#and finally the only reason these two stop kicking and clawing is the budding family they accidentally form | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Grounded pt1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Virgil, Gordon, John

Re-watched Buried Treasure and Venom and this little muse dug its claws in - Scott took a bit of a beating in the former, and then doesn’t pilot TB1 or even the pod even though speed is of the essence in the latter. This isn’t finished - don’t know if the eventual thing will be a oneshot or multichap on AO3/FFN - or even proof read because it’s midnight and I’ll get yelled at if I don’t go to bed now, but muse wouldn’t shut up, so here’s 4k words of whatever this is gonna end up being. Title is also still a wip.

It was an exhausted Scott Tracy that dragged himself into his shower at the end of what had been a day he honestly wished had never happened. A trip into a trash mine had never been on his bucket list – and even if he’d known about the things before today, it still wouldn’t have featured on his bucket list – and after the chaos that had ensued, he would be delighted if he never had to enter one again. Somewhere in the big brother part of his mind labelled Gordon was a mental note to make sure his second youngest brother never went in one again, either. While Scott was all for his brothers making friends, he had concerns about his budding acquaintance with the woman known only as Scraps.

He wasn’t entirely sure Gordon had told the truth when he said he’d never gone scavenging himself, and he certainly wasn’t sure Gordon wouldn’t if the opportunity presented itself. After the hydrofoil, the blond had gained a ‘if today was my last day’ attitude and refused to let new experiences pass him by; it was understandable, but more than a little stressful for Scott at times.

The mission had been a success, but it hadn’t felt like it when both his accompanying brothers were stewing in angry silence over the comms on the way back, Scraps (encouraged by Gordon) had insisted he fork out the quite frankly ludicrous price of the stretchy toy, and the owners of the site were breathing down his neck about destruction of their property. Apparently they didn’t care that it was Scraps who had damaged their WRM when IR had wrecked their park and were well known to be the Tracy family – that is, known to be filthy rich. It had been a very expensive day for both him personally and the family at large, and just to compound it all he’d come home to the news that while the Mechanic was now willingly working on the engine, the price of that had been the Hood finding out about their plans.

Brains’ furious lecture about the mole pod had just been the icing on the cake. Scott had tried to save it and nearly got himself munched by the mechanical monster in the process, but apparently trying wasn’t good enough. He understood – he did. Every time Brains had to build them a new pod so they could keep functioning at full capacity was another delay on the T-Drive engine. It was just one more thing he didn’t need in a day where the only highlight was the fact that at least their rescue hadn’t failed where it counted – Scraps was alive, and being treated for shock and a fractured rib at her local hospital.

Speaking of ribs…

Four long, gruelling hours after the rescue finished, Scott finally had the chance to peel his dirty, mud-splattered uniform away from his aching body and assess the physical damage he’d sustained. His suit was reinforced and designed to protect him, but it had its limits, and Scraps’ shrill scream to stop forcing Gordon to make an emergency stop – just for the sake of a damned toy – had slammed his torso into the rigid exoskeleton of the dragonfly pod.

Just because their pods couldn’t stand up to a WRM didn’t mean they weren’t solidly built. Very solidly built. Scott had felt a sadly all-too familiar sensation of at least one rib breaking at the contact, but with their lives still decidedly in peril hadn’t had the chance to do anything about it. Their frantic flight for the surface, where he had nothing but his uniform and what shelter he could glean from the front of the pod to protect him from their forceful resurfacing, hadn’t done him any favours either.

It spoke volumes that both his brothers were so annoyed with him – one of them for reasons outside of his control, which was very unlike Virgil – that neither of them had noticed how stiffly he’d been standing. They hadn’t even glanced at him twice despite knowing that he’d been on the outside of a pod travelling at high speeds through a tunnel, and while there was always a part of Scott who hated to worry his brothers and hid injuries he found himself wrong-footed at the fact he’d got away with it.

The painkillers he’d popped the moment he was back in One, out of sight, had done their job to get him home, but after four hours they were wearing off, pain stabbing its way through his chest. He should go to the infirmary, get a scan to see how bad it was and maybe even reluctantly tell someone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Virgil might be in a bad mood with him, but he’d instantly feel guilty for not noticing, and Grandma would not go easy on her favourite grandson for neglecting something as basic as a health check after a dangerous manoeuvre, no matter how annoyed he’d been with the person in question.

He had a stock of painkillers in his ensuite, like they all did, for minor things like bumps and bruises. They weren’t supposed to be used in relation to any unreported injuries, but Scott had already decided he couldn’t report it, and besides, he was the commander. He could bend a few rules – it wasn’t his first rodeo with broken ribs, anyway. He knew how to treat them. Painkillers, ice if he could get some without causing suspicion, and rest when he could snatch it.

This was a case of snatching some rest – it was dinner soon, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d skipped Grandma’s cooking and it wouldn’t be the last. It wouldn’t raise any eyebrows if he wasn’t there; he doubted his brothers would be if they could escape.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, it was clear straight away that he’d taken quite a hit. Mottled bruising decorated his torso and shoulders – the first from the collision with the pod, the second from breaking through the surface. Tentative probing with his fingers told him what he already knew as his chest flinched away from the touch with a spike of pain. At least one broken rib.

He’d sneak some ice from the freezer once everyone else was in bed, but for the time being he had a long overdue date with his shower and popped a fresh dose of painkillers before easing himself under the water. Ideally, Scott wanted a hot one, but the broken rib meant he kept it cool in an attempt to soothe the swelling. Brown water swirled around his feet, finally washing away the dirt he’d acquired in the trash mine, and he let himself relax as the painkillers kicked in.

The mission finally felt like it was over. He couldn’t say the day was over, because he still had the never-ending pile of reports for both the GDF and Tracy Industries to write up and there was never any telling when the next emergency call would come in, but no more trash mine, no more furious gardeners or landowners.

Just Scott and-

“Scott, sorry to interrupt your shower but there’s another situation.” John appeared suddenly and Scott jumped, muffling a curse as his ribs informed him that painkillers or not, that was not appreciated. He sighed instead.

“F.A.B.” He rubbed his face tiredly, beyond glad their bathroom cameras didn’t transmit anything below the neck so his decorative torso was hidden from his ever-attentive brother… who had apparently also missed that he’d been slammed hard into the pod. “I’ll be in the lounge in two.” He wanted to say five, but it normally only took two minutes and longer would make John suspicious.

“See you there.” John vanished and he let out another breath, turning off the water. Strictly speaking, he shouldn’t fly with a broken rib, or go on a rescue at all, but as long as he took it easy it would be fine.

Two minutes later found him in the lounge, apparently the last one there. Virgil and Gordon didn’t acknowledge his arrival and he tried not to let it sting. They’d work with him on the rescue – it wasn’t the first time they’d gone on a rescue mid-row, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last. The perils of living and working full time with siblings. Alan, at least, gave him a big grin and he returned it as best he could before turning to John, who was hovering impatiently in the middle of the room. He was always impatient when they weren’t all immediately available; Scott didn’t take it personally.

“Good, you’re here,” John acknowledged. “We’ve got a collapsed mineshaft with a worker trapped inside in Cornwall, England. His colleagues all got out okay but they don’t have the gear to get him out without risking a bigger collapse.”

“F.A.B., John,” Scott replied. “I’ll go on ahead in Thunderbird One. Virgil, Gordon, follow me in Thunderbird Two.” Another underground rescue, and another mole pod needed. Typical. Still, if it was really only simple, he wouldn’t be needed for more than co-ordination. He could handle that. “Virgil, have you had the chance to replace the lost gear from the trash mine?”

“All replaced,” Virgil confirmed, heading for his launch chute. “We’re out of spares now, though, so we’d better not lose this one.” Scott winced – that wasn’t good.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, reaching up towards his lamps and pulling them down towards his chest as always, glad that the painkillers had more or less kicked in so the movement didn’t make his ribs flare up in pain. The last thing he saw before being whisked around into his chute was Alan, looking somewhat dejected at being left behind, again.

They’d barely needed Gordon for the mission – if Scott was at full health he would have entertained leaving him behind – so there was no reason to bring Alan. Still, there was a scolding voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Grandma telling him he should have let Alan take Thunderbird One and take a rest himself.

If Thunderbird Three was needed while they were gone, Alan would be fit to pilot, he argued back. Thunderbird One would be tough, but he conceded that there was no way he could launch into space with at least one broken rib. The voice quietened but he knew it wasn’t pacified.

The painkillers diluted but didn’t entirely quash the pain of suiting up, but with no-one around to see he could gasp without fear of being caught, and soon he was scrambling into his pilot seat – still muddy; cleaning his ‘bird had been next on the priority list after the shower, because apparently his brothers had decided not to help him out on that front.

If suiting up was bad, launching was worse. He’d anticipated that, throwing his comms onto mute – John knew better than to interrupt during the launch sequence unless it was truly urgent so there shouldn’t be anyone to see him – as he gasped for breath against the stinging of his chest. Full speed was out of the question, but as it was a rescue they already knew what they’d need, he didn’t have to get there much before Thunderbird Two, so he settled for an almost bearable Mach 10 and flicked his comms back on, hoping John wouldn’t ask questions.

Presumably John had reached the same conclusion as him, as his decision of half max speed wasn’t commented on when his brother made contact a few minutes later to continue the debrief with additional information coming in from the danger zone.

It was a textbook rescue, a fact Scott was incredibly glad for as he let Virgil take the mole pod down, followed by Gordon with stabilising foam to stop the mine collapsing any further. In and out, no complications, no injuries. The trapped worker emerged from the pod shaken but otherwise fine and Scott watched Virgil check him over thoroughly to be safe as he and Gordon secured both intact pods back inside the module, where they belonged.

“I’ll see you back at base,” he told his brothers as he headed back to his ‘bird. Gordon gave him a crisp nod while Virgil gave no indication that he’d heard – as he was still checking the rescuee over, Scott hadn’t expected one. Gordon’s reaction told him everything he needed to know – the attitude was still professional-only. He wasn’t yet forgiven for whatever transgression it was Gordon was mad at him about. It was nearing midnight at home, though; they were all tired and Scott fully expected it to all blow over by morning, once they’d had some sleep.

The site supervisor was waiting for him as he approached.

“Just wanted to say thank you again,” the woman said, sticking out her hand. He took it and hid a wince at her particularly vigorous shake. It was too soon for more painkillers, but this particular dose was wearing off already; the flight home was not going to be fun.

“Just doing our job,” he returned, polite smile on his face, and carefully retracted his hand. She let him.

“Your job’s an impressive one,” she winked at him, before her gaze wandered slightly. Scott wanted to groan – he knew that look, and normally he’d play along, maybe even see if he could score if he was feeling particularly lucky, but he was physically tired, emotionally drained, and in pain. No flirting for him today.

He just nodded at her, smile slightly more genuine because regardless of the situation it always gave him a bit of a boost when he got attention of that sort – not that he’d dare admit that to his brothers, or they’d never let him forget it – and she laughed.

“I’d say another time, but I’d hope we don’t need your assistance again,” she grinned, and before Scott realised it was coming, there was a playful elbow in his ribs. Nothing hard, not even something he’d normally react to, but his ribs screamed and he gasped, instinctively doubling over before forcing himself straight again.

He fervently hoped his brothers hadn’t noticed, but didn’t dare glance around to check.

“Oh, I’m so-”

“You’re right, hopefully you won’t need us again.” He overrode her apology, sent her another small grin, and got himself back inside the safety of his ‘bird as quickly as he could without seeming like he was running away. His ribs burned and he eyed the first aid cabinet, sorely tempted, but squashed the impulse. Piloting in pain wasn’t advisable, but piloting overdosed on medication was potentially fatal. Taking a moment to settle, he opened up a link to Thunderbird Five.

“I’m returning to base now,” he informed his brother. “Rescue complete; Virgil and Gordon are finishing up with the worker, but they’ve got it all in hand and I’ve got a shower to finish.”

“F.A.B.,” John acknowledged, a small grin on his face at Scott’s mention of a shower. “I’ll see if I can get the world to wait on getting itself into any more trouble until you’re done, big brother.”

“That would be nice,” Scott grinned, settling back in his chair more comfortably and ignoring his ribs. They both knew John couldn’t control that, especially not with the Hood and his Chaos Crew running around, but sometimes it was nice to pretend. “Thunderbird One out.”

He muted his comms again – against protocol, but he doubted Virgil or Gordon would be calling him up for a chat given the way they were cold-shouldering him and he’d already addressed John – before taking off. VTOL launches were far gentler with the G-forces, but unlike earlier, he wasn’t riding high on the full effect of the painkillers, so it hurt worse as he accelerated.

Mach 8 would be plenty to get him home, he decided, unwilling to risk anything faster than necessary, and once he was cruising he unmuted his comms, confident he wouldn’t have missed anything.

“-ott. Scott. Thunderbird One are you listening to me?”

Virgil sounded furious. That didn’t bode well.

“Reading you loud and clear, Thunderbird Two,” he replied. “What’s happened?” He reached out in preparation of turning his ‘bird’s nose back the way he’d come.

“What’s happened, he asks,” Virgil steamed, hologram materialising. He was standing firmly upright, arms crossed and one hand tapping on his arm. “The site supervisor wanted to know why you’re working with a rib injury.”

Dammit.

“Virgil-” he started, not quite sure how he was going to deflect the accusation. His brother didn’t give him a chance.

“Don’t Virgil me,” he snapped. “Get back here so I can see why she thinks you’re injured.”

“It’s fine,” Scott lied. “Nothing serious. I’ll see you back at base.” He cut the call, which in immediate hindsight was stupid decision, but to his surprise, Virgil didn’t immediately call back. Still, he switched his comms back to mute and eyed his speed. If he wanted to get back before Thunderbird Two, Mach 8 would be enough, but if Virgil pushed his ‘bird, it wouldn’t leave him with much time to grab a shower and smuggle some ice. Gritting his teeth, he pushed her up to Mach 10, swallowing the grunt of pain from the additional pressure.

Almost immediately, Thunderbird One started to slow.

“Hey!” he yelped. The absolute last thing he needed was his ‘bird crashing. It might give him enough injuries to hide the fact his ribs were already broken, but wrecking his ‘bird was not worth avoiding a lecture. He tried to correct it, but her controls jammed under his hands. “Oh you’re kidding me,” he groaned, preparing himself to stand up and get to the reset. What had even happened? She hadn’t been damaged since the Icarus, and Brains and Virgil had both sworn through and through that she was fully functional again. There was no reason for-

His holographic display lit up with the icon for Thunderbird Five.

Ah. Dammit. Virgil had got John on his case.

Reluctantly, he unmuted his comm and immediately got blasted with three brothers all yelling at him. The temptation was there to simply mute them again, but instead he sighed and leaned back in his chair, waiting for them to stop.

“-t mute your comms ever-”

“-swer us you-”

“-re you an idiot-”

They didn’t, but their voices were getting more and more frantic, and he realised they were starting to panic at his lack of a response. He groaned.

“You don’t need to shout, I can hear you just fine,” he told them. “John, what are you doing with Thunderbird One?”

“Landing,” his brother said abruptly. “You’re just coming up over the Sahara so I’m putting you down there. Thunderbird Two is en route.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Scott complained. “Can’t we deal with this at home?”

“You mean in another two hours, providing we don’t get another callout or distraction so you can slip away again?” Virgil asked dryly. “No, we’re doing this now, and if I find anything worse than a minor bruise you’re finishing the trip home in Thunderbird Two’s medbay.”

Scott groaned, having absolutely no desire to be subjected to that. “Seriously, guys, I’m fine.” Thunderbird One’s VTOLs fired as her speed dropped, and he felt her land. Looking out of the viewing window, he saw sand and more sand. The Sahara, as John had promised.

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Gordon scowled.

“Thunderbird Two is five minutes out from your location,” Virgil informed him coolly. “Stay where you are.”

Thunderbird Five’s insignia was still firmly ensconced in the holographic display, informing him that John had not retracted his override. As much as he wanted to, there was no way he was going anywhere until his brothers had satisfied themselves. He groaned again and eyed the medical cabinet once more. It was still too soon to take another dose, but he knew there was no way any of them would be letting him pilot the rest of the way home anyway.

The relief from pain would not be worth the lecture from Virgil and then Grandma. Reluctantly he turned away from it and closed his eyes, listening out for the engines of Thunderbird Two. His brothers kept the channel open, talking to each other and occasionally shooting a question his way – presumably to make sure he hadn’t passed out on them – which he answered reluctantly.

True to Virgil’s words, five minutes after John had landed his ‘bird there came the sound of Thunderbird Two’s VTOL overhead, and he jabbed at his seat controls to leave his ‘bird, seeing no point in sitting and waiting for them to descend on him when he’d be dragged into Thunderbird Two anyway. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.

“Scott!” Virgil strode across the short distance between the two ‘birds, grabbing his arm as soon as he was in reach as though he thought he’d flee if given the chance. With John still controlling his ‘bird, Scott thought the gesture unnecessary. “You absolute idiot. Thunderbird Two, now.” The hand gripping his bicep didn’t give him much of a choice, forcibly guiding him towards the lowered hatch.

Gordon was waiting in the cockpit, arms crossed and eyes like fire. Beside him, the cockpit’s stretcher had been lowered.

“Sit,” Virgil snapped, dragging him over to it. Scott obeyed reluctantly, and scowled at the medical scanner immediately deployed. It didn’t take long to flag up amber along his various bruises, and red at his ribs. He didn’t hear what Virgil ground out under his breath, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t language he’d use in front of their grandmother. “John, take One home. Scott’s piloting nowhere.”

“F.A.B.” Scott knew his brother well enough to hear the anger in those three letters. His ‘bird’s VTOL roared to life and he watched her take to the sky through the cockpit windows.

“When did this happen, Scott?” Virgil demanded, setting the scanner to one side and tugging at his zip. Scott batted his hand away, taking over. He still had enough pride to not be undressed by his brother. Two sets of brown eyes narrowed dangerously as the bruising became visible.

Caught, there was nothing to be gained by lying. “Last mission, when the pod stopped suddenly.” A flash of guilt swept across Gordon’s face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” the aquanaut demanded. He shrugged, then winced when his body reminded him that the painkillers were all but worn off.

“Didn’t exactly get the chance,” he said. “Couldn’t do anything about it at the time because we were trying not to become WRM food, then there was the thing with the Mechanic and the Hood, and the landowner wanted compensation for the damaged WRM and park, and-”

“And most of that could have waited for you to get checked over,” Virgil interrupted, a gentle hand lightly touching his bruised torso. Scott’s body flinched away from the contact unbidden. “Why the hell did you come out to Cornwall? Gordon and I could have handled it by ourselves.”

“It was a rescue,” Scott protested.

“Which you’re now grounded from for six weeks, minimum,” Virgil growled. “Lie down. What have you taken for the pain?”

He didn’t get a chance to protest before both brothers were carefully but firmly pushing him down onto the stretcher.

“Two Tylenol when I left the trash mine seven hours ago,” he admitted. “Two more just before this mission, three hours ago.” Virgil frowned.

“You’ll have to bear with it until we get home,” he said. “Once the Tylenol’s out of your system, I’ll give you something stronger.” Scott scowled. “Gordon, get some ice on his ribs. Scott, stay still.” Virgil had the gall to strap him down, avoiding putting pressure on his ribs. “We’ll be talking about this when we get home.”

It was a promise, but just before he turned away to head to his seat, Scott saw the one thing he’d hoped he’d be able to avoid: guilt. Virgil was well aware he’d missed the signs because of his flare-up about the topiary, and wouldn’t be forgiving himself for it any time soon.

“Virg-” he started, only to interrupt himself with a hiss as a cool sensation spread across his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, before opening them to find Gordon stood next to him, ice pack in hand.

“Not right now, bro,” the blond said quietly, and the same guilty pain was in his eyes. “Give him time.”

“Gord-”

“And me,” Gordon interrupted him. “Just… not yet, okay? Wait ‘til we’re home and you’re all smothered better in the infirmary.”

Scott didn’t like it, but he understood it – they’d find it easier to deal with once they knew he really was okay. Broken ribs sucked, but in the grand scheme of injuries, they were relatively minor. The real fear his brothers carried was what if it had been worse – a punctured lung, for example.

In answer, he pulled a face, showing exactly what he thought of being ‘smothered better’ as Thunderbird Two roared to life beneath him. A small grin tugged at the corner of Gordon’s mouth and he considered that progress, settling back comfortably as his brother’s ‘bird carried him home.

next...

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #season 3 spoilers #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #grounded

41 notes · View notes

icycove · 6 years

Text

G/t Prompt 18 Short Story

A/N: this is a G/t story I’ve written as apart of a prompt challenge I’ve set myself to do over on DA. I’m currently working on another, this is one I’m sharing here in case anyone was interested in reading the others I make! A link to a journal I wrote on DA for it: https://www.deviantart.com/ice-cove27/journal/Writing-Bingo-754389770

For all of them, the only summary you get is the prompt itself and then you read what I did with it! It’s a surprise G/t read every time with varying themes~ So! here’s the first I did. Lemme know what you think!

*Prompt: “Your Antagonist Feels Alone“

✵✵❋✧❋✵✵

In all his years of living on the island, keeping the stranded humans there with him, the loneliness of living out here had never relented.

Sure, occasionally he’d walk onto the land, to check in on them. He preferred staying in the water, but he could get used to land legs, as heavy and clumsy as he felt while on it. But they were always so afraid of him whenever he did.

Admittedly, he knew it wasn’t unfounded. They only stayed here because of him, and were unable to leave... the young amphibious giant made sure of that. He guarded his little island and his little people on it, making sure none escaped on the tiny floaters they crafted. He kept them in check, but he didn’t treat them badly. No, at first he’d just been trying to help them survive and had enjoyed being with them.

A bad ship wreck near his home, him saving the 7 occupants and bringing them here a little worse for wear, but alive. He’d cared for them, even showed them how to survive after learning their needs. He thought they’d be grateful he had rescued them. But then they had, of course, eventually wanted to leave.

“We can’t stay here, Ryu.” the oldest one had pleaded with him, trying to get him to understand. “We have lives and loved ones. Homes beyond here that we miss! Can’t you help us get back?”

Ryu has just glared at the confrontational group. “Did those people, those ‘loved ones’, come looking for you? No. I’m the one that saved you. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be at the bottom of the ocean right now. Don’t I matter more?”

The fishermen had looked at each other uneasily. “We...are beyond grateful that you saved us. That isn’t a question,” another tried, putting an arm around the youngest’s shoulders, no more than a teenager. “I’m so thankful you managed to grab my son and bring him to safety. Though...my wife...his mother would love to see him again too. Our families must be out of their minds with worry.”

Ryu had been unmoved, unwilling to be reasonable. He glanced away as he’d folded his arms in the sand from where he laid in front of them to let them know as much. “Then she can come visit him here. As I’ve said, there is no way off this island’s shores for you. Nothing out there for miles that you would make it to, no rescue coming from your own kind. Here you are cared for and safe and are not leaving.”

He’d frowned at their expressions, anger and devastation and a few of resignation. An utter betrayal to all he’d done for them.

Did they not understand what this was? It wasn’t fair of them to deny him just this little reprieve of his loneliness as an outcast. They were just like him so it only made sense that they stay. He’d growled at them, letting it be known from that day on they were never to ask about leaving again, never allowed to defy him or his kindness.

It had been unspoken, but they’d understood the weight of consequences that might come with any attempts at his tone of warning. And therefore had been completely liable and guilty, accepting of it when they’d ultimately attempted to leave him.

It was late in the night, a particularly dark one too. It had stormed relentlessly for days and Ryu had watched over them as he usually did when he wasn’t sleeping or off hunting in the water.

Of course it had been the boy and his father. They had always seemed the most likely to try fleeing, always the most determined of the group, rebelling in their own ways as they never ceased speaking of home to the others when they thought Ryu wasn’t in earshot at night. They hadn’t dared mention a plan of escape and so he had allowed it to go on, if it placated them. Not nipping it in the bud seemed to have been his mistake. For why would they continue talking so fondly of home if not to plan about one day returning?

He’d caught them as they breached the drop off around the island on a pathetic raft they’d made for the two of them, with only fresh water and some food able to be on it with them. They had promised the others to send help when they made it to any civilization. Neither had.

Furious, Ryu had grabbed them both, destroying their raft in one easy swipe of his arm, all the cargo that didn’t float sunk away. He’d swam back to the island, them begging and afraid for their lives. Ryu had dumped the father on the shore with the others who had been watching and were terrified on behalf of their friends...and what would happen to all of them because of it.

Ryu had stood off the shore, glowering at them all, hurt and seething. “This is how you repay me?” He’d snarled out, holding the youngest to his face, who shook and tried to shrink in his hand.

The show did nothing to quell his mood. He forced the little one to meet his eye. “You’ve brought this on yourself. I was kind. I never asked for anything but companionship in return, I tried to be patient and give you a comfortable existence with me. But you still want to leave.” He turned his gaze back to the men on the shore, who were holding back the boy’s terrified father.

Ryu knew what would get the message across. “...Maybe an example has to be made...for you to understand just how generous I really am.” His voice was low and cold, and he carefully tilted the little person at his mercy, contemplating for long moments, pleas on deaf ears. “With you gone, they will learn to finally let go of that past life. No more youthful spirit left to rebel against me.”

He gingerly ran his cold finger through the younger’s soaked blond hair, which elicited a sharp flinch and a sob. Ryu waded backwards into the deeper ocean with him, teal eyes never leaving the boy who struggled uselessly in his steely grasp.

He heard the men yelling now, the terror from his implications finally showing. Good. If they didn’t love him enough to stay, then they would have to fear him enough to. Fear would do.

He took his time too, not listening. They’d already figured out what he was doing. Let them just see what would have happened had he not rescued them. He wasn’t doing much if not just letting nature take its course as it could have weeks ago. He was not doing anything that wouldn’t of been brought on them if not for his benevolence.

The boy seemed so much smaller and his lack of age truly showed here, compared to the others. He cried freely, no longer pleading, but reaching for his father as they got further away. And Ryu didn’t plan on swimming far...he wanted them to watch.

He hushed the smaller as he slowed to a stop, now just swimming in the open ocean, beyond the protection of the small shelf around the island. He started to sink a bit and even in the darkness saw the panic in the smaller’s green eyes as he clawed at the partially scaly hand trapping him now.

He barely managed to take one last breath as they were both submerged and the shouting from the island was no more.

Moonlight barely filtered down here and yet Ryu could see perfectly fine. He watched quietly as the smaller thrashed soundlessly, little bubbles escaping as the seconds ticked by and still he persisted.

It was slow down here, everything quite still and soundless around them. Ryu cradled the boy slightly in his hands, eyes never leaving him as he almost tried to project comfort to him, calmer now. Despite the reckless nature of this boy, he’d grown fond of all his little ones. He was sad to see him go.

He felt the resolve of the younger growing weaker. Though he was a strong swimmer, the lack of air would get to him soon enough. Ryu gave him a sad, caring look. As if he weren’t the cause of this and could stop it any time he wanted, before it was too late. The boy had opened his eyes, and they fluttered slightly, still holding onto his last breath, though Ryu saw pain. The larger frowned a bit as they made eye contact, the boy holding his hands over his nose and mouth hard, gazing desperately at the surface that was only mere feet out of reach, kept from him as Ryu still held loosely to his legs.

Ryu closed his eyes quietly, hurt. That look of utter desperation. It struck him painfully and he wiped his mind of the memories that surfaced. This was one of his little humans he’d grown attached to...even if the feeling wasn’t mutual. Was a life really worth a point being proved? He was young...and while this had been his fate before Ryu had intervened, wouldn’t that make the effort in vain? What would become of the others, especially his father? There would likely be no forgiveness, only further determinations and detachment. More resolve to never be loved back the way he loved them. His heart withered.

...Was he selfish to deny them their lives even if he had saved them? In his case he hadn’t had the choice. But now...

He opened his eyes and, after another moment, his hand slowly, staring at the boy. As soon as his legs were free, the boy had been frantically clawing at the water around him, a watery shout letting the stale air go from his mouth. He tried to kick hard, reaching, but his legs were already useless and like lead pulling him deeper. Ryu cupped his hands beneath the terrified boy, reaching a resolve. He couldn’t do this to him. He...couldn’t.

He lifted the limp boy to the surface before he had the chance to blackout. The boy wheezed and violently hacked up stinging water in his hands, unable to even sit up. Ryu winced with guilt, but let him work it out on his own. He was coughing, so that meant breathing, didn’t it?

He waited for the boy to compose himself, but that didn’t seem to be happening after having just escaped a would be grave. The only thing Ryu heard was the crying of the smaller as he leaned heavily in the hands that had both condemned him and saved him from death. He clung to only himself though, curled up and cold from the unforgiving ocean water. The shaking never stopped, even when he tried to bite back the sobs. He wouldn’t open his eyes after having blinked the salt water out with his tears and Ryu could only assume it was fear of being dropped in again...or maybe, just of him.

Ryu swam back slowly, careful to keep the boy out of the water in one hand, making sure he didn’t fall back in. He carried him back to the group who tried to stay back from him, afraid he wasn’t satisfied and would claim another victim. Well he couldn’t blame them now.

He said nothing as he laid their youngest back on the beach silently, and saw them melt into relief when they saw him move, clutching at the sand and trying to get away from the waves lapping at his feet. They had rushed to embrace and protect him, his father pushing forward and scrambling to pull him into his arms, the others standing around them defensively. Ryu made no move towards them as he gazed on, backing away again.

They gathered themselves and then had left the beach for their shelters further in, to hide away and protect themselves. And while Ryu could follow, he did not.

Ryu did not see them for days after that. It was as if they were not there at all and had somehow managed to leave. He gave them the space. He did not visit the shores for days and merely lingered in the water around the shelf. Waiting, just wanting to see them from afar. That would be enough after what he’d almost done...and what he had done.

Eventually they started coming back to the beaches, fishing and getting food out of necessity. Never alone. Eventually he saw the boy’s father returning with them, helping again. Then much later, he caught a glimpse of the boy again. He was silent and resigned now. He sat far back on the beach where he could see his father, but never got in the ocean water again from what Ryu could see. He likely never would.

He slowly got back into the habit of visiting them again, many moons after the incident. He made it a point to never go near their settlement deep in the foliage of the island; that was where the boy hid whenever he showed up, where he felt safe. Ryu did not wish to see that terror pointed at him again, the memory was more than enough. He got a handful of words from a few. None of them conversational. The father never spoke to him. Ryu wouldn’t of asked him to.

None of the men ever did attempt to leave again, so the boy’s end hadn’t been necessary to achieve that result. Ryu couldn’t say it pleased him though.

He watched them continue to live out their lives for many Moon cycles. He rarely involved himself anymore and just had to be content with that. He was distant and more lonely than he’d ever felt in all his years alone.

Two years came and went his way. Then they fateful day when rescue had finally come for them. Ryu didn’t try to stop it like he’d threatened in the past. He just watched as they’d all cheered and cried in disbelief and relief as the boat came for them. Ryu stayed far away as he watched them quickly gather what few items of importance they had. They never saw him from afar as they left within the hour, finally leaving their prison behind. Ryu closed his eyes. He was more empty than he’d been before this all happened. It was over.

...

He waited several days before returning back to the island. Just to make sure no one was coming for him. He didn’t doubt they’d told everyone about him, but there was no sign of people that were going to hunt him down, so he figured it was safe.

It pained him to look at all the remains of their stay. The little shelters from the trees and foliage around the small clearing, chosen purposefully within mere feet of a freshwater lake. A fire pit in the midst of other structures he remembered they liked to sit around and boost morale by having a sort of bonding time, not just for cooking and warmth. He had sat in on a few early ones, not many. But he had enjoyed it too, listening to their stories.

He didn’t disturb the crude little village home they’d made for themselves. He just smiled tightly, hugging his knees as he sat in remains. It was all left as if they’d all just been here, and would be back any time now. He knew they would never come back. He deserved the loneliness he felt now, unlike before. It was his own punishment.

The sun set in his little island and he slept there under the stars in the warm air and the quiet surrounding him fully, weighing heavy on him.

By dawn the next morning, Ryu waded into the water without looking back and left. Never once did he return.

8 notes · View notes