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Scott Ryder hoped that whatever happened next, the payoff was worth it.
It would be, if Jaal’s siblings were safe. They were far from home free, and as he and his two teammates made their way down the path toward the cliffside, in pursuit of the bombs Lathoul warned them of, he kept focus. Halted the others with a wave of his hand and motioned them to cover just before the Roekaar descended upon them from further down the path.
“They’re not making it easy!” Liam shouted, ducking out from behind cover to fire another volley.
Scott smirked. “Neither are we!”
The enemy had snipers. Raiders. The initial push was forceful enough that Scott found himself backed into a corner, cursing when a lucky concussive shot tore through his shields, and missed him by inches.
Scott didn’t see them until it was too late – a raider, off to his right. His shields were still down, and the shot penetrated his hardsuit, straight through the shoulder.
He managed to stifle a scream, but only just.
A pained groan exploded from his lips; he couldn’t stay completely quiet. Couldn’t keep from making a sound. He gritted his teeth against it, bit the inside of his cheek. Forced himself to push through the pain, to stay focused, but damn, it was hard. He was left panting despite his best efforts, leaning heavily against the stone behind his back.
“Ryder!” Jaal was at his side in an instant, his distress plain.
“I’m okay.” Scott set his jaw. He tried to move his arm to lift his rifle, and his vision went white. “Ah! Fuck…”
Liam bounded through the underbrush, firing as he went, finally taking cover alongside them. He spared the two men a cursory glance, keeping the Roekaar at bay.
“Scott is injured. We have to go back.” Jaal smoothed the hair off his forehead.
“No. Those bombs could already be armed.” Scott’s voice shook. Rough around the edges, and ragged with pain. “We don’t have time. I’ll just slap some medi-gel on it. It looks worse than it is.”
“You gonna be able to shoot like that?” Liam questioned. He was trying to keep his tone light, though his face was drawn with worry.
Scott laughed, high pitched and hysterical. “Yeah, sure. No sweat. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Neither of his teammates looked amused. Tough crowd.
Scott met their identical scowls with a frustrated growl. “I’ll stay low and use my biotics if I need to, but we have to move. We're wasting time.”
SAM chose that moment to interject.
“Pathfinder, you have been stricken in the brachial plexus, a cluster of nerves in your right shoulder that will cause you to lose all motor function.”
“Oh, is that all?” Scott quipped, his tone dry. “Wonderful.”
“It may be possible for me to dull your perception of the pain, allowing you continued use of your arm for a limited time, but it is not advisable. Pain exists to signal your body that it needs attention. Ignoring that signal will have consequences, and may result in permanent nerve damage.”
Liam winced, scoring a headshot on a sniper. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Nor do I,” Jaal concurred. He pressed his forehead to Scott’s. Looked into his eyes. “I brought you here. If anything happens to you…”
Sometimes, the raw, powerful, incredible depth of emotion Jaal wore like a second skin took Scott aback. Managed to steal his breath, as surely as the wound in his shoulder. He wasn’t ashamed to tell you he cared. To show it, in every glance. Every touch. Every beat of his heart. He’d never hidden it before, and he wasn’t hiding it now. His care for Scott. His…
No. Too soon to go there.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Scott reached for Jaal with his good arm. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Jaal touched his face. “You cannot promise that.”
Scott favored him with a smirk that felt more like a grimace. “I just did.”
Jaal released a strangled chuckle, eyes so fond, they were hard to look at. He never shifted his gaze from Scott's. Never took his eyes off him.
“They will not harm you. I won’t let them.” He choked out the words, pulling Scott close. There was something desperate in that. In the way he held him, tightly as he dared. “They’ll have to kill me first.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Uh, guys? Hate to ruin the moment, but I could use a little help over here.” As harried as he seemed, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You can make eyes at your ‘not a boyfriend,’ later.”
Scott spared them a breathless chuckle before pulling himself away from Jaal, his smile grim. “Let’s finish this thing.”
While the others held off the Roekaar, Scott tended to his shoulder as quickly and efficiently as possible, tearing a packet of medi-gel open with his teeth. It was the equivalent of slapping a bandage on a busted pipe, but it would have to get him through.
His team worked around the openings he left with his biotic attacks, making short work of the Roekaar, gunfire echoing around the path until it was littered with corpses.
The clearing where the bombs were was saturated with Roekaar. SAM helpfully informed them they had minutes to disarm them.
Pins and needles attacked Scott’s arm, testing his resolve. The agony was something sharp, horrible. Terrible to put into words, and it made his breath catch. Made his hands shake, and his orders short. His stomach rolled, hot with nausea, and he swallowed it back, determined.
Scott could fall apart later. Right now, he had four bombs to disarm, and little enough time to do it.
He took in the clearing with a few quick sweeps of the eye. The bombs were evenly dispersed, far enough away from each other they would need to dispatch the Roekaar between them quickly as they moved. Ordinarily, he himself could take care of the bombs. SAM could steady his aim enough to take a clear shot, but disarming those bombs? No. Scott was doing everything he could to push through this, and would continue to, but even with the help of an AI, there was only so much the human body could take. There would be no do overs if they fucked this up, and the fine motor control it would take? He couldn’t risk it.
“Liam,” he directed, his voice firm. “I’ll need you to disarm the bombs. Jaal and I will keep your path clear, keep them moving. SAM, time to do that thing we talked about.”
His two squad mates nodded, obeying his directives without thought. Without question. Despite their earlier reluctance, and continued worry for Scott’s well-being, he was their leader. Their commander, and they were loyal to him. He trusted them to have his back. That included following his orders whenever it counted. They had yet to let him down, and he didn’t think they ever would.
Scott motioned Liam and Jaal into position, swallowing bile. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to be somewhere safe, so he could throw up in peace. That was not a high bar. Was it so much to ask?
SAM, of course, was true to his word. While the pain was ever present, there at the back of his mind, that was precisely where Scott was able to push it – to the back, where it belonged. He managed to get through the fight without shooting anyone on their side, thank God.
The limb felt…strange. It was numb, to a point, although Scott could still feel it. He could feel his finger on the trigger, the kickback as he shot. He knew the gun was in his hand, but it was with a disquieting amount of disconnect. The sensation, without the feeling.
Resistance was heavy. The Roekaar weren’t giving up without a fight, not that he’d expected them to. Jaal’s focus remained on their adversaries, although he shot glances back at Scott whenever he dared, eyes flashing with worry.
One sniper down. Another. And another. A headshot to a raider, falling dead on the ground. Scott swung his rifle like it was an extension of his arm, and with Jaal’s help, they were able to push their advance enough for Liam to stay ahead. He moved nimbly from bomb to bomb, disarming them one by one like a well-oiled machine.
By the time Jaal’s siblings arrived on the scene and the ensuing confrontation with Akksul had reached its climax, Scott’s arm was burning, shaking from the strain of keeping him in its crosshairs.
Akksul and his ilk stood together across the clearing—Akksul nose to nose with Jaal—and Scott was struggling. He just needed to hang on for a few more minutes.
Just five more minutes.
“We’ve been fighting the wrong enemy. Maybe the enemy is this traitor!” Akksul shouted, pointing his pistol at Jaal.
Like hell.
Scott lifted his rifle, no matter how his arm screamed.
“Easy,” Jaal responded, his tone placating. He raised his arms in a non-threatening gesture.
Scott felt as if he were floating outside his own body. His lips moved mechanically, every ounce of focus he had on keeping his arm steady, his finger lax on the trigger.
Akksul— the son-of-a-bitch—was going to fire at Jaal over Scott’s dead fucking body.
“Jaal…?” Scott hesitated. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, stinging his eyes.
“Don’t!” Jaal spared Scott a glance, waving him off before turning his attention back to Akksul.
Scott was so proud of him. His heart soared, even as his stomach churned.
Yeah, throwing up was gonna need to happen soon.
“The Moshae trusts Ryder. You’ve become a danger to your own people. Walk away.”
Akksul’s aim only steadied, his gun raised. “Or…I kill you and reveal the Resistance for the traitors they are.”
Before anyone else could react, Akksul fired his weapon. Whether he intended to miss was anyone’s guess, but the shot went wide. Grazed Jaal’s cheek and slammed harmlessly into the rocks behind him.
The other Angarans reacted as if Jaal had been skewered. Their faces twisted with a heartbreaking mixture of shock and disbelief. Slowly, one by one, they lowered their weapons, gazing askance at Akksul as if they’d never known him at all.
Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they’d just been taken in by his pretty words and self-serving lies.
“The alien is not the monster here,” Jaal proclaimed.
The unspoken ‘you are’ was heard by everyone.
Akksul’s face was laid bare—almost naïve in disposition. His voice was raw. Quiet with disbelief. He looked down, and off to the side. His face fell with shame. “I love my people.”
Scott believed him. That might have been the worst part of the whole thing.
Akksul’s beliefs may have been warped, misguided, but his intentions were good. Few people legitimately saw themselves as villains.
Scott didn’t have time to ruminate over it. His energy was flagging. His strength, waning. Akksul had lost his ‘army.’ That was what mattered. The day was won.
Not a moment too soon.
“You okay?” Scott asked Jaal when they were far enough away, hand on his shoulder. They turned with the Angarans as they retreated together, moving as one.
“Yeah.” Jaal smiled, leaned into his touch. “Thanks.”
“Good.” Scott grinned back, a bit drunkenly. “Go team! Great job, everyone.”
“Are you okay?” Liam came up on Scott’s other side. He must have looked faint, because he halted him with a hand on his arm, his voice soft. “You don’t look so hot.”
“Uh-huh.” Scott nodded emphatically, perhaps a few too many times to be normal. “Yup, I’m good. Real good.” He patted each of his friend’s shoulders in turn.
The world tilted. His head spun.
Uh-oh.
“Hey, Jaal?” Scott breathed, his voice thin. “Can you do me a favor?”
Jaal, bless him, cocked his head, puzzled.
“Anything.” He took Scott’s arm. “What do you need?”
“I, uh…” He licked his lips. “If you still wanted to, um…sweep me off my feet? Now’s the time.”
In retrospect, using a stupid human expression Jaal wouldn’t know what to make of to tell his potential boyfriend he was about to drop dead probably wasn’t the brightest move, but luckily, he got the gist of it. Liam scarcely had time to shout a warning before Scott’s legs folded underneath him.
Because they were both great with context clues, and had eyes, his friends caught him before he faceplanted.
They should get a raise. Could he give them a raise? Was Jaal even paid anything?
Scott felt himself being lifted—literally swept off his feet. He wanted to laugh, but his mouth didn’t get the memo. He tried to mutter something instead, tell them he was okay, but it came out a slightly-more-than-disoriented groan.
Oddly enough, that seemed to worry them more.
“Not good.” Liam’s voice, far away. “We need to get him back to the Tempest.”
Another voice, unfamiliar. “Is your friend okay?”
“No.” Jaal seemed distressed. That wasn’t good. Scott wanted to tell him not to worry. To smooth away the lines on his brow. He felt a gentle weight, against his forehead. A hand upon his cheek. “Scott…hold on.”
Scott was aware of movements. Colors. Sounds. Pain. So much pain, setting his nerves alight with fire. He wanted it to stop, needed it to stop.
He thought he even asked it to.
A voice, ever-present and comforting, responded. Called him Scott instead of Pathfinder and beckoned him to sleep in a world gone black.
When Scott was next coherent, he immediately wished he wasn’t. The world was sharp and terrible, blurred around the edges, and it hurt. It hurt so bad.
He wanted to sleep. Wanted that cold, dark world, where nothing could touch him. Where had it gone? Why was it taken from him?
Scott groaned.
“Oh, God…” he managed, fighting back tears. “Fuck.”
He was the Pathfinder. He had to be stronger than this. Couldn’t be defeated by a little pain.
A lot of pain. A hell of a lot of pain.
“Put me back out,” Scott choked, raw, desperate. “SAM, please…”
“I cannot. If I tamper any more with your bodily functions at this time, it could cause irreparable harm. I’m sorry.”
Impossibly, the AI even sounded like he meant it.
Scott huffed out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut. Felt a tear slide down his cheek. “Fuck me.”
Someone wiped it away.
“I must admit, I had hoped it would be under better circumstances...”
It took Scott a shameful amount of time to process the joke. He managed to blink his eyes open. Saw Jaal through the static, staring down at him.
Scott laughed. Tiny, broken. “Funny.”
Jaal’s smile was equally fragile. “I try.”
“Jaal. I know nothing of humans.” An Angaran woman crouched beside them, carrying a bowl of water and rags. “How can I help?”
“Our ship is coming for us, mother,” Jaal answered. Rubbed soothing circles into Scott’s cheek. “It won’t be long now.”
The woman picked up one of the rags. Wrung it out and mopped the sweat from Scott’s brow.
Scott’s eyes tracked her movements. Touched, despite everything. Suddenly, he missed his own mother, and he swallowed the lump in his throat, pained for more than one reason now.
The next tear wasn’t from his wound.
“…t-thank you...”
She smiled at him. Her eyes were kind.
“Anyone dear to Jaal is family to me. You are welcome here.”
It seemed impossibly rude to Scott, that he faded back out before he found a worthy response.
Things were fuzzy for a while after that.
Scott didn’t think the infirmary would be a welcome sight at any point in his life, but the drugs he was on certainly made things easier. His body felt heavy and sore, arm flaring bright with agony when he tried to move it, but it wasn’t quite as present as it could be. Distant and muffled.
The arm itself was bound up in a sling, which was not a good sign, and probably meant a long recovery. Scott groaned. He could already hear Lexi’s hour-long lecture, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“My heart.” Jaal was right there by his bedside. He bent his forehead to Scott’s. Cupped his cheek. “You had me worried.”
My heart?
If Scott wasn’t sure they were a thing before, he certainly was now. A slow, toothy grin overtook his face. “Hey.”
“’Hey,’ he says.” Jaal shook his head, exasperated. Fond. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve got a hangover, and I didn’t even get to drink.” Scott wrinkled his nose. “What—"
It came back to him in fast, disquieting flashes: the bombs, Akksul. Jaal’s brother, shot. He jolted upright. Hissed when his head swam. “Is everyone okay? Your brother, is he—”
“Easy.” Jaal pushed him back down. His lips twitched. “Lathoul is fine; luckily for us, my sister is a bad shot. Only you were seriously injured.”
“Lucky me,” Scott scoffed. He frowned, wrinkling his brow. “I didn’t puke on anybody, did I?”
Jaal chuckled. “You did not.”
Well, that was one thing Scott had going for him.
He winced as Jaal helped him sit up, propping an army of pillows behind his back. “My true mother will be pleased to hear you are well. She was worried.”
Scott frowned. “Huh? Your moth—"
He snapped his mouth shut.
Oh, shit. Shit. He groaned.
They should have just let him die.
Scott was a grown man. A soldier. A Pathfinder, with an AI living in his head. He was not going to blush.
But it was pretty damn close.
“Not exactly the first impression I wanted to make,” Scott muttered, averting his eyes. He tried to cross his arms and regretted his entire existence when he jostled the bad one. Again.
“She is grateful. We all are. I could not have saved my siblings without your help.” Jaal smiled, almost bashfully. “She wishes to meet you properly. It is not every day one of her children brings home the keeper of his heart.”
Keeper of his heart. Scott had to tell his to be still.
“I can’t wait,” he replied, and meant it.
Jaal beamed.
Scott was about to not have a heart when he ripped it out of his chest and gave it to Jaal. He settled back against Jaal when he climbed up on the mattress, taking him into his arms. Petting his hair the way he liked. And he thought, who the hell was he kidding?
That ship had already sailed.