northstarfan | Entries tagged with wip wednesday

Whew… been a while since I’ve had the energy to ‘fic! In celebration, have some Everybody Lives!AU Faraday…

Joshua Faraday had been called “impossible” more than once in his life. It was far from the worst thing he’d every been called, that was for sure, but it hadn’t ever been anything close to a compliment.

These days, though, it was an altogether different story. Yes, sir, he had managed all kinds of mind-boggling impossibility in the last few months. It was impossible that he’d survived his headlong charge against a Gatling gun. Impossible that he’d held out against the blood loss before Red Harvest and Vasquez had hauled what was left of him back to the tender care for the town doc, and all the more impressive given the head start that bullet in his gut had given him toward exsanguination. Said doc had also let him know more than once how impossible it was that he’d dodged the infection that should have surely come from burns, open wounds, and the removal of three bullets. (One was, apparently still sitting somewhere in the meat of his chest, safer left where it was.)

Yet here he was, Mary Faraday’s little mutt, impossibly on his feet near half a year later. Well, on his ass in The Imperial at the moment, doing his best to enjoy a whiskey he hadn’t had to pay for. Faraday found he was trying his best to enjoy the little things in life these days. Good whiskey, the firey sunsets over the mountains, being able to stay abed as long as he pleased with the knowledge that some kind soul would feed him once he got his legs under him and wandered out into the town.

Billy's POV this time. Picking up from here.

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Billy’s first impression of the Federation ship had been identical to his first impression of the station - too bright and too cold, with too many eyes on him. The same survival instincts that had been screaming danger ever since he’d crawled off that Antaran ship were telling him to run, hide, find some unseen spot where he could rest and regain his strength.

There was a sharper edge to that fear now. A fear that came of seeing other humans for first time since Nage had ordered his mother killed, of being within inches of a freedom that could be lost if he put a foot wrong. If he couldn’t prove who he was, if they didn’t believe him, then…

“And here we are.”

Billy remembered to breathe as he followed Goodnight into a large, open room. Diagnostic beds and their associated med displays lined the walls. All the Starfleet personnel moving among the beds were in blue - he supposed those were the doctors. Standing tall among all of them was a tall human with a thick braid of black hair hanging down his back - or, at least Billy was fairly sure the figure was human. The man's skin was a shade of warm, living bronze Billy had only seen in the dust-rimed sunrises of a moonside resort his mistress had favored. It had been so long, he couldn’t remember - did his people come in so many colors?

“Billy Yi,” Goodnight said, “meet our CMO, Red Harvest North. Doc, I got a patient for you.”

The man glanced up at the introduction. His dark eyes assessed Billy for about three heartbeats, then he pointed to one of the beds.

“You. On the pallet.” His gaze snapped to Goodnight as Billy lay himself down the nearest bed. “You. Explain.”

“We’ve got a hand-on-heart mission of mercy here, doc.” Goodnight’s voice held that same easy-going charm Billy had heard in the transporter bay, but there was something else about him, maybe the way he stood at-ease, but always at a point where Billy could put Goodnight between himself and the rest of the world without much trouble. Whatever it was, it blunted the sharpest edge of his fear. “Mister Yi here has just escaped the tender custody of the Orion Syndicate.”

The doctor’s gaze sharpened. He looked up from his tricorder and focused on Billy. “Is that were those plasma burns came from?”

“I stowed away on a kaungha-class freighter,” Billy said. His stomach was tight again; would they give him back to Nage for that criminal admission? “The jump vents were big enough to hide in, near enough the engines that the internal sensors wouldn’t pick up my heat signature.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t cooked.” The doctor studied the diagnostic display for a moment, then nodded at Goodnight. “Do you want him here?”

Billy couldn’t think of why he’d ask, but nodded immediately and sat up. “Let him stay.”

“All right.” The doctor folded his arms over his chest. “You’re going to have to go into quarantine immediately, since you bypassed normal procedure. While you’re there, we’ve got those burns and a host of bruises and abrasions to tend to. Longer term, I’ll want to do some osteoregen therapies on your legs. I’m seeing some old fractures that didn’t heal right. You seem to be moving around well enough, but I imagine they’re causing you pain.”

“She had the surgeon break them, then set it wrong,” Billy murmured. “Not enough to ruin me, but enough that putting weight on them hurts like knives. She didn’t think I’d be able to run away.” His heart was pounding in his ears, and that was strange because he was mostly feeling relief. Here was one more member of Starfleet talking like it was already a foregone conclusion that he’d be staying.

He might actually be safe.

The doctor was talking to Goodnight now. They both sounded a long way off.

“Does the captain know he’s on board?”

“Lieutenant Commander Cullen is filling him in as we speak. I’ll be getting called in to explain myself sooner rather than later, I reckon.”

“If they need medical testimony, I want to be there.”

A wave of disorientation sent the world sideways. As the world greyed out, Billy had just enough presence of mind to think he should lie back down, but not quite enough time put that thought into action. The last thing he remembered was someone calling his name as he fell.

I'll add more to this before sticking it up on Tumblr/AO3, but since it's my blog, I'll do as I like so far as scraps go. XD

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The first part of Goodnight’s plan hinged on Emma Cullen being willing to transport him back from leave suspiciously early with an even more suspicious unexplained guest. A friend who knew him well enough to risk something stupid on his behalf was the best way he knew to get back on ship with Billy ASAP with minimal questions (on the front end, at least).

Billy was already in fight-or-flight before they were beamed up. The assessing gaze of the lieutenant commander as soon as they materialized on the transporter pad didn’t do a damn thing to put him at ease either; his eyes flicked to the doorway and corridor beyond almost at once.

“It’s all right,” Goodnight murmured, soft and easy, like he was back home, trying to calm a skittish horse. “You’re on the USS Bass Reeves. Shiny new Peacemaker class, less than a year out of dock.” He couldn’t help but let a little pride shine through on that point. “I promise you, Billy, there’s no safer place for you in all the quadrant right now.”

Billy hesitated, then nodded slowly. “All right. Sorry. I… if I was ever on a Federation vessel, I was too young to remember it.”

“Goodnight,” Emma cut in, “who is this?”

Something wild and dangerous flickered in Billy’s eyes at that tone of authority, and Goodnight saw that it cost him something to restrain himself.

“I’m William Yi,” he said, voice now calm nearly to the point of being lifeless. “My parents were Federation citizens. I’ve been illegally held by members of the Orion syndicate since I was a child and I…” He faltered. “I need your help. Please.”

The anger on Emma’s face could have leveled a mountain. Goodnight could only imagine he looked about ready to start spitting fire himself.

“I think our friend here is asking for asylum, sir,” Goodnight said. “At least until we can verify his story.” He was having to force calm into his own voice at this point; now that Billy or William or whatever he wanted to call himself was safely aboard ship, what Goodnight most wanted was to head back onto that station and see how tough those Orions felt when they were looking at the business end of a phaser.

But that wouldn’t help Billy right now, would it?

“I’ll inform the captain what we have an asylum request,” Emma said. “In the meantime, Mister Yi, you look like you could use a trip to sickbay. Goodnight, see that he’s comfortable. I imagine Captain Garret will want to speak to both of you.”

Goodnight breathed a relieved, “Aye, sir. Right away,” then flashed a victorious grin at Billy as he lead the way out into the corridor Billy had been considering as an escape route just a minute earlier. There had never been a doubt in his mind that Emma would be anything but sympathetic to Billy’s plight… but depending on how-by-the-book things had gone, Billy might have been stuck on that station for a while. And the quicker he was beyond the reach of the Orion Syndicate, the better.

Besides, the second part of his plan had been to get Billy to the safest haven in the known galaxy, anyway: the infirmary of Chief Medical Officer Red Harvest North.

...but since this is for Lazaefair's birthday, I guess it's all right. ;)

Picking up from where we left off...

An hour later, Goodnight was pulling into the parking lot of Mom’s, a truck stop forty-ish miles or so north. He couldn’t help but grin to himself as he killed the engine, anticipation sharpening. He had no idea what was inside (good enough reason to keep the bag unzipped just enough to keep his pistol in easy reach), except that Storm Shadow was waiting in there for him. That was enough to make him feel more alive than he had in months.

He stepped cautiously through the automatic doors, walked through the harsh, white lighting of the convenience store area, into the attached diner.

( Read more... )

More Storm Shadow background from the GI Joe: Retaliation/Magnificent Seven AU. As always, much <3 to

lazaefair for helping keep the dust off.

Unlike Goodnight, Storm Shadow’s nightmares are rarely violent. It has been a very long time since he’s had reason to fear or regret the violence of his life. There is the one, when he dreams of the night he became Storm Shadow. It manifests less as a memory than it does a ragged, impotent torrent of emotions and the image of a bloody hand clasped protectively around his own, much smaller one. But largely, his nightmares are very quiet things.

Most of them are new dreams crafted of old memories.

He dreams of the mountainside cave. Onihashi had taken him there. It did him credit that he had made the long journey to the shrine without being discovered, the old smith had said, but it was no place to hide. Clan Arashikage would come looking for the Hard Master’s killer, and they knew well that Onihashi was fond of not only the Hard Master, but his nephew as well. They would search the shrine or infiltrate it, and if they found Storm Shadow there, they would kill him.

So they had made the long walk up the mountain, to the deep, dark niche in the mossy rocks. Onihashi had told Storm Shadow to hide there, until the Arashikage had come and gone. And so he had. For four days, he’d huddled there, cold and hungry, barely sleeping for fear of his own breath giving him away.

On the first day, he’d nearly run away; surely the old man believed he’d killed his uncle, and was going to betray him to Arashikage. But he’d had nowhere else to go, nowhere else he could run. So he’d waited.

On the fourth day, he’d decided Onihashi was never coming back. And he still had nowhere to run, and little strength to run with. But he was not going to die in a hole on a mountainside. He resolved to go back down the mountain in the morning, if he could. Go back to the training grounds, and challenge his rival - his accuser - to single combat. He would die, and Arashikage would finally be rid of the stain on their bloodline. But he wouldn’t make it easy for them.

He spent the fourth night in meditation, preparing for his death.

Onihashi returned on the morning of the fifth day, with rice, dried fish, and a gourd of cool, clear water. Storm Shadow had struggled to keep his composure and failed. But he managed to swear loyalty to the old smith through his tears.

The dream always ends with Zartan standing over him, smiling in triumph and well-pleased at having bought a lifetime of fealty for so cheap a price.

Something I've been noodling around with as part of Storm Shadow's backstory in the GI Goodnight AU. "Dorje" being the name of the battle granny at the monastery.

Dorje had long since learned that the scruples of her order were only well-intentioned burdens that put them at disadvantage. She had abandoned them when she had abandoned her fellows. “Mercenary” they had called her, and they were correct. But money kept hidden villages fed. Money hid fleeing priests from soldiers. And money helped convince officials not to investigate the “ruin” of the monastery far up the mountainside.

And so when the Westerner asked she take on a student at a fee that would hide and feed all she held dear for very near to three years, it was not a difficult decision.

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