[ well, fuck. this isn't a moment church is entirely prepared to relive.
freelancer hq was the last he saw of his universe before the meta's mind swallowed him whole and the emp tore through his shattered remains to finish off the job. it's been months now, and church still remembers the pulse of red hot static and the sharp slice of too many voices shredding him to pieces, all clamoring at once to welcome him back and ask him to stay: don't leave, alpha, please don't go, we've missed you. twenty fucking seconds he spent in maine's head. twenty seconds where each second felt like a year. twenty seconds as a hurricane of memories dragged him kicking and screaming under wave after wave of raw emotion and so many goddamned regrets.
kind of traumatizing. kind of really fucking hard to forget, no matter how much distance he's desperately struggled to put between himself and the experience since arriving to the moira.
but, well, here they are again. home and in the completely wrong place at the completely worst time. church has tex's arm in a white knuckle grip as he struggles to regain his balance, swaying from side to side before everything around him swirls into a too bright focus. the many fluorescent lights dotting the high ceilings blink in unison, and church lifts a hand to shield his face, releasing his hold on tex to twist around on his heel and search out wash.
he doesn't have to look very far. wash is right where church left him months ago: on the ground and bleeding out, maine sprawled on his back a few feet away. church never seriously thought that maine would survive the emp blast, not after everything he saw and heard during their special one-on-one visit. his eyes quickly pass over him only to immediately flick back when maine's chest hitches violently.
what. ]
Fuckin' come on — seriously?
[ seriously. he's never that lucky.
maine drags in a guttural, hissing breath as he rolls to one side and then to one knee, staggering to his feet with both hands clawing at his helmet. church's hand is on tex's arm again to keep her from moving forward because like fuck he's going to let her anywhere near him again, over his dead body.
for now, maine doesn't seem to notice the very wrong and out of place presence of tex or church, and he's not moving toward wash, either.
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freelancer hq was the last he saw of his universe before the meta's mind swallowed him whole and the emp tore through his shattered remains to finish off the job. it's been months now, and church still remembers the pulse of red hot static and the sharp slice of too many voices shredding him to pieces, all clamoring at once to welcome him back and ask him to stay: don't leave, alpha, please don't go, we've missed you. twenty fucking seconds he spent in maine's head. twenty seconds where each second felt like a year. twenty seconds as a hurricane of memories dragged him kicking and screaming under wave after wave of raw emotion and so many goddamned regrets.
kind of traumatizing. kind of really fucking hard to forget, no matter how much distance he's desperately struggled to put between himself and the experience since arriving to the moira.
but, well, here they are again. home and in the completely wrong place at the completely worst time. church has tex's arm in a white knuckle grip as he struggles to regain his balance, swaying from side to side before everything around him swirls into a too bright focus. the many fluorescent lights dotting the high ceilings blink in unison, and church lifts a hand to shield his face, releasing his hold on tex to twist around on his heel and search out wash.
he doesn't have to look very far. wash is right where church left him months ago: on the ground and bleeding out, maine sprawled on his back a few feet away. church never seriously thought that maine would survive the emp blast, not after everything he saw and heard during their special one-on-one visit. his eyes quickly pass over him only to immediately flick back when maine's chest hitches violently.
what. ]
Fuckin' come on — seriously?
[ seriously. he's never that lucky.
maine drags in a guttural, hissing breath as he rolls to one side and then to one knee, staggering to his feet with both hands clawing at his helmet. church's hand is on tex's arm again to keep her from moving forward because like fuck he's going to let her anywhere near him again, over his dead body.
for now, maine doesn't seem to notice the very wrong and out of place presence of tex or church, and he's not moving toward wash, either.
maybe they're not totally dead. ]