Work Text:
March 10th, 1985
8:42 PM (2042)
The Pit
Tempest climbed halfway down the ladder before jumping off, rolling as he hit the ground and ran into the Pit. The group that joined him followed the leader down, looking for anyone dumped. As Tempest ran in, he saw someone by the medical station, seemingly looking for a Med-Stim.
“Hey,” he greeted with a grin, “how’re you doing?”
The person, now appearing as a pale man with only his right eye, his left eye socket empty and bleeding like red tears. Even after R.E.A.C.H was wiped clean and deleted, what was left of the Phoenix Corporation still continued stealing body parts from the innocent. He looked at Tempest, terrified.
“Who are you…?” The man asked, wincing and stepping back.
Tempest threw his hands up gently, slowly putting his gun away. “Relax, man. We’re trying to help you. We can patch you up.” He gestured to the group around him, nodding and smiling warmly, or as warmly as they could.
When he noticed the man stop, he walked over to him, fishing a Med-Stim from his pocket.
“Just keep breathing, yeah? You’ll be in a safe place in no time.” He said while grabbing the man’s shoulder, jabbing the Med-Stim into his side. He heard him hiss through his teeth, then sigh with relief. “There ya go. We’ll bring you to the Station. It’s the safest place this side of the wall. Got a hospital and everything.”
The man nodded almost imperceptibly, and two of the group members walked over to stand at his sides in case he stumbled while walking. Tempest did one last look around to make sure no one else was stuck before leading the group out. He climbed the ladder, taking his gun back out of his jacket just in case any lingering Termites ambushed them. Maybe they should’ve been called cockroaches instead of termites. Even after the lair was destroyed, they just refused to die.
The lair. Where he first pushed it to. Where it almost died the first time. Where it started.
The man paused before entering the city, rigid and knuckles white while he gripped the handle of the gun. God, he wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch it for killing itself. He wanted to punch himself for being too late. He wanted-
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see one of the group members looking at him. “Tempest? Are you okay?” She asked him.
Tempest nodded, though his grip on the gun didn’t loosen. His voice was as strained as his body. “I’m fine. Go ahead for now, I’ll catch up.”
The group didn’t question him and left, taking the injured man into the city towards the car. Tempest stood in the middle of the road, noticing how tightly he was holding the gun. He looked down at the police firearm.
“It would’ve wanted you to have it.”
The young man grit his teeth and chucked the gun at the ground, watching it bounce for a moment fortunately without a charge so it couldn’t misfire. He tangled one hand into his hair, his grip so tight he felt a few strands being ripped out, eyes squeezed shut and his lower jaw clenched against his upper. His chest was tight, wound up and ready to fight for his own life. He couldn’t let anyone else. Anyone who tried to save him died terribly, and it was always his fault cause he just had to be stupid and reckless. First it was Mole, and then it was-
No. Zen time.
Tempest forced his hand to let go of his hair, shaking off the blonde strands that stuck to his sweaty palms. He pushed his palms together, taking a deep breath in. After holding it for a moment, he breathed out, throwing his arms back over his head to come to rest at his sides. A few repeats later, and he was back to earth. Tempest looked around until he saw the gun, walking over and picking it up before putting it away.
Just a little longer. Then he could talk to it.
Tempest shook off his hands, running them through his hair to straighten it out before he walked into the city. He walked through the streets, past collapsed roads and destroyed buildings, climbing and jumping over gaps until he reached the train tracks. He walked along the side for a while, kicking the occasional rock he noticed on the tracks, before finally making it to his car, waiting for him along with the group he brought.
One of them noticed him and smiled. “The guy’s in the backseat. He’s ready for the hospital whenever you are, Tempest.”
“I’ve been ready. Hop on, and off we go.” He smirked and walked to the drivers seat, waiting until everyone was able to hang onto the car before starting it up and driving down to the Station. Briefly, Tempest glanced at his rear view mirror to check on the man. He was still bleeding, but now he wasn’t in too much pain and had a handkerchief held up to where his left eye should’ve been. “How’re you holding up, buddy?”
“As best as I can for someone who had his eye taken…”
Tempest laughed at the man and smiled. He would’ve called him a Disposal like the rest of them until he reminded himself that they weren’t really Disposals anymore. Thanks to it. “We’ll take care of ya. You’ll be safe at the Station.”
The car fell into a warm silence before the car pulled out of a tunnel and into the Station, turning off the car. He could always drive it back to the garage later. Tempest got out of his seat and opened the man’s door, helping him out to walk alongside him.
“I’ll take him to the hospital.” Tempest said to the people on the car. “The rest of you should get ahead to help Veronica.”
They nodded and hurried off and down the stairs while Tempest helped the one eyed man down the same way. “Who’s Veronica…?” He asked weakly.
“She’s our head nurse. And one of our only remaining medical staff after an attack from the police a while ago.” Tempest explained with an awkward laugh.
“Oh god…”
“Yeah. It was pretty bad. But we’re fixing it up.”
The man simply nodded as he looked around the comforting area with his one eye, suddenly catching a brightly colored mural on a wall. “And who is that?”
Tempest paused in confusion and looked in the same direction as the man, then froze in recognition. On the mural was a blacked out figure standing over a pile of bodies against an eye catching red paint, a gun in their hand and a pair of clipped, bloodied wings on their back. The young man’s face fell for a second, forcing himself to breathe before he replied with a sad smile. “Someone who taught us how to be human.” He left it at that as he continued to walk the man through the streets filled with tents and familiar faces to the hospital.
He walked through the hospital’s threshold and walked inside, looking around until he saw Veronica, writing something down in a notepad.
“Veronica, we found someone in the Pit.” He called out to catch the woman’s attention. “Lost an eye.”
Veronica looked up and hissed, walking over to take the man off his hands. “Geez… poor guy. I’ll take care of him. We’ll get him treated and an eyepatch over that in no time.”
Tempest watched as Veronica called over someone to help take the half blinded man to a bed and sit him down. He looked back at her and put his hands on her hips. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m tired. But, the day’ll be over soon. You should go rest.” Veronica leaned forward and mumbled against Tempest’s chest.
“I’m fine, I can wait an hour or two for you.” Tempest shook his head and rested his chin on the top of Veronica’s head. He could practically smell the faint, fruity scent of shampoo clinging to her hair. Comforting, safe, home, her.
Veronica pulled her head back to frown at Tempest. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed how much you’ve been working. You’re worrying us.” She shook her head at him. “You’re a human, Tempest. You need rest like the rest of us.”
Rest. Funny how he got to rest but it never got to. It was day in, day out for it. It never had an opportunity to rest, because he kept pushing it. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave it a day or two to rest, maybe it would have been healthier and safer. Maybe it wouldn’t have had to mutilate itself and could’ve thought of some other way to save the survivors. And maybe, just maybe, it’d still be alive.
Veronica shook his shoulders, and Tempest recoiled a bit in surprise. Suddenly, he noticed how tightly he was grabbing Veronica’s hips, as if scared she’d disappear.
“Tempest, what’s up?” Her frown deepened, and she cupped Tempest’s face in one of her hands, the other still holding his shoulder. Tempest practically let his head fall against her hand. Veronica’s palm was warm. Soft despite the work she had done since the attack. “And don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”
A dry laugh escaped from Tempest, and he smiled. “You always know, don’t you?” Veronica didn’t seem to find it funny.
“Tempest, do you not trust me or something?” The man recoiled at the thought.
“What? No!” He was quick to respond. “I’d trust you with my life! I’d walk through fire for you!”
“Then tell me the truth. What’s been going on?” Veronica’s fingers curled slightly, barely enough to put some pressure on Tempest’s cheek.
He hesitated, then sighed, and like you dropped the weight of the world on top of him, Tempest collapsed against Veronica. Thankfully, she caught him and held him upright, listening to his rambling.
“I’m just… I’m tired. I’m tired of it all. Everyone’s looking up to us. Why did we have to be the ones to bear the weight?” He laughed again, less enthusiastic than last time. More forced. “We don’t know what we’re doing anymore than anyone else in the Station does.
“Oh, Tempest…” Soft fingers ran through his greasy hair. She didn’t stop him, so he kept going.
“I mean, what’s the point right now? We’re fucked. We’re terrorists. The police are out to get us, and they’re not even trading with us anymore. Parts of the Station are still in ruin. I don’t even know why we try anymore. We may as well just-”
“Tempest.” Veronica cut him off before he could say it. She tilted his face up to look at him through teary eyes, then pressed her forehead against his. “You’re not thinking straight. Breathe with me.”
He did, of course. Veronica just had that effect on him. Tempest closed his eyes, his breaths shaky compared to Veronica’s stable ones, but eventually he started to breathe normally.
“…I miss it.”
“I know.”
“Why couldn’t I save it?” Tempest closed his eyes again, trying to keep his breaths steady. “Why wasn’t I faster? Why couldn’t I get to it in time?”
Veronica’s voice cut through the fog of his brain. “Tempest, it wasn’t your fault. It knew what it was doing. Probably knew what you were doing more than you did. It knew exactly what would happen.”
“Then why did it do it?” He started crying again, his voice shaking. Veronica wiped the tears from his eyes with a sad smile.
“Because it wanted to save us. It wanted us to live and be free and get to be human. It didn’t want us to just be Disposals or to give up. It wanted us to thrive and not have to depend on the people who betrayed us.” Veronica whispered and pulled Tempest closer, slowly swaying them both side to side. “It knew the risks, and it knew what would happen. Even knowing all of that, it did it. For us. We shouldn’t let it go to waste now, should we?”
Tempest stood silent for a moment, then a weak smile crossed his face. “You’re always right, aren’t you?”
“Not right. Reasonable.”
Tempest looked at her for a moment, then leaned in to kiss her. Veronica stood quietly, tucking a blonde strand of Tempest’s hair behind his ear. She was there. There and real and grounding. And that was just what he needed.
The young man slowly pulled away, then sighed. “I just… I need to see it.”
“Then go see it.” Veronica let go of him, and Tempest let go of her slowly. He nodded at her, and turned to leave before she continued. “Remember: just because life moves on doesn’t mean you have to.”
He nodded, then laughed. “See? You really are always right.”
Veronica laughed, and before she could correct him, he left.
——
The heavy metal door to Tempest’s makeshift memorials opened and the young man stepped inside. He let the door creak closed before he walked down further into the room. Briefly, he stopped to look back at the memorial of Mole and everyone who fought to protect the Station. Tempest stood quietly, smiling and nodding with acknowledgment. It was a tradition of his at this point. After a few minutes, Tempest took a deep breath and walked into the other room of the small underground alcove.
There stood Reach’s memorial. They never got an opportunity to take a picture of it, so the best they had was a drawing of it. It was pretty spot on, but even still, it wasn’t the same. Its jacket hung on a pole set up next to the table with trinkets and flowers that were slowly wilting. He really should go out and find some new ones to replace them. The green coat was tattered, covered in blood and dirt, but it was Reach’s. He had etched in a small inscription on the table the memorial sat on just for it when he first made it: “A friend, a teacher, a martyr, and a human.”
Before Tempest could take two steps into the room, he noticed something on the floor, and laughed quietly. A small calico cat laid curled up on the ground, sleeping. Somehow, every time Tempest came down to visit, the cat was there.
The man smiled and slowly creeped over to the cat, crouching down next to it. Even after seeing it so many times, Tempest couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to the cat’s left front paw. It look completely different than the rest of it’s little body: black against it’s mostly white and brown fur.
He carefully reached out and stroked the cat’s back. It made a small noise as it woke up around, then meowed as it saw Tempest. He laughed and smiled. “Morning, buddy. How do you keep getting in here?”
The cat didn’t respond, or rather, it did, but Tempest didn’t understand the meows. It stood up, briefly stretching out with its back dipping inwards, before it walked over to him, bumping its head against his hand and knee. He carefully sat on the floor and grabbed the cat to put it in his lap, watching it curl back up and start purring. Man, Excalibur was going to be pissed when he smelled that. Again.
“Did you know Reach or somethin’? It did like cats, always looking at them whenever it noticed them.” Tempest looked back at the memorial while petting the cat. “I should really give you a name. Maybe Richard.”
He watched as the cat looked up at him, slowly blinking a few times. Was it just watching him? Did it like the name or not? Didn’t matter right now. Tempest looked back at the memorial, his face falling into a somber expression.
Tempest sighed, before a sad smile formed on his face. “Hey, Reach. We miss you, you know. A lot. There’s been a bunch of crazy shit happening lately. Don’t know if you would’ve loved it or hated it. Probably hated it more, knowing you. I know I should’ve came earlier, but we got into a little fight while on a scavenge… maybe not so little. But I took care of myself this time. I protected myself and the group I brought. You don’t gotta worry about me anymore. Then again, don’t know if you can worry when you’re…”
Tempest stopped. He didn’t want to say it. He knew it was true but he didn’t want to say it. Instead, his eyes trailed down to the content cat in his lap, smiling and gently stroking down its back. “Did you know this little guy?” He asked towards Reach. “I always find ‘em in here. Like they miss you. Never seen this little one around the Station either, and I would’ve noticed. Maybe they just followed you after one of your little adventures without me.”
He watched the cat’s head snap up, purring while the front paws kneaded at his leg. Tempest laughed, in the middle of thinking about the cat’s affection before he heard the door open. Both his and the cat’s head turned towards it, the man relaxing as he saw Veronica walk over to him.
“How’re you doing?” She asked as she walked over and sat next to him on the floor.
“Better.” Tempest smiled and looked down at the cat in his lap, who was now looking up at and meowing at Veronica. “Especially with this little guy.”
Veronica laughed softly and reached out to scratch the cat’s head. “Seriously, how does it keep getting in here?” Tempest just shrugged.
“However it does, it obviously likes it in here.” He laughed it off as always.
“We should probably give it a name.”
“I was just thinking about that! What about Richard?”
Tempest watched as Veronica broke into laughter, smiling with her eyes closing and crinkling at the edges. “And what if it’s a girl?” She asked.
“I dunno, Ricarda?” Veronica broke into another fit of laughter, Tempest watching with an affectionate smile. “You got any better ideas?”
Veronica sat up as her laughter faded into small chuckles, leaning up against Tempest with her head resting on his shoulder. “We can talk about this little one’s name later.”
“Good point.” Tempest rested his head against Veronica’s, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. “You wanna just… sit here for a while?”
“Yeah. Or at least until I start to fall asleep.” Veronica nodded, her eyes already starting to droop closed.
Tempest nodded, slowly looked forward at the memorial in front of them. One hand sat on the cat’s head, scratching it very gently. The other rested on Veronica’s thigh, one of the woman’s own hands placed on top. Faintly, he heard a slight breeze, admittedly confusing given the door was closed, but the sound was followed by a chill running down his back. Right when he went to turn and look for anything else in the room, Tempest paused as he felt a kind of weight against his other shoulder. He turned to look, yet saw nothing. But the weight was there, almost like the weight of Veronica’s head. For a moment, he stared at the empty spot on his left side in confusion, then eventually turned his head away, closing his eyes.
Maybe he was just imagining it, but he almost felt like Reach was there with them. Weak and tired. And this time he let it rest.