Tw: Suicide Attempt - Tumblr Posts

I hate that sentiment of "you weren't friendless in high school because you liked anime, you were friendless because you were an asshole, hope this helps :)" because even when there's a grain of truth to it, there's such a willful ignorance of just how baseless teenage ostracism can get, and that it likely wasn't proportional or helpful at all

If I must

Okay so- I'm like really bad at writing depressing things... SO what if I write it like that one fic of mikey almost killing himself under the effect of a mystic artifact that manipulated his mind to make him want to jump of the building!? Okey! I will give it a shot!

I call this tale...

EL MEDALLÓN DEL DEGOLLADO

Okay, maybe Leo was a little bad that day.

And yeah, okey, they we're all feelling kinda down. But that is normal, no one can be at their hundred percent every day, people gets tired of shit from time to time and that can be fixed by simply taking a step back and resting for the day (or days). And having these "gray days" (as Mikey likes to call them) is totally justified for everyone, especially for them, with the endless number of traumatic experiences in their collective record. But what happened to Leo that day was'nt normal.

He was finally alone. He listened to the orders "do it quickly, do it bloody, do it now" and he had no choice but to comply

Long story short: they were in this mission, right? Some guys were robbing a museum that had just received a couple of old items and they went to stop them. The fight was fine, nothing interesting there. However What was interesting was when the bag with the stolen things fell to the ground and the boys were able to see the loot.

There were assorted jewels, of all colors and sizes, but among the glitter there were also a couple of more serious relics.

Yes, they were gossips, but that was his only sin they didn't know it deserved so much punishment

With the thieves already knock out, the boys began to check the jewelry. Donnie tried on a pair of necklaces, Rafa tried on some earrings, and Leo was fooling around with some rings when Mikey got distracted from his bracelets by a strange pendant.

"Easy, quick, now" He raised the katana to neck height, the runes were drawn...

It was oval on one side and flat on the other, with an engraving of two severed heads joined by threads of blood from their necks, one had its mouth open and the other its eyes.

Mikey thought the image was... 'Of bad taste' but the way it was done was simply beautiful. When he noticed the writing on the back, he recognized the language.

"Hey, Leo! This is in Spanish, can you translate it for me?" That peaked all his brothers atention

"Sure, Mikes" Leo approached to take the pendant. He hardly paid attention to the heads that were left touching the palm of his hand while he passed the text 'a limpio" for his brothers...

"The Medallion of The Beheaded... "

he said, and there was a tense pause.. "Osea, it actually uses the word "Degollado" which is not exactly decapitation, it's more like... When you cut someone's throat"

"Leo! That's not better" Rafa snorted, Donnie chuckled "it's more practical, I would say yes, a slit throat is, indeed, better"

Mikey had been glad that the warm atmosphere they just created wasn't gone, he reached out to ask Leo for the medallion and he tryed to give it to him! But then "Ah-!" Leo hissed in pain, dropping the medallion which made an innocent 'clang' as it hit the floor.

Leo shivered, putting pressure on the hand that was previously holding the object. It was bleeding...

"Cut that little head of yours" the voice coed as the portal appeared with an electric glow "Chop chop chop!" It chanted happily "...chop chop..." He hummed in response

It wasn't much, but it was just enough to make three overprotective and extremely paranoid brothers burts in panic. Everyone dropped what they were doing and ran to help Leo. "What happened?" "What hurts?" "Are you-"

"I'm fine, Is just a little cut, it's no worse than what a kitchen knife would do, nothing's wrong" Leo tried to console, but something something was wrong. Very very wrong

Donnie looked at the floor, looking for the piece of cheap trash who had dared to cut his brother, and when he saw the medallion with both mouths closed, one doing a snarl with teeth full of blood... 'Did-did that thing just BIT his twin?'

The other face's eyes began to shine and Leo began to change so fast. He fell into Raph's arms whit a weak sigh, suddenly to pale and so tired. "NO" Raph screamed at him to keep his eyes open "LEO, DON'T YOU DARE" but they just rolled into his skull and...

And now here we are

On a roof top, whit New York cold wind hitting like a condemned man, Leo sitting cross-legged in the ground whit a portal between his body and head, about to 'portal chopping' himself and looking already dead...

And he's supposed heroes? Cagados hasta las patas

¡ Hope you like it ! ❤️❤️❤️

TW Suicide Attempt

we all talk about him portal chopping an arm off but,,, it would be so easy. so quick

KoFi || Patreon

Everything has its limits

Leonardo da Vinci x reader

This is very graphic, very triggering, very dark and totally personalized, because I want to die (again)

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Two geniuses sat huddled in the mansion's library, inspecting closely the thing that has sparked interest in them lately.

Although they spoke in hushed whispers they didn't hear the urgent footsteps approaching them over their concentrated minds.

They only looked up after the newcomer coughed politely to interrupt their conversation.

"Hello Robin. What brings you here?" questioned Isaac, the younger of the duo. Leonardo, who has been hunched over his friend's back, too, looked up, only to see his beloved's face smile at him.

"Hello Isaac." they greeted the man cheerfully "Would you mind if I borrowed Leo for a bit? I need help with something..."

The physicist gaped at them at first, wrecking his mind about what they could possibly need help with. And it seemed Leonardo had the same idea "Why don't you ask Sebastian?"

His darling's smile faltered for a split second, before regaining their composure "I think you're better suited for this task." they smiled at him again.

How could he say no to that smile?

Soon they found themselves in the mansion's hallways, walking side by side. His beloved's pace seemed urgent, they were walking fast in the direction of their room.

"Does the old Comte need something from me?" Leonardo asked, more to ease the tension he couldn't help but feel than to actually question them. But Robin only laughed in response "Oh no. He has nothing to do with this."

It was quiet for some time, before they entered his darling's room. Slipping behind him to close the door after them, Robin stayed with their back turned to Leonardo.

"Say, Leo...What are you willing to do for me?" they asked in a gravely tone.

Leonardo was surprised by the weight of the question, although the answer seemed simple to him "I'd do anything for you cara mia."

"Everything?"

Leonardo chuckled "Yes, silly cara. Everything in the world."

They whirled around like the wind "Alright." they said. With quick steps, that seemed just a bit shaky, they closed the distance between them. Leaning as close to his face as possible, Robin whispered "Do you trust me?"

"Of course." he replied, confused. "Then close your eyes and don't open them until I say so." they instructed him and Leonardo immediately complied.

He could hear them shuffling around the room and wanted to question them, but their voice beat him to it. "I have a very, very important favour to ask you. And I trust you to keep your word and do it for me." after what sounded like a drawer being closed, Leonardo could hear their footsteps approach him again.

They took his hand and placed something in it. He could feel it was a handle, but of what, he didn't know.

Two small steps forward were taken by them, arms wrapped around his waist, grabbing his coat and a small whisper that nearly wasn't there reached his ears "Open your eyes."

His beloved wasn't smiling anymore, their gaze and expression cold as ice and hard as stone, pure determination shining through. He could tell something wasn't right and to his horror, his worries were confirmed when he lowered his gaze to find out they had placed a dagger from god knows where into his hand, the sharp end pressing lightly into their abdomen, stretching their clothes.

His first urge was to throw the weapon away, but with the way Robin was pressing into him it would do more harm than good. Leonardo couldn't make any rapid movements, else it would cost his darling's life.

But that's what they wanted wasn't it?

"Cara, what is this?" he asked, unable to believe, no, not wanting to believe what they were asking of him.

"You said you would do anything. You said it. So I'm asking you my love. Kill me.

Please."

His heart broke at their words. Their begging for death sounded so desperate, like this was the only thing that could rid them off a heavy burden.

Trying hard to keep his composure, Leonardo whispered "I can't do that."

At first, they were silent. But their mask slowly crumbled, pure pain and desperation and hopelessness shone through as tears started falling down their beautiful face.

"No, no, no, no... You promised, you promised me! You said you would do anything!" They kept repeating, trembling violently all the while.

They gripped his jacket tighter, pressing themselves onto the blade even more. Leonardo, slowly trying to step backwards, tried to reason with them "I can't take your life, cara mia. You can't want that from me."

But they only kept shaking their head "No, no, you don't understand, Leonardo, you HAVE to do it! Please! Please, I'm begging you! I don't want to be anymore, it's too much, please, I need you to help me, before I lose the courage, Please!!! "

Looking deep into his eyes once more, they realized they've made a mistake. How foolish of them. How could they think they'd find the help they wanted here, of all places.

Leonardo watched as all emotions washed away from his cara's eyes, until they became but an empty gaze, falling into the object in his hand.

He should've seen it coming. He could've prevented it.

Quick as lightning, they snatched the dagger from his hand, stepping away from him while he could only watch in horror as they brought it up to their neck, the pointed end digging into the soft flesh on the side.

"Please don't do this, you don't know what you're doing, cara mia."

"I know I don't! But since I've gotta do it myself, I'll just need to wing it, I guess!" they looked at him with fury in their eyes, angry, frustrated tears streaming down their face. "I can't do it anymore, I don't want to do it anymore, let me be selfish for once, please! Let me do what I want to do for once, instead of what a normal person should do! I'm sick of it! I'm so sick of everything! I don't want to be, it's too much!" they screamed.

Leonardo was frozen to the spot, and watched as his darling closed their pretty eyes, ready to leave him forever.

But when a few seconds passed and nothing happened, he took the risk and in few quick strides closed the space between them, slapping the cursed thing out of his cara's hand across the room and enveloping them in his arms and held tight, as they struggled to get away from him, desperate to finish what they started.

They stumbled across the room until Leo's back hid the wall. He slid down and sat on the ground, locking his darling to him, rocking back and forth "Shhhhhshshshshhh... Calm down, it's alright, I've got you." he whispered as tears of his own slowly rolled down his cheeks.

It seemed the fight left his beloved's body and they went limp in his arms. "It's too late... I missed my chance." they whimpered in a voice so broken he decided to not ponder on it as to not break down completely. He needed to be strong for them both now.

"Please cara mia, don't scare me like that. I know nothing I'll say will change your mind, but please, don't leave me."

They didn't respond.

"You hesitated. You saved yourself, my love." he whispered into their hair.

"I was weak." they said almost soundlessly, staring at the dagger in the opposite corner.

"I am grateful for that."

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I... May have a slight problem... I'm so sorry about this, feel free to ignore it, but I would very much appreciate if someone would take this prompt and make it with the rest of the suitors, since I have the strength to do only one now.

Please help.

Save Me 구해줘 - Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi

Jeongguk, fresh off a suicide attempt, deeply unhappy with his sexuality, and with nowhere left to turn, enters a seemingly benevolent conversion therapy camp. But just under the surface is a culture rife with secrecy, violence, and abuse.

Save Me 구해줘 - Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi

Jeongguk, fresh off a suicide attempt, deeply unhappy with his sexuality, and with nowhere left to turn, enters a seemingly benevolent conversion therapy camp. But just under the surface is a culture rife with secrecy, violence, and abuse.

Breaking [My Heart]: Act VI Yielding

“There's nothing simple when it comes to you and I, Always something in this everchanging life” - Everchanging [Rise Against] Winston has issued the recall towards rebuilding Overwatch. Angela - formerly known as “Mercy” - is captured by Talon, who are searching for any information that can stop the rise before it begins.

AO3 | FF.net | Works | Pandora Playlist

Trigger Warnings & General Statements This is a dark torture story. As such, there's going to be bad things happening - for the sake of not spoiling, I will not tag what, exactly will be appearing at any time. While I don't think any of the scenes are terribly graphic in nature, I do want to stress that the scenes are present and aren't for everyone. I did try to make the reactions and trauma realistic, following both real-world medicine / research and in-game universe canon (such as Angela's nanotechnology). There will be multiple POVs per chapter - two sets for both Angela and Reaper as well as a fifth from an additional character. Please, read at your own risk - and enjoy!

Here’s my chance for a new beginning I saved the best for a better ending And in the end I’ll make it up to you, you’ll see You’ll get the very best of me - One Day Too Late [Skillet]

He’d watched Baptiste go with some trepidation. What if he called Talon and told them where they were? Sure, they hadn’t been greeted by a strike team when he’d walked through the door, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be one sent now. But the only choices had been to send Baptiste out for the necessary supplies or go himself - and he was hesitant to leave Angela without protection, especially with someone he didn’t trust. He barely trusted Sombra, because he knew that she had her own agenda. Each person she had used to get them here was just another person that could sell them out. There were too many moving pieces that left her vulnerable. There were plenty of people - on both sides of the fence - that would love to get their hands on Angela as she was now. With that in mind, he set about securing the apartment as best as possible. He pulled the curtains closed - and then, for good measure, pinned them into place with some needles pilfered from Baptiste’s bag. It wouldn’t help against infrared sights like Widowmaker had, but it couldn’t hurt. Gabriel wanted to move the bed away from the window, make shooting Angela even more of an impossibility, but it just wasn’t possible. Perhaps he and Baptiste would be able to manage it once she was more aware. He pulled up a chair, placing it between Angela and the window so that - should there be a shot - he or Baptiste would, hopefully, take the bullet for her. Because of the angle it sat at, it was impossible to see into the next room when seated; he didn’t like that, either, but there was only so much he could do. After moving quickly through the rest of the small apartment, tugging the curtains closed as he had in the bedroom and hiding away various sharp objects, he returned into the bedroom and gently closed the door behind him. He stalked around the bed to settle on the chair, pulling out one of his shotguns and laying it on the nightstand - as far from Angela as he could - for easier access. Then he had nothing left to do but wait. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, would come first: Baptiste’s return or Angela’s awakening.

---

Angela had fallen into an uneasy sleep about fifteen minutes ago, going from lazy stillness to nervous twitching. Gabriel had called out to her softly, but she hadn’t reacted to his voice or her name. He watched her as she shifted and breathed shakily, clearly having another of her terrible dreams. Angela was no stranger to bad dreams - he had woken her from, or had been woken by, those dreams once upon a time - so he wasn’t sure if waking her would be the right call. She needed the rest - meager as it was - so Gabriel decided to leave her alone. If she started crying or screaming, he could wake her then. Two knocks at the front door had him pushing to his feet. He was standing in the bedroom doorway, shotgun in hand, as the front door opened. He kept the gun at his side - it was probably Baptiste because what kind of strike team knocked? - as he tugged the bedroom door shut behind him. Indeed, it was Baptiste; the Haitian man raised his hands slightly as if to show he wasn’t a threat. Baptiste opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of it; instead, he turned to go into the kitchen and put away whatever it was that he had bought. Gabriel planned to watch him - as if he hadn’t left Baptiste unsupervised while he was out getting supplies - but he heard Angela make a small noise of fear. He turned away from the medic to reenter the bedroom. “Angela?” Gabriel kept his voice soft; he wasn’t sure if she was still asleep or reacting to her new surroundings. Her body tensed at his voice; she was awake, then. Gabriel was grateful for the quiet return. Talking her down from the nightmares was more challenging when he probably was her nightmare. “It’s alright, Angela,” he murmured as she opened her eyes and stopped pretending that she was sleeping. Warily, she scanned the room. “You’re safe.” Gabriel could see the doubt in her eyes and couldn’t blame her; what reason had he given her to trust him? None. He’d betrayed her at every turn - how could she believe that he was telling the truth now? Her eyes hardened as she stared at his right hand; he’d forgotten that he was holding a gun. “It’s not - I’m not going to shoot you, Angela.” Gabriel knew Angela and her moods better than anyone, and not even he could determine what flashed across her face. He could, however, tell what it wasn’t: relief. In the short time he had left Talon base for that failed mission in Russia, she had lost her fire. He had watched the recording of her ‘execution’; he’d seen the relief at the threat of the gun and the sheer despair when it was a lie. It was what kept him from setting the gun anywhere within her reach. Gabriel wasn’t sure if she’d use it against him or herself - or both. He’d gamble with his life, but he was done gambling with hers. Instead, he holstered it. He watched her face carefully, but Angela was no longer looking at him. She was looking around, searching the walls for whatever it was that helped her mind escape and generally doing anything to keep her eyes from landing on his form. He could tell, though, by the rigid way she held herself and the tightness in her eyes, that Angela was very aware of him. She would react to any movement, no matter how small. Baptiste knocked on the door frame, drawing Angela’s panicked attention as the medic paused just outside the room. He saw the recognition that changed to pain - betrayal - in her eyes as she took in the Haitian man, and then she was walled away again as she turned away to stare at the ceiling. Gabriel hadn’t realized Angela would know the man Sombra had sent. That new knowledge had him stalking across the room, forcing himself to ignore the way she flinched away and turn his back on her for a brief moment. “She knows you?” He whispered furiously, angling himself again so that he could watch her. Now that she was free, unbound, he worried about what she might do to herself. “We worked together once, about a year ago,” Baptiste replied, leaning against the door with his arms crossed as he kept his eyes fixed on him; Gabriel could understand his wariness. The Reaper was the biggest threat in the room. “Why?” The flippant tone made Gabriel want to throttle him. “Why?” Was he an idiot? “Look at her,” he ordered, one hand flying up to point in Angela’s direction. The woman flinched away - she was watching them, even when she didn’t appear to be. Baptiste frowned as he took in the broken woman again; her whole body radiated tension as she pointedly stared at the ceiling. When she thought they weren’t looking, she was stealing glances from her peripherals. Angela was still tense, trembling intermittently from the intensity, fists balled tightly; Gabriel doubted she even realized she was clenching them. “She doesn’t believe that any of this is real.” Every time she flinched and looked at him with those wounded eyes, he was reminded of it. He was the Reaper - Talon - and was not to be - could not be - trusted. Gabriel doubted she would believe it even if Cole Cassidy were to stroll in here right now and carry her away to whatever safe haven Overwatch had built. “She thinks you’re working with Talon.” It might be a misunderstanding, but right now, any misstep would further injure her. He was seething inside; she was hurt again after he had sworn she wouldn’t be. Baptiste sighed, deflating. He hadn’t been able to see what Angela was like when she was coherent - or, at least, whatever passed for coherency for her these days. “You need to get her help.” His cheerful attitude was gone, his face grave as he turned back to Gabriel. “Not this half-assed shit: real help.” Gabriel ground his teeth; what did this man think he was doing? It wasn’t like he had a lot of time - or many options. “I’m working on it.” The response was tight. If he could, he would just take her in to see a doctor. Gabriel wasn’t sure when it would ever be safe enough for her to be seen in such a manner, now that Talon had gotten its hooks in her. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel safe enough to leave whatever Watchpoint he’d end up delivering her to. Baptiste turned away without speaking. Gabriel wasn’t sure what he was going for, but he wasn’t going to leave Angela alone to find out. Instead, Gabriel strode back around the bed to sit in the chair at her side and pretended that she didn’t try to scoot away from him once he settled. Pretended he hadn’t heard the low, pained noise she had made when the movement hurt something - probably her knee. Pretended that she wasn’t tearing his heart out with every look and flinch.

---

Gabriel wished that he could call Sombra; that would make contacting Overwatch so much easier. Instead, he had to try and hunt them down the old fashioned way. That wasn’t - usually - a problem, but he usually didn’t have a half-dead doctor he was trying to hide. Normally he wasn’t on the run from Talon, either. If Overwatch had stayed at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, his life would have been easier - but then Talon’s task would have been, too. Now he was left trying to figure out what Watchpoint Winston might have chosen. He doubted they had moved too far, so he was pretty sure they were still somewhere in the European continent. That was still a good number of Watchpoints to look into - and all of them were on a completely different continent from him. Gabriel had briefly entertained the thought that they might create a new base, one that no one - not the UN, not the various enemies of Overwatch - knew about, but he had tossed the idea aside. The creation of a new base would take up time and resources that they just didn’t have now, especially once he considered how active many former members - like Reinhardt and Tracer - were in the search for Angela. There was the tip line that Tracer had spouted on behalf of the UN, but he was hesitant to use such a public method to reach out. There was no guarantee he would get someone he trusted to appear - and Gabriel wasn’t giving Angela to anyone he didn’t trust. Not even to Winston, though he knew Angela trusted the monkey and that she would be perfectly safe in his care. Gabriel didn’t trust it - never had and, at this point, never would - no matter how much Angela did. It had been hard enough to leave Angela in Baptiste’s care. Sombra had assured him that Baptiste only had Angela’s best interests at heart - had, in fact, tried to warn Angela that Talon was coming for her, though she had left out the part where they knew each other - but that didn’t mean Gabriel trusted him. Still, perhaps Angela would recover better without Gabriel - the Reaper - looming over her bedside. Hopefully, Angela would move past what appeared to be a betrayal by yet another person from her past. Hopefully, their shared history was positive enough to let her trust Baptiste in a way she no longer could trust Gabriel. He hated that he had broken that trust. He couldn’t change the past, though. He couldn’t take back the hateful things he did or said; all he could do now was try to make it better. That was why he was prowling in the dark, forgotten areas of the city. Even the precious “City of Harmony” couldn’t avoid crime; it was part of human nature. Instead, they pretended those places didn’t exist because they didn’t fit in the picture-perfect world they had created. Oh, the Reaper was sure that authorities tried to flush out these hot spots, but they would keep popping up. Eventually, they would give up, instead settling for knowing where the crime would be instead of trying to smother it, just like every other city in the world. Gabriel was hoping to find one of his contacts from his Blackwatch days. This contact was a shared one between many agents; Gabriel was sure that Cassidy had been one of the agents who used this particular man. If Cassidy was searching for Angela - and Gabriel knew he would be, even if he couldn’t be public about it - he’d have tapped any and all sources for help. Even if it were a tool he’d thought he’d thrown away long ago when he had left Blackwatch. Gabriel wouldn’t pass a message - no, that was too dangerous - but he might be able to get a location on the cowboy. All that would be left after that was contact and delivery; then Angela could, hopefully, be left in some semblance of peace.

Her eyes opened to blinding white lights. She became aware of her arms, straining at the shoulders from where she sagged against the chains that held her up; they shook with relief when she managed to brace her right leg on the slippery floor. Angela was dripping wet; they had just thrown the icy water over her, shocking her awake. Angela had known she would be back here. An escape had been too good to be true; Gabriel was dead and the Reaper had tricked her in such a vile way. Fingers dug into her cheeks painfully, forcing her head backward until her neck ached. “Didn’t I tell you, princess?” The Speaker was right in front of her, just out of sight due to the lights as he sneered. “We won’t let you go that easily.” He laughed, finding pleasure in her despair. Before he stopped, the strap with its many sharp edges cleaved into her back, tearing her back away one jagged gash at a time. Angela bit down on her lip, swallowing down a scream, as it all began again. She had to hold out and survive the pain and the overwhelming tide of despair. Questions. Pain. Silence. Drowning. Screaming. It felt like they had her for hours, the questions echoing and repeating around her as they hurt her. She hadn’t been able to keep back her sounds of pain, starting as whimpers and ending with throat-burning screams. It had to end soon, right? They always stopped, always gave her a short respite to recover and gather the ragged bits of herself back together. Shaking. She was shaking, a different voice calling over the Speaker. Angela blinked in confusion; no one but the Speaker talked to her during these sessions. When her eyes opened again, the blinding light and chains were gone. She was no longer hanging from chains but lying on something soft. Angela flinched back from the familiar man hovering over her, concerned as he looked down at her. Angela didn’t know how to handle such gentle emotions any longer - she didn’t believe in them enough to trust them after everything she had been through - so Angela turned her head slightly so she could stare at a wall instead. It wasn’t the same white wall she had become accustomed to. It was a beige color, textured instead of smooth concrete. “Dr. Ziegler?” Baptiste’s voice was hesitant as he removed his hand from her shoulder slowly; Angela hadn’t even realized he was touching her until the hand was removed - and wasn’t that foolish? He’d been shaking her, so of course he was touching her. She kept her eyes away from his form and instead swept them across the room, searching as she always did. Her friends had returned on the day of her ‘escape’ when the Reaper had been cleaning her body with painful gentleness. Angela vaguely remembered Baptiste. They had worked together some time ago, and he had seemed like a good man. But that he was here, in this room with her, meant that he couldn’t be trusted. This was a trap, a trick to get her to let her guard down and betray her friends - her true friends, not this one-time ally from some far off place and time. “Dr. Ziegler?” The man asked again. Angela glanced up towards him, body tensed and ready for the pain that had become expected. Her wary eyes met his concerned ones for a brief moment before glancing away again. Angela refused to speak because she knew that if she did, she might never stop. Instead, she looked around her new prison. It was a bedroom, she realized finally. She couldn’t see much from her prone position, but there were doorways and a small table - nightstand - next to the bed she laid in. The softness was alien and almost unbearable after so many days - weeks? Months? - sleeping on cold concrete or suspended by chains. “You may not remember me, doctor,” Baptiste’s voice was cheery, not at all deterred by her silence. Angela couldn’t tell if it was forced or real. “We worked together in Venezuela a year or so ago. My name is Baptiste.” He paused there, giving her time to respond if she so chose - which she did not. Once it was obvious she was planning to remain silent, Baptiste continued. “You’ve been sleeping a while, Dr. Ziegler. I’m sure you’re hungry.” At the reminder, her stomach suddenly made itself very known. Yes, she was hungry - not that she would admit it aloud. “If you’ll just wait right here, I’ll get that fixed right up. Sound good?” As if she were in any position to leave this bed. After another long moment of silence, Baptiste nodded once and left the room. Angela pressed her arms down against the mattress in an attempt to sit upright. Her body’s weakness and the pliable mattress made the attempt impossible. She wasn’t sure what she had expected; she had barely been capable of pushing herself off the hardened concrete to eat the last time they had fed her. When she finally lay still again, she was panting and shaking from the exertion. She had jostled her knee, which was now throbbing and pulsing in reprimand for her movements. But, Angela had discovered that she wasn’t restrained - except, of course, by her weak body. Her trembling hands explored the bed, marveling at the soft cloth and smooth sheets, before sliding to her body. There was some cloth covering her - a brief glance down showed some sort of green fabric. Angela marveled at that, too. It had been a long time since she had been clothed, since her naked body hadn’t been on display for everyone to see. Her fingers were playing with one of the buttons when Baptiste walked back in with a small tray. He placed the tray on a second table to her right, one that she hadn’t noticed when she was avoiding looking at him. “Now, unless you want to wear your food, you’re going to have to be sitting up.” Angela frowned; she had already tried that, which meant he would have to touch her again. As he reached out, Angela tensed. When his hands grabbed her with a careful, practiced touch, she began shaking, forcing him to pause. “It’s alright, doctor,” he soothed as he began lifting her despite her tension. “Just bear with me a little bit.” Angela stared past Baptiste towards the ceiling - and then the wall, once he had maneuvered her upright. “There we go!” Baptiste released her slowly, as if she would fall over without his support. Angela was leaning heavily against the pillows that he had propped behind her, so she was in no danger of falling. Once he was satisfied, he settled in a chair pulled up close to her bedside and grabbed a bowl from the tray he had brought in. “Now, I know, this isn’t exactly how you want to do this,” Baptiste said, scooping some broth up with a spoon and holding it up towards her face. “In a few days, you’ll be strong enough to do it yourself.” Angela didn’t want to eat, despite her hunger and weakness. Eating would prolong her existence and keep her in their clutches that much longer. But she knew what the consequences of not eating would be. Rough hands forcing her mouth open until her jaws creaked, food stuffed down her throat until she thought she would suffocate as she swallowed and swallowed to try and breathe. No, she didn’t want that. Resigned, she ate the broth he offered. The warmth soothed her throat - which she hadn’t even realized was sore - and pooled in her stomach comfortably. It tasted bitter, though; despite herself, she recoiled and glanced up at him in horror. What was in that liquid? Something to help calm her, to make her more pliable for their questions? He looked surprised, before realization crossed his face. “You probably can taste the supplements I added,” Baptiste explained hurriedly. “It’s nothing bad; just some extra protein and vitamins to help you recover.” He muttered something about the taste under his breath, but it was low enough that she didn’t catch all of it. “Seriously, look,” Baptiste ate a spoonful of the broth himself, as if to prove its safety; Angela knew that one spoonful was nothing compared to an entire bowl, but what could she do? Resigned, she went through the motions of eating as he fed her slowly - far slower than she was used to. Each time, the bitterness struck her and her anxiety spiked – but she couldn’t tell what the drug was doing to her. Perhaps he had been telling the truth, though Angela highly doubted it. Baptiste chattered brightly at her as she ate, but she wasn’t listening. Refused to listen, because Angela recognized it for the trap that it was. They had tried to break her with pain and death, but they had failed. Now, they were trying to break her with kindness and gentle hands. Angela wouldn’t allow that to happen; she had been through far too much to fail now. He was trying to befriend her, to get behind her walls to crack her open and reveal her secrets. Only one person had ever been capable of doing that - and he was dead, even though his body still roamed the Earth. Angela was surprised he wasn’t here, looming in a corner or hovering over her, trying to convince her that he was still Gabriel and not the Reaper. He’d sat with her the last time she’d woken, but, unlike Baptiste, he had barely spoken to her. He’d just sat there, brooding while she pretended he didn’t exist. She had found Ana then, perched on the dresser that was barely in her line of sight. Angela had let Ana soothe her until she could fall into an uneasy sleep - which Baptiste had helpfully woken her from. “Alright, all done.” Baptiste finally declared, setting the spoon and bowl back onto the tray. Angela’s hunger wasn’t satisfied, but that wasn’t unusual. Just like pain, hunger had become a constant companion to her these days. “Now.” Angela glanced towards him briefly - he was leaning forward slightly, looking a little uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I check your wounds and change your bandages?” She stiffened, eyes darting away to sweep the room again. No one was here - at least, not now. Perhaps they would arrive soon. “You’ve got some bad cuts there, doctor.” Baptiste continued carefully, when it was clear she wasn’t going to speak - or give any kind of permission at all. At least he was keeping his hands to himself while he was trying to convince her. “I just want to make sure they don’t get infected.” Infection was the least of her worries; in fact, if she were lucky - which she didn’t seem to be - an infection would kill her. Baptiste sighed. “Alright. It can wait a little while - but we have to check them soon.” Angela was surprised at the capitulation. She had expected him to press the matter - but that wasn’t how this worked, she realized. They wanted her comfortable, and forcing her into doing something wouldn’t meet that goal. That was why they’d brought in a familiar face to care for her, after all. They wanted her to let her guard down so that they could wean the information they wanted from her. He offered her the water, which she drank just as mechanically as she had the broth. Then, he chattered at her again, apparently unable to stand the silence. Angela tuned him out to the best of her ability as she looked around the room again. Still no one - not her friends nor the Reaper. Angela supposed the latter was a small mercy.

---

After each meal, Baptiste asked for her permission to look at her wounds. Finally, after her fourth meal – oatmeal, this time – he had pressed the matter. “I know it’s uncomfortable, Doctor,” Baptiste had said, carefully trying to pull the blanket away from her tight grip, “but your injuries need tending.” As a doctor, she knew that he was right. As a person, she didn’t care. It had taken him the better part of fifteen minutes to persuade her to let him pull away the blanket. He didn’t attempt to reach for her dress, not yet; instead, he turned his attention to her legs. Aside from the squares of gauze taped carefully to her skin, Angela’s legs were bare. Her eyes immediately fell on her knee, still a terrible purple-black and swollen even after – well, she didn’t actually know how long it had been since the Reaper had pulled her down from the chains. Baptiste noticed her attention and pulled out something. “I’ve got a brace for that,” he offered, holding up the object. “I wasn’t sure if I should put it on, considering the other wounds.” The brace would wrap and hold her knee in place, but it would also press against the half-healed burns and gashes still present. If she weren’t the patient, Angela would have put the brace on; the knee would continue to be damaged for as long as it was left free and unsupported. But, she was the patient – and she desperately wanted to die. Angela wouldn’t give him any advice towards her care, not even in this small thing that would only give her more comfort. If she broke her silence, she would be tempted again – and then they would have her. Instead, she ignored his unspoken question and let her gaze wander to the left, away from the man and his expectant gaze. Angela heard him sigh and set the brace down. She ignored the careful fingers that pulled the tape from her skin. Ignored the cool spread of ointment and the gentle, painful press where he held the gauze in place as he secured it. Once her legs were done, she tensed. Though Angela wanted to die – and, therefore, did not want medical attention – she especially didn’t want to be naked again. The dress was the only protection she had, besides her silence. It was flimsy and frail, but it was hers. Still, he persisted until the dress was unbuttoned and her bandages were bared. Angela glanced down at herself briefly – her broken skin was hidden from her by layers of gauze – before her gaze found the wall again. As Baptiste cut the gauze away, her attention was drawn towards the door; it had been left open by the man when he’d brought in her meal. Low voices, barely loud enough for Angela to hear, trickled into the room. “–ch longer—going to take?” Angela went cold. She had known that this was too good to be true. She had been trembling under Baptiste’s touch, but now she was shaking in pure fear. Until the day she died – which, hopefully, would be very soon – Angela would recognize the Speaker’s voice. “You—a month,” the Reaper growled back quietly. “Doctor?” Baptiste’s concerned voice drowned out whatever else the Reaper said to the Speaker. She couldn’t look away from the door, couldn’t stop straining to hear the words that would condemn her. She was panting heavily, eyes wide with terror as she cowered back from the door, even though it brought her closer to Baptiste. “–ot gonna–” The Speaker said, but Baptiste spoke over them again. “What is it?” He rose from his seat, the movement momentarily distracting Angela from the door and the monsters in the other room. Baptiste left everything as it was – gauze and tools laid about, her bandages partially cut away – as he grabbed a gun; she hadn’t noticed it since it had been propped up against the far side of the nightstand. Competent hands lifted the weapon as he stalked around the bed to investigate the other room. Angela wasn’t fooled; he was in on this charade. He was just acting for her benefit, to cover up the fact that this was a trick. She doubted that she was expected to hear the voices; they had been quiet and Baptiste had been distracting her with the stress of a bandage change. Her ears still strained to hear the words, but she couldn’t make any out. She could hear the voices of the Speaker and the Reaper, but their words were no longer intelligible between the roaring in her ears and their volume. Baptiste glanced into the other room cautiously before carefully exiting to ‘look’ more thoroughly. Angela looked away again; she couldn’t hear the words and she didn’t want to watch him come back in with his lies. Angela’s eyes cut across the bed towards the right side of the room – where Baptiste had just been sitting – and paused, fixated on the sheets next to her leg. He had left all of his supplies scattered around, including the bandage scissors he had been using to remove the gauze around her chest. Angela reached out for the tool with shaking fingers that steadied once she had it in hand. Relief chased away her terror, but she knew that she didn’t have a lot of time before Baptiste returned. Angela barely hesitated – she would not go back to the Speaker, to his chains and the pain. She knew that she would have to cut deep; that if she didn’t, either her nanites or Baptiste would put her back together more quickly than she could bleed out. With a steadying breath, she pressed the sharp edge of the scissors against her left forearm near her elbow before dragging down towards her wrist. It stung, but it was nothing compared to the pain she had experienced – and the pain she was trying to avoid. Switching the blade to her left hand was more of a challenge; everything was suddenly more messy, now that her blood was flowing freely. She should have used her left hand first; it was her least dominant that was now slick with blood and shaking again. “There’s nothing ou—Doctor!“ Baptiste stepped through the door as she was dragging a line through her right arm; he was across the room and yanking the scissors from her grip before she could get more than halfway down her right forearm. Swearing up a storm, he used one hand to clamp down on her left arm in an attempt to stop as much of the blood flow as possible, as his other scrambled to grab some of the loose gauze. Angela tried to struggle out from under his grip; the blood that was absolutely everywhere helped in that regard, and she managed to free her arm for a short moment – then he was upon her again. “Stay still,” Baptiste shouted, but she ignored the order and just squirmed more. Angela was surprised he didn’t call for help from the other room – or that someone didn’t rush in to try to help him. Angela knew there were at least two men out there; one was the Reaper, who could come in without ‘surprising’ her, because she’d seen him here before. In response to her squirming and attempts to escape his grasp, Baptiste moved until he was over her on the bed, pinning her down with his body weight as he focused on her arms. The positioning made her nauseous with terror, her body going cold – but perhaps that was from the blood loss. “No,” Angela whimpered plaintively as he began winding the gauze around her left forearm tightly – too tight, the medical professional in her noted but, right now, she doubted he cared. Angela twisted, trying to throw him off balance or drag herself out from underneath him. She was too weak for it to be more than a slight annoyance, and he ignored her struggles as he wrapped the gauze haphazardly around her arm. As she knew all too well, it didn’t have to look pretty to get the job done. Angela panted, terrified; though she knew it was pointless, she continued to try and escape – even as he tied off the bandage on her left arm. Already, she could see the faint pink tint staining the white gauze, but she knew that this was merely a stopgap; he had to slow her bleeding before he could properly stitch her back up. She knew she wasn’t weak enough, hadn’t bled enough, to die – but she was too weak to stop him. Tears welled; Baptiste had won. She wouldn’t get another chance – she had been lucky to get this chance. Angela was going to go back to that room, the room she desperately wanted to avoid. Her right arm went faster than the left, considering the gash was smaller than the other. He tied that off, too, before glancing around the room. Angela knew he was looking for his medical kit, which was just out of reach of the bed – on purpose, so that Angela couldn’t get her hands on anything like the bandage scissors he’d carelessly left on the bed. That forced him to leave the bed, leaving her free to writhe away and try to rip the bandages off. She had nearly thrown herself off the left side of the bed when his hand clamped down on her right arm and dragged her back. The action also pulled her hand away from the bandages, though she had managed to loosen the knot he’d quickly tied. As he turned back to his kit for a moment, her fingers lifted to yank at the knot again and began unwinding the bandages. She had nearly gotten all of them off when he clamped down on her again – this time, not to stop her actions, but to hold her still so he could inject her with something. “I’m sorry, Doctor.” His voice was distant and fuzzy as he yanked her right hand away and began undoing all her work as quickly as possible. “You left me no choice.” Her head was swimming, and she couldn’t focus – what had he given her? Hopefully, he’d given her too much, considering her malnutrition, wounds, and blood loss; if he did, she’d never wake up. Her eyes fluttered closed as he turned away once more, her arms securely wrapped in the protective gauze.

Gabriel froze when he walked into the bedroom, taking in the bloody tableau. The blankets were thrown on the floor carelessly, and sheets were stained with red. Small droplets of blood had splattered on the headboard as well as the carpet close to the bed. Angela’s arms, which had been bare when he left this morning, were now wrapped heavily with gauze. A noise pulled Gabriel’s attention away from Angela to look over at the medic. He was setting down his weapon – an impressive looking assault rifle that had, apparently, been modified for healing, though he hadn’t used any of it in this room – against the nightstand. Then, he leaned back in the chair, looking exhausted; through the whole thing, Baptiste never took his eyes off of the doctor. “What happened?” Gabriel demanded, snarling. He knew he should keep his voice down – or at least moderate it to be less vicious – for Angela’s sake, but it was hard when faced with this. “She got my scissors,” Baptiste admitted, not a single trace of his typical humor. Gabriel turned his gaze back to Angela, horrified; she was breathing steadily and – for all appearances – seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Angela didn’t sleep peacefully – not even when she was so exhausted that she forgot her nightmares in the morning. Gabriel knew that she always twitched and shifted, murmuring softly or crying out; the bedding would often be twisted when they woke, and it wasn’t from any fun nighttime activity. No, her sleeping this way was unnatural, especially after her torture from the last month. “How did you let that happen?” Gabriel growled, forcing himself to remain in the doorway. If he moved closer, he would probably rip out Baptiste’s throat – and he still needed the medic. “I managed to convince – I think, or maybe she gave up? Anyways, – her to let me change her bandages. I did her legs and was just beginning to remove the gauze around her torso when she made this quiet noise.” Baptiste paused there, appearing to be at a loss for words; Gabriel forced himself to look at the medic, because to continue looking at the bandages was infuriating him. “It made my hair stand on end, man; I couldn’t help but look up.” He rubbed at his arms absently. “She’s so amped, you know? Nervous. Always looking around, always noticing things even if she wasn’t looking.” Gabriel did know; she was hypervigilant. It wasn’t unexpected, considering everything she’d been through. “So, when I saw her staring at the door, looking so scared, I thought maybe she’d heard something I didn’t.” Baptiste gestured at his rifle. “I went to investigate, make sure we weren’t under attack. I didn’t find anyone, so I came back to finish up with her.” Baptiste took a heavy breath. “I wasn’t gone for more than two minutes, I swear.” A lot could happen in two minutes, as both men were aware. “I came back and she was cutting at one of her arms; I took the scissors away and tried to stop the bleeding.” Baptiste looked nauseous as he finally lifted his gaze from the doctor to look at the Reaper. “She fought me hard; I’ve never seen anyone so desperate to die.” His voice was bleak, face ashen. “I had to pin her down to get the first set of gauze on.” Gabriel was unsurprised at Angela’s determination, even though it saddened him. He’d seen it in the armory weeks ago, when she’d gone for the gun. That determination – despair – had only increased since then. “She nearly ripped the bandages off again before I sedated her,” Baptiste sighed. “I don’t know if the dosage was too much, considering everything. She’s been down for a few hours.” That explained the peaceful breathing, then. “I told you,” Gabriel rumbled into the silence. “I told you she thought this was a trick. I warned you that she was suicidal.” He had trusted this man with her safety – and that trust had been betrayed. The Reaper wanted to paint the walls red with Baptiste’s blood, but he couldn’t. Gabriel needed Baptiste’s medical experience, even though he’d nearly allowed Angela to die on his watch. Besides, if the Reaper decorated the room with Baptiste’s insides, Angela would be even more terrified than she already was. “Get out,” Gabriel ordered, stepping further into the room so that Baptiste could comply. He needed a few hours without seeing the medic, a few hours to watch Angela breathe and assure himself that – despite yet another injury under his care – she was alive. A few hours to berate himself for being so careless. Baptiste scrambled to his feet, somehow managing to carry a tray laden with a bowl and his gun as he made for the door. Gabriel noticed that Baptiste kept as much distance as possible between the two of them as he moved. “Call me if you need anything,” Baptiste told him quietly as he strode through the door. Gabriel stalked over to close it, barely keeping himself from slamming it. Then he made his way around the bed to take the seat Baptiste had vacated to watch Angela breathe.

---

“Hello?” Gabriel was surprised that Cassidy didn’t sound more defensive – but, then again, he’d probably scattered his contact information as widely as possible to try and find Angela. It was likely the cowboy had received several calls from unknown numbers in the past month. “Is this Cole Cassidy?” Gabriel asked, though he already knew the answer. Over familiarity at this early stage would make the man far more defensive than Angela had time for. Gabriel’s eyes darted to the woman, who was still sleeping peacefully on the bloodstained sheets. He’d sent Baptiste out for new bedding - apparently, this apartment didn’t have any. Gabriel hadn’t wanted to call Cassidy tonight – he had planned to call tomorrow when he was able to slip away from the apartment and have the conversation where Angela couldn’t possibly overhear. However, her suicide attempt required things to move even faster. Even though Gabriel wasn’t in the mood to be speaking to anyone at the moment, it was necessary for Angela’s safety – so he would force himself to remain civil for a phone conversation. “Who’s askin’?” There was the defensive note; perhaps he hadn’t given his name out with his number. That would be a wise decision, considering the incredibly high bounty Cassidy still had on his head. Gabriel couldn’t give him his name – either name – at this point, however. To tell him he was the Reaper would destroy any possibility of a somewhat peaceful delivery of Angela. To tell him he was Gabriel Reyes, his presumed-dead and traitorous ex-Commander, wouldn’t go over any better. “I’m the person who’s rescued Dr. Ziegler,” he growled instead, voice quiet in deference to the sleeping blonde. Once they had hashed everything out – like where Cassidy could come to get her – he could give the cowboy his name. Cassidy inhaled sharply. “You’ve got her?” He repeated, doubtful. “Lemme talk to her.” Gabriel looked at the doctor again. Even if she were conscious, he couldn’t have let her speak to Cassidy. She would scream about it being a trap, to stay away – and, while he didn’t believe for a second that Cassidy would listen to her warning, it would make things far more complicated than necessary. “She’s sleeping right now,” Gabriel said instead. “I can send you a picture if you’d like.” He’d have to find a blanket that didn’t have bloodstains to cover up the mess, but he could make that happen. “Right. B’cause those can’t be faked or anythin’,” Cassidy drawled, ever the cynic. Still, Gabriel could hear the faint note of hope in his voice; Gabriel doubted they’d had any good leads on finding Angela. If they had known Talon had her, there would have been a lot more violence reported in the news. “Look,” Gabriel growled, his temper too frayed to properly deal with Cassidy’s caution. Still, he had to find the words to convince the cowboy that this wasn’t a prank or a trap. “Talon is chasing us. I don’t know how long we have until they find us.” That was the complete truth. He was already considering moving them out of Numbani; he had used his outfit and reputation to bully Cassidy’s number out of the criminals here, which would eventually find its way to Talon’s ears. “You got her away from Talon?” Gabriel rolled his eyes; seriously, he could tone down the incredulity. “Is this 76?” Gabriel wasn’t surprised that Jack was out looking for Angela. She was important to him – to them both – despite everything that had happened in the past. He was surprised that Jack had contacted Overwatch, regardless of what name he had given them. “No, this isn’t 76,” he admitted; lying about it would come out wherever they met, which would only lead to further hostilities. “How’d ya get this number?” Incredulity melted into harsh suspicion, which was more along the lines of what Gabriel had expected. “Why’d ya call me instead of the tip line?” All fair questions. “You spread the word underground that you’ve been looking for information on the doctor,” Gabriel told him; he’d barely had to mention the cowboy’s name to learn that. It was almost a joke among the gangsters – a notorious criminal with an enormous bounty was searching for the doctor? There’d been some talk about trapping the cowboy, luring him in so that they could get the prize; they’d even offered to split the money with him if he helped. Considering Gabriel needed Cassidy to remain a free man, he’d declined. “An’ ya didn’ call the tip line? I ain’t got the money for the reward they’re offerin’.” The reward was pretty substantial – nowhere near the amount of Cassidy’s bounty, but still a significant amount nonetheless. “I don’t want the money,” Gabriel growled, “I just want her safe.” Even if she trusted him – wasn’t broken in a way he couldn’t fix – Angela couldn’t stay with him. Talon was coming, and he was just one man. Gabriel couldn’t protect her in the way she needed if she remained. He’d kill her enemies from the shadows before they reached her, instead. “She trusts you,” he added. Gabriel paused, and then, “I trust you.” “You tru—who is this?” Cassidy thundered. Gabriel didn’t think the cowboy believed he had Angela; without being allowed to speak and Cassidy not accepting a photograph, it would be hard to convince the cynical cowboy. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Gabriel was stalling; the Reaper was disgusted with his cowardice. Just say it and get it over with. “Try me,” the cowboy’s voice was hard. “You know me by two different names,” Gabriel started, because he’d have to give both names before the conversation was over. The first name would be the one that proved his honesty. The second name would, hopefully, keep him from being shot on sight. “I’m Gabriel Reyes.” Cassidy made a disbelieving noise. “Reyes is dead.” The words were a snarl, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. “And if he weren’t, I’d kill him myself.” Well. Cassidy hadn’t hung up yet, at least. “You call her Ange,” he said quietly. “She stayed with you for two nights straight when you lost your arm.” She had cried, too – but he was pretty sure the cowboy didn’t know that fact; the Angela from that time hadn’t been one for showing ‘weak’ emotions in public. Gabriel searched his memory for something that wouldn’t have been – relatively – widely known throughout the two organizations. Gabriel didn’t like to think of his time with the organizations he destroyed - didn’t like to remember the happiness he had tossed aside - so it took him a moment to find something to tell Cassidy. “One mission in Finland, you and I stayed up too late and drank too much tequila, which allowed our mark - Korhonen or Koskinen or some kind of nen, I don’t remember - to get away.” It had been stupid – they had been stupid – but it was something only they knew; Gabriel hadn’t even told Angela the real reason why he’d been delayed in coming home. Cassidy inhaled sharply, but Gabriel ignored it and continued. “Took three days to find him again, but we found him and brought him in.” “Th’hell you doin’ with Ange, Reyes?” Despite the anger, Gabriel was relieved; Cassidy believed him. “You shouldn’ even be alive, not after what you’ve done.” He couldn’t blame Cassidy for his ire – Gabriel deserved it and far more. “I told you: I rescued her.” Gabriel tactfully left out the part where he had been the one to kidnap her in the first place. That could come out later – when he wasn’t around to get shot, even if he deserved it. “She needs help that I can’t give her; they worked her over, and it isn’t pretty.” Angela shifted a little, drawing his attention. The sedative must be wearing off, finally. Hopefully, she would stay asleep until he finished this call – and there wasn’t a screaming nightmare to deal with. “They—she—shit!“ Gabriel didn’t believe that Cassidy thought Angela had been safe this whole time. Cassidy knew, better than most, what she had probably faced during her captivity. Still, the abstract was always more comfortable to handle than the reality; Gabriel had learned that the hard way – and the lesson had cost Angela far too much. “Angela will be better off in your – in Overwatch’s – care. I need to get her to you, now.” Gabriel explained quietly once the silence had dragged just a little too long. “I know you’re pissed at me, but don’t take it out on her.” The silence dragged on again as Cassidy wrestled with himself; Gabriel hoped he wouldn’t take too long, else Angela would awaken and he’d have to deal with her instead of the cowboy. “Damn you, Reyes,” Cassidy snarled after a moment. “Fine. I’ll get a ride; where’s the drop?” Gabriel gave him coordinates of an empty field a few miles outside of Numbani. It was utterly devoid of cover, which would hopefully prove that he – at least – wasn’t trying to trap the cowboy. “Tomorrow, then?” “Tomorrow,” Gabriel confirmed gravely as Angela began to murmur softly. Tomorrow, he would say goodbye again, this time for good. Tomorrow, he would never see her again – not even from a distance, because he doubted she would ever leave whatever base Cassidy took her to. “You said ya had two names, Reyes. What’s th’second one?” Gabriel tensed; he knew it had to come out – if Cassidy came to a field and the Reaper had Angela, they’d shoot first and ask questions later. He didn’t want to risk her taking another bullet for him. “The Reaper.” Gabriel disconnected before he could hear Cassidy’s response.

Angela jolted into sudden wakefulness when a hand closed on her shoulder. Wild-eyed, she turned to find the mask of the Reaper. “Easy, cariño. You’re alright.” Angela shivered and looked away; she knew that he meant the words to be comforting – that was the goal here, after all – but all it did was make her sad. He was pretending to be the man she had loved – still loved, if she was honest with herself. It was cruel, especially when she so badly wanted it to be true. Angela knew it was foolish, that hope which had flickered to life when he had pulled her down from the chains and carried her from that room of pain. But she had heard him with the Speaker. She had heard his betrayal, knew that it had all been a lie. It was that knowledge that gave her the strength to remain silent, to not engage with this shadow of a man. After a long moment, the Reaper sighed and released her shoulder. Despite herself, Angela glanced his way to see that he had leaned back in the chair to give her some space. “I’ve found Cassidy.” Angela froze, choking on a breath as her entire body seized with panic. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Talon wasn’t supposed to find any of them; she was supposed to protect them and keep them safe. It was all that was left, all she was good for – and even in that, she had failed. If they brought one of them here – she couldn’t even consider it. It would absolutely destroy her. Angela was barely holding it together now, after they had killed the parts of her that were strong – that were Dr. Ziegler, Mercy. Angela wouldn’t survive if they brought someone else in to torture in her stead. “Breathe, Angela.” Suddenly, the Reaper was in her face, fingers – not claws, she realized – gripping her shoulders as he tried to pull her back down. “No one is going to hurt him, cariño; everything is alright. Breathe.” Angela managed to suck in an unsteady breath, and he nodded encouragingly. “Yes, just like that.” Her body was still so tense that it hurt, but at least she wasn’t going to pass out. After a few breaths, the Reaper released her and leaned back again. “I won’t hurt him. No one will hurt him.” The Reaper repeated. “I’m taking you to him so that he can get you the help you need.” Angela would have scoffed, but she maintained her silence by biting her lip. ‘Help.’ As if he hadn’t been the one to put her in this position, to condemn her to be battered and broken. As if this ‘rescue’ was real. She had heard him. He didn’t want to get her help – he wanted to get her broken. They would capture Cassidy by using her as bait. They would put him before her, and then it would be his pain or her words. Would he understand if she – somehow – kept her silence? Would he forgive her? Would she forgive herself? “I know I’ve given you no reason to trust me, Angela.” The Reaper leaned forward again, and she tried to shift to put some distance between his familiar body and her own. “But please, mi corazón, please try to believe me.” Angela had never heard Gabriel beg before; that the first time would be now, when he was the Reaper and her enemy, was disconcerting. “Just hold on for one more day,” his mask dropped to regard her bandaged arms meaningfully before rising again. “If not for me or yourself, then for the others. You know what your death would do to them.” Angela shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut. “You know they want you to live.” Of course her friends wanted her to live – but they hadn’t found her. She had been abandoned in that prison – this prison – and no one had saved her. Cool fingers touched her hand cautiously, but she remained still and kept her eyes closed. Angela waited for the touch to turn into a painful grip, to dig in and to hurt. But they just curled around her fingers, holding her hand in what Angela thought might be an attempt at comfort. It was so familiar that it hurt. Despite the pain, despite the knowledge that it was wrong, Angela couldn’t force herself to pull away. She was too stubborn, though, to let her fingers tighten around his own. Instead, her hand remained limp in his grasp as she turned her gaze towards the ceiling and away from the Reaper’s mask to try to hide her conflicting emotions. Then, he ruined it. “I’m sorry, Angela.” She stiffened and would have pulled away, but his hands – both of them, now – trapped her own in a firm grip. Were she stronger, she probably could have wrenched away, but she had wasted all her strength earlier with Baptiste. “You were the one I was never supposed to hurt, who I had sworn to protect.” His voice was solemn, as if confessing – but it wasn’t a confession when the monster before her hadn’t been the one to make those oaths. It was a lie, tailored carefully to maximize the pain when they stopped pretending again. He seemed earnest, though; Angela hadn’t realized what a good actor he was. Had Gabriel acted like this when they had been together all those years ago, or was this a new skill that the Reaper had picked up along the way? Angela prayed it was the latter, because the former was far too painful to consider. “I ruined everything. I know you hate me.” Angela glanced over to find his head bowed over their clasped hands. “I know you can never trust me and that nothing I can do or say will be enough to make up for what I’ve done.” He took in a harsh breath, made louder by the mask he wore. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but for everything I’ve done: I’m sorry.” The Reaper released her hand then, pulling away to rest against the back of the chair and give her space once more. A small, hopeful – traitorous – part of her heart wanted to reach out and reclaim his hand with her own, to believe his apology was real and that he was Gabriel. Fortunately, her time in that freezing room of chains and blood had hardened her, even this weak self that was merely Angela. It was what allowed her to look away again and lay her hand back down on the stained sheets. It was what gave her the strength to remain silent and to keep herself from crying – though what, exactly, she would be crying over eluded her.

---

She opened her eyes to find she was in a new place - again. The last thing she remembered was the Reaper lifting her off the bloody sheets so Baptiste could strip the bed. She had let her eyes drift to the open door - something she usually couldn’t see from the bed; Jack had been there, leaning against the doorframe to watch her with heavy eyes. She had fallen asleep as he whispered warnings of betrayal and heartbreak. He had urged her to be strong because this would take everything she had - and then some. Angela glanced around her new surroundings, trying to be surreptitious but sure she was failing. It appeared she was in a car again; if it was the same one that the Reaper had stuffed her in the first time, she wasn’t sure. He sat to her left, behind the wheel as he had the last time. Her dress was no longer green; at some point, probably when they had changed the sheets, they had put a blue dress on her. It took her a moment to realize that the vehicle wasn’t moving. They were idling with a large expanse of grass before them. Angela wasn’t sure if they were on the side of a road or not, since she wasn’t craning her neck to look behind or to the left. “It’s almost over, Angela,” the Reaper murmured once she had stilled in her seat. Angela stiffened at the reminder that she would have a companion in her captivity in less than an hour. Maybe more than one - despite all his knowledge, she didn’t think Cole knew how to pilot any form of aircraft. “After today, you’ll never see me – or Talon – again.” He promised her, once the silence between them became heavy and strained. “You’ll be safe.” She didn’t believe him, of course; Angela knew she was destined to die in a Talon interrogation cell. She kept her eyes fixed on the grass outside, searching for the troops that she knew were waiting out there somewhere. “Look,” the Reaper rumbled sometime later, one clawed hand lifting and drawing her attention away. Unable to help herself, she looked in the direction he indicated. “There they are.” Her eyes found a dark spot on the horizon: an air carrier, heading their way. Angela wished there was something - anything - she could do to stop what was to come. She didn’t have the strength to protect them, and that crushed her just as badly as the blows across Cole’s body would. “Shh, cariño,” the Reaper soothed. Angela immediately bit off the small, pitiful sounds she had been making, but it was impossible to stop her tears. She turned her head away, attempting to hide her face from his sight as she grieved. It wasn’t long before the roar of the carrier filled the air. Angela couldn’t help but watch in horror, tears streaking her cheeks, as it drew closer. The car rocking drew her attention away; she hadn’t heard him open the door, but now the Reaper was stalking around the front of the vehicle to open her door. “It’s time, Angela.” The words were practically a shout so he could be heard over the carrier. She trembled as he leaned in to unbuckle her; then, she was up in his arms and pressed against his chest once more. Her left leg - knee still shattered, as far as she could tell - only complained slightly. Angela looked at it, curious; it appeared there were at least two, maybe three, braces around the knee - it forced her leg to remain straight, even without any support from below. As he turned them, the carrier touched down. He kept them next to the vehicle until the cargo doors opened. The turbines continued to roar - Angela would have been surprised if they had stopped them, considering that this was a trap - as a familiar figure began making his way cautiously towards them. Behind him on the ramp loomed two other people - a familiar large man and a less familiar woman. When the Reaper started walking, Angela began shaking enough that her teeth chattered; this was bad, this was bad, this was bad. Any minute now, Talon forces would appear and throw the cowboy to the ground. His hat would tumble off and be left, forgotten, in the grass as he was dragged into hell with her. The Reaper tightened his grip on her, his mask tilting down to consider her briefly, but if he said anything, it was lost to the roar of the carrier. Instead, she got to watch in horror as Cole Cassidy – he was real this time, right? – drew closer. One hand was resting defensively on Peacekeeper, his sharp eyes darting around as he searched for the trap they both knew existed. She wanted to scream at him to run, but she knew her disused voice would never reach him over the roaring. The space between them narrowed until, suddenly, they were only five feet apart.

Cole drummed his fingers impatiently against his seat. He never thought he’d be sitting in an Overwatch carrier again, but he never thought Angela would be kidnapped – tortured – either. Across from him sat Reinhardt, who was leaning forward against his giant hammer with his head bowed. His enormous armor nearly hid the smaller woman at his side – Brigitte, Torbjörn’s daughter. Lena was piloting the air carrier. She had managed to pick up the three of them and was now flying them to Numbani, but they were cutting it rather close. It was only the four of them; if this turned out to be a trap, the odds were heavily out of their favor. Cynical as he was, Cole expected one. Reyes and Angela had history; that much was true. Reyes had sworn to protect Angela - they all had, in their own ways - but Cole knew that personal honor meant very little to his previous Commander. Besides, it had been five years; that was a long time, and Reyes had been staining his hands with Overwatch blood in that time. No, this was a trap and Angela was the bait. It was too perfect: she was being ‘rescued’ by the Reaper - who just happened to be Gabriel Reyes of all people? The rush for a next-day meeting, for fear of being ‘caught’? No. There was no way in hell that this was anything but a trap. “We’re on the final approach,” Lena called back. “Scanners are only picking up two people – that’s got to be them.” Cole knew there were ways to hide from scanners, so that information wasn’t as comforting as he’d like. “Alrigh’ then. Let’s put ‘er down an’ get Ange back.” Cole was impatient to get this done – one way or another. He turned towards the two across from him. “You two need t’ stay back on th’ cargo ramp. Watch my back and come down swingin’ if things go sideways.” “I do not like this.” Reinhardt boomed as the carrier began to descend. “We should go with you; it is too dangerous.” Cole understood where the warrior was coming from; his job was always to protect those around him, and this was no different. Still, that didn’t change the fact that a show of force would probably end badly. “Trust me on this one,” Jessie replied, shaking his head. “We don’ wanna risk Ange.” He doubted that Reyes had lied about Angela’s health. Cole didn’t want Angela in any more danger than necessary. It was undoubtedly a trap, so having backup was more necessary than a show of force. Besides, if Reyes really was trying to protect Angela, like he had in the past, it would be far too dangerous for them to antagonize him with a heavy presence. “Then I should go!” Reinhardt insisted, one hand raising to slap his chest plate loudly. “My armor will protect me - and the doctor - if it is a trap; you would be killed!” That was a valid point – past the cargo ramp, he doubted that there would be no cover. Still, Cole shook his head again. “He called me. It’s gotta be me.” This was either a convoluted trap to capture him, or it was a genuine request for help. Knowing Reyes as he did, Cole knew that he had to walk off that ramp alone. The carrier landed with a gentle jolt; as soon as it was steady, both men were on their feet with Brigitte not far behind. Reinhardt towered over Cole in a way that would be intimidating if Cole didn’t know the German man. “You’ve gotta wait on the ramp; stay put unless things turn sour.” Reinhardt’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. Cole took that to be agreement, so he gestured towards the cargo hold. “If things do go bad, jus’ make sure y’get Ange. She’s the priority.” He allowed Reinhardt to precede him down the ramp, his giant blue shield erupting to life from his arm. Cole paused behind the warrior to allow his eyes to adjust. Once he could see clearly, he quickly found the Reaper standing in front of a car about two hundred feet away. In his arms was a bundle of blue cloth that had Angela’s head at the top. She looked thin and fragile – words he had never used to describe her except for that period directly after the fall. Cole met Angela’s terrified eyes briefly; based on her stark terror, she believed this was a trick. Cole forced himself to look away, fingers tightening on Peacekeeper as he searched for the trap. Cautiously, Cole pushed past Reinhardt’s barrier, as he and the Reaper approached each other. Even when they were within grabbing distance, Cole kept his hand tight on his weapon. From this point forward, he would be at his most vulnerable; once he took Angela into his arms, he’d find it hard to defend himself - or his precious cargo. While Reinhardt and Brigitte were nearby, it was still a long distance for them to travel. “It’s just me,” the Reaper shouted over the turbines, voice gravely as he closed the final few steps between them. This close, Cole could see her hollow cheeks and how hard she was trembling; it hurt his heart to see how damaged Angela – normally their pillar of strength – was. They had thought she was safe, and they had been wrong. “We both know I ain’t trustin’ you,” the cowboy returned gruffly. If it weren’t for Angela, he’d have shot the Reaper when he’d stepped off the ramp. He released his gun reluctantly so he could reach out for the doctor. Carefully, with a gentleness that proved that this was Reyes, the hooded figure lowered her into Cole’s arms. “Watch her knee,” Reyes rasped, as if Cole couldn’t see the straps and splints wrapped around it. The woman was lighter than she should be and shaking so hard Cole thought she might just come apart. “I gotcha, darlin’,” he assured her, though his eyes stayed firmly on Reyes. “There’s a list in one of her pockets,” Reyes shouted with a vague hand gesture towards Angela. “Everything that’s happened to her is written there.” Cole nodded once in acknowledgment. Though he wanted to look down at the small woman in his arms, reassure her that everything would be alright, he kept his eyes on the Reaper. “If I see you again, I’ll put a bullet in you.” It was another promise, one that he would be more than happy to keep. If he were able, he’d shoot him now and be done with it - but he had his hands full. “I deserve it,” Reyes agreed with a shrug, “but not for the reasons you think.” Cole felt Angela stiffen; clearly, there was something there. Hopefully, it was on the list Reyes mentioned. He’d hate to have to ask Angela about it after everything she’d been through. Reyes stepped backward, clearly done with their interaction. Cole took a step back too – and paused when one final question popped into his head. “Why’d you save her?” He shouted. Reyes stopped, head tilting as he considered Cole and his question. “Why did she save me?” Reyes called back. With that, Reyes turned his back entirely and walked away, confident that Cole would prioritize Angela over shooting him. It was hard to reconcile the image of the Reaper with the man Cole had once known. But it was obvious some part of Reyes was still alive; after all, the Reaper would never have allowed Cole – or any of the other remnants of Overwatch behind him – to leave unscathed. Still, Cole refused to turn his back to the clearing, even though it made his return trip much harder. However, before he had made it halfway back, Reinhardt had stomped forward to cover his retreat with his shield. Around that time, Reyes reached his vehicle; instead of climbing inside, he had turned to watch as Cole carried Angela away. The entire time Angela was a silent, shaking mass in his arms. “Thought I told you t’ wait on th’ ramp,” he grumbled as he turned his back on the clearing, trusting Reinhardt to protect them. Cole could feel Reyes’ eyes on his back as they moved further and further away. He didn’t look back at the monster from his past; the angel in his arms held all of his attention. “You are both too important to lose,” Reinhardt retorted. Cole shook his head before closing the remaining distance to the carrier. “Everythin’ alright, then?” Lena called from the pilot’s chair. Already she was flipping the switches that would get them into the air, even with the carrier door still closing. “We’ve got her,” Cole answered; he couldn’t say it was alright because the trembling woman in his arms clearly wasn’t. But, they had her back – and that was something, wasn’t it? They could call in people, and then she would be better. They could fix this. They would fix this. She deserved no less.

---

“This is normal?” Lena’s voice rose, practically to a shout. “Keep your voice down,” Cole growled with a meaningful glance towards Angela; Lena looked away guiltily, gnawing on one lip nervously. He knew he shouldn’t snap because it really didn’t matter how loudly they spoke. Angela had become unresponsive shortly after they had flown away from the clearing in Numbani. Even now, hours later in Watchpoint: Warsaw, she was still staring vacantly. “Yes, this,” he gestured towards Angela, “is normal.” Cole hadn’t needed Reyes’ list to tell him that this could happen. While he hadn’t dirtied his hands with torture – ‘interrogation’ – he’d seen the aftermath. “‘s a defense mechanism; she can’ be hurt if she ain’ here.” Considering what Angela had been through, he wasn’t surprised that she was protecting herself in the only way she had left. “But, she’s with us,” Lena protested, voice markedly quieter than previously. “We’re not gonna hurt her.” Cole shook his head, smiling mirthlessly. He wished he could have the same optimistic outlook, but life had been far kinder to Lena than it had been to him - or Angela. “You and I,” his hand shifted, pointing at first her then himself, “we know that. But Ange?” He looked over at the broken doctor sadly. “She doesn’ know it. Doesn’ believe it.” Cole sighed, one hand raking through his hair in absent frustration before fixing his hat. “It’ll be a long while before she recovers.” If she recovered, but Cole wasn’t willing to voice that aloud. Cole had read the list that Reyes had scrawled out, which detailed all the atrocities that Angela had been subjected to. Some were rather obvious - her malnutrition showed in her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, the shattered knee in the various braces. Others were easy to see, if one knew where to look - the suicide attempt in the bandages on her arms, the scar at her lip proving her stubborn defiance. The worst, however, were the invisible wounds. Reyes had written a small paragraph instead of a bulleted list at the very bottom of the note. “I was the one who kidnapped her from Cairo and put her in chains. I’m the one that captured her after she managed to escape, and put scars into her arms and her heart when I put her back. I was the one that gave the order to escalate her torture, that made her into this. Angela knows who I am and how I have betrayed her. I don’t know if there is anything left of her to save after what’s been done to her - what I’ve done to her - but I know that you’ll protect her like I should have. -R” It had taken everything in him to keep from crumpling the letter or tearing it into pieces; despite his absolute rage at what was revealed, Cole knew that the doctor - who still hadn’t arrived - would need the information within it. He hadn’t told anyone else of its existence; they didn’t need to know the particulars of what she had gone through - hell, he didn’t need to know it either. But he had read it anyway. “Hey, Cassidy?” Lena’s voice was soft, almost tremulous. He glanced towards the younger woman, who was wringing her hands and fidgeting; even now, she was unable to keep still. “She’s gonna be alright, isn’t she? We weren’t, you know, too late?” Cassidy didn’t know how to answer that question. He could be honest or he could be optimistic, but he couldn’t be both. Cole was saved from answering by Angela as she shifted and gasped softly. Before Lena could do anything, Cole’s hand flew out and clamped down hard on her wrist. That she jerked against his grasp told him he had been right to grab her; Lena turned to look at him, mouth opening either in protest or in question, and he shook his head sharply. Once he was sure Lena wasn’t going to leap out of her seat, Cole released her and fully turned his attention to the blonde. He wasn’t sure if Angela had been looking around or not - his gaze had been on Lena during those first moments instead of Angela - but now she was staring at the two of them. Usually, he couldn’t read her emotions or thoughts on her face, but Angela’s terror was obvious even to him. “You’re safe, Ange,” Cole assured her after the silence between them had grown too long. He could practically feel Lena’s explosive energy next to him, but somehow the British woman managed to keep her seat. Angela’s wary eyes darted from him to Lena and back again. “Is - Is this -” Angela’s voice was hesitant and rough from abuse. “Are you - real?” Her voice broke then; the pure desolation made his heart ache for her. “We’re real, darlin’,” Cole assured her. In the silence, he nudged Lena’s leg with one booted foot. “Wha- oh, yeah! It’s all real, love.” Lena’s voice was chipper and bright, with barely a note of hesitation to betray her worry. “You’re with Overwatch.” Angela flinched then; Cole gritted his teeth as he forced himself not to imagine what had conditioned such a reaction in her - and found it impossible, considering the note he’d read. Lena glanced towards Cole, clearly unsure of how to act in the face of Angela’s fear. “Ange.” Cole leaned forward a little, bridging that small gap between them. He was gratified to see she didn’t react negatively to the movement; instead, she looked up towards his intense face with the barest hint of hope. “If you don’ wanna be with Overwatch,” he forced himself to ignore her wince, “you jus’ say the word an’ it’s done.” Lena made a small sound of protest, but he spoke before she could say anything. “I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go, darlin’. Whatever you want.” Cole knew that Overwatch was, probably, the safest place for Angela to be while she recovered - if she could recover. He knew that any decision she made now would be impaired by her trauma. Still, he would fight everyone - Winston, Lena, the UN - to take her wherever it was she’d feel safe. Angela’s eyes darted around; Cole wasn’t sure if she was looking for something in particular or if this was curiosity. He watched as her hands fisted and twisted her blankets, waiting for her to say something - anything. “I -” She pressed back into the pillow, glancing to the side and worrying at her scarred lip. “I don’t want to go back.” Her voice, barely audible, was small and sad. Cole wasn’t sure if she was referring to Overwatch or Talon, but, in the long run, it didn’t really matter to him; whatever happened next, Cole would make sure that Angela was safe and happy. “You won’t.” Lena piped up before Cole could assure the doctor. Obviously, she had interpreted Angela’s statement to be about Talon, but Cole wasn’t completely convinced. “We won’t let them take you, Dr. Ziegler, I promise. We’ll keep you safe.” Angela’s face crumpled then; she turned her head away quickly, but not before Cole saw the tears there. Were they from relief, at being safe from her tormentors? Or was it from grief, at the reminder that they should have kept her safe - and hadn’t? Slowly, cautiously, Cole reached out to touch one of her clenched hands. Angela jumped, recoiling from his hand as if it burned. Her head turned, wild eyes wide and bright, as she stared down at his fingers as if she’d never seen them before - like she hadn’t put him back together countless times. He pulled back slightly, giving her space while remaining close enough for her to reach out if she wanted. “We - I - failed you, Angela,” Cole said, voice low. “It won’t happen again. I swear it.” He could see the hope and despair - the disbelief and desperation - that was roiling within her as she continued to stare at his hand. After what felt like an eternity, Angela’s hand rose. Trembling, she reached out towards him - before flinching back and away again. Cole didn’t move, didn’t react in any way; Lena gasped, a small sound that seemed to roar in the small space. Angela reached out again, but this time she didn’t recoil. He remained unmoving as she touched his fingers tentatively, afraid that anything would scare her off again. When her hand curled around his in a weak grasp, head bowed as she trembled and shook, he allowed himself to gently tighten his fingers around hers. Maybe there was hope for her, after all.

You led me here, Then I watched you disappear. You left this emptiness inside And I can't turn back time - Never Be the Same [Red]

Act One | Act Two | Act Three | Act Four | Act Five | Act Six

This is, unfortunately, the end of Breaking [My Heart]. I do intend to continue this story in a second installment, but I haven't quite got it put together yet. I know what I want it to look like (mostly), but apparently writing requires you to actually write, annoyingly enough. Writing has become a challenge (again, ugh) due to real life getting in the way (again). I've been stressing about the business I own (US Tax preparation) while working as a manger at my mothers' trampoline park. Long hours have left me with little time to do pretty much anything that isn't eating or sleeping, and when I do try to write I just can't seem to get the words out. I hate that I have my unfinished work (Forged) that I just can't seem to close plus the recovery arc for Breaking [My Heart]. They're mostly outlined but, like I said earlier, writing requires writing and I can't seem to get the scenes out of my head and onto paper. I do have a few pieces that are written for my one-shot sets, The Healer, which I'll post sporadically (and, which will, hopefully bridge the gap until I can properly write again). I appreciate all of you that read my work and leave comments; truly, every time I see the notification I get super excited and I love that you feel strongly enough about my writing to tell me about it. I hope that I continue to produce work that you can enjoy! Feel free to reach out to me here. Until next time, stay happy and healthy!

OOOO YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HURT REAL BAD?!

if "Wounds" played during the emotional parts of season 2. like, we already have emotions tied to that song because it played when Joel and Ellie buried Sam and Henry, when Joel and Tommy had the fight in Tipsy Bison, and also when Joel admitted that he was the guy who shot and missed. so if that song played when, I don't know, Ellie's at Joel's grave and then walks back to his house with Dina? I'm just saying, that would be more emotional than I think we're ready for :(

What are your thoughts about Joel and Ellie’s estrangement in part 2?

I'm so glad you ask!

I actually have many thoughts about it. I totally get why ellie would ignore joel for that. she feels as though her life is only important because she's immune, so him taking away her choice to save the world is the biggest betrayal to her. and then him lying to her about it? just makes it worse, honestly. she basically put her life in joel's hands, and yeah, he did save her, but that wasn't what she wanted. that's not what she thought her life was meant for. she was willing to die for that, but joel took that choice away from her. and then when she asked about it, he just lies? she very clearly knew he was lying to her, but she had nowhere else to go (among other reasons), so she stayed with him.

so, knowing why she's mad at him, I can't see her being mad at him for 2+ years? like, yes, he did betray her trust and took away what she thought she was meant for, but 2 years? after he told her about sarah? and after he told her about his attempt? I know the latter was more in the show, but it was implied in the game. I just can't see her being mad for 2 years. yes, ignore him, make him feel bad for what he did. but that's your father figure? that's the person you traveled the country with? I know it was for the cure and then the cure never happened, but I'm sure ellie saw where he was coming from. she had to of. they got pretty close traveling the country. she had to have realized he barely survived losing his first daughter, and that he wouldn't have survived the second. especially when it was all on a whim??? marlene said the doctors THOUGHT that taking her brain would be the cure. that's not definitive. that's a possibility. so, if joel didn't kill the doctor and didn't save ellie, there's no reason to believe it would've equaled the cure. and I'm sure he could've explained that to her, but no, he wanted to protect her from the truth. which I can kind of get, but she thought the cure was her life's purpose and then you won't even explain what actually happened?

I can totally see where ellie's coming from, but if they just SAT DOWN and had a conversation, maybe it would've been okay. cause I do think, after time (not 2 years worth), she would've been able to see where he was coming from. yes, she probably would've resented him after finding out the truth, but she would've understood. at least a little bit, I think.

so long explanation short, I get why they drifted but I don't enjoy it. I don't think it was worth like 2 years of drifting when ellie probably would've understood if joel had just told her what happened

Yes I completely agree!!! I understand where Ellie is coming from, she had such intense survivors guilt, and It doesn’t help that every time she tried to get him to tell her the truth he kept lying. But 2 years just felt so excessive. After everything they’d been through- the bond they had?? Just thrown out for two years.

Like she lived in his back yard. I know they saw each other all the time. It hurts so much to know that Joel missed out on her life for years. She was his second chance and he had to watch from a distance. And the show is going to hurt so much more since he opened up to her about the suicide attempt after Sarah.

At the University (in the game) Ellie starts asking Joel about how they’ll make the cure. It’s pretty obvious she has no clue how science/medicine works. I wish someone would’ve explained to her how hard making vaccines actually is. By getting rid of the only immune person they would’ve had no extra evidence to test

I have so many thoughts anon

first, we shake hands!! 2 years does seem excessive! especially with the fact they still live near each other! like, yes, I totally get being mad at him due to her survivors guilt, but 2 years?? you live in his backyard. surely you could've had a conversation? even though he did brush her off every single time. which could've been why it was 2 years, honestly. maybe ellie didn't want to be mad at joel for that whole time, but he kept brushing her off and lying to her. mmmmm more to think about.

yeah! I'm so very worried for season 2 because of the p a i n. I live in constant fear for how it's gonna play out. cause show joel and ellie are so much closer? at least it seems that way, because he did open up to her about his attempt and then let her know that she is what healed him ("it wasn't time that did it" EUEUEUE). so I'm hoping he'll let her know what really happened, but the creators like to stick closely to what actually happened, so the hopes are not that high. but! if he actually told her? I can see her forgiving him before he dies. totally. she'll still hold a resentment for him, but there'll be some forgiveness. and for him missing out on things? don't get me started, it makes me so sad. he missed her being with cat, probably missed the whole burning and tattoo as well*, and her becoming friends with jesse, and then her with dina D: I need the conversation between joel and ellie about dina. *he probably didn't entirely miss out on it, but he definitely didn't know about it until it happened.

and yes! she doesn't know how it works :( I hope someone explained it to her. maybe someone at the clinic. that way, she knows they are being truthful about what that process actually is. (and I think they briefly discussed it in the show, too! I think it was around the campfire because she tried to use her blood to heal sam). like, if joel had just told her what happened and it was still bugging her, she could've gone to one of the people at the clinic and asked what the actual process to getting a vaccine is. maybe don't even ask them, just try to find a book about it cause I'm sure there's at least one in the library. hopefully.

and mmmmmm killing off the only immune person?????? for a POSSIBILITY. there's no redo if you fuck it up. if you somehow contaminate the "samples," you can't take more and try again. you are killing the only immune person. the only person in 20 years. no one knows how she's immune. the fireflies have no way to know what makes ellie different. we, the show viewers, can take guesses, but we still don't even know. is it because anna was bit when delivering ellie? is it because anna cut her umbilical cord with infected blood? or is it a third thing, like there's something in anna's blood that somehow made ellie immune? but even with all those possibilities (the last one is very doubtful, I know), we still don't know, for sure, what made ellie immune. there's no way in hell the fireflies knew. so to kill her off? presumably without taking blood or anything else? just taking a scan of her brain and deciding to take it out? that is such a huge risk. and also????? did they really think about what making a cure would mean? how would they start civilization back up? none of the buildings are safe anymore, but the equipment to make them safe is very hard to get to and also the gas isn't good anymore. and did they stop to think about how the people are? how fedra higher ups are full of themselves and how no one is trustworthy or that trusting of others anymore? there are too many variables at play, and then to not be sure it would even work???

No answer, just like Shareena has gotten. Now that Shareena was silent, however, the faintest sound of choking sobs and running water could be heard. The princess looked even more alarmed than she had when Ed had snapped at her for simply asking if he knew if Mary was alright. Hyper she may be, she wasn’t a complete fool. Something felt off about this whole situation, and that’s why she’d come to Ed; because the alchemist knew the summoner better than anyone in the Order, even if they’d known her longer.

“See?!” She hissed at him, presented with proof Mary wasn’t letting anyone in, and jiggling/pushing at the door to also prove that opening it by force had been impossible too. “She’s in there, and something’s wrong!!” Princess Shareena continued, giving him a glare. “It’s your job to ensure her safety! I wasn’t asking you for help because I just couldn’t find her! I asked you for help because I know something’s not right, and she could be in some kind of-!” She snapped, only to look down when she felt a stream of moisture at her feet to see red tinted water. The shocked girl looked up at Ed, finally understanding why Mary wouldn’t let anyone in.

“That...that’s blood...”

A Summoner’s Tale (closed FEH AU with traceofalchemy)

rxinbowtrxveler

Tears built up in her purple-blue eyes, and her lower lip began to quiver, startled and confused at why he was so mad at her. It was an accident! She’d only been trying to look out for him, why was he so mad? The adult in her was heartbroken and bewildered, the little girl frightened, wounded and confused. Over the lump in her throat, she couldn’t say anything to Ed, so the summoner simply jumped out of his bed and ran out of the room in tears, slamming the alchemist’s door behind her.

Mary immediately went into her own room, barricading herself in by locking her door, and using furniture to further block the way. In that way, only an alchemist like Ed was getting in (since she had already learned from him that if you can’t find a door, you make one) if he felt like apologizing for being an ass. The magicians were away, so she wasn’t worried about anyone forcing her door open with magic either. With that, the girl walked into her bathroom, shut the door and ran a bath for herself.

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Once she’d left the room, he took the photos from his desk and shoved them into his notebook. Seeing those pictures only ever seemed to make things worse. If he was in any kind of five stages of grief with his situation, it had definitely hit a stage of a mix of anger and sadness. He couldn’t even control the mix of emotions on an external level either apparently. It didn’t seem like there wasn’t anything else he could do anymore. 

He plopped down on his bed and rubbed his head with a sigh. Without even realizing it, he was pushing away the only person who cared about him here too. It was quiet again and it allowed him to settle down slightly until he heard the knock at his door and he started to get irritated again. How hard was it to be left alone for a second?

Listening to the rush of Shareena’s worries when he opened the door was overwhelming and he frowned at her. Could they do anything without his help ever? He sighed, “How the hell am I supposed to know what she’s up to ever my single second of the day?” He grumbled and peeked out his door over at Mary’s, “Maybe she left. She can take care of herself.”

Before she could ask for his help again, he stepped out and knocked at Mary’s door. He waited for an answer and knocked four more times, “You in here, Mary?” He asked in a normal, calmer voice.

Shareena didn’t need to be told that twice, bolting down the hall to go get a healer. The princess always thought it had been odd, how prone to danger their summoner was, but this had been the last thing she’d expected! What were they doing? What was so wrong with Mary’s psyche?

There was more bloody water than clear soaking the cobblestones, and saturating the large rug in the summoner’s room, and it ran redder still from the bathroom door...

Mary had made one stab wound in the center of her chest, just above her breasts, one in her abdomen, and she’d been slicing a wrist when she heard Ed’s voice. Of course he hadn’t said anything harsh to someone who’s psyche hadn’t been compromised, but Mary wasn’t one of those people. The proper word for Mary, according to people who had worked with her in the music scene back in her world, had been ‘disturbed’. Not that it wasn’t true, her ‘adoptive’ sold to father had absolutely ruined her, but it wasn’t like she’d ever had any psychiatric help for her CSA.

Back to the issue at present, Mary was startled when she heard Ed shouting for her to stop. Hearing his footsteps, she dropped the bloodied knife on the flooded floor beside her, the metallic clinking of the ladybug knife to the floor the only sound other than the rushing water, and his announcement that he was coming in. Mary turned, backing up into the other side of the tub as the door opened.

To say the sight before Ed was a sad one was an understatement; the small woman looked confused, and hurt and scared. Her chocolate waves were plastered to her small bosom due to being submerged, but the bleeding wound at the center was clear to see. Her normally gentle eyes were reddened and still filled with tears, blood still pooled from her abdominal wound. Mary was quick to shut her eyes and cover her head with her arms, one bleeding from the wrist, as she tried to make herself even smaller, reciting choked words she’d only said to ‘Papa’ before today.

“P-Please don’t hurt Mary, Mary’s sorry! Mary won’t be a bad girl anymore, please!! No more!!”

A Summoner’s Tale (closed FEH AU with traceofalchemy)

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No answer, just like Shareena has gotten. Now that Shareena was silent, however, the faintest sound of choking sobs and running water could be heard. The princess looked even more alarmed than she had when Ed had snapped at her for simply asking if he knew if Mary was alright. Hyper she may be, she wasn’t a complete fool. Something felt off about this whole situation, and that’s why she’d come to Ed; because the alchemist knew the summoner better than anyone in the Order, even if they’d known her longer.

“See?!” She hissed at him, presented with proof Mary wasn’t letting anyone in, and jiggling/pushing at the door to also prove that opening it by force had been impossible too. “She’s in there, and something’s wrong!!” Princess Shareena continued, giving him a glare. “It’s your job to ensure her safety! I wasn’t asking you for help because I just couldn’t find her! I asked you for help because I know something’s not right, and she could be in some kind of-!” She snapped, only to look down when she felt a stream of moisture at her feet to see red tinted water. The shocked girl looked up at Ed, finally understanding why Mary wouldn’t let anyone in.

“That…that’s blood…”

Ed continued to try the door even after he’d figured out that it wasn’t opening. He didn’t think he’d said something that harsh to her, he was just so upset with himself that he must’ve taken too much out on her. 

“Mary?” He called, knocking again louder. 

When Shareena looked down, so did he and he stared in horror at the bloody water spilling from under the door. 

“Mary!! Whatever you’re doing stop!!” He shouted, banging on the door in a panic. Not even a second later he’d shoved past Shareena and done exactly as he’d told her. He clapped his hands together and made another door into her room along the wall next to the other door. “Go get help.” Ed said back to the princess before stepping into the puddle of water in her room, “Mary? I’m coming in!”

The two predominant sides to Mary, the traumatized little girl who wanted to be free of the monsters living in her head, and the adult who knew better than to harm herself while in a bathtub filled with running water, were at war with each other. Both were fighting for control, because both wanted a different result; the little girl wanted to shut her eyes until the scary monsters stopped screaming, the adult knew that if she closed her eyes now, she could die right here. The sound of Ed’s voice...Mary couldn’t make out the entirety of what he was saying as he lifted her small body from the tub, but she could sense he was trying to reassure her. It was a soothing sound, like a lullaby.

Warm...his arms were so warm... she could fall asleep here... but no, not now. No, Ed wouldn’t like that, would he? If she just up and died on him before he could get home...home, to Amestris...to Winry.

Yeah, Winry... she was what he longed for, she was what would make him happy again. “Mary is...Mary is...s... sorry...” Mary tried to tell him, she tried to tell him how sorry she was that she wasn’t the stable woman who made Ed truly happy. Happy like he made her. Because that’s what killed her, maybe even more than the blood Ed had begun to try to stem with the bath towels... that she couldn’t be the one who made him so happy. One of her arms began to slip from around his neck, weakening from strain, bloodloss and exhaustion. It was the bloody one, and for a moment, thin fingers brushed against the alchemist’s jaw, staining his collar with blood that had only just began to clot. Mary looked up into his beautiful golden eyes, so filled with terror while her own were clouded and sad. His heartbeat, as rapid as it was, was so soothing as her head laid against his chest. She heard him beg her to stay, and for a moment it was enough to wake up ‘surface’ Mary; but only to finish what little Mary had been trying to say, and she coughed up blood and water before she could say it.

“I’m sorry I’m not her, the one you really want here...I’m sorry.. I’m not... Winry...”

A Summoner’s Tale (closed FEH AU with traceofalchemy)

rxinbowtrxveler

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Blue eyes widened for a moment at what Ed said, not knowing for sure if he meant what she thought he might have meant. Nonetheless, it brought a wobbly smile to her lips, and she relaxed a little from his touch. Even if... even if Shareena didn’t make it in time, she was so happy she would get to spend what could be her last moments with the man she loved so dearly.

Mary felt something wrong the moment Ed clapped his hands; something she read in one of the books, something about transmuting humans...no...he wouldn’t. Whether she did it consciously or not, she would never be able to remember...she focused her own energy on helping Ed to close the wound. Maybe she didn’t know it was chopping off years of her own life to do so, she wasn’t going to let Ed hurt himself for her...

“Ed! Mary!! I’m back with the healer!!” Shareena called out not five seconds later, rushing in with another young girl equipped with crystals and herbs and bandages. It had taken her some time to convince her brother and Anna to allow her to take a healer from the hospital wing to care for Mary, they hadn’t believed she would actually try to kill herself, but they’d relented when Shareena had kicked her brother in the shins with her bloodstained boot to get the point across. Even she didn’t know what possessed her to do that, but at least it got them to let her take Millie....

After that, everything was an incredible blur to the wounded summoner. All she was sure of was that she was wearing something around her neck, there were bandages on her abdomen and wrist, blood seemed to be rushing through her faster than normal (ahh the wonders of replenishing spells), and she’d been placed in Ed’s bed until they could clean the mess from her own, soaked room she could have sworn she’d heard some shocked and heated bickering from Prince Alfonse and Ed in all that chaos.

A Summoner’s Tale (closed FEH AU with traceofalchemy)

rxinbowtrxveler

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To say her sleep was undisturbed would have been a lie; she felt big, bulky hands holding her down, the itchyness of rough skin over her own flesh, hot breath that stank of beer, beady eyes that looked down at her like she was something to eat...she could see herself in his eyes: smaller, younger, terrified. She could still feel the aches and pains, the fear, yet when she woke from fright...she instantly felt a sense of safety melt the terror of her nightmares away, and it took her time to realize why. Taking a deep, but shaky breath, she recognized this scent....

‘Ed?’

It was like she was being surrounded by that soothing, warm scent. Registering that, along with the warmth of soft sheets on her bare skin, the bandages... ‘oh, right. I had a meltdown’ she silently recalled, remembering how she’d plunged the knife into the center of her chest, her abdomen. Recalling how Ed called out to her, the feeling of being in his arms as he lifted her from the water, holding her as he tried to save her. The desperation in his voice... it was like a flood, and when she opened her eyes to see Ed sitting in a chair beside the bed, in clothes still stained with her blood....she recalled the last thing she’d said to him. It made her cheeks burn with shame, and her heart stop with fright as she sunk into the mattress further, as if to hide herself. Mary had actually given herself away, after she’d tried so hard to hide it from him, because of his love for Winry. She’d actually gone and done it....

He knew.

Now what was she gonna do?

A Summoner’s Tale (closed FEH AU with traceofalchemy)

rxinbowtrxveler

Blue eyes widened for a moment at what Ed said, not knowing for sure if he meant what she thought he might have meant. Nonetheless, it brought a wobbly smile to her lips, and she relaxed a little from his touch. Even if… even if Shareena didn’t make it in time, she was so happy she would get to spend what could be her last moments with the man she loved so dearly.

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After the whirlwind of everything that happened once the medic arrived and he was bombarded with questions, lectures, and they’d managed to patch Mary up, Ed was finally able to take a small breather.

Even with her being healed and cleaned up, he was still extremely worried and felt awful about what he’d done. Not even a hint of regret crossed his mind about what he’d done to seal her wound either. 

While he waited for any sign of her consciousness, he spent a while cleaning her room, and another long while waiting at the side of his bed where she laid. Eventually he started to doze off too, the events of the day so stressful and wearing that he was out like a light as soon as he closed his eyes. He slouched in his desk chair with his arms crossed, still wearing the same bloody clothes as before and snoring softly. Somehow he was even able to sleep through the visions and nightmares of bloody messes with Mary, Nina, his mother, and it seemed everyone else under the sun.

Everytime bullshit like this happens, it reminds me of the time I tried to text a suicide line, and they were too busy to accept new people. So I tried calling and it rang and it rang and the person who finally answered made me feel like a fucking idiot. On that night I decided if i was bad enough to try and call, I didn't deserve to be helped, and I should just do it and get it over with.

When you promise me we're going to go eat together and we make plans, and then you suddenly cancel for no reason, it tells me "This was fate, I didn't deserve to eat tonight anyway, I never should have asked"

Its this all fucking over again

Awww this is a nice story, albeit very sad...

Murder Drones Fanfic - Cypress Trees and A Good Boy - Tessa and Butler N story (non-ship) TW// Depression and Su1c1de mention

a 12 year old Tessa is dealing with a lot, she goes on a walk at night but needs someone to help her.

Warning: contains mention of child neglect, child abuse, suicide, and depression

The autumn air prickled the girl's skin as she opened her bedroom window, but she didn't care. Her conscience screaming at her, "Go, now... go, run," She glanced back at J who had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed, and N who had fallen asleep sitting upright on the chair Tessa stored her stuffed animals on during the day.

"They... they don't need me," the ebony haired human girl reassured herself as she climbed out the window, shutting it softly behind her so it wouldn't make a sound. She climbed down off the windowsill and began her journey down the garden path and through the marsh.

The song of the few remaining frogs greeted Tessa, and yet the girl didn't react to it how she normally would. Continuing her journey across the property in somber silence.

Normally, the girl would walk under the willow tree and into the graveyard, but she walked west of the tree, through the wild flowers that were starting to die off from the colder weather, her night gown catching the wind yet her striped black and white leggings kept her warm. The longer sections of her hair trailed behind her as she ran to the cypress trees that were coming into view, the ones that made her think of Starry Night. She walked up to the trees and sat looking outward, there was a steep drop off to a lake below, she heard the ebbing of the water as it was louder thanks to the night fall wind. She looked down at the water, her grey eyes filling with tears, she could almost imagine the wind calling her name in a soft voice.

"I wouldn't be able to get to terminal velocity, but... the sharp rocks could do the trick," she glanced back to the manor in the distance after her whispered assessment. Her hair being pushed by the wind so the longer sections flew in front of her face, wicking away some of her teardrops. She turned back to the cliffside, staring down, her breathing turned to sobs as she fell to her knees. Her wrists ached from today, an accident, she had insisted to J, but that was a lie.

"The little match girl..." Tessa spoke with a whimper, "She... she got to be happy..." she inched closer to the edge, her soft voice almost lost in the torrent of air, "It's for the best," The girl felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around, being slightly startled by a pair of snow-white LED eyes of a little butler drone.

"Hi Tessa!" the curly-haired butler drone greeted cheerfully.

"Eep!" the little Aussie girl squeaked as she was greeted by N, her beloved little butler.

"I noticed you left your bed and the window was open," the drone trilled sweetly, "A night walk is sure fun though." He kept holding Tessa's shoulder, noticing the tears in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

Tessa looked away, she knew he meant his best. The little Aussie voice quivered as she asked, "D-do you ever feel..." she hesitated, knowing that he was a delicate soul and she'd have to be gentle with her words, "... unhappy..."

N pulled Tessa into a hug and responded, "I do sometimes, but, it's hard to stay sad long with you around."

The 12 year old Elliott heiress felt more tears coming on as she hugged the butler drone back. "D-do you ever wish... you weren't ever built?" she began to ask, her voice shaking like a scared puppy, "L-like you don't want to be here, at all?" She leaned into the hug more, she held back her sobs to not make her precious little ray of sunshine more worried.

N rubbed his friend's back, he didn't realize how deep this well of emotions went. "Tessa," he began gently, letting go of her but still holding her hands in his, "I enjoy every day since I was built by you, but... sometimes it can be scary. Do you want to talk about your feelings?"

The girl sat on the grass next to her butler drone, she hugged his legs and began to explain, sugar-coating the scarier parts, "What do you do when someone who's supposed to care for you hurts you a lot, and the other someone who was there for you since you were little now doesn't care anymore?" she meant her mother and father when she said this, she rubbed her wrists that were aching a little from being chained up this afternoon. Her grey eyes twinkled, the moonlight making her tears look like orbs of crystal while they ran down her freckled face. "What did I do to deserve it? Why do I want to-" she stopped herself, explaining as she looked up to the drone's worried eyes, "Run away, where no one can find me..."

N got down to Tessa's level, he had seen many times when J would do that and give some amazing emotional wisdom, but this was N, he just didn't have that knowledge or emotional maturity, but he offered gently, a story he once read. "Once upon a time, there was a king, and he had a troubled heart. He asked a blacksmith to make him something that would help make his sorrowful heart hurt less."

Tessa felt odd that N was telling her a story, but she let him finish.

"The blacksmith returned later that day with a golden ring, he presented it to the sorrowful king, and when the king saw the words engraved upon it, he smiled," the butler told, a smile in his voice, despite the worried expression, "This too shall pass" He pulled in the girl for a hug.

The Elliott girl started crying, holding onto N like he was a life preserver after she almost drowned in a pool.

"It might be bad right now, but it won't be bad forever, we still make happy memories through all the scary times," the butler explained soothingly

The girl hugged her drone silently, they listened to the sound of the waves at the cliff's bottom, looking out to the stars. Eventually, Tessa found her voice, she remarked softly, "When I'm big and strong, some day... I'll get far far away from here. And we will all be under a big starry sky again... and all of this, will be a memory"

N reassured kindly, while smiling to his favourite human, "I'm glad you didn't run away, Tessa. All of us adore you; me, V, J, and even the maids and butlers without names all like you lots." The snowy-haired drone even trilled, "One day you'll be our boss and you'll be able to keep us all safe and you'll be free to do whatever you'd like."

This made the ebony haired girl laugh a little, she let go of the butler and looked up to the crescent moon in the sky. "I can't wait to be in charge, the first thing I'd do is give you all the names I wanted to give you, your name will be Nate, which means Gift from God."

The butler smiled at that name, responding joyfully, "I can't wait to be called that! It sounds nice!" He stood up and held his hand out. "Let's get you back home, okay? I'll make you waffles in the morning."

The girl asked curiously, accepting the butler's hand up, "Will they have strawberries?"

"Always!" the drone insisted happily, pulling Tessa to her feet before they began heading back to the manor. Nate giggled cheerfully, "I love your new hairstyle, by the way, Tess. It looks great."

Tessa knew her hair was breaking off lately due to not eating enough and she had to cut off most of the longer bits with a razor comb, but still wanting to protect Nate, she giggled, "I had a little accident and I thought, hey, it'd be fun to try something uneven. Might as well, makes it easier for Jaybird to brush."

The two laughed together at Tessa's reasoning as they headed back to the manor, and while the next day wouldn't be that much better, at least Tessa knew in her heart that she was loved, even if it wasn't by her parents, the drones of the manor were her support system, and that gave her courage, only returning to the cliff side to practice the harp or for reading books during the day.

The End