Agent Washington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unrecovered) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hfm_logs2015-08-20 07:10 pm
unrecovered) wrote in hfm_logs2015-08-20 07:10 pm
And I Ran [Closed]
Warnings: Violence! Also probably swearing.
Location: Near the warehouses
Characters: Wash, Greg, Casey, and Bones
When: About a week after Bones reemerges from the subways
Summary: The usual morning jog turns into a Nox fight, because literally everyone in this group has terrible luck.
There was something to be said for routine, especially when the rest of your life made a point of being in a constant state of upheaval. Even though Greg had moved out, and Bones had recently come from a month-long bout in the subways, Wash made sure that the morning jog still happened every day, like clockwork. It meant that, for an hour every morning, he could go as hard as he wanted, enough to get the day started and the cobwebs shaken from his brain and to let him feel like he still had some semblance of control over his situation; it also meant that he could share his cooldown with someone (though it was a full workout for Greg; he had to remind himself of that sometimes).
For the past few days, Bones and Casey had taken to joining them. They kept up, and it was good to have them around; Wash wasn't going to complain.
"Another mile or so and we'll call it good."
Location: Near the warehouses
Characters: Wash, Greg, Casey, and Bones
When: About a week after Bones reemerges from the subways
Summary: The usual morning jog turns into a Nox fight, because literally everyone in this group has terrible luck.
There was something to be said for routine, especially when the rest of your life made a point of being in a constant state of upheaval. Even though Greg had moved out, and Bones had recently come from a month-long bout in the subways, Wash made sure that the morning jog still happened every day, like clockwork. It meant that, for an hour every morning, he could go as hard as he wanted, enough to get the day started and the cobwebs shaken from his brain and to let him feel like he still had some semblance of control over his situation; it also meant that he could share his cooldown with someone (though it was a full workout for Greg; he had to remind himself of that sometimes).
For the past few days, Bones and Casey had taken to joining them. They kept up, and it was good to have them around; Wash wasn't going to complain.
"Another mile or so and we'll call it good."
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This whole workout routine had left Greg more than a little reluctant from the very start of things, and there had been some small, foolish hope that moving out would grant him at least a tiny reprieve. Wash's definition of 'exercise' was just a bit more thorough than Greg's, after all. Being the most out of shape in the group didn't feel much better, but at least it was good company.
Still, beyond general wheezing and the occasional need to stop and catch his breath, Greg followed after with only minimal complaint. It was hard to get too upset about someone looking out for your health, after all. Even if it felt in the moment like he was dying.
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He was along mostly to get out his excess morning energy, largely brought on by the brand new sleep schedule he'd lost the fight with Bones about. Casey didn't even have one of those during the school year, especially with most of his friends being nocturnal by necessity. Still, it had been easier to go along with it than fight about it, and only a little harder than sneaking out in the middle of the night when the mood struck.
"Hey Greg, think your shoe's comin' untied!"
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Now? Now he chugged along, hanging back with Greg to offer encouragement- it's not easy on him, he can see that. but he's doing it anyway, working hard and that? That's more effort than he'd ever seen in half the idjits he had to work with in Georgia. "Hold up Wash."
Bones slows to a stop alongside Greg- he'd been adamant about giving the man a chance to drink, walk, or just breathe. FItness is well and good but not when the chase kills a man.
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He stopped and turned around, raising his arms above his head in a stretch. "You know, I've been thinking about getting you Velcro." He said it with a grin - he still had his sense of humor, after all.
The grin dropped off his face as a seam tore in the air not fifteen feet behind Greg, dripping Nox into the street.
Shit. Shit. They'd all been working out - Greg was exhausted - he was out of his armor - none of them were armed-
If there was a worst possible scenario for morning workouts, this was it. He should have planned for this- he should have known-
He dropped into a defensive stance. "You three get out of here!"
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He didn't look. He didn't NEED to look, the shock on Wash's face told him everything he needed to know.
Last time he was told to run he stayed and shit got way too uncomfortable. Now? He does just as he's damn well told, putting his shoulder to Greg's abdomen- the man was exhausted they couldn't expect him to run and like hell he was gonna sprint without knowing he and the kid were on the way with him- and lifted.
Oh his back would hate him later but for the ten, fifteen, thirty feet he'd need to get them out of the goddamn way? It would hold. It was a solid fireman's carry and he started running as soon as he had Greg secure with a grunted "Beg pardon."
Casey didn't get that same luxury. He reached out with his will, an invisible band around his middle, and hauled ass. Didn't pull the kid along behind him so much as it lifted him up, bobbing behind him and Greg as he sprinted like a spindly little balloon.
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Greg did look, as that heavy sensation of dread reached through the air to them. His face, flushed from exertion, lost its color. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this on a good day, and he certainly couldn't handle it now, down to his last dregs of energy. He'd barely made it out of his last encounter, and there were already so many--
Suddenly, there was a pressure, and his feet were out from under him, and he was moving. For a dreadful second, Greg thought something much nastier had him, before all the pieces came together. "Ahgh--s-sorr...thanks--"
Then, he went even tenser in Leonard's hold, craning his neck back to see. "Wait, Wash!"
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That's fine.
He's faced worse odds.
Offensive stance, crouch, lunge forward and CHARGE aaaaaaand be lifted off the ground and yanked backwards and what the heck-
"AUGH, are you kidding me?!" he shouted, mostly to Bones but also to the whole entire universe for letting him be in this position. He was off the ground because of Bones's LAME telekinesis and was being yanked behind like a DUMB kite, or a SUCKY wooden duck toy pulled by a STUPID-
Greg's shout refocused him. Oh man...
"We can't bail on him!" He was kicking and struggling like a fish on a line. It seemed wrong, Casey Jones running out on a friend, so wrong it was like he was seeing out of another person's eyes, someone totally foreign to Casey who would watch a friend about to get swarmed and ripped apart and run away from and not towards him.
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Provided he came back.
Right.
He forced himself to stay in the moment, shoving all the memories screaming for his attention away and trying to swallow his own terror. Just because he believed he could handle dying again didn't mean he wanted to, but that was exactly what he'd set himself up for. He focused instead on the rift - not too big, not too many Nox pouring out, but definitely enough to outnumber them and one right in front of him-
He dropped low and lunged forward, driving his shoulder into the Nox's ribs (or where its ribs would be) and ignoring the claws that raked up his arm. He caught a shadowy appendage the next time claws came flying at him, threw all his weight against it, and swung the Nox - one of the smaller specimens - in a tight arc, letting it go just in time for it to crash into another Nox. Three down - not out, but down - and only about a dozen more to go - at least, right now. He could keep these guys busy for long enough. He could do this.
That was about when another Nox all but tackled him from behind and he went down hard, face down sprawling on the pavement.
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Didn't they? He couldn't spare a look over his shoulder but the yell'n from Greg and the frustrated struggling of Casey told him that no. Wash was not, in fact, doing the rational, reasonable, MILITANT thing and fall'n back. He was hold'n the line to what? Buy time? He was in goddamn JOGGING SHOES for christ's sake! What the hell was he gonna do to the Nox, bullrush 'em? Stupid self sacrificial blondes that kept mak'n his life hell. Stupid kids that kept strugg'n against his grip and mak'n him slip. Stupid goddamn Nox that screamed in the back of his head and made it hard to focus.
Get gone. Get 'em home. Get 'em safe.
It'd be simpler if his lizard brain wasn't screaming bloody, terrified murder. He hadn't tried this kind of sprint while carr'n another body in well over a year. He sure as hell never tried it while also keep'n a struggl'n body safely away from the fight with the power of his MIND. Somth'n had to give.
Unfortunately, it was his knee. Or ankle. Or something. Something slid and something went sideways and maybe he didn't keep his legs as straight as he should- but a good fifteen, twenty feet away from the fight he lost hold of Casey- but had enough sense to simply let go instead of accidentally flig'n the kid into the pavement. He and Greg didn't get that luxury. He tried us'n his will to catch him but it only really softened the blow on Greg, he twisted and landed hard on his side. No heads cracked, no limbs busted- just. Exhausted and terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.
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He'd been acting on that instinct, the knowledge that this was not his wheelhouse, he was in no place to handle this, he had to get out of here and get out of the way. Craning to look around Leonard, though, something twisted, something deeply mortified.
He had magic, and Wash didn't. It was his duty to make sure Wash was safe, one way or another, but Wash was the one back there, brawling with those things, defenseless and determined, while Greg was getting hoisted off to safety. Wash took a hit, and Greg felt it like an impact on his own body. Wash went down, and Greg felt it like a knife. Wash, who had died once already. Wash, who had come to Greg for help after dying. Wash, who he'd asked not to face things alone. Greg had one responsibility, and he was leaving him behind.
"Leonard, we have t--"
The words were lost, along with his train of thought and orientation, as he was suddenly tumbled across the pavement. Leonard may have done his best to soften the hit, but Greg had a lot of mass to hit the ground, and it didn't hit well. A whole new set of pains burst out from the asphalt to join the aches from running, leaving him sprawled and groaning in the street.
With Wash down, the Nox were already stampeding past, all too ready to tear into the fallen trio. It was like wounded prey, out there for them to take. Darkness was coming. He had to find his magic, find his feet, find his courage. None of them came to him. He was too lost.
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But he'd jump in to burn those things with it if Bones would just put him down-
Suddenly Bones's grip failed. The sensation went from floating to falling with no warning and Casey couldn't correct his footing. He skidded backwards on his heel for a single moment, tried to run backwards a few paces and then stumbled. He landed backwards on top of Bones and Greg, disoriented enough to lose his flame.
Not quite quick enough to get it back before a Nox was on top of him. His hands darted out to grab the thing's hooked jaws before it could bite his head off, but the heat in his hands wasn't rebuilding fast enough and the Nox was just too strong for Casey to do anything but slow it. There were more almost on top of them.
He wasn't afraid, he kept telling himself. His friends needed help. Being afraid would just make getting the fire back that much harder. He wasn't afraid. His fire wasn't coming back and dammit he wasn't afraid!
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Just in time to see Bones fall and Greg and Casey hit the pavement. The Nox wasted no time surging past Wash and swarming his friends, going after them with fangs bared and he-
And he was useless. He couldn't fight the Nox- he couldn't even hold them off long enough for his friends to escape, and now they were going to die along with him, and it was all his fault.
No- No, he had to do something- there had to be something- anything-
He couldn't let them die!
His control faltered and failed. Something inside him - something he'd been looking for since he'd arrived - something he wasn't even sure he had - snapped, pouring out energy that had been building up, untapped, for months. He got his feet under him and started to stand, reaching out for them as though it would make a difference-
And the air around him exploded, billowing out in a concussive force that bowled some Nox over and tore into the rest, even reaching far enough to damage the rift.
Wash swayed as a wave of exhaustion rolled over him and dropped back to his knees, catching himself before he hit the pavement. What had- how had- had that been him?!
Somehow, that didn't seem physically possible.
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He got a hand out. Tried to push but that cool, clean focus he needed just- wasn't there. All he could see was black, all he could hear were whispers and the subaudible whine of a ship breaking herself apart around him.
All he could hear was Marcus' voice and Khan's vicious chuckle.
Locked up like this he took the first blow right in the chest, a claw raking along his hand and wrist and this was it, he was done because he wasn't fucking good enough-
Then the air around them bellowed like an animal, a sharp crack of power that popped his ears and shredded the Nox on top of him. Shredded the next few sprinting for them, that cleared a path to Wash.
"...what the hell-"
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home again home again
It took three before Leonard managed to menace one enough to actually TAKE them. Goddamn natives and their goddamn issues. Nevermind he couldn't actually lift the Taxi's back wheels up to keep it from leaving, idjit left his parking break on, it was a good enough threat and comedic circumstance to get them driven the rest of the way back. Gett'n up the STAIRS now, that was the next problem. But Casey was nothing if not intensely helpful and Greg could keep his legs under him long enough to get to the elevator. Leonard figured he could brace Wash on his back long enough to get him where he needed to be.
The sofas in the living room probably weren't the best choice but he wanted everyone where he could see them and treat them at once. Bottles of water were handed out, ice packs made, and once he'd found the damn thing, he started going over the worse look'n of the scrapes everyone had with his dermal regenerator. IT might not hold for much longer without a proper charge, but till it died? He'd patch people up.
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Now, slumped on the couch, armored in ice packs, Greg finally felt like he could breathe again. He trusted Leonard to know what he was doing with the crazy future healy thing, and quietly thanked the powers that be he wouldn't have to explain all the scrapes and gashes to Rose. The last thing he needed was her fussing, after all that.
"I... I've got to be honest, you guys." He looked grimly between Casey, Leonard, and Wash's unconscious body. "I really... really don't think I can get up to run tomorrow."
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Casey's good mood just couldn't be dampened, even as his friends were sore and injured. They'd recover eventually, after some rest, and when they were all healed up they still would have won the fight, Wash still would have his magic, and they'd be ready to do it again and better.
Not that there weren't things to be grumpy about. Apparently, if Bones ever took don't worry, I'm fine as an answer they'd know there was an invasion of pod people going on. He'd escaped with a few scrapes and bumps and a little wooziness, but he was stuck on the sick couch anyway. Some people took the hits better than others, but would Bones listen? Nooooooo...
"So guess we just gotta go out armed next time, right?" He said, eyes on Bones as he putters around the room. "Yo, Greg, how good're you at knife fighting?"
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They could get as fancy as they wanted or as awful. He wouldn't care. No judgement tonight. They'd more than earned a little comfort food and he didn't rightly feel like cooking. Maybe a pie. He'd see what they had that he could make into a pie. "Drink your water Casey-"
"First rule of a knife fight is you're gonna get cut." He rattled it off without thinking, going back over one of the deeper lacerations on Wash's shoulder. "So please tell me you're not all that well versed in it yourself."
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"Wh--why are we talking about knife fights? Why are knives our first alternative?!" He attempted sitting up as a show of true and demonstrative protest, but his back gave a creak in warning and he ended up just sinking deeper into the couch.
"Oorgh... this is about all the adventure I can stand for the next few days. Or lifetimes. Do whatever you fellas need, I think I have to stick to gardening."
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About half the mutants and monsters he fought used some sort of blade, and he had friendly spars against his fair share of real pointy things. Maybe it WAS a bit much for a beginner. "I'll just make you a taser, no prob."
He chugs about a third of the water bottle before adding, "Plus we kinda rocked it there towards the end. Once Wash's back on his feet we'll be practic'lly unstoppable!"
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Of all the first thoughts to have while waking up, it wasn't the worst. He was on something soft, and the conversation sounded calm - at least, as calm as conversations ever got around here - and that meant the situation had improved, right?
Right. Okay.
But he couldn't lie here forever - he had to get up. He had- he had to- oh, there was something-
"-you know, for when your magic wipes you out!"
Right. That was it. He had magic now. He had to learn how to use it, because he sure as hell hadn't been doing too hot without it. He had people to protect. Much as he hated it, he also had a war to win, and he couldn't do that with a weapon he couldn't use.
But before he could even think about that, he had to get up first.
He struggled back to full consciousness, opening his eyes just in time to hear his name. "Gimme a day," he managed, voice hoarse. He didn't sound too good, but a day was still all it would take to have him up and running again. He could do this. He'd had worse.
He started to roll over - to get off the couch, to sit up, to do something that didn't involve being flat on his back - but didn't get very far before a wave of exhaustion and nausea slammed into him. He stopped where he was, half on his side, and groaned heavily. "Worst. Hangover. Ever," he groused into the couch cushion. "Of all time."
Okay, maybe this was going to take more than a day.
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Even if he hated the idea of putting Greg in a position where he'd have to do violence. it didn't suit the man. Hell it didn't suit the kid for all he was good at it and it CERTAINLY didn't suit him- he was a doctor, not a solider. But he could see the point of it. He just- rathered that they didn't haveta.
Cuts sealed he moves away, pulling a hypo from the kit and flipping through what medication he had left. With some time and a little labwork he could probably brew up replacement cartridges for the tool. For now he used it sparingly- but after a day like this? He wasn't gonna hold back on them. There was bound to be a muscle relaxant left- not that he got a chance to look too much before Wash was groan'n and roll'n over like an idjit.
"You are gonna be on bedrest for a week. No argument. And quit mov'n, idjit. Y'gonna make yourself sick." At least he didn't try to sit up and make it even worse. Relaxant forgotten for the moment he flipped through till he found the cartridge he was look'n for, slid it into place, and jabbed Wash in the side of the neck with the force he usually reserved for Kirk. "Give that about five seconds, should help with the head and the stomach. Greg, lean your head up?"
He plucked another cartridge from his medkit, set it in place, and depressed the hypo against the side of his neck- much more gently than he had for Wash. "Give that about five to ten, your back should loosen up."
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"But really, guys, I don't need a weapon or whatever. They don't even work right on those things, do they?" Backup plans were all well and good, but it would be better to make sure they actually worked. Either way, Greg was still having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of fighting at all; even after all the time he'd been here, he'd done a pretty good job denying the necessity until today.
Greg considered waving off Leonard's administrations, but the doctor was too quick darting from one patient to the next for him to do anything but rub the spot afterwards, slightly bewildered. "Oh. Uh, thanks. Man, the future's neat. No needles, no spit. I hope we invent one of those soon."
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Casey was only kind of listening to Bones as he watched him flit around the room. Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah, trying to argue with him that they weren't as awesome as they were. What was the point? They had a fight to win and now they knew how to win it. More or less. Most of the work was taken care of as far as Casey was concerned. Now it was just the fighting left. That was the fun part.
The future tech was cool though. Casey kind of wanted to take it apart and see how it worked, but he could save that for later.
"I'm just talkin' for escapes and stuff! Seemed like they slowed down with a whack to the head." Maybe he could remember the formula the turtles used for smoke bombs. He watched Wash try to turn over and shook his head. Dude was still trying to get up, just like Leonardo did when he was down after a big fight. Leader types really were all the same.
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There was pressure on his neck and a sharp hiss, and that train of thought derailed immediately. Wash froze, breath caught in his throat, waiting for the sedative to take effect, for the fog to rush in and overwhelm his mind, bury his strength and wipe his focus until he couldn't stay alert couldn't think could only remember couldn't remember which memories were his-
But nothing happened. He actually felt even more awake. It hadn't been a sedative - he'd just thought it was, learned from forced repetition that that was what came out of a medgun to the neck, but- but that wasn't the case this time.
Then what the fuck-
Bones came near him again and he lashed out, grabbing Bones' wrist and yanking with all of his strength. Admittedly, there wasn't much of it right now, but hopefully he had enough leverage or at least a low enough angle to bring the doctor down to his level. "Don't ever do that again," he snarled, voice wavering on the last few words. He wanted to be angry - because anger was easy, because anger worked - but he wasn't. He was tense and shaking and trying too hard not to panic.
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to people not from home, it looked weird. It was strange, it was different, and he'd been so caught up in 'mend mend mend' that he'd completely forgotten to walk them through what he was doing and why. More importantly- and more horrifying in retrospect-
He hadn't asked for their consent. Sure, patching up scrapes? That was one thing. The hypo, however- hell he took it on faith that the tricorder would tell him that what he had would work and wouldn't effect them adversely.
Shit.
Wash grabbed and yanked and Leonard didn't rightly fight him, going to his level easily. Slow like he'd handle a patient that was distressed (because Wash was nothing if not fucking distressed) he explained himself. "Hypospray. It was a painkiller for your head, somth'n for the nausea, an immunobooster and some vitamins. Greg-"
he spoke without turning, eyes and attention mostly on Wash. "I gave you a muscle relaxant for your back. I should've asked and told ya what I was do'n before I did it. Old habits die hard, all that. This ain't my Sickbay and y'all aint my crew, you're not obligated t'do what I recommend or be bullied into treatment on my say so. Even if I do strongly recommend we all take a day to start."
A beat passed.
"Wash- I'm gonna put the hypo down now, awright? It's gonna go back in it's case." He didn't move yet- waiting for some kind of nod or reaction from Wash first and foremost.
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