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Chapter Text

Todd was struggling to run, the pain in his side almost blinding. He could feel an attack threatening, and was only managing not to surrender to it by being stubborn. Any second now, he was going to start hallucinating, and then things were going to get worse. Because running was hard when he had what he suspected was a broken rib, but it would be impossible when an attack hit.

Dirk suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side into an alleyway, leading him further, and Todd watched as their pursuers raced past.
"Thanks," Todd muttered, gasping. He'd been kicked hard, and he felt he still hadn't got his breath back.
"Any time, I really don't want my favourite assistfriend being killed by a gang of pangolin smuggling mimes."
"...Is this a consideration you've had before today?" Todd asked, managing to stand a little straighter.

"Only in hypotheticals," Dirk answered with a shrug, walking with Todd back towards the agency. "We'd best call Farah, maybe she can pick us up."
"We're not that far," Todd pointed out. "I think I can make it."
"That makes one of us, Todd," Dirk answered, before slumping to the floor rather dramatically.

"Dirk!?" Todd crashed to his knees, hissing at the sudden pain of dropping down. "What's wrong? Talk to me?"
"Uh..." Dirk hesitated, then opened his leather jacket to reveal the right side of his shirt was dyed crimson, with a slit at the top of it by his clavicle. "Knife wound have." He giggled slightly. "It's only a minor one?"

"Dirk, that's a lot of blood."
"That's why I want Farah to come and pick us up, I know how to make saline fluid which we can use-"
"What?"
"Uh, its a liquid that is a close approximation of blood mostly for people who are dehydrated, but in an emergency it can help those with stab-"
"You're planning to treat a stab wound at home?"

"Keep up Todd. It's a minor wound."
"Dirk, stabbing isn't minor, and you are on the floor-"
"Felt like sitting down. Now, call Farah and tell her I could do with her assistance, thank you." Dirk closed his eyes.

Todd could feel himself panicking as he dialled Farah.
"We need to get Dirk to the hospital, now. He’s been stabbed."
"Shit."

***

Dirk woke to the sound of steady beeping, and the smell of antiseptic which implied that once more he had woken to find himself in a hospital. He opened his eyes, looking up at Todd, and then frowning.
"This... isn't the agency Todd."
"No," Todd agreed, and Dirk noticed that his arm was in a sling. He frowned a little, trying to sit up and finding that doing that made the room spin.

"It's only a minor stab wound."
"They said it missed a major vessel by a quarter of an inch!" Todd almost shouted, and Dirk blinked in shock.
"Todd, it missed the vessel, I don't see why you're getting all shouty about it."
"Because you didn't tell me you were hurt."
"It was minor!" Dirk insisted, unable to tell why Todd was so upset. He wasn't badly hurt, this was entirely survivable and he'd been more concerned with getting Todd to safety than his own - oh.

He frowned, looking at Todd closely.
"You're worried because I was hurt."
"That's what I told you."
"Oh." Dirk swallowed. "It really was a minor injury."
"Don't call stab wounds minor okay? That's for papercuts."

Dirk opened his mouth to protest, but the room was still fuzzy around the edges, and Todd was climbing into bed beside him, and he could feel his argument slipping away.

Chapter Text

Amanda had always been the younger sister, looked after by Todd. Todd was a lying asshole, who had not always been there for her, but when she'd been little he'd taken care of her, managing to be patient even when her scrapes and bruises must have been annoying for him.

But travelling with Vogel was different. He was older than her, but had always been the child of the Rowdies, used to being with them. She'd asked, about his past, and he'd cried openly when he'd told her about the times the older Rowdies were taken away, when he was left in their cell alone as the others were tortured and brutalised, how he'd learned to patch them up by wrapping them in his blanket and pressing butterfly kisses to the wounds. When he was hurt, he'd always had people there.

Blackwing had stolen that. They had taken away his family, and for the first time that he could remember he had to survive alone not for a day or two but until they were able to get the guys back. And that was something Amanda had to work out how to do. For now, they were just travelling to keep moving, to try and stop anyone from kidnapping them. The visions she got were little more than scraps, not enough to base a journey on. Vogel wanted to help, but he didn't scare her, and the fear of her illness which had been debilitating for so long was lessened by his closeness.

She wouldn't ever blame him for making her feel safe, but it made it harder to work out where the universe was leading them.

She hid her fear behind a smile, and tried to be a replacement for the brothers he was currently separated from. Sometimes, it even worked. That night, the two of them had set up a fire, watching as the flames danced. It wasn't as big as one Gripps would make, but it kept the chill away, reminded them of what life had been like in that brief moment of before, when she'd known her place in the universe and hadn't been afraid.

Vogel had got up to dance after a while, his enthusiasm replacing reluctance. He whirled around the flames, a tornado of energy, and she watched and laughed, taking a sip of the soda she'd brought. She missed drinking, but she didn't want to be unaware when at any moment they could find themselves at risk.

She laughed, watching Vogel dancing by himself in a forest clearing, stretching back against a tree trunk.

Vogel stumbled slightly, and had the sense to arch away from the fire, falling face down in the dirt instead. He let out a soft whimper of pain, but then fell silent.

Amanda was on her feet in an instant, running to him, her hands resting against his shoulders as gently as she could.
"You okay?"
"Ow?" Vogel whimpered. "I'm sorry I did bad boss."

Amanda pushed down her anger and sickness at those words, and smiled.
"You did great, you just fell, let me see...." He was mostly uninjured, just a faint graze to one hand, blood trickling out It could have been a lot worse.
"It's okay," she promised. "Now, let’s get this cleaned up, and you can feed off me okay?" She tried to smile, but he sniffled a little, still mumbling apologies.

She reached out, thinking of Todd, and slipped her pinkie finger around his.
"I pinkie promise it wasn't your fault Vogel."
His answering smile seemed nervous, but he was willing to believe her, and she was grateful for that. She reached for a bottle of water to rinse the dirt from the wound.

Chapter Text

Dirk knew that he needed to sleep. If he was going to survive immersion in Blackwing after sixteen years of freedom, he needed to keep his strength up. He had to rest, and play along, and try to keep going because the alternative was worse. Because Todd and Farah might be out there, looking for him.

Or worse, Todd and Farah might be in the next cell along. The cells were soundproof, so he knew he couldn't scream and get heard, couldn't call out to them. He just had to play Blackwing's games, and hope that in time the supervision level was dropped to a point where he would be able to slip away, or that he'd bump into them in the corridors.

When he'd been little, on nights he couldn't sleep, sometimes Riggins had come in to speak to him and check on him, had shown him kindness that he'd cherished back then. There had been other nights, when it had been Priest unlocking the door - but he'd seen no sign of either man since his return. Fear kept him in his bed, but he had too many thoughts to rest.

He squirmed slightly on the hard mattress, staring blankly upwards. He missed the cell of his old room - there had been a water leak a few years before, and the pattern it had left behind gave him something to focus on when things got bad. But this ceiling was just white.

There was no darkness. Darkness only came in the sensory deprivation tests. Darkness meant their cameras didn't work, would mean that they couldn't watch him. Darkness granted Dirk at least a kind of freedom, and so it was denied. The light made it hard to rest.

He wondered where Todd and Farah were, if they had been hurt. He hoped that maybe he would have spared them, by behaving. Maybe the agents were only there for him, and Todd and Farah were of no interest.

Of course, if there was no worth to them, they might be dead. His first friends in sixteen years, the first people who had wanted to stay with him, who had been kind, and he'd got them murdered. He'd killed them, and now here he was, pushing buttons and failing tests as though he had never been outside, as though the outside didn't exist, as though Todd and Farah didn't matter.

He wondered if Riggins was here. If so, there was a chance he would be able to persuade him to return his t-shirt - not for everyday wear of course, but just to have in his room. He'd probably refuse, say it would be a bad influence, lead to him considering escape - but he wouldn't escape, not if he knew that his friends were okay. He just wanted to know if they were alive, if they were free of Blackwing and of him.

He would have done anything they asked for to know that Todd and Farah were still alive. But he knew he had nothing to bargain with, nothing that he could use to get what he wanted. He just had to carry on, and hope another chance to escape would arise. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the sheets as he thought of the doors opening, an escape being laid out.

When the alarm sounded, telling him he was awake, he was already sat up in bed.

Chapter Text

Having his adopted family over for Sunday dinner was something that Sherlock Hobbs had been excited about for weeks, but Dirk's cases had meant that it was hard for him to get away. Farah had been visiting more recently, eager to spend more time with Tina. It was a joy to see the way the two of them were forming a relationship together. While it wasn't Sherlock's kind of thing, he was glad to see his friends happy. They deserved it. Todd and Dirk were coming later, having had a successful week, and Dirk was bringing his baby sister, who Hobbs had only met in passing before. She was apparently intending to spend the few days they were there as a cat bed in order to get to know Mustard, which Hobbs thought was a sweet idea. He didn't want Mustard to feel she had been left out.

He had made meatloaf with an old family recipe, one that had been handed down since the Depression. He had carefully cooked carrots and cucumbers and asparagus to go with it, mashed rutabagas and potatoes and cooked some peas for Tina who was fussy about her vegetables. He'd just finished stirring the tomato sauce when the doorbell rang, and he walked out to find Dirk standing there, bouncing backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet in excitement. Dirk launched himself into Sherlock's arms, snuggling into him.
"Hey."
"You didn't have any trouble getting here did you?"
"No, thank you," Dirk answered, hand dipping into his pocket. Sherlock couldn't see what it was that he pulled out, but he saw the second it was removed and Dirk found himself holding onto a cat bed.
"Mona really is excited to meet Mustard," he explained, and Hobbs ushered them inside.

The conversation and beer flowed easily, before Tina and Farah showed up with a chocolate cake for dessert. He grinned to see Tina looking so healthy, and everyone settled around the table. He felt a little silly sitting at the head of the table, but doing so meant that they could sit in a sensible order, Farah to his left next to Todd and Dirk on his right next to Tina.

He felt a sudden burst of pride when he saw that Farah was wearing her badge. He cleared his throat.
"Before we eat, I just wanted to say thank you all for coming here. It means a lot to see you here today, and to know that I have all of you in my life."

Dirk blushed, glancing down at his plate, joining in with the others as they all echoed the sentiment. What they had built together was a family, something that they all needed after the Wendimoor situation. Hobbs couldn't have been prouder or happier.

He handed out their food, Tina giggling and doing a small dance of appreciation in her seat. He made sure everyone had theirs, and had adequate drinks, before he sat down to eat.

Dirk was staring at his meal in what could best be described as concern. His eyes had gone wide, and he wasn't breathing right. For one awful moment Hobbs wondered about allergies, but he had asked and Dirk hadn't mentioned anything.
"Dirk?" Todd asked, getting to his feet and racing around the table, as Hobbs handed Dirk a glass of water. Dirk's fingers tightened around the glass automatically, and he took a sip.
"Dirk?" Todd asked again, resting a hand on Dirk's shoulder. Dirk yelped, scrambling out of his chair and towards the corner on his hands and knees.
"No, stop!" he pleaded. Hobbs wanted to stop, to get rid of whatever it was that so scared him, but he had no idea what was wrong.

"Dirk?" Farah had joined Todd beside Dirk, her hand resting on his shoulder. "Dirk are you alright?"
"I'm..." Dirk started, then shrugged a little. "Sorry, I... I think I forgot where I was."
"You acted like I was trying to poison you," Hobbs answered.

"Oh." Dirk swallowed. "You're Hobbs."
"I am."
"You're Sheriff Hobbs and that's Farah and that's Todd," Dirk continued, mumbling to himself.
“I’m Tina,” Tina contributed helpfully.
"Yes," Hobbs agreed, as gently as he could. Todd reached out for him.
"I'm not in trouble?" Dirk asked quietly.
"Never."
"Why did you panic about lunch, man? Hobbs' cooking is good!" Tina protested, trying to leap to Hobbs' defence. Hobbs managed a smile in return, glad that not everyone had been upset by his work.

Dirk swallowed.
"I'm sorry, I've been incredibly rude, haven't I?"
"A little?" Todd answered, but the expression he pulled implied that actually, he had been rude.
"I'm sorry Hobbs. The food smells delicious. It’s just that a lot of the time in Blacking, they didn't want me to have a weapon so they gave me food I wouldn't need to cut up. For years I had something that looked similar for every meal, and it just... I should eat it. I’m not there now. I’m sure yours is delicious.”

"You don't have to eat it if you don’t want to," Hobbs reassured. "I've made enough extras that you should still be okay. I even made some yorkshire puddings and roast potatoes."
"Thank you," Dirk whispered, making his way shakily back to his chair. By the time he arrived, his plate was empty, and both the cat and the cat bed were looking rather smug.

Chapter Text

Mona curled up in the corner of the cell they'd thrown her into, her fingers fidgeting with her arm where they'd injected her. She wanted to cry. Dirk had always promised he'd get her out, that she would never be left alone in Blackwing, and she did believe him but it was still scary. She nibbled on her bottom lip, waiting for her real punishment to start, and wishing she wasn't so bad. It had only been a little beating so far, but not being able to shift meant the pain stayed in her in a way that it normally didn't. Usually the pain was over quickly, but when she'd been given the injection the pain would last for days. She knew Dirk would be coming, and she wasn't going to tell them anything that would get him in trouble. She was already in trouble but trouble was bad. Ken had yelled at her earlier, telling her she was a bad friend, and she was sure her eyes were still leaking tears after that. But he'd said that Mister Priest was going to come and see her. Mister Priest scared her. She pulled at the seams of her jumpsuit, which itched slightly, and drew her knees up to her chest. Out in the corridor she could hear loud noises, yelling and explosions like when the knights had attacked, but she was too focused on being afraid to pay much attention to it. She was in trouble, and Mister Priest was on his way. It was going to be bad.

Lamia whimpered slightly as she curled up in her cell, her arm feeling like it was burning. Mister Priest looked down at her, smirking as her insides twisted.
"Freak," he snarled down at her. "You were bad. You know you aren't allowed to see Icarus."

She nodded quickly. She knew that she wasn't meant to see Icarus, but he was nice, and she liked playing with him. She wanted to see him, so she would sneak into his room when she was meant to be asleep, being an ant or a fly or a cloud to slip down the corridor unnoticed before she curled up beside him. She knew it was a risk. But she wanted to see him. He was her friend.

Her mind echoed with the sounds of Icarus's screams. They had faded only when Mister Priest came over to see her, and she was nervous, curling up with her knees against her chest, her heart thumping loudly. She had been being a doll when he walked in. She'd half expected Mister Priest to pull her arms away from her body again - he'd done that once, when she was being a bug. He'd pulled off all of her legs, and it had hurt, and he had laughed down at her.

He was laughing now.
"We've decided to remind you that your abilities are a privilege, one you are only allowed to keep if you are being of use to us," he told her. "So you aren't going to be allowed to change for a while. You've not been learning, because you've been using your abilities to shift away from any punishment. It means you don't understand what it's like for Svlad, how much you are hurting him. So we think you need to learn. You can't change now, and you won’t be allowed to until we have decided you've understood." He had laughed then, the sound scaring her, and he'd ran his fingers through her hair before pulling her to standing.

"You and I are going to have a lot of fun, Lamia."
She was dragged along the corridor, fear bubbling in her stomach. She wanted to be a bubble, but she couldn't be.
"Can I see Svlad?"
"Not for a long time sweetheart," Mister Priest answered, and gave her another vicious shake. She was bad and she'd got Svlad in trouble and now they were angry. Mister Priest always found new ways to hurt her, but this was the worst one yet. She whimpered to herself as bruises bloomed across her body, and she couldn't make them go away.

Svlad - no, it was Dirk now, pushed his way into her room, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He smelled of smoke, but he was grinning.
"Hello you," he smiled, and then frowned a little, concern replacing his joy as he saw her bruises. "Did they give you that nasty drug again?"
Mona nodded. She didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to admit that she had been made to be a person again because being a person was horrible. It made her skin itch and left her feeling sick. She wanted to cry, and she sniffled faintly.
"It's okay sweetie. We're rescuing you. Farah and the Rowdies are busy making sure they destroy what they can, and Todd is guarding the door to the cell. I was going to ask you to be something small, but I'm guessing you can't do that right now - and that's okay, you just need to hold onto me, and Todd can help carry you. We're getting you out of here, I promise."

He wrapped his arms around her, and called out to Todd, and then the two of them were lifting her. She felt the world around her go all fuzzy as she got sleepy. She opened her eyes in the van she had travelled in when she had stayed with the Rowdies, and watched the chains swaying. She would have liked to be one of them, to wiggle from side to side like that, but she couldn't do that now. It was okay though. Mister Priest wouldn't be coming to see her, and Dirk's arms were around her tummy. She wanted to be better, to be able to change again, but for now she could cuddle up with her friends.
She cleared her throat slightly.
"The mean man who shot you said I was a bad friend, but..." she glanced around nervously. "I.... you came to get me. So maybe I'm not a bad friend?"
"You're an excellent friend," Dirk said, and the rest of the group agreed, Farah twisting around from the front seat to smile at her.
Mona wanted to feel better, to be able to be not a person again. But until that happened, there would be cuddles and her friends thought she was a good friend. This wasn't so bad.

Chapter Text

Ken had been nice. Bart hadn't had any friends for a long time, not since - well, not since the doors had opened and she'd had a million places to go. Even before that, Priest hadn't been a friend. Not a real friend. He just was nice to her sometimes, and treated her better than any of the rest there. He wasn't scared.

Ken wasn't just not-scared. Ken had actually seemed to like her. He'd stayed, even after he'd done his destiny. And then Blackwing had spoiled things, because they were bad news. They had surrounded the two of them, with guns and tanks, and she'd been afraid because she didn't want Ken to get hurt. She knew how things worked - she couldn't die, but Ken could. She'd picked up a rock as she stepped out of the taxi, knowing that if she had to, she could fight all of them, but that would mean Ken got hurt.

He wouldn't be able to run. But if she could get a distance from them, maybe they wouldn't hurt him. Maybe they'd even think he was a prisoner, maybe they'd let him go. Fighting wouldn't work. But running might.

She'd run. Because she'd had to run, and she hadn't looked back as bullets had streaked after her, every one missing. Universe didn't want her dead. So she ran, and hoped it was going to keep Ken safe. Because Ken had bought her Chinese food. He'd talked to her when he was hurting, and followed her even when he hadn't had to. He had believed in her, and she'd thought that they were going to be friends forever, but things weren't working out that way. Because Blackwing ruined things. Because they thought she was for experiments and didn't ask her. Because she knew Priest, her friend, wouldn't hesitate before shooting Ken just to see what she did.

If he hurt Ken, she was going to fight him. Ken was her friend. He was important, and he was her friend. She'd do anything to keep him safe. But getting away from Blackwing was all she could do.

After she'd ran, she'd searched. If Blackwing had let him go, she had to find him, and if they'd caught him then she had to find him even more.

***

And she did find him, which was exciting. She'd been looking for a long time, and now she knew where he was, only the problem was that he was in Blackwing but didn't want rescuing.

She hadn't ever imagined that. She was ready to fight to save him if he wanted that, to rescue him, and Panto would have helped. But he liked Blackwing.

Blackwing was the worst thing ever, and Ken liked it even though Ken was the best thing. Bart hadn't understood.

And then she had understood, because everyone she cared about lay dead. She hadn't saved them. Their fairytale ending of happily ever after had been spoiled because she was there.

She spoiled things. She had betrayed Ken, by handing him to Blackwing, and now he was there and it was all her fault. He'd been happy before, and she had spoiled everything.
When the boy asked her where she wanted to go, she knew what to say. She was going home, where she couldn't betray anyone else.

Chapter Text

Farah was trying to decide if the boys had decided to sneak off for some fun in the bathroom, or if one of them had more class than that, when she heard a sudden scream that she knew was Todd's. She jumped to her feet, racing towards the men's bathroom and pushing open the door.

Todd was laying on the floor, screaming in agony, his phone in front of him. She grabbed the phone on instinct, seeing that it was Amanda who had called.
"Hello?"
There was no response.

The door to the bathroom opened, and she shot a glare at the man, who turned around and walked back out. Carefully, she arranged Todd into the recovery position.
"Todd, keep breathing," she ordered, checking him over for injuries. There didn't seem to be any - more likely it was an attack of the same illness that his sister suffered from. She kept talking to him, helping him to his feet as he whimpered. He was clearly disorientated. She walked with him out of the room, and found that Dirk was still not there. She propped Todd against the wall, and threw some notes down on the table to cover the drinks. Todd was sobbing softly, drawing attention, so she picked him up, ushering him out of the diner. She fought him into the seat of the car, fingers brushing his hand.
"I'll find Dirk, we'll be right back."

He lay there without acknowledging her at all, whimpering a little to himself. She couldn't help him. She had to find Dirk, and get them out of here, because every instinct she had was screaming at her that she needed to get moving. She ran around the building.

There was no sign of Dirk.
"Dirk?!" she called out, desperate, and then her eyes were caught by a leaflet on the sidewalk. She picked it up, and in doing so she saw a security camera. She walked back into the restaurant, smiling at the waitress who had served them earlier.
"I hate to ask, but is there any chance I can take a look at your security cameras?"
"I..." she hesitated, frowning, and Farah shrugged a little. "It's just my boyfriend thought he saw his sister walking past about five minutes back, and he wanted me to check - he's run off looking for her and I promised I'd- I mean, if it's okay with you?"
"Sure thing..." the waitress smiled. "Just don't tell my boss okay?"
"Never!" Farah grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Thanks! I better go, don't be too long."
"I won't," Farah answered, mentally criticising the woman for racing off and leaving her unsupervised.

She rewound the video, watching the cars driving down the road in the wrong direction. A black van sped backwards into place, and then Dirk clambered out of it, two armed men following. Feeling a little sick, she hit play and watched as Dirk was forced at gunpoint into the car, followed by men in black suits. Dirk's head was down, and his body language was utterly defeated. He didn't want to go, but he also knew he had no choice.

Blackwing.

Blackwing had taken him, and she had no way of finding out where he had gone. He would have to go back, and tell Todd that their eccentric friend had been taken.

She took a deep breath, and headed back to the car, smiling at the waitress as she passed.
"Dirk?" Todd whispered, sounding hurt.
"He's not here right now, Todd," Farah answered, starting the car and sending it speeding down the road.
"Blackwing took him."

Her phone beeped, the rapid noise that indicated a message from Lydia, and she pulled over to the side of the road.
Farah why are you and your friend on the FBI Most Wanted list?!

Shit.

Chapter Text

Svlad was fairly accustomed to waking up with his body aching all over, as bruises slowly faded. He had broken ribs more than once, and so he was used to it being hard to breathe, and some of the worst punishments - no, they had been tests, he reminds himself, they were tests because Riggins was there and Riggins wouldn't let him be punished - were the use of cold and heat, when he was stuck in the darkness floating and there was nothing and he could feel himself slipping away (the way Lamia said she felt a lot, but Lamia liked feeling that way).

The sensations he was feeling: chest aching, his body sweating, gasping desperately for air - weren't new to him. What was different was the fact he had absolutely no recollection of what had caused this. He had thought yesterday's testing had gone passably - not well, it never went well, but the punishment shocks were no more than was necessary - and Mister Priest hadn't been around for a few days.

He was lying in bed, before the alarm came on, and it felt uncomfortably warm. The blanket on top of him felt heavy, which was a surprise - his blanket was always so thin that it barely covered him, but now it felt like someone had placed another mattress over him, and he couldn't move it. Which was a problem. He had to be stood up when the door opened.

But he couldn't. He literally couldn't move. He was stuck.

The alarm sounded, and he just couldn't manage to move himself. He was aware he had a glass of water over on one side, something that he had been given by Riggins the night before. He'd been sipping it last night, but he couldn't reach it any more. He sobbed softly, the sound barely audible.

The door opened, and a guard stood there.
"Get up, Icarus."
He couldn't explain it, couldn't find the words to say that he wasn't able to get up. There were no words at all.

Then there were footsteps, and he couldn't look up, couldn't work out who it was. It didn't sound like Mister Priest. He prayed it wasn't, but he couldn't remember the words - the sounds of a childhood language which had slipped away from him now.

"Icarus?" Riggins actually sounded concerned. Svlad opened his eyes, trying to look up at him.
"Sorry," he whispered, and then Riggins stepped forwards, the cool back of a hand pressed against his forehead. Svlad whimpered slightly, and Riggins sighed.
"You're ill Svlad. How about we take most of today off from testing? I can give you some tests to do on paper, alright, and you can rest?"
"Thank you sir..." Svlad whispered. He wasn't sure he could hold a pencil, but paper tests meant that there wouldn't be a punishment attached, not immediately.

Riggins helped him set up, passed him a glass of water - it was cold, fresh. He sipped it, his hands shaking. Then he was passed the paper and a pencil, and he started to fill things in. It felt tiring, darkness rubbing at the corners of his eyes, but he wanted to be good. Riggins was being nice to him, he wanted to prove that he was working hard.

After the work was done, he waited for Riggins to provide more tests. He looked up at the camera, letting him know that it was done.

Riggins arrived after a short while, bringing with him a few cereal bars.
"Thought you could do with some food Icarus."
"Thank you sir."
A fond hand ruffled his hair, and he tried to smile.
"Do you think you can do more tests later?"
"Yes sir," Svlad answered honestly.
"Good," Riggins smiled. "I wondered if perhaps you would like to see Lamia?"
"More than anything," Svlad answered honestly, and Riggins laughed a little before leaving him with fresh tests. It was hard to hold the pencil, but he wanted to do it right.

He finished the next set, when the door opened and a small girl peeked around.
"Hello you," he said, smiling. He was dizzy, but his friend was there.

She ran forwards, climbing into bed beside him.
"Riggins said you aren't well..." she poked him.
"I feel too warm..." he whispered, and she turned into an electric fan, turning backwards and forwards, blades spinning slowly. Each blade was a different colour, and it was a sudden brightness that he hadn't seen before. So much in Blackwing was grey and sad, but here she was, a rainbow of joy. The breeze helped, and he felt his eyes close for a short while.

When he woke up, it was to a beak pressing into his side.
"Lamia?" he asked, staring down at a small blue penguin. She squeaked in approval and snuggled up against his side. He managed to pat her, frowning a little as he wondered why, and then he laughed softly to himself.
"Are you helping me feel colder?"
She nodded, and then turned into a plushie penguin. He cuddled her. He'd done the testing now, and he was so tired. He could rest for a little while, if Riggins didn't bring more tests. Lamia was snuggling close, and the room was still spinning but she was there.

***

Riggins sighed, staring at the camera screens and then turning to the scientists.
"No improvement on Icarus's results, but some interesting behaviour from Lamia." The nearest scientist made a note. "Give him the antidote and see how he performs when he's recovered."

Chapter Text

Todd could feel a headache threatening. He really should have known better than going off with Dirk, and without Farah - Dirk was basically cursed, the universe always throwing cases at the worst possible time, and Farah was the closest they came to a reasonable adult.

Even so, this was taking the piss, as Dirk would say. Because Dirk had suggested a nice romantic date, and they'd borrowed Farah's car.

They had gone for coffee first of all - well, Todd had had a coffee. Dirk was having one of his ridiculous multicoloured milkshakes - which he had insisted on splashing on his sleeve in order to "share with Mona". That had been fine - a bit weird, but any time with Dirk was weird.

Then they'd gone driving, because Dirk liked the mountains and the forests.
"It's so big Todd," Dirk had murmured. "There's just... so much of the world." He had thrown an arm around Todd's shoulders, and Todd had had to push him away so that he could focus on driving.

"Just seeing the sky... for years even stepping outside was a special treat. And now there's just so much space, and so much ... so much beauty." Dirk had glanced at Todd for the end of that sentence, and Todd had felt his face heating up a little. He had never been one for sweet nothings - but Dirk was his exception, for so many different things.

Dirk had got tired, and they had pulled over. They had shared a picnic, cuddling, and Dirk had insisted on taking a selfie with Todd to send to Amanda. Only it wouldn't send, because in the middle of nowhere there was no signal.
"You can send it later," Todd had promised. And they had gone back to the car. Todd had put his key in the ignition, and absolutely nothing had happened.

"Todd?" Dirk asked, staring at the hand resting on the key. "Why isn't the car going?"
"No idea," Todd muttered. He'd never been one particularly bothered about how cars worked. If nothing else, there was always the ability to use his phone and call out a mechanic.

Dirk clambered out of the car, and poked at the hood. It popped open, and Dirk stumbled back slightly coughing.
"Um, Todd, is there meant to be smoke happening?"
"Dirk, get away from there!" Todd yelled, grabbing Dirk and scrambling with him away from the car. The car continued to smoke, and Todd waited to see if it was going to burst into flame.

Dirk hesitated, then wrote a message on his phone and threw it up in the air as high as he could get. He ran to catch it, swore under his breath, and repeated the action.
"The fuck Dirk?" Todd muttered.
"Seeing if I can get signal higher up," Dirk answered, and then sighed. "It's not working."
"Stop it, you'll break your phone."
"We're in the middle of nowhere Todd. We already ate the food, we have no water, the car is smoking and I haven't seen anyone for ages. We're stuck," Dirk muttered. "What if you eat me?"
"I don't think I'll eat you."
"You always say I'm tasty," Dirk protested, and Todd snorted.

"I promise I'm not going to eat you." He sat down in the shade, patting the ground beside him. "Maybe we can flag down a car. Farah will be looking."
"Soon. But we didn't tell her where we were going," Dirk sighed. "Stupid Dirk, always forgetting to share date plans."

Todd paused.
"You know, we could-"
"If we're trapped in the middle of nowhere Todd, we have to conserve energy. It's at least fifteen miles to town, and I'm not exactly up to running a marathon-"
"A marathon is twenty six miles," Todd muttered, leaning in and kissing Dirk's cheek. Dirk smiled a little, but yawned and cuddled up against his side.
"We need a plan," Dirk agreed, and silence fell between of them.

Todd's headache was getting worse, and his mouth felt dry. It had been at least two hours, and no one had gone past them.
Dirk groaned slightly in frustration, his face collapsing into his hands.
"We'll find a way of getting out of here," Todd promised, and Dirk shook his head.
"It's not that."
"What then?"
"I'm..." Dirk peeled off his jacket and sighed. "I'm wearing Mona."
"And?"
"Mona, sweetheart, could you be a car for us please?"

A brilliant orange car settled on the dust before them.
"Thank you," Dirk muttered, climbing into the driving seat. Todd was too stunned to stop him.

Chapter Text

"Schwarz!" the little boy squeaked in delight, leaning up and gently tugging on Cross's hair. Martin tried to smile, looking down at the little boy. "Weiss!" he poked the uniform, then "Rot!" at the red stripe in the middle. "Braun!" He poked Gripps' hand, yelping as he was lifted up for a cuddle. "Grau!" He pointed at the wall, and then squealed in utter joy as Gripps held him upside down for a few seconds before righting him.

"Think you can do it in English little guy?"
"Black, white, red, brown, grey..." he paused for a moment, leaning in and poking Martin on the nose. "Pink!"
"Yeah!" Cross yelled his support, grabbing the small kid from Gripps and cuddling him. Martin laughed.
"Good work little bird!" He cheered, and Cross threw the boy up in the air and caught him a couple of times.

Vogel giggled, nuzzling into Cross's shoulder, and Martin smiled.

Two days ago, when the kid had turned up, Martin had felt angrier than he ever had been before. Because it had been one thing, his ex-brother trapping him, torturing his lovers, but this was too much. A literal child, no more than four years old, just thrown in with them in his own little jumpsuit. Osmund had grinned as Vogel curled up, glaring at him as tears streamed down his face.
"So this is Vogel. He's a freak like you. Don't eat him." And he'd walked away, leaving them there with the little boy.

Gripps, always best with kids, had been the one to approach the boy.
"Hello there," he'd smiled, and the boy had stared at him.
"NEIN! MUTTI! VATI!" the boy had screamed, and Martin had felt his hands clench into fists, because the boy didn't speak English. And he and his guys didn't speak German.

In two days the boy had made progress. He was able to say hello, goodbye, and count to ten. He'd been working on colours, when Martin had hit another obstacle.

Because Blackwing was hell, an endless hell where there was nothing good, they'd run out of colours. Martin had realised that the boy had not got any toys, and that bothered him as well. He and Osmund always had had toys when they were younger - their family hadn't been rich, and Pa had drunk, but they'd still had things to play with. They'd still been kids, even when he'd been different from other children.

But the boy, their little bird, their Vogel - he had nothing other than a tiny jumpsuit cut to his size and an insatiable curiosity.

Martin was already wondering if he could play along with the tests for a bit, if he had to, in order to get the kid some stuff. Some books maybe - he knew that Riggins' brat got books. Or a teddy bear, to hold when they did testing, or just... a bed that was his size. There was a bunk bed between the four of them, and Vogel was too small to climb to the top, but they'd all have been too heavy if they'd squashed into the top bed, so they'd put his mattress on the floor and two of them shared the bottom bunk, while the remainder slept on the ground near him.

He hated this. The kid deserved better. It wasn't his fault that he'd been hungry, but Blackwing had taken him away from the world he knew and tortured him. There had been restraint scrapes around his wrists and ankles when he'd turned up, and he'd been left in the room when they went for testing. Martin wanted to punch everyone who thought this was a good idea. Blackwing were bastards, but even for them this was pushing too far.

He tried not to focus on that, to focus on playing with the kid, making him laugh. They all needed more laughter in their life.

The door opened, and Osmund looked in, smirking, hand on a canister of knock out gas.
"Good to see you boys have been having fun, but we need the kid for some experiments now. You'll get him back after. I might not even break anything."

Martin stepped forwards, Cross beside him. Gripps carefully placed Vogel on the ground before joining them.
"You aren't taking him."
"Gave him to us. He's ours now," Cross snarled.
"He isn't safe with you," Gripps added, and Priest laughed at that.
"No he isn't. See, not so stupid. But I am going to take him." And with that, the gas canister was activated.

The last thing Martin was aware of was Vogel screaming as he was pulled away.

***

Vogel didn't return for several days, in which the older project members were punished with lack of food, constant tests, and multiple beatings. Martin still managed to snarl when Osmund arrived, but the knowledge that the little kid was out there somewhere was enough to make him hold his tongue. He couldn't risk getting Vogel hurt, and while he wished it wasn't the case he knew that Osmund would have no trouble torturing a child.

So they reined in their urge to fight. Vogel mattered more than their pride.

***

Martin and the others were all asleep on the floor, utterly exhausted, and none of them able to face the climb up into their beds. It hurt too much.

Martin whimpered when something pressed into a bruise, hissing faintly until he heard a little boy's voice.
"Lila, grun, blau, gelb..." Each word was accompanied by a gentle prod.

Martin opened his eyes, and found Vogel sat beside him. The boy looked exhausted, with bruising visible on his hands and face, the rest hidden by a jumpsuit.
"Hey Vogel..." Martin murmured, holding out his arms.

The boy sobbed and jumped forwards, curling up on his chest. It hurt, but Martin bit his lip and focused on cuddling the boy, because that was needed. Cross and Gripps moved towards him, the three of them curling up around Vogel, who sniffled slightly before poking at Martin's bruising again.
"English bitte?"
"Yellow," Martin started to explain. "Green, blue, purple..." He knew Osmund would never have wanted to bring more colour to their lives. But in a way he'd managed. Martin would make the most of whatever he got.

Chapter Text

Panto Trost, the young Baron Prince of the Valley of Inglenook, was having a rather good day, until everything had gone wrong. The day had started well enough - he had left his sister to her swordsmanship, and slipped away because Silas had promised he would be waiting at the wishing well. He missed the days when he and Silas had been allowed to play together openly, before the relationship between their families had soured, but he was not going to abandon his beloved for any cost. That was as true when he had been nine as it was now when he was fourteen.

The two of them had passed a pleasant lunch together - Silas had brought some food wrapped in a handkerchief, and they had sat by side eating burgers and sandwiches. Then Silas had taken his hand.
"Where to?" Panto asked, bowing politely at the young prince.

"I want to explore," Silas told him. "Because my mother says I am not to see you on the Dengdamor lands, and your father says the same of the Trosts. I want us to discover somewhere else, where no one can forbid us from spending time, and we can hold hands for as long as we wish."
"And is holding hands all we shall do?" Panto teased, and Silas ducked his head slightly before smiling up at him.
"Perhaps we should also kiss?" Silas asked, and then wrapped his arms around Panto - a task that was easier than it had been a few weeks prior, as Silas had finally hit a growth spurt and was no longer struggling to reach.

"I am sure that I shall be able to provide," Panto murmured, before leaning in and gently kissing Silas's lips. He loved Silas, more than he could easily explain. His father had been quite clear on the fact that Panto was allowed to take anyone in the Trost lands as a lover, but was not to stray further afield towards their enemies. Unfortunately, his heart had always belonged to Silas's, and Silas's to him. They communicated every day using Silas's messenger parrots, and sneaked out to see each other whenever they could.

For Panto, trusted younger son and best sword fighter in Inglenook, slipping out was as simple as grabbing his sword and heading into the woods, ready to defend himself if need be. For Silas however, their illicit liaisons presented more of a challenge. For all of Panto's attempts to instruct him, Silas was still awkward with a blade.

Rather than leave the Dengdamor heir defenceless, he was accompanied by the warrior Wygar, who had dedicated himself to keeping the young Silas out of trouble. So if Silas wanted to meet with Panto, he had to slip away not only from Dengdamor castle but also from Wygar, who would definitely have considered the son of the rival family to be trouble.

"An exploration and the chance hold your hand sounds wonderful," Prince Silas admitted with a fond smile, and he lead Panto deep into the surrounding countryside. The trees over their heads brushed tendrils of magic through them, and Panto felt thrilled. It had been idyllic. They had wandered through the early evening, hand in hand as they made their way through woodland and along the paths of streams. They had both grown up here, but the forests shifted and so there were always places new to explore.

It was getting dark, and Silas had been talking again - about his baby brother, and about the plans he had for their future. Farson's arrival meant that Silas would be able to renounce the throne - Panto had disliked that idea, but knew better than to dissuade his beloved once he got a thought into his head. Silas thought that they should be together, and the world he described was wonderful - and then there was a shout, as Silas lost his footing and plummeted down into a ditch.

He yelped in pain, and Panto scurried down after him, wrapping him up in his arms.
"My love, are you alright?"
"My leg hurts," Silas murmured, attempting to stand before shaking his head. "I can't."
Panto tried to help him to his feet, but there was no luck - he couldn't support him, and Silas was whimpering from the pain. Panto contemplated getting help, but he could hear the wolfbears howling in the distance, and worried that leaving Silas could get him hurt. He couldn't even leave his sword - Silas was not a skilled swordsman, and so his only option was to remain with him at least until the sun rose. Then he would be able to find some help, someone stronger than he was to help carry Silas back to his mother’s lands.

Silas whimpered, and Panto wrapped his arms around him, settling in for what threatened to be a long and cold night. Silas was already shivering, and Panto removed his cape, wrapping it around Silas's shoulders and wrapping an arm around him, in the hope that it would help at least a little.

Panto flinched as the clouds suddenly opened, sharp ice crystals falling down alongside chilling rain. Panto tucked Silas against his body, trying to soothe him, and Silas clung to him. He was shaking already, the water drenching them both. Panto held him close, trying to sing to him. He could barely remember the lullabies from his childhood, but he remembered a little, and he sung to him. Silas was trembling, but the song seemed to soothe him.
"You're doing so well," Panto promised, trying to look at Silas's leg. Silas cringed, squirming away from him, and Panto just held him.
"I'm afraid," Silas whispered. "What if a monster finds us?"
"Then I will protect you my love," Panto promised, pushing aside his own discomfort to care for his beloved.

Silas fell asleep in his arms, and Panto continued to cradle him, trying to position him so that he was sheltered from the worst of the weather. It meant that the wind hit Panto full force, but he was a fighter, he could stand it.

He stayed awake, wanting to be there to protect Silas from the distant sounds of monsters.

The rain stopped after a while, but it was still too cold, and it was unpleasant to be sat in his soaked clothes. But it meant he couldn't sleep, one hand around Silas and the other one holding the handle of his scissorsword.

His entire body felt stiff, and he could feel Silas shaking still. He was asleep, but he was cold.
There was the distant shout of Silas's name, and Panto tensed. But if the person who was yelling was a rescuer, then he had to go there. He might not find his way out of the forest alone, and if someone was within earshot he had to find them. He pressed a gentle kiss to Silas's forehead.
"Darling, I must go and find some assistance. You will have to be brave until my return."
"I will," Silas promised. "But you will return, won't you?"
"Nothing could keep me away," Panto promised, clambering out of the shallow ditch they had sheltered in the previous night.

His body ached, and it felt wrong to leave his love behind, but he had to do this. He headed towards the shouts, freezing when he saw a giant of a man there, before deciding he had to talk to him.
"Halt!" he called out, holding out his sword. "I am Baron Panto Trost."
"A Trost," the man snarled. "Where is Silas? What have you done with him?"

Panto had never met his lover's protector, but he could recognise the man that Silas had described.
"Wygar?"
"Yes?"
"Silas has injured his leg. He is in a ditch, and cannot walk. I couldn't carry him to safety, but perhaps you would be able to."
"Show me," Wygar growled, and Panto nodded, hurrying along to where his lover was waiting. Silas looked pale in the early morning light, curled up in the cloak Panto had provided.
"He's here. I can help you get him, but I must not step foot in Dengdamor castle-"
"I understand boy. You did not do this?"
"Never." Panto answered with passion. "I would rather cut off my sword hand than allow harm to come to my beloved."

Wygar nodded, and said nothing about the admission, merely crouched down into the ditch.
"Prince Silas, here is no place for a nap."
"Wygar?"
"I am here, my lord. I found you alone," Wygar answered. "You had gone wandering alone, and you had fallen. But you are safe now."
"Thank you." Silas murmured, and Panto nodded his own gratitude. He would have liked to escort them home, but he needed to return to his own lands and warm himself in the hot spring.
"Thank you sir."
"I will get him home safely, I promise you." Wygar told him, before turning away and walking off, Silas cradled to his chest.

Chapter Text

Todd hadn't been able to spend much time with Dirk during the Wendimoor incident. They'd been together, but he hadn't been able to look at him, or talk to him about anything other than the case that was threatening to kill them both. It was only after that he got a chance to actually look at the man beside him.

Dirk was sitting at a desk, Mona around his shoulders as a shawl because she apparently felt like being crocheted this morning (Todd had no idea what that particular sensation would be like, but Dirk was quite clear on explaining so he was going along with it). The crutch he was using with his leg injury rested beside him. Farah was at her own workspace, trying to decipher how to fill in insurance paperwork.

Todd couldn't help smiling when he saw Dirk. He just looked so peaceful, so sweet, that Todd wanted to reach out and embrace him. He moved to sit beside him, dragging over his own chair.
"Hey Dirk, hey Mona," he greeted them. "How's the paperwork going?"

Dirk's answering smile was a little too bright, his eyes shadowed strangely.
"Oh, the paperwork is brilliant, thank you, I've nearly finished it-"
"Let me see?" Todd asked in a sudden burst of boldness. There was a pause, as Dirk decided what to do, before he passed over the piece of paper.

The writing on there was little more than a scrawl, barely legible. Dirk had never been one to have particularly elegant writing, but Todd was sure that before he'd gone missing he had at least been readable.
"Dirk," Todd muttered. "You need to do it neater than-"
"I know." Dirk sighed. "I tried." He held out his hand, and Todd saw that his fingers were shaking slightly. He picked up his pen, placing it on the paper, and it immediately spidered across the page, leaving behind a ragged black line.

"Why...what happened?"
"Oh, this was what happened last time I left Blackwing," Dirk said casually. "It'll be better in a few more days, but it's rather annoying until then."
"What is it?" Todd asked.
"Oh, uh, just some neurons misfiring, that's what the scientists said anyway and it's their job to science so I assume they are right, it's just frustrating because I can't really do anything like holding dishes at the moment unless you want a lot of smashed dishes and most people don't want smashed dishes so-"
"Dirk," Todd said firmly, and he could see that Farah was looking over in interest as well now. "Why are your neurons misfiring?"

"Oh, well that's quite simple, the electric shocks were calibrated quite high to provide incentive to answer the testing questions correctly and so when I failed, which I do with rather depressing regularity, I got a little more current injected into me than I otherwise would have, and I think it fried some circuits." Dirk sounded utterly blase as he spoke, as casually as he would explain that his hair was wet because he had been caught up in a rain shower, but his words were something far darker than a passing storm. "I think it's caused some lasting effects."

Todd bit down the urge to say that explained a lot about Dirk, or to go and punch every person who worked in Blackwing.
"Don't look worried Todd, it really isn't as serious as it sounds, I just get some unfortunate side effects."
"Dirk," Todd muttered, then realised he didn't know how to continue. He opened and closed his mouth before he tried again. "Dirk..."
"Yes?" Dirk frowned. "What?"
"That isn't acceptable," Farah answered. "That's torture, and I'm sorry you went through it."
"It's done now," Dirk said, and Todd felt his insides twist a little at the sheer positivity behind his words. Todd sighed a little and nodded, because there was no point continuing this argument, when there was nowhere good that it could lead.

"How about I help you with your paperwork until your hands are cooperating again?"
"Excellent idea," Dirk smiled, reaching out to squeeze Todd's hand with his own. Todd could feel the tremors which ran through him. "Although tempting though this incentive is, I don't believe I'll be rushing to get shocked again, if that is alright with you?"
"It is more than alright with me," Todd agreed, sitting down at the desk and pulling over a blank form. For a few moments he tried to read what Dirk had written, before abandoning it as a lost cause.
"Tell me what you've put?" he asked, and Dirk nodded and started to explain.

Chapter Text

The littlest member of Project Incubus was thrown back into the cell. He knew by now how best to break his fall, to curl up and protect himself from worse injury. He waited until the door slammed shut, because that meant it was safe, and lifted his head to find Martin staring down at him in concern.

Vogel knew that he had a huge gigantic enormous bruise on his eye, and there was a scrape on his shoulder, and other bruises on his chest and back which were hidden by his jumpsuit. He grinned at Martin broadly.
"Why are you looking so happy?" Martin asked, teasing him. Vogel giggled slightly.
"Bit one of the guards."

Martin hissed slightly, and for a second Vogel thought he was in trouble. Being in trouble with Martin would be the worst, even worse than being in trouble with Priest. But Martin grinned at him.
"You did good kid." He reached out and ruffled Vogel's hair. Vogel wasn't quite sure how old he was - he'd been five when he was brought here, and he'd had three new jumpsuits since then. But the rest of Project Incubus didn't need to always protect him, and he wanted to show that he could fight his own battles.

"Missed you short stuff," Cross yelled, and Vogel found himself being held upsidedown, cuddled against the older man. He giggled and tried to wriggle free, only for Gripps to take hold of him, tucking him against his chest and examining his head. He whimpered a little as Gripps' fingers brushed against a healing surgery site, the bald patch around it meaning the surrounding hair stuck up strangely.

"Missed you too," Vogel muttered. "How was it? Did you do tests?"
"Nah. No food either," Martin answered. "So don't you worry, you should get something soon, might help you heal up. Remember you have to eat first okay?"
"I don't wanna," Vogel whined, but he nodded. Martin always said he had to eat first, because apparently the first bit of energy wasn't as tasty. So he had to eat as much of the early energy as he could, and when he was fed the others would have the tastier scraps. It seemed weird to him - he'd never noticed a difference in taste, but he knew that Martin was in charge and if he said you had to do something a certain way then that meant you had to do it how he told you to.

Vogel was aching from his most recent beating, and wondered if he could ask the others to cuddle up. He nibbled his lip, nervous, wondering if that would ask too much, but they were pulling him close as though they knew what he wanted to say. He nuzzled his face against Martin's shoulder, letting Martin brush his fingers through his uneven hair because it helped to soothe him. They weren't allowed beds in case they broke them, but they curled up together and he was in the middle, where it felt safe. He was almost asleep when the door opened, and Mister Priest walked in. Vogel found himself pushed backwards, behind the others.
"Where's the runt?" Priest spat the words, frowning in distaste as he glanced around, as though he couldn't see Vogel hiding. Vogel bit his lip to try and stay quiet, and made his best attempt not to cry.
"You aren't taking him," Martin snarled.
"Hear he bit one of my men."
"Deserved it," Martin spat, then stepped forwards, because Martin was brave and heroic and amazing. "Whatever the issue is, we can deal with it. Leave the kid alone."
"Whatever you say," Mister Priest smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. He grabbed Martin's wrist, pulling him along, and Vogel whimpered, shaking his head.

Martin turned towards the noise and smiled.
"Hey, kid, you stay here okay? I'll be back soon."

Vogel wanted to be brave, like Martin, wanted to say that he could go instead, But he wasn't brave like that. He ended up curling up on the ground, between Cross and Gripps. They both put an arm around his shoulder, making him feel safe, but he was shaking a little at Martin being gone, and he felt kind of sick.

"You gotta stay here," Cross said.
"He'll need hugs when he gets back," Gripps added.
"Loads and loads of hugs."
"And you give the best hugs!" Gripps said firmly, and Vogel nodded. Vogel wasn't sure how much help he was actually being, but he was too scared to argue with Mister Priest. He could just wait, and try to be brave.

When Martin came back, Cross and Gripps wouldn't let him see him for a little while, and Vogel was worried Martin was angry with him. But when he was allowed to see him Martin let him cuddle up, and looked happy.

That night, he stayed in Martin's arms.

Chapter Text

Dirk couldn't sleep. He was currently trying not to bother Todd, who was snoring beside him, or Mona who was being a frankly wonderful rainbow nightlight on the floor beside the bed. He was too warm. The air conditioner was playing up, and while Mona had offered to be a replacement unit if she needed to be, it had been clear she didn't want to do it. Dirk refused to make her be anything she didn't want, and only asked her to not-do things if they were potentially dangerous or impractical at the time. Being a nightlight was practical, and she wanted to glow, so he'd accepted that tonight they were going to have no air conditioning, and tomorrow they could buy a new one. It wasn't even that warm, not really. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

It was, however, enough to mean that Dirk was sleeping on top of the blankets, which made him tense. He'd done that before to try and keep his bed made for longer, to avoid being punished for leaving the sheets creased. It had never exactly worked.

When he had been in Blackwing, the temperature had been controlled closely, never varying by more than a degree or two. Escape, followed by exposure to the elements, had been difficult, but one of the more surprising things he had found was the realisation that some of the worst things Blackwing had done had never been intended to be tortures at all - they had just been a side effect of the temperature control systems breaking.

He remembered a couple of weeks where he had been mostly confined to his room, the temperatures sweltering, and everyone in a much worse mood than usual. He had barely been able to sleep, terrified he was somehow failing another test. His mind kept thinking about that now. But it wasn't the heat which was bothering him so much he couldn't sleep - what was disturbing him instead was the rest of his memories of that time.

Because it was so warm, the projects had been given permission to wear their jumpsuits with the sleeves knotted around their waists, and undershirts. And the staff had left off their body armour when dealing with less dangerous issues. Most of the guards had still been all in black, but then when he saw them they were generally doing nothing more strenuous than administering tests. He shivered, lying in bed, tugging down his pyjama top from where it had risen up slightly.

Even in the heat, Dirk couldn't match Todd's enthusiasm for sleeping naked. To him it felt too vulnerable, to sleep exposed like that, the scars on his body on display. As his thoughts continued, his fingers ran over the line of the biggest scar, the one that had sliced him from sternum to pelvis, when they had taken him apart to see how he worked inside. He was sure he'd nearly died that day, and he would be marked by evidence of what happened forever. It had paled a little, but he still knew that it was there, and Todd had certainly seen it judging by the times he had kissed along its length. Dirk shuddered, a whimper escaping his lips.

Todd twisted in his sleep, moving to rest one leg over Dirk, wrapping his arms around him. Even though Todd's body was warm, making it more uncomfortable, Dirk was glad for his company.

Mister Priest had only been in to see him a couple of times while the air conditioning was broken, and had seemed almost too tired to put him through his usual pain, administering kicks and dislocating fingers more because it was expected than out of joy. But when he'd visited Dirk, he had worn a black tank top.

What haunted Dirk was the moment when he had seen Mister Priest in the corridor, chatting to a guard, wearing only dark trousers and combat boots. The man’s body had caught his gaze, and Riggins had been furious at Dirk for staring. He'd misunderstood, thought that the staring was another sign of how unnatural Dirk could be.

Dirk would never have felt like that to Mister Priest. The reason he was staring was that he had seen the scar running down Priest's chest, faded but still glinting under the light, splitting him from sternum to pelvis.

Chapter Text

Osmund's father would have been proud of the man Osmund had become, if he hadn't died a few years back following an unfortunate car accident in which the brakes had been cut. Martin had chosen to stay at home that day, had missed the vehicle, and therefore he hadn't been in the accident, which was the most unfortunate thing about it. Still, if the old man had still been around, he would have been pleased that Osmund wasn't taking any shit from the test subjects.

Some people only ever understood violence. They might lie, and say they reacted to kindness, but the brutal truth was that certain people only ever listened to pain. Osmund's brother was a case in point, him and the rest of the freaks he surrounded himself with. There was no point in trying to play nice with them, asking them for something or bargaining with them, offering to remove the gag that was fastened around their face to ensure that they didn't hurt anyone. Because even the smallest of them would cooperate only until the gag was removed, and then they would take the opportunity to cause hurt.

Like today, they needed to get blood samples from Project Incubus. Some of the lab techs might have asked, or gone in and explained, or worse gassed them and taken it while the test subjects enjoyed their little nap. Osmund didn't do that.

He had walked in when they were asleep, and scooped the runt off the floor, pressing a knife against his throat.
"Mornin' Martin."
"Put him down," Martin had ordered, as though he was the one in charge. Osmund could have laughed out loud at that idea.
"No, not until I've got what I want-" He'd twisted the knife slightly, drawing a few drops of blood that made the boy whimper. "I mean, I've been talking to Riggins. He thinks having four of you is good for the project, but really I think three's enough, could kill one-"
"Put him down," Martin had repeated, but he'd sounded more desperate now, not in control but as though he was bargaining. "You've always hated me, if you've got to kill one-"
"Where would the fun be in that?" Priest had asked, pressing the little runt against the wall and using the knife to nick his shoulder, then pressed the tube to his skin until he'd filled it with blood. He dropped him to the floor, and walked towards the others, pulling needles from his pocket to take their samples. They held out their arms, didn't flinch as he took the blood. It was only Martin left.

"If I kill you Martin, then I don't get to hurt you any more. And you're so very easy to hurt, I'd hate to lose my favourite form of entertainment." He had chuckled, stabbing the needle roughly into Martin's arm, as the rest of them fussed over the runt. "You treat that kid like he's your family. But he isn't. Not anything you can do to help him-"

Martin had tried to throw a punch, but torture and starvation had made him slow, and Osmund blocked it, sweeping his foot out of the way and knocking him to the floor. Martin yelped as Osmund straddled him, squeezing one hand lazily around his throat.
"I will kill you one day. But it'll be on my terms, not yours." He spat and got to his feet

Gathering up his samples, he left the lab, knowing the projects would be cuddling up behind him, trying to comfort each other and pretend that everything was alright. He knew it would never be, not while he could control what happened.

Martin might have been the favourite once. But Osmund's father would have been proud of the man Osmund had become.

Chapter Text

Amanda could remember a time when she would have pleaded with her parents to let her spend the day in bed, how she would curl up under the sheets and pull a blanket over her head and pretend she wasn’t there. She would try and avoid going into school, because she was content where she was, because she’d enjoyed the chance to relax.

Those memories felt bitter now, when staying in bed was no longer a choice, when she found herself imprisoned by the black sheets she had picked out.

She collapsed down onto the mattress, her mind drifting to days when she had danced herself into exhaustion, or brought home someone with a nice smile and pulled them into the bed. Now even trying to cook was tiring - she’d managed to avoid an attack today. That didn’t mean one wouldn’t come tomorrow, or at night. She might find the weight of blankets suffocating her, or the air of her bedroom might turn into poisonous gas, suffocating her.

She remembered dancing with Todd, on days he had been feeling well enough to go clubbing, remembered how he had laughed, how he had risked an attack by pouring a cold drink over himself. She didn’t think she could be that brave, too afraid of the sensation of drowning.

She was afraid, all of the time, of everything. She had had dreams, and ambitions, and hopes, and this illness had eaten them. She was afraid of stepping outside because she didn’t know what would be waiting for her there, knew an attack could kill her, that her medicines cost more than her brother could afford. Even though he’d recovered, the illness still affected him, limiting the places that would employ someone with gaps in their record.

A lot of her ambitions had to be denied. Even if she recovered, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever manage to make anything of her life. But worries like that felt far off when a breeze could turn to needles, impaling her. She tried not to linger on those thoughts, knowing they increased the chance of an attack, but there was no way she could prevent them.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes, and wondered if she would feel well enough to call Todd in the morning.

Chapter Text

Todd paused, phone in hand, and contemplated his next action. He could call Amanda, call Farah, take a video, or just give up and look up entertaining youtube videos.

The thing was, although some of the Holistics had fled the country, they often found themselves pulled back to America by fate or chance, and Dirk seemed to run into them far more frequently than basic mathematics would allow.

Some of the Holistics had been pleased to see him, or had at least accepted his business card as he explained to them about Amanda and the Rowdies. Others had tried to kill them, and the only reason Todd, Dirk and Farah had survived someone who could burst into flames at will was because Mona had become a large bell jar over the three of them until the Holistic had left.

And then there was Aodhan.

Dirk had explained that the man was dangerous, and had mostly been kept under sedation in Blackwing. That he was able to make things explode by touching them, and could turn anything into a bomb. Todd had gone in expecting an explosion, not what he had been faced with.

"Ah feck," the man had said when he had seen them approaching in a crowded car park. The thing was, Dirk hadn't even been looking for Aodhan, he'd just been working a case and heard rumours, and because Dirk was Dirk they'd ended up running into him.

Dirk had been utterly unperturbed by the glare they were being given by a human bomb, approaching and beginning his standard holistic detective spiel, explaining he was there to help people and saying that thanks to Blackwing a lot of the Holistics had cases that needed solving. Aodhan had visibly tensed at the mention of Blackwing, and Dirk had carried on regardless.

"I ain't fecking interested," the man had said, turning away and cutting Dirk off mid-sentence.
"You should take my business card," Dirk had insisted, pulling a card from his pocket and trying to hand it to him. Aodhan had stepped aside and Dirk had followed. Todd had watched as he tried to chase a human bomb to give him a card, and wondered how to stop him, when Aodhan grabbed the card and it burst into flames.

"Well." Dirk had sighed dramatically. "That was unnecessarily rude."
"Go away kid. I've got my own stuff to be dealing with, and I didn't sign up for none of this fecking saving the world shite."
"But the universe-"
"Fecks sake," the man had muttered, then reached into his pocket. Todd had half-expected a gun. Instead, the man produced a small bottle, from which he retrieved a pill. He snorted.
"This is yer own fault," he had muttered, then smirked slightly, holding his hand out. "Medicine time."

Before Todd could speak, Dirk had reached out and taken the pill, popping it into his mouth and swallowing it. He actually saw Dirk's eyes flicker as he suddenly realised that he might potentially have made a mistake. He coughed slightly.
"Yer have fun wi'that." Aodhan smiled and turned away. "And if you try it again, I won't be so fecking nice."
"Dirk?" Todd frowned. "What did he give you?"
"I don't know!" Dirk protested. "It didn't say."
"Okay, well, we can get you to a hospital or-" Todd had started to explain, to be interrupted by Dirk approaching him. He stumbled slightly, and Todd had thought he was going to fall, but actually he just ended up cuddled against Todd's chest, leaning in to try and kiss him. He missed fairly spectacularly, ending up nuzzling an ear.
"Todd, hold still!" Dirk protested, then giggled. "You're really cute, you know? Like, small and pretty and fun and you try to be all Roar I'm angry and fierce but you're a sweetheart and I think you're brilliant." Dirk grinned. "Farah's brilliant too. I've got to find her." He began to wander around the parking lot, calling out for Farah.

Todd paused, phone in hand, and contemplated his next action. He could call Amanda, call Farah, take a video, or just give up and look up entertaining youtube videos.

A small kitten butted her head against his ankle. He instantly recognised her as Mona, both because Dirk suddenly wasn't wearing his jacket, and more importantly because he had never seen a lilac kitten before.
"You got an idea girl?"
She mewed in agreement, and carefully approached Dirk, mewling at him until he picked her up. He stumbled backwards, curling around the kitten to protect her, and ended up sat on his ass, looking around in utter disorientation. The kitten nuzzled up against him, and he squealed in delight.

"Todd! There's a kitten!" Dirk practically yelled, patting her and squeaking as he ran his fingers through her fur.

Confident Dirk wasn't going to wander away and fall off a cliff, Todd pressed record. He wanted to have evidence of this later.

Chapter Text

Todd felt sick. His entire body hurt. His arms felt like they were on fire, his legs and chest were covered in bruises. He couldn't help wondering if this was an attack. If his fears and nightmares were overwhelming him. That would be good. That would be the best possible option.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you," the man ordered, and hit Todd hard enough that his head turned to the side. He whimpered slightly, looking up at the man who had caught him. He shuddered a little, and that made the man smirk wider. He pulled the gag from Todd's face, and he gasped for air.

"Better, see, I knew you'd listen.... Now, smile for the camera..." The man pulled out Todd's phone. Todd wished he hadn't given up the password, but he had, embarrassingly easily. The man took a couple of photographs, then moved so that he could take a selfie with Todd.

Todd looked at the camera, startled to see the bruising around his face, the way one eye was swollen closed, dried blood on his forehead. He looked like a mess, and he could only hope that Dirk was sensible enough not to come and try to save him. Because he wasn't sure that he'd be able to protect himself, and Todd felt bad enough to be caught. He didn't want to see Dirk caught as well.

"Don't you worry, your little boyfriend will be here soon enough," Priest answered, patting Todd on the head and sending the message.
Barely twenty seconds later, Todd's phone began to ring. Priest smirked, hanging up.
"See, he's worried about you."

"Why didn't you answer?" Todd gasped, and flinched when he realised that speaking hurt him.
"Because if I answer he might hear you, and you'll probably tell him not to come. But now, he's picturing all kinds of awful things happening to you..." Priest chuckled to himself, hanging up the phone. "He might even bring little Lamia back in as well, anything to keep you safe..."
"No!" Todd gasped, feeling sick. Dirk wouldn't do that. Dirk wasn't stupid enough to trust the man. Priest was still smirking, sliding the gag back into place as he hung up a call once more.

The phone rang a fourth time, and Priest answered it, staring down at Todd.
"Hello Svlad, I knew you'd see sense... do you want to hear him?" There was a pause, and then Todd was punched in the stomach. He groaned in pain, tears springing to his eyes. "Knew you'd recognise him Svlad, you get him hurt often enough. You'd recognise the noises he makes when he is hurting, because that's all you do. You get people hurt, get people killed... I could kill him Icarus. He's barely conscious, it'd be so easy... remember that nice family in Oregon, that gave you shelter and food and let you swim in their pool? The noises they made when they died.... oh Svlad, I wonder if he'll sound the same." With that, Priest ended the call and sat down on the couch, checking his own phone.

"I wonder how long he'll take..." Priest murmured, then smiled. "Freaks like us, we can feel each other. It’s how Incubus tracked him, how I brought him in in the first place. If he wants to find you, he'll be able to, I suppose the question is whether or not that's what he wants.."

Todd cringed back as the man approached. He'd already had one finger broken, but Priest grabbed his hands, examining them closely before snapping another, Todd's screams muffled in his gag.
"You're a musician, aren't you? Looks like this is just one more life Svlad has managed to ruin. If he's slow to get here I'm going to break more of them, then your toes, and then the other bones in your hands. We've got a long night ahead of us."

Todd was struggling in his restraints, but Priest ignored it, checking his watch with an exaggerated sigh.
"So dramatic. I'm not planning to kill you, not until he's there... I wonder how he'd react if I killed you in front of him? Because I think it might mean he's willing to behave better in future. Make a change, that boy's always been trouble. Not really sure what he sees in a liar like you though, but he's always been easily led, always looking for anyone who would love him."

Todd cringed away from Priest, not wanting to be near him. He hated this, wanted to find a way to save Dirk, but he was helpless. He hated feeling trapped, but he didn't know what he could do. He shuddered, pulling at his restraints, and then freezing as he felt something run across his fingers. He only just stopped himself screaming as the weight of a mouse settled in his palm, and then he was holding a knife. He tried to twist it, and cut through the restraints, seeing movement behind Priest.

Chapter Text

Trying to keep Dirk calm was a challenge at the best of times - the detective seemed to exist on a speed slightly faster than everyone else, fuelled by ideas and sugar and terror of his past. But this was worse. Todd was gone, and Dirk was handling it worse than Todd had handled Dirk's disappearance, which actually came as a surprise to Farah because she had not expected that such a thing was possible. Apparently it was.

He was staring at maps, then closing his eyes and poking his finger down as though that would tell him where to go. He got up, and knocked his head slightly against the doorframe as though trying to shake an answer loose.
"Hey," she walked over, placing her hand on his shoulders. "We don't need you knocking yourself out, and you know Todd hates you doing that-"
"What if we don't get him back," Dirk said softly. "They took him, and that's because of me. Because I'm a freak and I ruin things. I don't know where he is or what they're doing to him, Farah..."

"He's strong," she reassured Dirk, as though they hadn't had this discussion a dozen times over the last day and a half. Dirk was panicking more as each hour passed with no information, and no matter how many times she told him that they were just making him wait so that he panicked, he didn't listen. She couldn't be sure. For all that Dirk said he'd been taken by Blackwing, he could have just been hit by a car or kidnapped by aliens, and if so they were wasting time following the wrong leads.

For thirty six hours Farah had been listening to Dirk worrying, and trying to take control of the situation. She had a blistering headache, and she knew that if they didn't make progress soon, she was going to have to rest. But Dirk was frantic, and that made resting hard.

She jumped slightly as something moved up her leg, and nuzzled into her hand. She glanced down, smiling at Mona who was currently in mouse form. She transformed herself into a wristband, with "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ" written on it. It wasn't a very subtle hint that she thought that Farah needed some rest. She was considering saying it, when a message arrived on Dirk's phone.

Dirk pounced on it immediately, and then yelped as though his phone was a fire, dropping it. Only quick thinking and turning into a cushion by Mona saved it from smashing. Farah picked it up, looking at the picture and mentally cursing the fact that Priest was the one who took him, given the way the man was able to terrify Dirk.

Todd looked pretty bad. He was badly bruised, and one finger was broken. There was a lot of blood on his face, but she knew that was to be expected from a head wound. She tried to call back, but Todd's phone ended the call.
"I should go," Dirk muttered. "Maybe I can trade...maybe he won't..."
"No," Farah said firmly. "We're smarter than that Dirk, we can work this out."

"What then?"
She passed the phone over, the pain in her head spiking. She knew that Dirk needed to feel useful.
"Keep trying to call him," she instructed. "Find out where they are, put him on speaker phone."

Dirk nodded, and after a few attempts there was an answer. Mona turned into a blanket, draping herself across his shoulders.
"Hello Svlad, I knew you'd see sense... do you want to hear him?"
"Please Mister Priest," Dirk begged, tears in his eyes.

Todd groaned in pain, and then Priest was still talking. He was provoking Dirk, calling him by the name he hated, bringing back memories, and Farah wanted to scream, but she kept quiet until the call ended.
"I should go to him," Dirk whispered.
"Todd would hate that," Farah snapped, her nerves overwhelming her. She hated the situation, but she knew that Dirk was suffering. "We'll rescue him..." She paused, reaching out and gently tapping Mona. "Could you be a human for a moment?"

Mona stood there, her arms tightly around Dirk.
"We can rescue him, but we'll need your help Mona, if you can do that? Your job is to get Todd to safety, I'll distract Priest."
"What do I do?" Dirk asked.
Stomach sinking, Farah gave the only answer she could think of.
"You're our getaway driver."

***

Dirk might not have been able to drive well, but he could definitely drive fast, and when they were running away from Blackwing that was what was needed. Todd was injured and Farah was going to take him to the hospital in Bergsberg, because she trusted the people there. Bergsberg should have been a three hour drive, but knowing Dirk they'd be there in an hour or two.

Until then, she had to stay there looking after Todd. Mona was cushioning him, and he was whimpering, struggling with the injuries. She stayed holding his non-injured hand.

***

Once the doctors had finished with Todd, he was in a hospital bed. Dirk sat beside him, and Farah stood guard.
"Farah?" Todd asked softly, and moved to the side. "Can you?"

She laid down beside him, her eyes closing in exhaustion almost immediately. Todd smiled, and she felt the bed sink as Dirk joined them, and a soft blanket settled over them. Mona would keep them safe for now. She was too tired to do it herself.

Chapter Text

"Ouch." Dirk muttered, cringing. "Stupid traitor bed." There was a touch to his ankle, and his entire body tensed, waiting to find himself dragged out to face Mister Priest and whatever tests lay ahead.

"Dirk, are you okay there buddy?" came a voice that he instantly recognised as belonging to Hobbs. He groaned faintly, embarrassed at himself more than in pain, because this was all his fault.
It was hard to handle the fact that he had once again misjudged the gap between the floor and the bed, and had managed to knock himself out cold. What was worse was the fact he'd been so panicked by the arrival of Hobbs, who he had invited around, that he had tried to hide under his own bed. He wasn't in Blackwing anymore, and he knew this, but at times his mind still insisted on acting as though he was.

He'd been dozing before the front door had opened, and that was probably why he hadn't initially realised where he was. That's what he told himself anyway, that he'd been asleep and anyone would have been startled.
"Uh, I'm fine," Dirk muttered, ignoring the way the room was spinning slightly. He clambered out from the bed, trying to smile at Hobbs as though he had meant to hit his head on the bottom of the bed frame. Hobbs didn't look like he was overly convinced, so Dirk did his best smile and tried to look like he meant it. Hobbs looked if anything less convinced than before - which was probably a sign that Dirk needed to ask Mona for some acting lessons. He wondered how exactly that conversation would go. She didn't like lies, but she liked acting, so he'd have to be careful on how to approach it.

The room decided to give a sudden lurch to the side, and then Hobbs was gently laying Dirk down on the sofa, frowning at him a little.
"You hit your head a little hard I think."
"'m fine..." Dirk tried to explain, but the words seemed to jumble together. "A tiny concussion never killed anyone..."
Hobbs stared at him, looking more severe than normal.
"Dirk, that's not true."
"Oh..." Dirk frowned a little, blinking so that rather than two Hobbs looking down at him there was only one. Satisfied that he had achieved his goal, he smiled.

"You need to go to the hospital."
"It wasn't serious," Dirk muttered. "I used to hit my head all the time in Blackwing and they never made me go to medical unless I stayed out for several minutes or brain fluid was leaking, and I hate hospitals."
"Dirk-"
"Please?" Dirk asked, giving Hobbs his best pleading expression. Apparently that was more effective than his "I'm fine" expression.
"You're staying with me until Todd gets back, and if you get worse at all we're taking you straight to hospital."
"Thanks Hobbs," Dirk grinned, then held out his arms for a hug.

No traitorous beds that wanted to cause concussions were going to ruin his day with his friend.

Chapter Text

"Dirk," Todd stared at him. "I don't know... this just doesn't happen Dirk."
"My whole thing is impossible stuff," Dirk answered, staring at the two boys, frowning a little, Todd stared at them, and then took in their surroundings.

They were in the middle of Death Valley, because Dirk had insisted they had to go there. And they had just found two little boys, sitting in the sand and playing with some marbles.
"Hi!" Dirk waved as he approached. "I'm Dirk, and this is my partner Todd. You are?"
"George," the older one answered, standing up and looking uncertain. "This is Max."
"You're...very little to be out here on your own?"
"We were with our parents… I can't find them." George said, and his voice shook a little. Max whimpered, clutching George's leg. "Thirsty."

"Here," Dirk dug into the back seat of the car, returning with two bottles of water. "Drink this. Todd, we need to get them back to town..." He shivered suddenly, the bottles nearly falling from his hands before he passed them to the boys. "I'm sure they're fine. Just a little time distortion, it's all okay..."
Todd looked very uncertain at that. It was just that he felt some time distortion was actually quite a major issue, and Dirk was just casual about it, helping the boys into the car.

He turned to have a closer look at his companion. Dirk was shivering, even though the air around them burned, and Todd realised that the boys weren't the only reason they needed to get out of there fast.
"You're sure we should-"
"We take them to the police station. They'll get help there," Dirk answered, his voice cracking slightly, and now Todd was really worried. Because Dirk was clearly panicking. He was trying to hide it, but it was obvious that he was afraid.

Todd got back into the driving seat, and Dirk clambered into the back with the boys, talking to them. The more Todd heard, the more worried he became, so he decided that it was best not to listen. If he didn't hear anything, then he didn't need to think about it. They just had to get the boys to help, and then the case was closed, and he could deal with Dirk, who had got even more nervous as the car rattled across the ground. He had a full bottle of water in front of him, but he hadn't even taken a sip of it.

He just kept picking it up, looking at it, and replacing it in front of him.
"Dirk?"
"Everything's fine," Dirk lied. Todd knew there was nothing that he could do other than get them back to the town.

***

Dirk had left the boys at the police station, giving the information he could and then walking away to where Todd was waiting outside.
"What just happened Dirk, you were looking really freaked out. What were those kids?"
"Oh, missing people from the 90s," Dirk shrugged. "I... uh, well... I don't like being too hot."
"It was your idea to go to the desert Dirk."
"I needed to," Dirk answered, and suddenly he was blinking back tears, biting his lip in an attempt to keep his emotions contained. "I didn't... I just... I had to."

Todd reached over as best he could from the driver's seat to embrace him.
"Let's get back to the hotel okay? We can check in with Farah, and let her know what's happened..."

Dirk nodded, his attention elsewhere. Todd was sadly used to Dirk being distracted by things, but he still found it worrying when Dirk got this out of it. He drove there, and helped Dirk from the car, recognising that right now he wouldn't be able to walk under his own steam. Once they got to the room, Dirk raced into the bathroom and Todd heard the shower start up. The door was unlocked, so after a few minutes and hearing Dirk sob, Todd walked in to find Dirk curled up in the shower tray, his knees to his chest, still wearing his clothes.

Todd helped him out of the shower, stripping him gently and wrapping him in a towel. It wasn't as soft as the ones at home, but it still gave him some protection from the cold. Dirk was shivering worse now, sobbing and shuddering in his arms.
"Todd?"
"Yes?"
"That was... they were a case I was given in Blackwing. A family that disappeared and I was meant to find them..."
"You found them..."
"They thought it'd help if I understood. They put me in a room and it was hot, and sandy, and the air was so dry that opening my eyes hurt. I was so thirsty, and I had a bottle of water, but they said I had to stay until I knew where they were, because they mattered and I couldn't... I couldn't find them." Dirk shuddered again, his hands grappling for Todd's shirt. "After the first day I had no more water and I ... I wanted to sleep and it hurt and I thought I was going to die because I couldn't find them but I..." He sobbed softly, looking up at Todd with hope in his eyes. "I found them, didn't I?"

"You did," Todd promised. He wanted to tell him that the tests Blackwing had done were wrong, that he didn't deserve what had happened, but he knew that when Dirk was in a mood like this hearing that wouldn't help. What he needed was to be told he'd done the right thing. That he'd passed the test. It hurt, but Todd had to give him that, because Blackwing never would. "You found them, and you got them to safety. You did so well. You passed the test."

Dirk pressed his face against Todd's neck and cried softly, whispering to himself.
"I passed. I passed."

Chapter Text

Vogel hated tests. Tests hurt and tests were bad and sucky and were a lot of bad words that the rest of Incubus didn't know he'd heard. Tests were worse than being hungry, or being cold, and he hated them.

Even more, he hated when he was taken away from the others. Normally they were taken somewhere, for tests he was too small for, and he was left on his mattress on the ground, trying to count down the seconds until they returned, hoping they'd come back. They always returned with bruises, and with bleeding, which he didn't like. It was sad, and it made him angry. He wanted to smash up anyone who did tests on them.

He'd been waiting for the others to come back now for what felt like forever. He was hungry, and hoped the guards would make a mistake so he might at least get a bite to eat. According to Gripps he was going through a growth spurt, which is why he was feeling all clumsy and tired all the time. According to Gripps he had grown 0.21 of an inch in the past month, which was good. He was fed up of being smaller than all the guards. Some of them would hit him. When he was a grown up he'd hit them back.

He heard noises outside, and tried to concentrate, tasting the air in case it was the others.

It was Him.

Vogel cringed, glancing at the blanket, wondering if he could hide, but the footsteps were getting closer. Reluctantly, he made himself lay still until the door opened, and Priest (don't call him Mister, Martin had said with a grin. Don't let Priest think he's in charge) was there.
"How are you getting on there baby bat?"

Vogel snarled a little at the nickname.
"Where are my brothers?" he demanded, trying to sound brave and not at all shaky.
"They're resting. But come with me, I got a special treat for you."

Vogel wanted to say no. But saying no might mean things were worse, and he was scared of worse. He followed Priest down the corridors, relieved to reach Icarus's cell.
"Eat," Priest ordered, so he did.

Icarus looked pale even before he fed, and was badly bruised, laying on the bed without responding. Vogel wasn't sure if he could respond even if he wanted to. For a moment Vogel considered poking him, before he decided that would be bad. So he just ate and left him in peace, knowing Icarus was scared of Priest too.

He expected to be taken back to his cell, but instead he was shown where the rest of the guys were. They looked tired, their skin clammy. They all smiled to see him, embracing him, and talking about the adventures they'd had until Priest pulled him away. Vogel was pretty sure they hadn't actually done any of that stuff, hadn't wrestled a bear or punched the Colonel or swam holding onto a turtle, but it was nice to dream. He was thrown back into his cell.

***

The next time he saw them, they were all shaking, and their faces had gone funny, their eyes looking almost hungry. They looked sick, and they didn't want to talk much. But they would still listen, so Vogel tried to make up stories of his own. They weren't as good as the older projects' ones were, but he hoped it might still help. When Priest retrieved him that time, he got punched a few times. He wished Gripps was there to hold him after, or Cross to sing, or Martin to make him laugh.

***

The third time, he understood. Icarus hadn't looked at him, and the guys didn't look either. They were barely awake. They hadn't eaten at all, and he understood. He didn't want to understand, but he did. He tried to move so that he was laying in the middle of the three of them, curled up on Gripps' chest, holding onto Martin and Cross's hands.

It was scary.

They must have known. They'd probably known at the start, but hadn't wanted to hurt him. He swallowed, and told himself it was his turn to be brave.
"Please feed on me," he whispered. They had never done that before, he didn't even know if it would work. But then blue light was lifting off of him, and the room felt dizzy and he was nearly sick, and then the world started going dark around the edges. It was Martin who pulled away first with a grunt, and the others followed, leaving him whimpering. He was sleepy.

He made himself look up, and was relieved to see they looked like themselves again.

***

When he next woke up, he was back in his cell in Blackwing. And the guys were there with him.

Chapter Text

Sneaking into Svlad's room was against the rules.

Lamia knew that, but she liked seeing him, and it had been weeks since she had last been allowed. Last time she'd seen him he'd been telling her all about a book he had read before where a boy had been in a huge piece of fruit carried by birds. They hadn't finished the story yet.

Mister Priest was away, and she was meant to be being a button. She liked being a button, and buttons didn't get into any trouble, so everyone was happy. Only she was very clever, much more clever than the guards. She'd found a button on the floor once, months and months and months ago. She'd hidden it into her cell, and she'd made herself into a button that looked like it. She had four armed guards watching her. So she had to pick her moment.

When there was a frantic knock at the door outside, she got her chance, swapping places with her button, and then being a little tiny teeny fly that could slip through the doors, and then she was a bubble floating down the corridor and then a moth, and she stopped to do some circles around the lights before she fell to the floor and was a marble, rolling along towards Svlad's room. She turned into a mouse as she slipped under his door, and made her way up to his bed.

Svlad didn't look well. He was pale, and there were nasty bruises on his face, but he grinned when he noticed her.
"Lamia?" he whispered, moving his blanket so she could slip underneath. She turned into her human form, cuddling up against him, and he flinched at every movement.
"Was it Him?"
"Failed more tests," Svlad whispered back. "They said I couldn't see you for weeks..." he trailed off, clinging to her. "You can't be found."
"Only here for a little while, and they think I'm a cute little button!"

Svlad looked worried, but he never argued, or got mad at her. Because he was the best.
"Okay, well, I have to go soon..." He swallowed. "I need to go out, and meet some new people for the Colonel. Lots of people are… are very interested in what I can do."

Svlad's eyes were damp, and Lamia only just remembered not to be a handkerchief because they were having a conversation.
"You're going out?" Out was where there was the sky, and birds, and clouds, and trees, and leaves... she'd been asking the nice scientist, the one that let her have cake when it was his kid's birthday, to bring her leaves to see. But going outside would mean seeing them all.
"It's not so great," Svlad answered.

"I could go instead?" she suggested, turning into the perfect image of Svlad, tilting her head and smiling at him. The bruises he had were hurting her, but she thought she was doing a good job of looking like him, and normally copying him made him laugh.

He stared at her, almost angry.
"No," he spat, and she cowered away, turning back into her human form. "You can't, Lamia. You'll get hurt."

She got hurt here, but now Svlad was crying and she didn't want to make him cry, so she cuddled him. The bed was small, but they could cuddle on the floor, using the bed as a wall. Svlad was still crying, almost until he fell asleep, Lamia cuddled to his chest as a teddy bear.

Lamia was clever, and Lamia was also brave. Brave like a little tiny ant, which she became to slip away from Svlad's arms, and climb onto the bed. Svlad was very tired, he hadn't slept for a long time.

He didn't wake up when the guards came, and they didn't look down the side of the bed when they found Svlad just where they expected him to be.

***

Lamia thought the day couldn't get any worse. Everything hurt, and she was frightened. There was blood on the face she had worn all day, and things were bad, and she understood why Svlad was scared. But when the car stopped back in Blackwing, it was Mister Priest who was waiting. Mister Priest always found her. She could be hiding as a pen in a box of a hundred pens, and he found her without even trying. He was going to know, and they were both going to be punished more.

Colonel Riggins patted her on the head.
"You did well today, Svlad. Priest, get him cleaned up." With that, he walked off, leaving her alone with Mister Priest. She bit her lip, trying not to cry until he struck her. Priest's hand fell on her shoulder, and she tensed automatically, her heart racing like a butterfly in her chest, and she wanted to be a butterfly, wanted to fly away and hide but she couldn't.

"Come on kid," Priest said, and if his voice wasn't soft it also wasn't as angry as he normally sounded. "You gotta clean yourself up. I talked to the Boss, you and Lamia can have a sleepover tonight. She's already waiting, looks like you and everything. Bet she missed you today."
Nervously, Lamia nodded, risking a glance up at him. Just for a second, she could have sworn that she saw him wink, but then he was pushing her towards the showers, dropping her button into her hand at the last moment.

It was funny, trying to wash in Svlad's body. He was taller than her. But she managed and then she was shown to the room, the door locked behind her.

She fell against Svlad's chest, her own form taking over as she clung to him, and he rubbed her back, shushing her softly.

Chapter Text

The funny thing was, he'd always used drowning as an attack. When his parents had asked what it had been like, if they could help, what he needed, he had told them how he felt like he was drowning, how everything had hurt, how he had struggled to breathe as water had filled his lungs, flooding over him, gasping for air. He might have flunked drama at school, but he'd got the hang of it now. They'd listened, and they'd offered him whatever he needed to try and help.

The first attack of Amanda's that he witnessed had been her drowning. And his words had been nothing, nothing compared to seeing what it was like, her gasping and flailing like a fish on dry land as she clutched at her throat, and he'd been lucky that day. He'd had the few pills he'd bought to show off in an emergency in his pocket, so he'd handed them over. And that had worked. She'd breathed deeper, and she'd opened her eyes, shaking in his arms, and he'd handed over the rest of the pills there and then. Knowing it wasn't enough, that they couldn't afford more.

And from then on, he'd been drowning. Because there was a lot of money they needed, money he had drunk and smoked away, and now here was his sister, the one person that always supported him, needing that money. Needing it so that she could live anything resembling the life she deserved. And he knew he'd made a mistake. Knew he'd ruined it all. But there were bills to pay, and Amanda needed medication, and he couldn't afford it. Not when he didn't work, not when the band had collapsed because of his own selfishness.

So he took what jobs he could, delivering leaflets and pizza. The hotel job was boring and tough, but it meant he could just about afford what she needed. And he had to try to keep his head above water, for both of them. If he lost that, they'd both drown.

Chapter Text

Bart was bored, and she was lonely.

She hoped Mister Priest would come in and visit soon. He was her favourite.

Everyone else was scared of her, even when she'd told them that they didn't need to be. They looked at her with big eyes and would try and not let her catch them looking. She didn't like them.

Even when she had her hug jacket most of them were still scared of her.

Mister Priest wasn't scared of her.

Her insides felt all twisty, like after she'd had a medical and they'd taken parts out. Something was bad, and she didn't know what.

Mister Priest wasn't scared of anything. He'd make it okay.

She was wearing her hug jacket now, her arms wrapped around herself. It was nice in a way. Sometimes Priest would pat her hair if she did good. She liked that. She wanted to be hugged but her parents were dead. She'd killed them, because she'd had to. No one hugged her now.

No one other than Mister Priest would go near her if they could stay away. It made her sad. And bored. And lonely.

Mister Priest hadn't been to see her for weeks.

She hoped he hadn't forgotten her.

***

There was talking in the corridor. Bart wasn't particularly interested in what was being said. It didn't matter to her, not really. It would all be boring. Blah blah testing and blah blah food and blah blah weapons. Then she heard a laugh.

She liked that laugh! It was Mister Priest's laugh, and she bounced as best she could in her hug jacket, where she was sitting. Mister Priest laughed like her. He was loud and happy and he'd grin at her when they'd done a mission, and he'd wipe the blood off her face and say she did good, and then he'd get her ice cream.

She was bouncing until the door opened, trying to hear. Mister Priest was angry at whoever he was talking to.
"You really think you can hold me Colonel? I'm playing along with your stupid little theory, but I want to see the kid."
"Why?"
"Because some of the fucks you hired are idiots. They keep forgetting to give her food."

Bart giggled, remembering how Priest had reacted when he'd found out she hadn't had food for eight days. He'd been nice to her, given her candy, and then he'd gone and she could hear him yelling. She'd heard things being thrown, and Mister Priest laughing, and she'd laughed in her cell. They'd remembered to give her food after that.

When Mister Priest came in, he was dressed funny. He was wearing clothes like her, but different colours - black, but his stripe was red not blue. She looked at him curiously, and blinked when she saw he was walking funny. He had handcuffs around his ankles.
"Hi Mister Priest!" She bounced excitedly, getting up and running to him. Her hug jacket meant she couldn't cuddle him, but she pressed her face against his chest, so she could feel him laugh. He patted her hair, crouching down.
"Hey kiddo, how are you?"
"Is it my birthday again?" she asked excitedly. It had been her birthday last time Mister Priest had visited a few weeks ago, and they had had a lot of fun. She had eaten ice cream and gone on a swing.

"Not today sweetheart," he murmured, leaning down and pressing his face against her hair for a moment.
"Oh..." she sighed sadly. "Why are you dressed funny?"
"Because the boss wants to rescind-" he paused, then laughed. "Because I had an argument with my boss, and he says I'm out of the field for a few weeks."
"Do I get to see you?" she asked. When Priest was on missions it could be months between when she got to see him. He sighed.
"Not for a bit kiddo. But its okay. After we can go for ice cream, alright?" He hugged her then, and that made her giggle. Because he never hugged her. But now he seemed not to want to let go.

"Now, Bart, look at me," he ordered, and she looked up into his eyes, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. "If any of these bastards hurts you when I'm not here to look out for you, you scream and raise hell okay? And after, you tell me."

She nodded.
"They're scared of me."
"Good." Priest grinned down at her. "They should be. Don't you worry girl, we'll go hunting soon." With that, he left. The other guards were pointing their guns at him, which seemed strange.

Bart would have waved, but her hug jacket stopped her from moving her hands.

Chapter Text

"Icarus," Mister Priest pushed open the door to Dirk's cell, and he cringed, drawing his knees up to his chest in an attempt not to be seen. Priest walked straight up to him, gripping him by the hair at the back of his head and pulling him back. "What's this I hear about you telling lies?"

"I.." Dirk swallowed. It hadn't been a lie, not really. The new doctor had just seemed nice. He knew not to say anything bad about Blackwing, because if he said that to someone who was caring, who would want to help, they could end up disappearing the way the kind nurse who had given him a cupcake had. So he'd told him that he was doing well, that everything was good, that he liked his job - and all of those lies were the ones he was meant to say. The ones he parroted to the men that Riggins took him to see, the ones that got to decide whether or not Blackwing was funded. Those weren't the lies he was being punished for.

"Well?"
"I didn't mean to," he whispered, and he knew that was the coward's way out.

"Wonder what your parents would think about you throwing the name away they picked out for you..." Priest sneered down at him. "I'd ask, but they're gone now. You remember?"
Dirk nodded quickly, shuddering. He remembered it. He remembered it all. He couldn't ever stop those memories poking at him, tearing holes in his skin.
"For the best. They'd be so ashamed of you."
"I know," Dirk whispered.

"So, what should you have said?"
"I should have told him my name is Svlad Cjelli." Dirk answered, his gaze down at the floor. Svlad Cjelli. Project Icarus. Always in trouble, and never able to move past what he had done wrong. Just a mistake.

It had been Mona who had encouraged him to try a different name, not that he wanted her to get into trouble over it. Officially she was Lamia, but she had asked him to call her Mona, so he did when they were alone. She liked that name, liked that it was hers.

He hadn't been able to understand a lot of what she talked about. But he could understand the idea of having something for yourself, and that was why he had become Dirk. And it had been so easy, when someone was nice, to try and share that with them.

He cringed as he was thrown back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying not to see as Mister Priest approached.

He screamed as the man's boots collided with his chest with a sickening crack, curling up and gasping for air at a sudden sharp pain. That didn’t stop it though. The blows kept falling.

"The doctor is going to come and see you tomorrow," Mister Priest told him. "You're going to tell him your name."

Dirk hesitated, but nodded quickly, still trying to breathe in. Mister Priest leans in, whispering in his ear.
"You're going to tell him your name, and then I'm going to kill him. Because he'll only report your injuries, and we don't want that, do we?"
Dirk shuddered, shaking with terror and pain, tears running down his face. Mister Priest smiles at him.
"You will play along, won't you Svladdy? You don't want to give me a reason to make it worse."

Dirk nodded. Moving hurt. Staying still hurt worse, and he could already tell he was going to yet again have a bruise covering his entire side. He was tired, and he'd got someone else he cared about killed. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say or do to make it better.

"Please.." he mumbled, not because it would have any effect, but because he had to try. "Please don't kill him."
"How will you learn, Svlad? You go around and you act like a person, and you need reminding..."

There was nothing he could say that would keep him out of trouble, he knew that. But he knew that if he offered enough, maybe Priest wouldn't carry out the murder, would sate his bloodlust another way. He swallowed drily, trying to think.
"I... I could learn by writing out my name," Svlad murmured, remembering what Priest had threatened last time, and for a second Priest looked unimpressed, and then there was a slight twitch to his expression that proved he was interested.

"Be back soon Svladdy." He walked off, returning with an exercise book and a pen. Svlad swallowed, his insides feeling almost bubbly with terror, but he held his hands out. Mister Priest snapped the first finger and he was screaming, before his hands were placed on the floor, position making it harder to breathe, and steel-toed boots stamped down, once, twice, three times.

Mister Priest patted his hair, and walked off, pausing by the door to look over his shoulder.
"Want to see that book filled by tomorrow morning."

Chapter Text

Martin had hated the boss's brat. Deep down, he knew it was unreasonable. The kid was a prisoner here just as much as they were, and he hadn't asked to be the favourite, but it was hard to see the kid wander along with a book under his arm or a teddy bear held in one hand, when Vogel got nothing at all. Martin knew that enjoying the chance to feed on the kid was evil, and cruel, and the kind of thing that Osmund would do, but the kid tasted good frightened and it was a chance to take some sort of revenge for the shittiness of their existence.

Martin hadn't seen the boy for a while now, hoped that he was still alive. Even if he hated him, he didn't want him dead. The kid was a brat, but he wasn't the real evil here. The real evil was his brother, the colonel, and the rest of the senior staff. And they were the reason that Martin couldn't remember the last time he'd been fed.

It was getting worse. The whole of the outside facility could have burned down, for all he knew. There were no light cycles in their room, and they hadn't been put in the pits. It was just the four of them in an otherwise empty cell, slowly starving.

To start with, they'd tried to keep Vogel's spirits up, to stop him from worrying about what was going on with stories and games. But as time had ticked on, they'd encouraged him to rest more, to conserve his strength. He'd fed off each of them, but when he had tried from Martin a few days ago, there had only been a momentary splutter of blue light, and then nothing.

Martin, Cross and Gripps had nothing left to give him, and it was likely that Vogel wasn't going to last much longer without a meal.

Martin groaned, trying to move, to sit up. The energy was too much, so instead he rolled onto his front, completing the arduous crawl to the door and knocking against it with one hand.
"We need food," he called out, already anticipating the shock he would get in punishment. He was too tired and hungry to heal.

His brother's laughter filled the air through the comm, and then it cut to silence.

***

The door opened, and the guards that arrived kept their distance, but they weren't carrying the spray that would knock them out. Martin tried to pull some of their energy to him, but he was too tired. They put something down, and walked away, locking the door behind them.

Martin could just about make out Icarus. He tried to get his energy but he couldn't pull from that distance, could only wait and feel Icarus waking up and panicking. It smelled good, but he couldn't reach him. He was only just able to stop himself sobbing. He could hear the others breathing still, but Vogel was really struggling and even Cross had started to shiver constantly as his body fought for life.

And now Icarus was there, smelling of food but too far away to reach.

Time stretched on, Icarus's terror giving way to hints of confusion.
"Why aren't you attacking?" he asked, struggling to stand, skidding slightly as he got up. He pressed himself into the corner.
"I can't walk," Martin muttered. Gripps had stopped talking, and Vogel was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness. He doubted they'd survive more than another day or two and now their food was standing out of reach. If he'd been able to crawl over there, he could have brought some energy back for the others. He had no strength left. Whatever they were testing for, they had failed.

When Icarus stepped forwards, he looked up in surprise, and then Icarus continued. Closer and closer, before collapsing to his knees in front of Martin, reaching to lay a hand on his arm.
"Take what you need," the boy whispered.

Martin wished he had enough strength and pride to either argue or refuse. But his guys’ lives were on the line, so he said nothing, just inhaled, energy flowing from Icarus to him. He took what he could, feeling Icarus grow weak before him. He pulled away before it could do lasting damage, easing Icarus to the side as gently as he could before he reached out, wrapping his arms around Vogel and willing him to feed. Once Vogel's breathing was a little more regular, he shared the energy with the others, and held them close, listening to the noises they made as they slowly began to calm down.

Icarus looked peaceful when he slept. Martin reached out, stroking a strand of hair back from his face, wondering if the boy knew he'd saved them all.

Chapter Text

The truth was, he was never truly safe from what his brain did to him. Even when he was curled up in bed with Dirk, even when they were laughing with Farah and sharing ice cream. Even when things were going well, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't suddenly find that things were going wrong.

The tablets that he was able to afford now, that Dirk carried in his pocket - well, they helped, but they weren't a solution. They'd hold the illness at bay, most of the time. It would mean that he wouldn't have an attack for small things, the sound of a door closing or the brush of the wind. But it would still be set off, sometimes. Then the pills would help control the attack.

He'd told Amanda he'd got better, and she had lived with that hope. He'd felt guilt for his lie, but it was all he could offer, and anyway she had needed the medicine then. But he wasn't going to get better, not this time. This was his life.

He shivered, trying not to let himself worry or think too deeply about it. Even thinking about attacks could trigger them on bad days. But it was easy to make a mistake.

***

Dirk wasn't cooking, because Dirk wasn't allowed to cook. Dirk was in the process of constructing a meal, supervised by Mona who was currently being kitchen scales in order to help him. Farah had come over for dinner, which she did most days, and Todd was messing around on his guitar. Dirk had been asking Todd to give him lessons for weeks now, and Todd was finding it harder to find excuses to refuse. He knew Dirk would be terrible. But it would make Dirk happy, and Todd was very bad at ignoring things that could make Dirk happy.

He ran through a few old chords, remembering when he was playing to crowded stages, which was another thing he'd messed up with his lies. He'd been a mess, and now Dirk and Farah were in his life, and in some ways they were both messes too but they were good messes, messes he didn't deserve. Messes he was going to cling on to with both hands now that he had the chance, because they were too amazing to slip through his fingers. Because they were more than he deserved, and he was never not going to be grateful for them.

He smiled to himself, strumming at the guitar absentmindedly, watching as Farah cleaned a gun, and hearing Mona beep reassuringly at Dirk, letting him know that he was doing everything right. Everything was good. Everything was peaceful, and perfect, and calm.

There was a faint noise from the kitchen as Dirk knocked over a bowl, cursing to himself as he tidied up, and Todd tensed at the noise, waiting for the attack. He'd been feeling on edge all day.

He tried to remember if he'd taken a tablet that morning. Dirk had been distracting, delighting in pleasuring him, and he couldn't remember if he'd had one or not. He put his guitar down, afraid he might lash out in terror or might drop it when the attack hit. He tried to keep breathing.

Farah was at his side.
"Do you need a tablet?"

He nodded, his heart racing, gasping for air, and then Dirk was there, pressing a tablet into his mouth, then giving him some water. He sipped the water, frowning as he swallowed it. Dirk was rubbing his back.
"You're at home. You're safe. I'm here, I'm Dirk, and Farah is here too. Whatever you are seeing isn't real. You are having an attack."

He shook his head slightly, taking a couple of deep breaths and then looking Dirk in the eye.
"We caught it in time."

Dirk relaxed, looking happy and embracing him for a moment before skipping off to fetch the bowls of food for everyone. They settled on the sofa, Mona a blanket over them. Normally Dirk was in the middle, would fight for the prime position, but today he was happy to surrender his space to Todd, nuzzling his shoulder as Farah flicked through the channels.

"You're doing better," Dirk said with a smile. "You haven't had an attack for what, a week now?"
"Eight days," Todd agreed. Being between cases, life was calmer, and the attacks came less often. But even then his brain wouldn't leave him alone, because he lived in fear of when an attack would come.

He knew it would. In some ways waiting was worse than the attack itself.

Chapter Text

"Aw fuck," Cross mutters, staring at the fire. It's been a long day, and Amanda's nearly finished her second beer. She looks up in confusion, turning to Martin to try and work out if there's a problem. Vogel and Beast are asleep tangled together in a blanket, and Martin is reading something he's picked up from somewhere. Gripps is sitting beside Cross, his own beer empty at his feet, gazing at the stars.
"What?" Martin asks, and he's on his feet in a second, his baseball bat in his hand.

"I smell mint," Cross mutters, and Vogel sits up, whimpering. Gripps swears, reaching out to grab Cross, and at that moment Cross goes stiff against him. Gripps pulls him back, away from the fire, placing him down on the ground, and takes off his jacket, putting it down under Cross's head.

Amanda has had a lot of seizures in her life. They're often tangled up with her pararibulitis, as she drowns or chokes. She's never seen someone else have one, and it frightens her. Cross's body starts to convulse after a few moments, and Gripps is counting, keeping track of how long it's been. She has her arms around herself.

Martin mutters something, she can't hear what, but then Vogel is running back to the van, searching through their clothes.Beast notices what's happened, and she runs towards him.
"Shakes! Afeared, shakes!" She tries to grab Cross and Martin pulls her back.
"Hey Beastie, don't do that," he mutters. "Get a blanket, help Vogel."

"Beast blanket," sShe repeats, then goes to do what she was told to.
"Drummer, you need me to find you something to do or you okay?" Martin asks, walking over and placing a hand on her back. She sobs slightly.
"You... so calm..."

"Happens sometimes," Martin mutters, watching, his jaw tense. The next word is just a growl. “Blackwing." He swallows, watching. "How we doing, Gripps?"
"70 seconds," Gripps answers, watching closely, staying at a safe distance.

"Drummer, go look after Beastie and Vogel," Martin orders, and Amanda nods, racing off to the van. She isn't sure if it is a task that needed doing, or just Martin being kind and keeping her out of the way. She is grateful - her own heart is racing, and she doesn’t want an attack.

Vogel seems to notice that panic when she arrives, looking over at her curiously.
"Need me to eat, Boss?"
She nods, and feels the tension bleed from her to Vogel. He doesn’t take much, never does unless she hads a full attack, but it helps a little.
"Afeared," Beast mumbles, and Amanda cuddles her. She holds up a blanket. "Good blankit?"
"Good blanket," Amanda agrees, wishing she had a joint.

"This happen a lot?" she asks Vogel, feeling almost guilty that she hadn't known.
"Yeah," Vogel shrugs slightly. "Gripps said he got an intracranial injury leading to tonic-clonic seizures..." he frowns a little, parroting something he’s heard without understanding quite what he means. "Means sometimes he gets like that. Smells and sees weird shit, then gets shaky and sometimes he ...has an accident, so I got to get him clothes, and then after he's hungry and tired and needs looking after. So I help with that! And I give him some of my chocolate!" He says the last bit beaming with pride, and Amanda reaches out and ruffles his hair.
"That's because you're great," she praises him. He grins widely.

They jump apart at a yell from Martin.
"He's awake!"

Amanda races back, Vogel following with new clothes and Beast with the blanket. Cross is laying on the ground, his eyelids fluttering slightly with exhaustion.
"That one took 186 seconds," Gripps tells him. "Which makes it the eighteenth longest one you've had, and in the top 8.4% based on length of attack."

"Hey, Drummer, you think you can give him a snack?"
Amanda settles down, beside Cross, sitting with him and offering him her hand. He takes it, inhaling deeply, and she feels her energy flowing into him. After a few moments he stops, his eyes closing.
"Me and Gripps are gonna get him cleaned up," Martin tells them. "You three, pack up. I don't wanna stay here."

Amanda nods, and Vogel takes her hand.
"We nearly got caught by them once. He had an attack and we weren't moving on because he was too tired and Blackwing came. So Martin says if he has one we move."
"That's smart," Amanda tries to reassure him, tidying up what little they have. When it's done, Gripps carries Cross into the van, laying him down and settling beside him. Even the movement doesn't wake Cross. They take the blanket from Beast, and Martin starts the van up. Vogel sits beside Cross, watching him closely, and Amanda sits with them, turning to Gripps.
"Is he.. okay?"
"He just needs time to recover," Gripps says. "He's done it 215 times before. Took a bad beating and..." Gripps shrugs slightly. "Scarring on the brain. Nothing we can do but try and keep him safe."

In his sleep, Cross cuddles closer to Gripps, and Vogel leans against Amanda for a hug.

Chapter Text

Some days, if he tried very hard, Svlad could remember before. He could remember getting things like food and water without having to earn them, when it had not been a privilege not to go to bed hungry but an expectation. He remembered warmth, and gentle arms that had wrapped around him, and the knowledge that he was wanted not for what he was but because he was where he belonged.

Svlad tried not to think about those memories.

***

He tried to always start the day with a smile, so that if it was the Colonel that was first in he wouldn't be seen as being surly or difficult. It was easy to smile some days, if he wasn't in pain, but he tried even if he was hurting because he wanted to make the Colonel pleased.

That was the case today. His chest was bruised from a beating, and his arm was in a sling from the last series of tests he'd done poorly on, but he was smiling as the door opened, and for once it was the Colonel there. He smiled slightly to see him.
"Hello Svlad. How are you feeling today?"
"Good Sir," Svlad answered with a smile, gratitude filling him as he was handed a meal bar for breakfast. He opened the wrapper quickly, eating it as he followed the Colonel through the halls for tests.

"Svlad," the Colonel's hand squeezed his shoulder, and something in his voice worried Svlad a lot. He sounded serious, and serious was never a good sign. "The tests today might hurt a little, but afterwards you and project Lamia can have some play time, does that sound good?"

Svlad nodded quickly. Being able to see Lamia was the best thing that happened here, and he would be happy to endure whatever it took to ensure that he got time with her. The Colonel smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair fondly.
"That's my brave boy Svlad."

Svlad smiled at him, and tried not to let the fear he felt show. The Colonel always looked out for him, always protected him, took care of him. He reminded himself of that as the experiments started, and the pain began.

***

He was barely conscious when the scientists removed the final tube from where it ran into his arm, but when he felt a touch to his hair he looked up again, to see the Colonel smiling kindly at him.
"You did very well today."

Svlad smiled at that, because it was nice to hear, even if it hurt. Even if everything hurt, being told he'd done well was a good thing. He wanted to do well, to earn praise, even when things were hard. The Colonel helped him with the zip for his jumpsuit so he could fasten it over his new bandages, and they headed to Lamia's cell.

"Lamia hasn't been feeling very well the last few days, so if she isn't up for company we'll have to leave her," the Colonel warned.

Svlad nodded and made himself keep smiling, even as his heart broke. He had been promised time with Lamia and now it might be snatched away. He wanted to see her.

The door to Lamia's room was always guarded, but when they saw the Colonel the guards let them in, and then Svlad ran to Lamia.

She was currently a small black kitten. Her hair - no, fur, Svlad corrected himself - was damp, and her eyes were huge and expressive and afraid. She let out a soft mewl of fear.

Svlad scooped her up, holding her against his chest and shushing her gently.
"You have fifty minutes," the Colonel informed him, and then he walked away, leaving Svlad with his friend. She was scared, and he didn't have long to help.

"Hey," he greeted her, cradling her in his arms and moving as far from the guards as possible. He could feel her shivering. "Come on Lamia, it's okay, just show me what you need..."

She turned into a teddy bear then, so he moved her so he was holding her against his chest, his head leaning against her fluffy ears as he whispered to her that it was okay, that he would help keep her safe.

For a long time she did nothing, and he just held her and said nice things, but then as his eyes were closing gentle arms wrapped around him, and she looked up at him fondly.
"I missed you."
"I missed you too. I'm doing what I can to earn time with you, I'm working hard on the tests," he promised her, and she nodded.

"I was scared."
"I know," he soothed. "I know, but you don't need to be scared. I'm going to have to go soon, but for now do you want a story?"

She nodded, and he started to tell her what he remembered of stories from before, about a little girl who made friends with three bears in the woods because she could turn into a bed that was any size, of the girl who tamed a wolf who tried to eat her grandmother.

Lamia was giggling when the door opened, and he stood up to leave without protest, not wanting to get her hurt. Lamia flashed him a nervous smile as he was marched away, and Svlad felt something flutter in his chest that seemed a lot like hope.

The adults here in Blackwing never really helped him, or any of the test subjects. But he could find a way to help the others.

Chapter Text

Fighting comes in many forms, and it isn't always possible to live with someone without fighting with them.

***

The snow was thick on the ground, and Silas dragged his feet. He was shivering a little, despite the coat that Wygar had insisted he had worn. It was cold, and he wanted nothing more than to be curled up by a roaring fire with his beloved. Unfortunately, Panto was always driven by adventure, and seemed to think that exploring the forest was a better use of their time.

Panto glanced back at him.
"Hurry, my dear slugabed, or the snow shall have melted before we fetch the fruit of the ice cream tree."

"It's cold," Silas muttered.
"Of course it is my love. The ice cream tree only bears fruit when the snow is on the ground. We should harvest some, your brother loves it, and it will be fun to share some ourselves." With that, Panto easily jumped over a snowdrift, and Silas groaned but followed behind him.

He paused, bending down to the ground and picking up a handful of snow, packing it into a ball and then throwing it at Panto's back. It missed, a little off target, but exploded on contact with Panto's hair, leaving chunks of ice tangled in the pale pink strands.

Panto spluttered indignantly, turning around and glaring at Silas before scooping up snow himself, and flinging it with rather more precision. Silas laughed, stumbling backwards and grinning up at him.

***

Tina pushed open the door of the detective agency, to get hit in the face with a small plastic dart, which immediately turned into a blushing young woman.
"Sorry Tina," Mona mumbled. "Are you okay?"

Tina nodded, wondering when this became classed as normal for her.
"I'm fine, I didn't hurt you did I?" As she asked that, her gaze drifted to the room beyond, and she saw that Dirk was hidden behind one of the desks, a nerf gun in his hands. Todd was hidden behind Farah's desk, a pile of screwed up paper beside him.

"No..."
"What are you doing?" Farah asked, glancing in.
"Todd said that I needed to get some work done," Dirk explained, then offered no more, as though what he had said would answer the question asked. Farah wrapped her arms around Tina's waist, taking a couple of deep soothing breaths.

"Dirk, you do need to get work done."
"I do," Dirk agreed. "But Mona wanted to help, so she was being a pen, and Todd said it was weird, it was like writing in her blood, so she decided to throw herself at him, and really it all..." he waved his hands, as though that explained it.

Farah stepped around Tina, and for a moment Tina worried she was going to be angry or upset by the fighting that had been happening but then she smiled, and pushed Tina towards Todd's desk.
"Can you fold paper airplanes?"

Tina nodded, and Farah grinned.
"Good, we need ammunition. Mona, come on, you can join the women's team."
Mona rolled over, setting herself up as a small catapult, much to Tina's delight.

***

Amanda was asleep in the van when she heard a noise outside. She considered for a moment just staying there in her bed, letting the boys do whatever it was they wanted and letting them clear up the mess. Beast curled up against her, pulling her blankets around them both.
"Loudnoisee boys," Beast muttered, and Amanda nodded, brushing her fingers through Beast's hair.
"I know, they're being very rude, just ignore them."

"Boss!" Vogel called out, and Amanda got to her feet. "They keep chasing me!"

Amanda stuck her head around the door of the van at a series of whoops, and laughed at what she saw. All four of the Rowdies were coated in mud and leaves. She wasn't quite clear on if this was intentional, or just a side effect of them trying to be camouflaged. Vogel in particular appeared to be more leaves than person. He dived behind the van, and she closed the door to make sure he didn't try and get inside.

"You gonna play Boss?" Vogel asked, and Martin winked at her, brushing a leaf out of his jacket as he smirked.
"You should come and play."

She considered. It looked like they had been rolling around in the mud for a while, and she wasn't sure when she'd next get the chance to shower. She shrugged off her jacket, placing it over Beast, and then whooped in delight.
"Oh you boys are going down! Vogel, with me!" She rushed towards Martin, feeling his strong arms wrapping around her as they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

***

Fighting comes in many forms. But when love is there, more often than not, good things find a way.