daniel bit back a sigh as the kid didn’t even look up as he entered the room.
Then there was a kerfuffle behind him.
“Aha!” Beth said, bursting through the door. “I finally found a nurse who doesn’t do the Chronicle Sunday crossword at ass o’clock in the morning! Jay-bird we are good to go.”
Jay’s eyes lit up as Beth smacked the paper down in front of him and grabbed another chair. For the first time, Daniel realized they were blue.
“Bet you stole it,” they said quietly.
Beth hand flew out of her purse where she was rooting for a pencil and struck above her heart.
“I am deadly offended that you would even think that I would stoop to such things, especially on the day of our Lord! I asked, thank you very much! Besides, if you’re so against stealing, maybe I shouldn’t give you your other treat…”
“You’d withhold a treat from a poor invalid?” Jay deadpanned. “Oh my poor arm.”
Beth chucked. Jay smiled.
“I know you’re having trouble with straws, Jay-bird, but I thought, maybe…”
Beth pulled a purple aluminum can out of her purse.
Jay leaned forward eagerly, but then made himself pause.
“Am I allowed to…?”
“Hell, I don’t see why not! They’re trying to get calories into you anyway that they can. Junk food is only gonna help with that!”
Beth popped the tab on the Grape Crush and stuck a straw in it, moving it toward Jay as she nudged his foot companionably.
Tentatively, Jay took a sip. Then a swig. Then a gulp that took up half the bottle.
“Whoa, slow down there Jay-bird. They will kick me out of here if you die from a sugar high.”
“It tastes like capitalism,” Jay sighed.
“And?”
“And not like hospital food!”
“Good! Then this will be the first of our illegal smuggling adventures, deal?”
“Deal.”
There was a pause as Jay savored his soda.
Daniel cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Jay,” he said. “I’m Special Agent Daniel Wei from Morgan Security. Would you mind if I borrowed Ms. Martinez for a few minutes?”
Jay looked at Beth who nodded wearily and got up to follow Daniel out the door.
***
As soon as Daniel and Beth got settled in an empty conference room, her whole demeanor changed. Her smile slid into a tight thin line and she squared her shoulders even as they fell a few inches.
“So, Agent,” she said. “When are we going to be able to get him out of here?”
“Jay’s casts home off in two weeks. If he passes all his physical examinations, I don’t see any reason for him to stay longer than that.”
“Good. And where we’re going? I assume you’ve got all of that sorted. There are a few things I’d like to bring with me, but everything else can go.”
Beth clenched her jaw as she said the words.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Here was a woman trying to hold the world together for a kid who’d completely lost his life. In the process she was losing hers too. If he made her, she would have to go back into that hospital room and tell Jay that everything was working out perfectly even if she didn’t know where they were going to be tomorrow or what Morgan Security would require of them. And she’d do it. He could see that weary determination in her deep brown eyes and he knew exactly how hard she’d come down on all of them if they pushed Jay too hard.
“We’ll continue to pay for your old apartments as long as we need to,” Daniel promised. “You’ll be able to get your stuff whenever you need to, whether that means going back yourself or letting us hire folks to get it for you. We won’t make you leave things behind. Not when they’re as important as Grape Crush.”
Beth didn’t smile, but her shoulders relaxed a little.
“As for where you’re going…”
Daniel passed a manila folder across the table to Beth.
“The firm picked out a safe house with the latest security. It’s off the grid with the best locks and monitors and motion detectors money can buy. And, for lack of a better word, it’s a bunker. I saw the place where they were keeping him Ms. Martinez. I thought Jay might prefer something more homey.”
Holding his breath, he took out another file.
“This holding just came on the market. It’s not far outside the city. You’d have to drive longer for doctor’s visits, but you’d have access to a public pool and a park a few blocks away. I made sure that it was only one story so you wouldn’t have any problems with dizziness and falling from Jay’s pain medications.”
“And it has windows,” Beth said softly.
“And it has windows,” Daniel said. “It looks like a home.”
He cleared his throat.
“There is one more thing about this property that you should know about that’s not in the papers.”
Beth looked up.
“I understand Jay has been seeing a Morgan Security psychiatrist.”
Beth almost sprung out of her chair.
“Look, I get it! You want to know what happened to him. You want him to tell you the story of every mark to make sure he didn’t tattle when they beat him half to death. Just don’t bring me into it. I’m not spying for you. I’m trying to make him better while you’re focused on your own damn pride!”
“I agree.”
“What?”
“Jay needs someone who understands what he’s going through and is focused on his recovery, not his worth to any company,” Daniel said calmly. “Next door to this address is Dr. Stephens. He’s an old army buddy who specialized in special service members and PTSD. This would not be his first time working with the aftereffects of torture. Jay might still have to meet with the Morgan Security doc for appearances sake, but Dr. Stephens has promised to see him off the books. Doctor/patient confidentiality would apply.”
That made Beth deflate completely.
“Do you really think this Dr. Stephens could help? Jay talks more in his sleep than he does in person. I still don’t know what’s going to set him off and I just…I just want him to feel safe.”
Daniel placed his hand on her, cold on the tan plastic table.
“So do I.”
***
Daniel returned Beth to Jay’s hospital room with the hope of a smile on his face. Before the could close the door, the pair started bickering about the answer to the crossword’s 27 Across. Beth held her pencil like a dagger while Jay batted at it with ineffective, casted hands. Through it all, their feet remained pressed together with comfortable pressure, reminding each other that they were there and they weren’t going away.
Like that night long ago when he rescued Jay, Daniel pulled out his cell phone and dialed Morgan Security. His boss picked up.
“No sir, there’s no problem,” Daniel said. “I just need to get a copy of the Chronicle delivered outside the city to Westover drive. Yes, this is a matter of great importance.”
Filling the “Empty Shell” square with Original Characters for @badthingshappenbingo! I think I’m setting a record for filling the most squares without actually making any of them line up lol.
Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!): @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail, @whump-tr0pes, @untilthepainstarts, @captivity-whump, @burtlederp, @redwingedwhump, @whumpiary, @captivity-whump, @blue-flare10
All credit to @stoic-whumpee for the idea of making Daniel a main character.
This is part of the Broken Pieces Universe as requested by the FABULOUS @captivity-whump. The previous piece is Self-Harm and can be found by searching my blog for the title or any character names.
Beth could not open her eyes.
It felt like she was falling. Down, down, down into blackness she tumbled. It didn’t really trouble her. Her thoughts were hazy; they wouldn’t stick together. It reminded her of being a child in school when she knew the answer in Spanish, but couldn’t make her tongue form the English words.
So she drifted. Between language and memory and unconsciousness, she drifted and floated and fell like a feather in the wind.
God, it was so peaceful. Discomfort pricked at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t, didn’t focus on it. Nothing seemed so dire that she couldn’t just rest for a while.
The discomfort got louder. Again, she tried to bat it away. This time, however, she couldn’t just feel it. She could hear it. It was quiet at first, a distant echo in the towering blackness, but if she focused on it she could almost make out words…
“Beth! Oh gods, Beth! Please...Please wake up for me.”
Fear. Suddenly Beth could remember what fear felt like. It radiated through that voice with the power of one thousand suns.
Something was wrong.
Beth did not care that the voice was scared for her. If the darkness was really that bad, she could face it, handle it on her own.
No, she cared because the voice was scared of losing her. Someone needed her.
And by God, no amount of pain was going to dissuade her from getting back to them.
Beth bucked against the air current around her. She struggled against the darkness. Twisting this way and that she listened for any taste of that voice, any touch of discomfort and she ran toward it as if she were running for her life.
Thoughts got easier even as everything else got harder. Beth could suddenly feel weight pressing on her chest, choking out her drifting sense of peace. It was all that she could do to take in breath after shuddering breath, to convince suddenly deadened limbs to move towards that voice. Exhaustion pulled at her like gravity, begging her to lie down for a moment, to give in to darkness and rest. Beth kept going.
“I’m here, Jay-bird,” she whispered. “I am never going to leave you alone.”
Beth could not open her eyes.
She ached. Every muscle in her body lay drained.
If this is the worst goddamn hangover of all time, she thought, please let me have seen Jay smile before I blacked out.
Jay!
Beth couldn’t see them. Her cement-laiden eyelids still wouldn’t cooperate, but she could feel warmth beside her, a scarred hand grasping hers so tightly she thought it would break. That, at least, didn’t hurt. That felt right. She tried to squeeze back.
I’m here Jay-bird. I’m home.
Something must have happened.
Beth felt the warmth beside her stir quickly. While Jay never let go of Beth’s hand, they stood up. Their voice rang through the room, too loud and tinny, though Beth couldn’t make out the words. Another voice answered, deeper and calmer this time.
Another body joined Jay on the bed. After more movement, Beth felt something change in her left arm. Warmth trickled into it.
She tried to focus on Jay’s hand, to stay with them, as the blackness swelled up to take her again.
The last thing she could hear was the voices talking to her. They were warm this time, comforting instead of terrified. Beth let that lull her to sleep. A hand came forward and lightly brushed her bangs out of her face. It wasn’t Jay. She didn’t seem to mind.
…
Off-white popcorn ceiling. Pale green striped wallpaper. These things may have told Beth that she was safe in her room when he eyes finally opened, but it was Jay’s tear-stained face staring back at her that told her she was home.
They held hands for a while, just breathing. Beth could feel Jay counting with each and every inhale.
“Wha?” Beth’s voice cracked and she winced lightly. “What happened?”
“I came out to the kitchen to get some water. Last I saw you were sitting at the table, but… But then you were sprawled out on the tile, your orange mug cracked and…”
Jay refused to look Beth in the eyes. More tears streamed down their checks.
“Beth, I was so scared.”
“Because of your mom?” she asked.
Jay nodded.
Beth looked down at herself. A quilted blanket covered most of her, keeping her warm, with only her left arm extended to hook into an IV tube. She wished she could sit up, take Jay into her lap, do anything to make her look caring and strong instead of feeble, but it was no use. She was feeble. She settled with grasping Jay’s hands with both of hers, putting all her strength behind her words.
“Jay-bird, your mother never meant to leave you. She had a stroke that muddled up her brain and that’s all. And I have heard you call that mug an ‘offense to humanity’ enough times to know you’re not gonna miss it.”
“But what if...what if you get sick and Morgan Security find out? What if they get you declared an unfit caretaker? That’s why I couldn’t call 911 or a hospital or… I had to try Daniel. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to be if they take you away.”
This time Beth’s fingers left Jay’s hands and gripped onto their face.
“You will be who you always were and who you always will be: The strongest goddamn person I have ever, ever known. But between you and me, if Morgan Security tries to stick one pinky toe between us, I will march into your boss’s office with 13 news reporters ready to make our story go public, hush money be damned. Then when they turn the cameras off, I’ll shove his head so far up his ass he’ll be watching his left kidney til kingdom come, you hear me?”
Jay sniffed and smiled slightly.
“And then I’ll come bail you out of jail?” they said.
“Damn straight! And then you’ve got an avowed criminal looking after you. I’d like to see what they do then!”
With a chuckle that said he definitely wasn’t listening, Special Agent Daneil Wei poked his head in the door.
“Do I hear that the invalid is finally awake?”
Jay nodded earnestly.
Beth flipped him the bird.
“In that case, Jay, do mind coming down here are helping Dr. Stephens? He’s starting to get hungry and I hear you make a mean omelet and grilled cheese.”
“Yeah, sure! I mean...if you’re sure you’re gonna be okay?”
Again, Jay turned their big blue eyes to Beth. She blessed the fact that Jay had no idea what those eyes could do to people. And curse the fact that she had ever made them cry.
“Go ahead. You still need to fatten yourself up. And remember to follow my lead: If you’re going to break any cookery, make sure it’s the ugly stuff!”
Before Jay could leave, Beth pulled him into a hug, whispering in his ear.
“You do know Daniel works for those Morgan Security mooks, right? You’re not exactly going far off the grid.”
“Yeah,” Jay said. “But he saved me.”
Beth stared at him blankly.
“When I was trapped with...with the Faceless Men. It was Daniel who go me out and brought me back so I guess I trust him? Plus, I kind of like him. Don’t you?”
The kid’s face was so full of hope that Beth couldn’t let him down.
“Yeah, Jay. I kind of like him too.”
With that, Jay ran to cook for the doctor who (presumably) patched Beth up. Ducking his head and scratching behind one ear, Daniel came all the way into the room.
He was still in a full black suit though he’d dropped his tie somewhere, rumpling the otherwise pristine dress shirt underneath. Christ, Beth thought, he would have had to come straight from work and then stayed here through the night.
“What really happened?” she asked finally. “Am I really okay?”
“That depends,” Daniel said seriously. “When’s the last time you slept?”
Beth tried to remember, but between Jay’s night terrors and panic attacks, it certainly had not been this week. Maybe not even the one before that.
While Jay passed out uncomfortably fast after the adrenaline left their body and often took naps during the days when they could feel the sun on their skin, Beth found that she couldn’t. She stayed up hours after Jay’s episodes writing down everything she could think of: triggers, coping strategies, what worked, what didn’t, anything she could to make it easier on Jay next time around. Usually, by the time she finished she could see the sun rising through the kitchen window and, with a sigh, she would go about their day.
“Dr. Stephens found unhealthy levels of caffeine and alcohol in your system. Not sleeping, not eating, it seems like your body just had enough.” Daniel said.
“Do you agree then?” Beth said softly. “That I’m an unfit caretaker?”
Daniel sat down beside her in the chair Jay just left, taking a breath as he massaged his eyes. In that moment, Beth knew that if he said it, she would believe it. What she said to Jay was true. She would not leave them for the world. But if he needed more than her, better than her… She couldn’t say she would be surprised.
“I’m ex-military,” Daniel said. “I’ve seen friends come home more scars and less limbs than they started with to people who had a lot more reason to help them than you.”
Beth winced.
“Don’t.... I’m not trying to… Beth, please don’t look away. I’m trying to say that I don’t think any one of those people had any less of a chance or a hope than Jay has even with whole families to support them. That is on you. The way you understand their brain? It’s downright uncanny sometimes. And I know for a fact you don’t think that way. You just care so you learned. You’re wicked funny when the chips are down and Jay needs that more than ever.”
Daniel lowered his voice, his dark eyes meeting Beth’s.
“You just need to take care of yourself too. That means full meals, even if Jay can’t eat them. And resting, starting with 24 hours where you are not getting out of this bed.”
Beth opened her mouth to protest.
“No buts. Jay’s already found a sleeping bag to lay out here. If they have any problems, you’ll be here like you always are. Like you always will be. Besides, after the scare, they did fine last night. Wouldn’t leave your side for anything. I think you’re forgetting that Jay’s pretty damn strong too.”
With a start, Beth realized that Daniel had sprung forward, capturing her hand in one of his. It was warm, almost hot, calloused where Jay’s was scarred and much larger than her own. When they both noticed, he drew back a bit, giving her room to slip away. Beth decided she didn’t mind.
“Hey, Beth!” Jay said, head coming around the corner. “When you said to only break the ugly dishes, did you count that purple one with brown on the corners?”
“That is from New Mexico,” Beth said. “If you break it, you’re driving out there to get me a new one!”
The room faded into comfortable silence. Jay lingered.
“Is everything okay?” they asked.
“Yeah,” Beth said. “From now on we just need to be more sure to take care of each other. Do you think we can do that?”
Jay nodded. Beth watched as a light filled their eyes.
For the first time since their abduction, Jay looked the most like Jay they ever had.
Maybe I’ve been doing this wrong, Beth thought. Jay isn’t just a victim, they’re a survivor and they survived for a purpose. They just needed a purpose to live for too.
With this entry for Original Characters to fill the Trying to Wake Them Up Square for @badthingshappenbingo I officially have a BINGO!!!
Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!): @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail, @whump-tr0pes, @untilthepainstarts, @captivity-whump, @burtlederp, @redwingedwhump, @whumpiary, @captivity-whump, @blue-flare10
I know this is an unusual entry: There’s lots of Emotional Whump and we don’t usually get Beth in physical pain, so please let me know what you think!
Welcome back to our beautiful collaboration! Damien and the world we’re in belong to the ever-talented @burtlederp while Daniel Wei is adapted from my series, Broken Pieces. We wrote this together and could never have done this without each other’s wonderful help and support!
Chapter Two: Old Habits Die Hard
Damien took one last drag on his cigarette, fully exhausting it before he flicked it away and ground it into the gravel with his shoe. He paused, looking around with his hands in his pockets, letting the smoke slowly curl from his nostrils, admiring the lushness of the woods surrounding.
He loved the summer here; the verdant forests, the bustling life, the warm summer sun (or having sun at all), even the damn mosquitoes. He took a deep breath of the fresh summer air before he turned to climb the rickety metal stairs to what he called home--apartment 204.
“Those things will kill you, you know,” a mellow voice said from the shadows opposite the door. “Of course, I’m guessing you’re waiting on your choice of housing to do it first.”
When the voice appeared, it belonged to a tall Chinese man with warm down-turned eyes and a slight grin on his face. He knocked softly on the biohazard sign on the door next to Damien’s. “I honestly thought this was a joke at first, a clumsy way to hide a secret lair, but no. You actually live next to a biohazard. How’s that working out for you, kid?”
When the man first spoke, he scared the daylights out of Damien, who jumped and cursed loudly, gripping the railing of the stairs with one hand and his chest with the other. He glared at the guy, frowning, and finished ascending.
"I'm not dead yet," he replied gruffly, brushing past the man to get to his own door. He didn't add anything else, hoping this guy would leave him alone as he shoved his key into the door and entered.
“It sure is a rough world when the one and only Alchemist has to work three jobs on top of his League gigs just to afford this place,” the man said evenly.
Damien froze for a moment, door half open, then closed his eyes, sighing exasperatedly, and left the door open behind himself.
"C'mon in, then, I wanna sit down."
Nodding, the man followed, wiping his shoes off at the door though there was no mat to be seen.
While the apartment was old, and dingy, and didn't smell particularly pleasant, it certainly wasn't barren and appeared very lived-in. The door opened to the kitchen in a way that it made the entrance feel very tight with the kitchen counters and cabinets on either side and a pile of shoes in the corner right of the door. A small wooden dining table filled what space was left of the kitchen linoleum after the counters ended on the far wall, the smooth floor giving way to the weathered carpet of the living room. It seemed the wall that was right of the entrance was a small closet, and Damien's room was on the far right end of the apartment.
An ancient sewing machine sat on the kitchen table, many bolts of fabric accumulated over years lying stacking in the corner behind it. A jacket hung off one of the three chairs around the table, and the living room was a mess of… well, more cloth. Left of the fireplace seemed to be the designated 'superhero suit' storage pile, the other side just laundry. Boxes were stacked all over the wall opposite, almost entirely blocking the front-facing window, a couch buried somewhere beneath them. Covering the fireplace, the wall behind it, and large swaths of carpet surrounding it, was a layer of singed carpet or wood and char, like a fire had once had its way here, uncontrolled.
Damien opened the fridge and pulled out a brown glass bottle, popping off the metal cap as he flopped down into the one chair at the kitchen table that didn't have something on it. He took a swig of his drink and stared, looking very tired, at the man expectantly.
Unperturbed, Damien’s guest walked slowly around the apartment, taking off his black, military-style jacket before meeting Damien’s gaze. In just a white t-shirt, he was clearly more muscled than Damien expected. The corner of a tattoo, something red and gold peeked out of the cover of his left sleeve. Throwing a selection of manila folders on the table, he offered his right hand to Damien.
“I’m Daniel Wei. As you can probably guess, I’m ‘with’ the League.” The man’s use of air quotes was not comforting.
Damien switched the bottle to his right hand and shook Daniel's offered hand briefly, his grip tight, and lifted the cover of the top-most folder with passive curiosity.
"Mm," he grunted in response, taking another drink. "This isn't going to take long, right? I have rounds to make."
“Kid,” Daniel said, “I’ll be honest with you: I’m in town for other reasons and there are other places I’d rather be right now too. But since I’m here and here for good, I’ve been assigned as your brand new mentor--”
Damien nearly choked on his drink, leaning forward abruptly as he nearly spat it out. He swallowed it with a grimace and interrupted, "My new what?!"
“The League has let you operate on your own for an awful long time, but when I was headed here anyway, we saw this as an opportunity to...help you out a bit. Give you a little guidance. That kind of thing.”
"I--" Damien glared at Daniel, trying to find words. "No?! No thank you?" he spluttered. "I'm doing fine, I don't need any help."
Daniel took another hard glance at Damien’s nearly empty fridge and the burned expanse by the fireplace. “Sure, kid. You’ve never gone hungry, never gotten yourself so hurt you could use a medic or at least another hand to hold the bandages. You’ve never sprayed your opponent in deadly corrosive acid because you didn’t know what kind of damage it would do and you’ve definitely never struggled to understand your alchemical powers without even a high school diploma.
“I’m just saying that I’ll be around and, if you let me, we could make things a lot easier on yourself. Check out those folders. I’ll leave you my card.”
The small slice of paper Daniel left on the table didn’t have his name on it. It was blood red with the stylized emblem of a wide-brimmed hat. The only text read “The Rogue” with a phone number beneath.
Damien opened his mouth once or twice but closed it every time Daniel spoke again, face red with anger. He didn't say anything as Daniel tossed the card onto the table, didn't even glance at it. After a moment, he swallowed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath--Daniel could almost see the steam blowing out his nose--and set his jaw. He took another generous gulp of his drink and met Daniel's gaze, anger still sparking behind his brown eyes, but his expression was even.
"Thank you. I'll consider it." The words sounded forced.
Daniel smiled and nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Damien.” Then he turned, put on his coat and walked off into the night.
Damien watched him go, nose curling as soon as Daniel was out the door and he was alone again. He shut and locked the door, then stood there, hand on the knob, the bottle in the other, and clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling the anger boil in him. Who the f--k does he think he is?! Calling me "kid"?! His fingers dug into the cheap wood of the door and Damien quickly drew away when he realized he was leaving deep scratches in the wood, nearly going all the way through the door. He cursed, flicking his hand and looked around his dingy, lonely little apartment that felt much less little ever since he'd started being here alone.
Hesitantly, he walked back to the kitchen table and sat down stiffly, frowning down at the folders. He drummed his fingernails on the bottle, then gave in to curiosity, flipping the top one open. Inside were the architect’s blueprints for a different apartment, a much bigger apartment, an apartment on the “right” side of town closer to the places that he worked. The blueprints indicated secret basement access through a trapdoor in the bedroom that led to a laboratory of sorts complete with drains, air vents, a ventilator hood, and steel bookshelves built into the walls. Beneath the blueprints was a lease already signed and paid for. When Damien gave the folder a slight shake, keys fell out from the bottom.
Damien stared down at the shiny silver keys that glinted in the wan, dingy light of the one functioning light bulb remaining in the kitchen ceiling. He swallowed, looking back to the plans, flipping through them. After his eyes darted all over the pages, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face. He peeked out, looking around the little, cramped, dense apartment. The little, cramped, dense place he called a home. It was the last thing he had left of his life before… well, before he wasn't a kid anymore. If his Mom got better--She won't, a tiny voice in his mind reminded him--this… this could be the only place she could remember. Unless it wasn't here anymore.
Damien frowned, and closed the folder after putting the keys back, and tossed it lazily to the overflowing trash can, where it bounced and scattered all over the kitchen floor.
"If this is another piece of f--kin' charity, I swear…" He muttered, turning to the next folder. Inside he found a GED with his name on it, signed by members of the League and backdated to the first time he used his alchemical powers in public. Underneath it was a letter written in excited academic writing from a former biochemistry professor and inventor who retired in Qinniq asking the Alchemist, whoever he was, to come work with him. The man had so many different theories he wanted to discuss.
Damien felt anger in his gut rise again. He scowled, memories of public school and old bosses and coworkers and his father and everybody in between flooding his mind, their taunts and jabs and nicknames and slurs and all of it coming back to him--
He tore it up and tossed the bits of it to the trash again, then opened the last folder. This one was smaller than the rest. It held only a prepaid bus card for fare from Qinniq to Anchorage, where Damien’s mom was, enough for him to go every weekend for an entire year.
Damien picked it up, his anger fading a bit. He swallowed, glancing between the card and the discarded folders in the trash. He slipped the card into his wallet and got to his feet, finishing off his drink and leaving the bottle on the table as he pulled off his shirt.
He thought over Daniel's words, his offer, the folders as he changed into his costume. He pulled his gloves on slowly and frowned.
"Asshat," he muttered to himself as he slid open his back window and lept out into the night still lit by a sun that wouldn't disappear over the horizon until 11 o'clock.
Tag List (I’m including those of you who enjoyed the original Broken Pieces story, but if you want to be taken off, please just let me know!): @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail, @whump-tr0pes, @untilthepainstarts, @captivity-whump, @burtlederp, @redwingedwhump, @whumpiary, @captivity-whump, @blue-flare10
Hello friends and superheroes! @burtlederp and I are back with a new installment, though the next one might take us a little longer. This features some hurt/comfort for Damien, domestic fun and insults as a love language with Daniel and Beth, the beginnings of badass!Jay, and trouble brewing for Mr. Marcelo. Ready to read?
Chapter 4: Of Secrets and Soup
Jay stared at the television set. Their hand paused between their mouth and the bowl of popcorn on their lap.
“No,” they thought. “It couldn’t be.”
Behind them, Jay heard Daniel curse. They registered the man prepping the SUV for damage control. They knew someone had to help the Alchemist before it was too late and, well, Daniel was known for saving people. He saved Jay.
Still, Jay stared at the 23 inch screen. Their mind did and redid their calculations, instantly analyzing vocal tone, hand gestures, speed, gait, everything Jay could make out. It matched over 90%, no matter how Jay ran the numbers.
Jay knew who Roman was.
“Don’t go to the hospital!” they called desperately to Daniel before he sprinted out the door. They hoped Daniel heard. Then Jay dashed to their bedroom.
They needed their computer. They needed to think, get all the information, because Jay only knew one thing: They had met Roman before and they sure as hell weren’t going to let the villain hurt anyone else, not on their watch.
“Ahhh, smooth as silk,” Marcelo sighed as he walked back into his home through the medical room entrance. “Honey, I’m hoooome!” He called.
“Get changed and meet me in the kitchen, I made cinnamon rolls!” Cynthia called back. Marcelo moved faster, skipping to the master bedroom.
Cynthia walked into the bathroom as Marcelo stepped out of the shower just a few minutes later, holding a buzzing phone. He looked up at her, then to the phone. It was that phone. The secure one he’d made specifically for communication between him and Jay. Cynthia looked worried as she handed it to him.
“Thanks honey,” he nodded, taking it and putting it to his ear. “Mayor Blackwood speaking, is everything alright?”
“Umm...you said I could call if...if I needed anything, right?”
Marcelo could tell even over the line that Jay was shaken and shaking.
“Yes, Jay, of course, of course! What can I do for you? Are you okay?” he asked.
“I can’t….It’s not safe over the phone. Can we meet? Now?”
“Yes, yes we can. I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that alright?”
“Not the house!” Jay blurted. “Not there. I’ll be in Central Park, by the red bench with the rose bushes. And Mr. Marcelo, sir?”
“Yes, Jay?”
“Don’t….Can Mrs. Cynthia not be there? I don’t….I don’t want her to hear anything and get in danger or trouble or--”
Marcelo glanced to Cynthia, brow creased with concern. “Of course, Jay, ah… Should I… should I bring some kind of defense for myself?”
“I don’t think so….Not yet. Not until you’ve heard what I’ve got to say. Then I was….I was hoping we could make plans from there. Together.”
“...Okay.” Marcelo sounded apprehensive. “I’ll be there… I’ll be there very soon.”
“Thank you. Thank you sir. I need to be somewhere safe. I need to be with you.” Jay’s voice crackled slightly as the phone cut off.
“What did they say?” Cynthia asked, eyes wide, as Marcelo lowered the phone.
“They sound very… Very worried. They wanted to meet me alone in the park.” Marcelo swallowed.
“Take a gun with you?” Cynthia requested. Marcelo looked at her and smiled.
“Of course, love,” he brushed his thumb affectionately across her cheek. “Alright, I need to put some clothes on. Can I take a cinnamon roll for the road?”
“Yes, I’ll pack one for Jay, too.” Cynthia answered warmly, and stepped out as he got dressed.
---
It was warm. It was very warm, but not unpleasantly so, not hot. Just warm. And soft. Damien didn’t remember his bed being so soft.
He opened his eyes slowly, aware of a very distant pain as he focused blearily on popcorn ceilings, green-striped wallpaper. Not his house. So, of course, not his bed. And no mask.
It took a moment for all the memories of the past couple hours to come to him, but while they trickled back, his heart pounded. He wasn’t wearing a mask, he wasn’t wearing his costume, he wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants. He remembered Daniel, the fight with Roman, getting shot.
He groaned, lifting an arm and stopping as he realized an IV was delivering to him… Well, he didn’t know what it was, but it was probably helping, maybe.
“It is,” Desperaux offered helpfully in the back of his mind.
Something smelled good, he noticed. His stomach was empty, that he was acutely aware of, and the smell made it rumble. He started to sit up, surprised at how little his wounds hurt him--they still hurt, just not as much as lesser wounds had in the past.
“Hey, kid,” Daniel said stepping into the room. His hands were wet, like he’d just washed them, and he buttoned a fresh black shirt around his torso. “I wouldn’t go sitting up just yet. Those bullets got you pretty bad.”
“Hey, kid!” a feminine voice called back from behind him. There was no ire in it, but it still made Damien jump. “You pull four pieces of shrapnel out of a goddamn superhero and the first thing you say when he wakes up is ‘Hey, kid’? I thought you weren’t supposed to be patronizing.”
A short Latino woman with curved bangs and a teasing smile appeared in the doorway. She held a large green patterned bowl in her hands, mixing its contents with a spoon while balancing several smaller multicolored dishes on her hip.
Damien watched her come in somewhat warily, but already trusted her a little for her comment. “How long was I out for?” he croaked, sitting up anyways, maybe to spite Daniel a tiny bit.
The aforementioned Daniel handed him a plastic cup of water.
“About 3 hours. We had to give you some pretty heavy sedatives to get the bullets out. You bounced back quicker than we expected.” The operative looked over his shoulder at Beth before reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “We were worried about you, kid.”
Damien almost smiled as he heard Despereaux purr delightedly in his mind. “They noticed! They noticed!” He didn’t let the smile reach his face, still, but lowered his gaze, humming in response.
“What Daniel means to say,” the woman cut in, “Is that you were all kinds of stupid--read: brave--and that I’ve been yelling at him for the past 2 hours for not telling me about you from the time we landed. So, he gets to go do the dishes while I get to ask you the easiest question you’ve probably been asked in a while: Do you want some Corn-and-Poblano Soup?”
Damien looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Um, yes ma’am.”
“Look at me, surrounded by gentlemen! I’m Beth Hernandez. Daniel says I shouldn’t tell you what my last name is yet, but you’re in my goddamn house and it's the most common thing south of the border.”
She spooned out a healthy portion of porridge-like stew, setting it on the bed next to Damien’s hip and handing him a spoon.
“Just don’t the be dumbass Mr. Wei thinks you are by picking that bowl up while it’s still hot and you’re still weak. I haven’t found a pottery store I like here yet so no one is allowed to break anything.”
A veeery slight smile found its way onto Damien’s face as he looked down at the bowl. “There’s one on Inupiak street, three over from main.”
Beth narrowed her eyes at him. “Local artisans?”
“Yes’m.”
“Fantastic! You get better, I get some more stuff, and I promise we can chuck every ugly thing in this house at the wall until it shatters. Deal?”
“Can I help?” Daniel called from the kitchen. Beth looked expectantly at Damien, like she was asking for permission or something.
Damien looked back at her blankly for a moment and shrugged.
“Ugh, fine you villainous hero-wrangler!” she called back.
Damien smiled. “Thank you, ma’am, for the food, I really appreciate it.”
Beth leaned in closer like she had a secret to tell. “Now, you may not know this yet, but this is kind of what I do. I get worried about people in danger which makes me stress cook so I get Daniel to get those people and bring them right back here. You’re not the first person I’ve collected.” She winked. “But you’ll meet Jay later.”
Damien nodded. “I hope he’s nicer than Daniel.”
“They’re sweetness wrapped in trauma like an empanada. Don’t yell too loud and you’ll get along just fine. Daniel is the one the yelling’s for.”
“I don’t know how to yell if I’m not in costume.” He shrugged.
“I think we can work with that,” Beth said. “Now shut up and eat your soup. I have to go make sure that maniac hasn’t rearranged my cutlery again.”
“It’s more efficient with the army method!” Daniel called as Beth went after him.
Damien scoffed quietly to himself, and began to slowly tuck into the soup. “She’s nice.” Fox commented in his mind.
“She is,” Damien murmured. “She is.”
---
Marcelo stepped out of his car, his casual one--not a big, black suburban, but something small, economic, good on snowy roads. He walked out to the bush that was blooming happily, standing by it and watching a family play in the park as he waited, tense. He’d brought a gun, stashed subtly within his light coat.
Jay ran up, seemingly from nowhere. Their appearance was rushed: frenzied blond hair fell over darting blue eyes. They grasped the small black bag from the plane cargo bay in their hands.
“You came. You actually came. Thank goodness!” they said, staring past Marcelo to the roses, or maybe their thorns. “We can’t stay here. I...I know something. Is that your car?”
“I--yes, that’s mine,” Marcelo’s brow furrowed with worry. “Jay, you’re alright, aren’t you?” he asked, walking towards his car.
“I’m honestly not sure? I...I think I am, for now.” Jay scrambled in the passenger seat before meeting Marcelo’s eyes in the most intense gaze the mayor had ever seen. “I have information on Roman, sir.”
“You do?” Marcelo returned his gaze, just as serious, nothing in his face betraying fear. “What is it?” he asked, locking the doors for security.
“Not here,” Jay repeated. “Once we...once I say this, neither of us are going to be safe.”
@redwingedwhump said “I want Jay to be happy.” And since I did promise a Fun Fact for everyone who responded, here’s the Broken Pieces characters playing Dungeons and Dragons:
Jay: Played DnD in college at Princeton. Memorizes ALL of the lore. Will always ask the DM for a Bag of Holding. Cannot for the life of them role play a character that is not like them in real life. Does, however, make a great secret villain if the campaign calls for it. Only plays magic users, but favors Druids over Wizards for their healing spells.
Daniel: Picks up the game fast when Jay introduces him to it. Mainline fighter with an EXCELLENT grasp of battle strategy. Makes a remarkable Paladin, especially when introduced to the Polearm Mastery Feat. Team Player. Likes to play Half-Orcs whose seemingly violent battle superstitions are actually really good military advice that other races don’t understand.
Beth: PURE CHAOS. Does not know what she’s doing and does not care one bit. Goes Bard. Actually sings. Speaks Spanish when other characters aren’t supposed to understand her in-game language. Never follows the actual quest objective. Will ruin final encounters with insane tactics that should not work and random items she picked up on the way.
I finally caved and came up with images to go with our protagonists (you’ve already seen the Faceless Men). So, in order here are Jay (Alan Scott, UK), Beth (a young Sonya Sonia Sotomayor), and Daniel (Godfrey Gao, may he rest in peace).
Are they what you pictured? Do you have better ideas? Please let me know!
Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!): @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail, @whump-tr0pes, @untilthepainstarts, @captivity-whump, @burtlederp, @redwingedwhump, @whumpiary, @captivity-whump, @blue-flare10
