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whumpflash · 1 year

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Never: Left

cw: hand whump, gore, brief emeto mention, this one gets kinda graphic so be warned :)

"Pick a hand."

James eyed his captor, sullen and silent. For two days, he'd been a prisoner in the brig of his own ship. No food, no water, no idea if the men still loyal to him were even alive. Kept chained to the wall, bound in a bent position by rough rope.

His body ached, his head was pounding, his mouth felt swollen, and here was Peter, first mate turned mutineer, giving him stupid orders.

"Pick a hand," Peter said again, sounding annoyed.

"Why?" James spat out, his voice rasping. "Why should I do anything you ask of me?"

Peter clicked his tongue. "Well now, you don't sound like someone who wants a drink of water."

James scowled. So this was how it was going to be. He'd have to play Peter's games, cave into his demands, just for the pleasure of keeping himself alive. Fine. His life was worth more to him than his pride.

"Left," he said, and Peter's face broke into a smile.

"There we go!" he said, producing a small flask from his hip and unscrewing the lid. He pressed it to James' lips, and he drank, unable to grasp it himself with his hands tied behind his back. It was taken away too soon.

"Now, you said your left hand?" Peter asked, moving behind him. James tensed as his former first mate cut the hand in question loose in such a way that the other was still tied firmly in place. Traitor or not, Peter was skilled with rope tricks. He gripped his wrist tightly, and James winced as his arm was straightened for the first time in days.

Even with one hand freed, the rest of his body was practically immobilized. Trying to fight back at this point would yield only failure. His best hope was to entertain Peter's wishes until the traitor let his guard down.

"Left hand, left hand. Good choice," Peter said, tracing a finger along James' palm. "Now, will you let me cut it off?"

James clenched his jaw. Even though he'd suspected this was the way things were headed, hearing the words spoken out loud sent a shock through him. "What?"

"I want to cut off your hand," Peter said. "But only if you tell me to. Will you?"

What kind of game was he playing now? "No. Why would I?"

"Okay!" Peter said brightly, releasing his arm. James watched him stride out of the room, flexing his fingers. Was that it? Was Peter just trying to mess with his head?

He took a shaky breath as the other man returned a few moments later, carrying what looked like a small anvil.

Of course not. Peter's games were never so simple.

The anvil was placed a few feet to James' left, and he felt a shudder run through him when he saw the metal cuff welded to the top. He was too weak to pull away when Peter grabbed his hand, and could do nothing as he was dragged from the wall, body stretched as far as his restraints allowed, left wrist locked into the anvil.

"I'm going to ask again," Peter said. "Can I cut off your hand?"

James' heart was pounding in his ears, worsening his headache. Should he just say yes? Get whatever Peter had in store over with? Or would he really be spared if he denied the request? He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of climbing the rigging, steering the ship, engaging in battle. All things better served with two hands intact.

"No," he said at last.

"Okay then," Peter said cheerfully, drawing a small knife. Its edge was polished, razor-sharp. James felt his blood run cold as Peter brought it down to trace the outline of his hand.

"That means I get to convince you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter started with the ring finger. One long deep cut along the inside of it, a few more around the circumference, and he was able to set to work on removing the skin.

No amount of screaming, begging, or threatening would stop him, James found that out within a few minutes. He'd tried to clench his hand into a fist, but Peter struck him against the knuckles with the hilt of the knife and threatened to take an eye if he made this difficult, so he'd given up on that and took to screaming instead.

"Cut it off, cut it off!" he'd screamed as the finger was reduced to bone and muscle, and then not even that as Peter began to slice away at the tendons.

Peter had responded in a calm, friendly voice as he dug the point into the first joint, began to pry it away,

"It's too late for that. You can only tell me to cut it off when I ask you if you're ready for it to be cut off."

So James could only wail helplessly, straining against the bindings that held him in place until his skin burned and bled wherever the rope touched it. He'd be sick if his stomach had anything to give up.

Peter hummed as he carried on, removing more and more of the finger until it was down to the knuckle. He paused then, looking at the bloody space thoughtfully, and for a moment, James dared to hope he was done.

But then Peter jammed the point of the knife into the wound, and James' vision went white with pain. For a blissful few seconds, he knew nothing, felt nothing. But when the world came back to him, Peter was holding his thumb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn't know how long it took as the process was repeated, the slow filleting of each finger, the piece-by-piece removal of bone. James' consciousness felt like it had melted into the pain, each new excruciating stroke indistinguishable from the next as he faded in and out of consciousness, barely able to do more than whimper as his body shook and his hand was taken from him one cut at a time.

Eventually, he opened his eyes to see everything gone, the remains of his hand sitting amid discarded flesh and gore. Peter was carving the skin off his palm, still humming a carefree tune. James let out a sound that was something between a sob and an animalistic whine, and Peter's gaze flicked down.

"Ah, you're awake!" he lifted the knife, twirling it between two fingers. "Now I hope you remember the rules, because it's your turn again."

James couldn't speak, couldn't even nod. It had to be over. He couldn't take any more of this slow slicing. It had to be over.

"I think you know what I'm going to ask you," Peter continued.

James only stared up at him. His vision was swimming. He had to stay conscious long enough. He had to be able to say the word, just one word.

"Can I cut off your hand?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next part

#so yeah here's this #another very fun thing to write #i really enjoyed myself #might do more tbh im a sucker for piratey/seaside whump #though i have other projects to work on #whump #whump writing #whumpflash #captive #tw torture #captain hook #villain whump #pirate whump #hand whump #tw graphic #defiant whumpee #begging #this is a peter pan fanfic btw lmao #never/never

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clericofshadows · 2 months

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in memoriam

Description: ME3 ERA--Ashley stumbles upon Regis after dealing with some inner turmoil of her own.

Pairings: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani

Note: been in a slump for a while...but I found myself a little rejuvenated after writing in Ashley's POV again.

Many things could be said about Regis Shepard. Butcher of Torfan. Savior of the Citadel. Destroyer of the Collectors.

To some, even a traitor to the Alliance, even after returning the SR-2 with a dossier full of Cerberus secrets. A condemner of the Council after his actions after the Battle of the Citadel. For every good title, Regis has another worse one lurking underneath.

He almost seems to carry both sides proudly.

To his crew, they never saw him as those titles after shaking off the first initial impressions, getting used to having Commander Shepard as their superior officer. Always surprised at his occasional openness around the crew, memorizing their names, their home planets, their hobbies... preferred shifts and foods, even going so far as to find out if they want to join him for biotic drills if they were attuned as such.

Out on the field, he turned into something else. An aura of command that made everyone want to stand to attention even if ordered to be at ease. A ruthlessness tinged by his glowing eyes and scars, a demon out in the field. Purple biotics a sign of his arrival, ripping through anyone and anything in their path if he deemed it a threat. Obey or die. Crafting alliances and leaving bodies in his path, Reapers and indoctrinated Cerebrus souls no match for him and his forward squads.

But sometimes, late at night, he could be seen standing in front of the memorial wall. Or he'll sit cross legged in front of it, sipping on tea with a book--an honest to God paper book.

Those nights were rare. Some considered them rumors, fake, people trying to stir up trouble on skeleton crew nights.

Ashley knew better. A heart hidden underneath, gleaming gold in the right light. He cared, oh, he cared so much.

Ashley found him one such night, coming up from cargo where she destroyed one of Vega's bags, her body aching under her exertion. Nightmares about X-57. About Balak surviving and still committing atrocities while those civilians burned from her choice.

"Hey, Skipper," she said, cracking her knuckles as she exited the elevator. "Out here on your own?" This was the first night Kaidan was back on board. Hell, some of the crew even picked up on Regis's happier attitude, finally whole again. She figured they would be... celebrating.

Adams will probably put that board up again if he hasn't already. Their resident L2 biotics cause so many sensor issues on a good day.

Even the whole common area was empty. Usually there's at least a few crewmembers about. A couple of marines standing guard in case something happens--what happened for Regis to become so damn paranoid?

Perhaps this is the time to ask.

He closed his book after dog-earing a page. "Yeah."

One word responses. Even from him, that wasn't good.

"Want a friend?"

He inclined his head, which she took as a yes.

She sat down next to him, crossing her legs, saying nothing at first, offering a silent companionship. Part of this felt like some nights on the SR-1, where someone will be up late and inevitably it seemed like someone else would join them. Regis's insomnia was sometimes at it worst during their first mission, and she would run into him often.

She often thought about one such conversation they had where Regis told her about his father's ring. About his recommendations for her.

About Eden Prime.

She and Kaidan sat vigil together many moments after Virmire. After Alchera when they could. Thinking about what they lost. Thinking about what could've been.

A few moments passed in silence.

Her gaze turned to the wall, scanning over the names. This wasn't her first time spending a few moments in front of it, lamenting the dead. Friends from the SR-1. Tanaka, who shared her love for literature, swapping recommendations as they found the time. Pakti, who gave her some tips on how to best mod shotguns. Laflamme, who loved sparring and a good cup of tea.

Newton, Bryant, Chi, Porter... the marines who died in Regis's attempt to save them both.

There were times when she saw her own name up there. She and Kaidan never talked about it. They never will. But, if Regis didn't see Virmire as a winning scenario, she may not have made it off that damn planet.

Is that something she's made peace with? That answer to herself changes all the time.

Some names she didn't fully recognize. They were emblazed with yellow, not the silver of the SR-1 crew. They may have been crewmembers that lost their lives when the Normandy flew under Cerberus's colors. Regis never talked much about his time under their command. It may have been his ship, but she knew he was never in charge.

Killing him every second he was on board.

Three of them belonged to those that lost their lives on his suicide mission. Those she heard about even less, only knowing them because EDI elaborated on them when she asked. A krogan grown to be a genetically perfect soldier, a new destiny. A geth that allied itself with them.

A turian that was almost a part of their crew on the hunt against Saren.

All EDI said regarding them and Regis were that they were never close. Disagreed with some more often than not, but still considered them key parts of the puzzle against the Collectors.

"I didn't take the time to learn much about the Cerberus crew," Regis said after a long sigh. "Sure, I knew their names. 'Ranks.' Designations. Skills. Talents. All the shit I'm obligated to know. But I didn't know them like I did with the SR-1. Couldn't tell you their dreams or their families or their favorite goddamn vid."

"What happened to them?" She asked first.

"There was a mission that needed all of our attention. Normally, I don't send the full crew out. Too risky. But EDI got a signal of something that seemed like another Reaper corpse, this time planet side. So, I called everyone in. All twelve of them. Took our shuttle down. Before we knew it, it was nothing. A fucking trap so the Collectors could board our ship."

That explains the marines.

"They wanted my crew specially, I'm sure, but all of us went down. When we came back, Moreau was the only one left after he and EDI took back the ship. They took the bodies too," Regis said, his voice flat. "Only found out exactly who we lost after Mordin escorted the crew back to the ship. If we didn't attack the base as soon as we did... I may have had no one to save."

Even thinking about hypotheticals. Something must really be bothering him. Normally he's the type to live and let live, never dwelling on what could've been.

"But you did. You succeeded," she said. "I can't imagine what you went through on that damn mission."

He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "I did what I could. It was a success in nearly every definition of the word."

Nearly.

She didn't point out his word choice, sensing a sore spot. "And it got you back to the Alliance. That's the real success."

"Was it? You and I both know the mission Kaidan and I went on before I was officially back."

The Alpha Relay. Hackett's request for a stealthy mission to save a key asset that turned into far more.

Sometimes she thinks about Kaidan and wonders how he decided he was going to be the one to condemn the lives in Bahak.

And she worries about the few she condemned on X-57.

No, that's not fair. None of them should have to make the hard choices like that, no matter how many lives could be at stake.

Regis and Kaidan both made that choice. But she knew Kaidan pressed that goddamn button.

He was quieter now. Even more in control of his perfect Alliance Golden Boy persona.

They all were marred with something now.

"You're still here," she said. "Don't tell me you want to undo Wren's work in keeping that off of both your records."

A sharp laugh escaped him. Bitter, dry, mocking. "No, I'd rather not incur the wrath of our dear Broker."

Just ask him, goddammit.

She turned to face him, and he raised an eyebrow, seemingly aware of what she was going to ask. "You can tell me to fuck off and I will, but what's really going on? You aren't yourself."

She racked her mind for something, anything that could've gotten him in such a dark mood. The date seemed insignificant, he was celebrating the arrival of Kaidan back on the ship, and nothing seemed wrong earlier when discussing their next move.

"You got me," he said, letting out a breath. "Normally, this day doesn't bother me. But today was the day my father died."

Shit. She had no idea.

Unsure if she should apologize or not, she opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. "Don't bother. It's in the past."

"Even so, it's clearly bothering you. Would Adrian want to--"

"No," he interrupted with a finality. "Not him, nor Vik. Vik didn't even know Atlas anyway, but they'll be busy with Adrian. I've already took them both off shift since we won't be able to visit Earth and his gravestone."

Another piece of the puzzle.

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning in closer to him. To her surprise, he didn't push her away, putting his head on her shoulder. She pulled him in. "A tradition?"

"Kinda."

Back to the one word answers.

"You could create a new one," she suggested, but carefully. Not wanting to butt in with advice if that wasn't what he wanted.

"Maybe. Last time we were still on Earth, so we all went. Me, Hannah, and Adrian. While we were prepping for the Reapers..." He trailed off. "Didn't enjoy seeing my headstone there, but it was good updating him on all the crazy shit in my life."

At her look, he continued. "We got it removed. Slipped through the fucking cracks after I came back, but then again..." He trailed off again, and her mind helpfully filled in the blanks.

He may have needed that headstone if his mission failed.

"I wanted to take Zaeed and Kaidan with me, but Zee was out gathering allies and Kaidan was with his spec ops squad. With them here with me, it got me thinking."

And there it is.

When Ashley first talked about her faith, Regis was receptive to it, but admitted he was an atheist and knew very little about it. He knew more about pagan traditions and the asari Athame doctrine. There was a certain... clear attention he gave her every time she brought it up, now knowing he was fine with it.

"I'm sure he's keeping an eye on you now," she offered.

"You think?"

"I know."

He shook his head. "You know, sometimes I've thought about those two fucking years. Did we meet? Or was there nothing? I don't remember anything beyond dying in space and waking up on that damn table," he said, likely for her benefit. She did wonder. Selfishly, she wanted to confirm her beliefs.

"But that doesn't mean there wasn't anything." He let out a huff that almost sounded like a laugh. "Hannah says he would be proud of me. I can almost believe it now from her."

"Almost?"

He closed his eyes. "I've never had a good relationship with her after I became old enough to stop considering space to be the coolest shit ever."

She did know that they weren't close, but beyond that, she wondered why. Hannah Shepard was always a great paragon within the Alliance, continuing to carry a legacy that Regis shattered with Torfan. Not that she considered that as such, but many did.

Alliance royalty and the fallen disciple.

But there were times she met up with Hannah in those two years that showed... regrets from Hannah. The way she would hope that they would never have a Torfan, but to be prepared for something that could become it.

And that they would have her support no matter what. Lurking underneath was guilt from something she did after Regis's notoriety.

Perhaps that's why Kaidan always seemed more subdued, almost judgemental around her.

"Well, then I'll say he's proud of you. Achieving so much and surrounding yourself with incredible people and loving two men that obviously feel the same way," she said, rubbing his shoulder.

He looked up at her, those red eyes softening. "Thanks. I hate to say it, but my mother's and I's relationship got better after my death."

She tried not to flinch at that, but probably failed by the way Regis sighed. "Sorry. I hate having this gap. Fucks up my perception."

"It's hard on all of us," she said, recovering. "I don't like thinking about it, but it happened. Say it all you want, because against all odds, we're stuck with you again."

"Come on, tell me how you really feel," he laughed. Something in him seemed to loosen even as he straightened back up. "What were you doing up?" He glanced at her hands. "Someone went a little hard on the bags."

She rubbed her knuckles. "Did you ever read the reports on the X-57 incident?"

"I did, yes." His tone betrayed nothing.

"That's why I'm up," she said, letting out a sigh. "Sometimes, I think about the choice I made. And wonder if I should've chose different. There are nights that all I see are those damn bodies... the sacrifice I made to ensure Balak would never walk free again."

"Are you asking what I would've done?" Regis asked.

"Yes. No." She let out a frustrated sound. "I don't know. This mission helped secure me both the N7 track and a Spectre recommendation, but all I can think about is what I lost in the process."

"Then that makes you a good person," Regis said. "Don't lose that. Hell, I immortalized my damn squad for a reason." He rubbed the back of his neck, his skull tattoo peeking up from the collar of his hoodie. "Don't forget what you lost, but don't let it consume you either."

He never said what he would've chose. Even knowing Regis and his own personal code--he always tries to save as many innocent lives as possible--she wasn't sure what choice he would've made.

Maybe she doesn't want to know. Could she have survived Torfan, the Alpha Relay, the hard choices on his damn suicide mission? Not to mention his decision to hold back the Alliance fleet back when Saren and Sovereign were their biggest threats.

Best not to dwell on it.

"I'll keep that in mind. I've had to make some hard choices before, but... I don't know. Maybe it's all the shit surrounding that mission that made it hit deeper. All the things I could've done instead."

Regis nodded, looking back at the wall. "Zee and I had a long talk after the suicide mission. I was... not struggling per se but I was dealing with those I had lost. I wasn't close with them. Maybe that contributed, maybe not. In the moment, their deaths felt unavoidable. Still do, most of the time."

He frowned. "But that mission still weighs on me. Maybe even more than Torfan did. Too many outcomes and potential changes. I don't like what ifs... but I also think about what could've been if I put Taylor as the second squad leader instead of Vakarian. Legion with the crew escort. Grunt as my backup against that fucking abomination.... but I didn't make those choices. Could've been worse for us and me. And that's why I don't fucking dwell on this shit. Because it always could've been far worse just as much as it could've been better."

She nodded, pulling her knees to her chest. "It seemed so easy in the moment to deal with Balak and his squad. They were going to kill millions..."

"I understand," Regis said, his voice quiet. More than you know, was left unsaid, but she heard it all the same.

Distantly, she heard the elevator doors open. She turned around, and Kaidan and Zaeed walked out. Kaidan neglected to put a shirt on but was in soft cotton joggers, and Zaeed was in a loose tanktop and shorts.

Surely they knew what was going on today, right?

"We're here to collect our stray Commander," Kaidan said, holding out a hand for Regis.

"Bastard thought he could slip away from us," Zaeed said, shaking his head. "Come on, baby. Let's go back to bed."

Regis didn't defend himself from Zaeed, only reaching up to clasp Kaidan's hand, letting him help him up. Zaeed held out a hand for her to use, and she took it with a smile, using him as leverage to stand up.

"He was good company, though," Ashley said, pulling the attention back to her. "But I'm with you. It's late and I'm going to regret being up tomorrow morning."

"Take some time," Kaidan said, waving her concerns off. "We're in an adjustment period right now."

"Says you," Regis said, kissing him on the cheek. "Sorry for not waking you both. I needed some time."

"I know," Zaeed said. "But still, we're here for a goddamn reason, you know. Kaid, go ahead and escort him back up. I'll make us something to drink."

Kaidan nodded, not protesting at all. Maybe there was a plan to this. Regis didn't protest either, following Kaidan into the elevator.

Once the doors, closed, he walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a few mugs and put some water in the kettle. "Did he tell you?" he asked, reaching for a few hot chocolate packets. She slightly judged him for making it with water, but the gesture was sweet, even grabbing one for her.

"Well, he told me about a lot of things, honestly," Ashley admitted. "But yes, today is the day his father died. I didn't know."

"Not many do," he replied. "Kaid and I were thinking about talking with EDI and replicating a new plaque for the wall."

"I think he would appreciate that. I know he spends... more time than he likes to admit with the wall."

Zaeed nodded, crossing his arms. "I'm still not sure it was a good choice, but it seems to give peace to a lot of people here."

"Does Regis..." she trailed off, trying to figure out how to word what she wants to say without coming off as being too nosy.

"I think I get what you want to ask. Does he suffer from what happened on Alchera?"

"I sometimes forget how damn perceptive you are."

He winked. "Comes with the job." He took a moment to pour the pre-portioned packets into each mug, checking on the kettle. "Almost done," he muttered. He cleared his throat. "To answer the question, yes and no. He visited the site of the crash and recovered as many tags and effects he could all on his own. I insisted that I should go with him, but he refused. He also won't open that damn shutter in the ceiling. Cerberus knew damn well what they were pulling with that shit."

Regis also closes the Observation ones every time he enters. Joker and EDI keep the pilot shutters closed. She's noticed.

They all have.

"Kaidan once told me that Regis's biggest fear was dying in space. I'm surprised he still is willing to be on a ship after that."

Zaeed pressed his lips together in a hard line. "Duty above all else."

"You clearly don't believe that."

"But Regis does and will as long as we have the fucking Reapers to deal with." He scoffed. "Self-sacrificing goddamn idiot. I love him and my heart aches every time he goes out into the field, every time he has to yell at every selfish bastard in this galaxy to step up and do the right thing. And he gets back up each day, to do it all over again. If we win this, he'll either be the most celebrated hero or the biggest goddamn villain."

Regis has been called similar things. A hero for what he did on the Citadel, but more vocal outrage over a human condemning the Council and the Ascension.

And now... Regis has garnered the support of the turians, gained an army in the krogan, dealt a damning political blow to the salarians, and has many other allies in his pocket from what he's done even while under Cerberus's lock and key.

"I hope he gets the rest he deserves."

The kettle sang. Zaeed poured the water into each mug, grabbing a spoon to stir each one up.

"You and me both, Ash." He held out a mug.

She took it. "But we both know that's not going to happen anytime soon."

"And that's why we're here so he's not doing it alone. Good night, Ash. Thanks for keeping him company."

She smiled from behind her mug. "And thanks for the drink."

"Anytime."

#mass effect #ashley williams #zaeed massani #male shepard #commander shepard #kaidan alenko #regis shepard #cleric's writing #masshenko #took a break from my other wips: LOTSB ; kaidan/hackett/nyx fic ; eventual part 3 to my cit dlc write up to write this #my slump was really impacting me a bit and a shitty guest comment I got on a fic I forgot to turn them off on didn't help #also left a writing server and man I feel a lot better now #so yeah here's this

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