Talk about the biggest adrenaline rush Amos had ever experienced, this whole raid on Io. Between Strickland, saving the kids, and Bobbie taking on a protohybrid by herself, only to see whatever... that thing was... breaking out of the Venus atmosphere, it was a miracle Amos's heart had not exploded.
He still feels it now, although in a residual way. It's like a phantom limb, a rush of thought and a shock of electricity through his body as he remembers. It's hours after the fact, now, the lot of them - and four kids - on the Roci once more, Prax reunited with Mei, Holden reunited with Naomi, Amos allowing himself to feel the lactic acid buildup in his tired, aching muscles. Doesn't make him stop, though, as he hauls the pieces of Bobbie's abused body armor up onto his workbench down in the machine shop. The thing is seriously heavy, even in parts, opened up for him to check over after they extricated her out of it.
He leans over the open chest plate, checking the gel cushioning between the back plates and feeling it squish softly under his fingers, returned to its standard state. Well, that's something he won't have to replace. However, the rest...
He picks up a small screwdriver, and gets to work.
It takes Bobbie a while to feel like a human being again. She spends far too much time holed up in the med bay, going stir crazy. Her only saving grace is the food Alex brings her, which breaks up the tedium a bit. Eventually, she bails completely and makes her way through the ship, trying to figure out what happened with her armor. They had to pry her out of it, and she's surprised parts weren't crushed completely, so she doubts it's in good shape. Neither is she, and she probably shouldn't be moving this much, but she doesn't much care.
She finds her armor with Amos, and stops short in the doorway, leaning against the frame. It's clear Amos knows what he's doing in a way Bobbie never has. She was taught to maintain her armor, of course, like all the marines were, and she might have more knowledge than most because she loves fiddling with it, but her abilities are nowhere near Amos' and she knows it.
Amos looks up, a screwdriver between his teeth, when he hears Bobbie's voice. It makes him half-smile, to see her up and about already, even after the abuse she's taken.
"Knew we couldn't keep you Marines down for long," he says by way of greeting, before taking a diagnostics tool, handing it out towards Bobbie as he looks back at the armor, using the screwdriver on a bolt between two of the back plates, feeling the structure loosen as he does.
"Have a look. It's pretty bad," he continues, movements precise. He's never worked on such a piece of technology, but the Roci herself is pretty much just as advanced, and he deals with her every day. "The back is shot to pieces. You must have smashed the ammo pack when you fell. The battery needs to be replaced, and so does your face shield. Left knee servomotors are shot to hell, too. But considering how much punishment you took, it could have been worse."
She could have gotten crushed in there, after all. Wiping some grease over his cheek with his dirty hands when he rubs at his face, he continues:
"The CPU is still functioning, and we could actually get you out without activating the emergency systems, so it's actually salvageable and not just a bunch of parts."
Bobbie comes closer and takes the tool, peering over his shoulder, willing herself not to fall over completely. She's still wiped, but she needs her armor, and... God. This close, she knows exactly what he means. It's a wreck, and the readout on the diagnostic tool only confirms that in more detail. She clicks her tongue softly, disappointed. There's no arguing that her armor saved her life, though.
"Salvageable?" Bobbie reaches down to run her fingers along a mangled seam. "Do you mean you can fix it now, or do we need parts?"
Without thought, Amos holds hand for Bobbie to hold onto rahter than fall over and brain herself on a sharp corner of the machine shop. She's still recovering, and he knows all too well how it feels to be back on your feet while still healing.
"Might not be 100%, but you should be able to use it again. The battery's going to be the biggest problem, but maybe Naomi can rig something."
He turns his head to give her a look, twirling the screwdriver between two fingers.
She hesitates instinctively, then finally takes his hand to steady herself. It helps, even if she feels a little silly doing it.
"I'm fine." That's an obvious lie, but what she means is that she's alive, and that's more than she expected when that thing had her cornered. "What about you?"
Bobbie does sit, easing herself down awkwardly and trying not to wince as he does. And then he checks her out incredibly blatantly and she laughs, struggling to stifle it when her ribs protest. It's flattering, though.
That's his first thought, when the bright blue light of yet another med bay forces him to squint as he opens his eyes. Last thing he remembered, he was stumbling down a hall with a head wound and a gun, trying not to let any of that protomolecule bullshit get on him. Trying to find his way to engineering so he could blow the whole goddamn ship in nuclear hellfire.
He wasn't supposed to be back in a med bay.
He blinked, his head thobbing, even though it was a dull, far away ache that told him instantly that he was on pretty strong pain killers. The room was empty, save for him, and as he glanced around, squinting at everything, he was slowly building a picture up in his mind for where the hell he was.
Wait.
This didn't look like an Earth med bay to him. How the hell did he end up on a Martian ship?
His terminal was making a beeping sound - an alarm, he figured, for whoever had put him in this chair - and it wasn't until he reached over to it to turn it off that he realised he wasn't restrained.
Bobbie is the one who dragged him to the med bay, because Chrisjen certainly wasn't capable of carrying him, and she's the one who set the alarm, too. She's not entirely sure Holden is pleased with another straggler, but Bobbie is certain Chrisjen would have beaten him to death if he hadn't agreed to let Cotyar on board, and Bobbie would have let her do it, if she's being honest.
Cotyar isn't in great shape, and Bobbie is surprised he's awake so quickly after they dosed him with so many painkillers, and after all that blood he lost. Chrisjen is busy dealing with Mao, so Bobbie heads down to the med bay herself, punching the panel to open the door and stepping inside, not entirely sure how cognizant she'll find him. She'll take what she can get, though—she was certain he was dead as soon as they left Mao's ship.
In the bare couple of minutes that he's had since stopping the alarm, Cotyar had done a couple of things.
The first, was to get out of the chair. He didn't have magboots on, but luckily they were under enough thrust that he didn't need them. That was about all that was lucky about this, however. He didn't realise until he tried standing just how badly off he was - his vision almost blacked out completely as his blood pressure dropped, even at a third of a gee. So the getting out of the chair and standing was a lot more of an accomplishment than he would have otherwise categorised it.
The second thing he had done was to grab something that could potentially be used as a weapon. In this case, it was a metal chair. Look, he was improvising, alright? He'd figure it out as he went.
He kept the chair in hand - not holding it up, but gripping the back of it tight enough to make his knuckles go white - as he heard footsteps come down the hall. Okay. One person, and he couldn't hear anyone else on this floor, so maybe they were on a skeleton crew--
He took a hard breath, bracing himself, when the figure suddenly came in the doorway, and his heart skipped a beat.
"... Bobbie?" It was hard to keep the surprise out of his voice, and he... kind of failed. He'd known that her and Avasarala had made it, but--
She was expecting him to be in the chair, so when he's not, she checks her peripherals out of instinct a bare second before he says her name like she's some kind of ghost. It's not really a surprise that he's ready to brain her with a chair. She'd have done the same thing if she'd woken up on an unfamiliar ship.
"Good thing you didn't actually swing that thing. You look like you're ready to keel over."
He even looked relieved. It was one thing to know intellectually
that someone wasn't dead, and another thing to see them in the flesh.
However, speaking of flesh - she didn't look a whole lot better off than
him. He could see the bruises covering almost all of the skin that she had
visible.
So he arched an eyebrow, letting out a long breath as he loosened his grip
on the chair.
"Yeah, and you look about as good as I feel, marine." He was so, so happy
to see her. "Where's--"
"Safe. She and Holden are dealing with Mao right now."
And there's a lot to deal with. Somehow the guy is even more of a dick in person. She holds out a hand, hoping she isn't moving as stiffly as she thinks she is.
He let out a relieved breath, his shoulders sagging as he did so, like a
years worth of tension just slid from his shoulders. Safe.
He was so relieved that it took him a few seconds to actually register the
rest of that sentence, to catch the word's 'Holden' and 'Mao', which had
him open his mouth and furrow his brow with an immediate question that he
didn't quite voice.
Instead, he gave her the chair, and then sort of stumbled back to the one
he'd been in when he woke up.
"So that's where we are. Here I was worried I'd somehow ended up a prisoner
for the Martians, too. But this is Holden's stolen gunship." Explained the
Martian med bay. However, it didn't explain: "Did you say they were dealing
with Mao?"
She sets the chair down, making sure the metal feet engage, and wincing all the while. God, everything hurts, pain meds or not.
"Mao was making hybrids on Io. We went there to check out the facility and try to save the kids he was experimenting on. Luckily for us, he was there, too."
He barely even noticed when the guns started firing at them, when Amos' gun lit up at the same time. He probably wouldn't have noticed if he'd been hit, either, because at the moment the whole god damn ship wasn't anywhere near as important as what was under his hands.
He was pressing down, hard, the blood far too hot and running far too freely between his fingers.
"Come on, Gunny," he said, his heart slamming far too fast against his ribs, as if it was trying to make up for her blood loss. His voice was completely drowned out by gunfire. "Come on, Bobbie, stay with me--"
Bobbie, on the other hand, is all too aware of the gunfire around them, and how utterly screwed they might be. She's trying to figure out how many reinforcements they're actually dealing with, but her mind is too muddled from blood loss, and all she can come up with is 'a lot'. She has half a mind to tell Alex to forget about her and help Amos, except she knows he'll never go for it. At least she can focus on Alex's hands pressing down on her stomach—it hurts like hell, but it's grounding. She forces her eyes open just in time to catch the tail end of Alex saying something. The gunfire echoing off the metal is too loud to make anything out.
"Still here," she manages, voice strained and half choked. There's no way it's audible, but at least it's proof she's conscious.
He can't even hear her, over the gunfire, but he sees her lips move. He wishes he knew what to do, or say, but there's nothing, his mind is a grey, panicked blank, and it's all he can do to stay where he is, keeping pressure on it
"I got you," he feels - rather than hears - himself sayin, and suddenly the world goes weird. The lights flicker out around them, the gunfire spitting and turning irregular and then stopping altogether.
But the blood didn't stop.
His fingers curled, digging into her side as he put more weight into it, and suddenly before he knew it someone else was there, trying to talk to him. Anna, maybe, though he's not actually paying attention. Another pair of hands presses down on his and they're talking again and he's just nodding, dumbly, as if he can either hear or listen even though he can't.
Alex doubles down on the pressure, and Bobbie can't hold back a strangled sound, black edging in on her vision. She squeezes her eyes shut, barely registering that the gunfire has stopped. The only hint she has that Anna is there is when she feels someone else press down, and her hands curl into fists. She realizes, vaguely, that her breathing is getting far too shallow and quick.
"Stay with me, Gunny," he says, and it sounds far too close to begging, but he can't help it. Anna is yelling something, and a minute later - or a half hour, he's lost all sense of time - there's a stretcher and someone is pushing him off and slapping a bandage down over the wound to stop the bleeding before they can get her out to the med bay.
He's a little dazed, his hands absolutely soaked with her blood, and as they raise the stretcher up, he grabs for her hand, smearing blood over her fingers as he clasps them tightly in his own.
It's too difficult for her to focus on anything. Everything around her—Alex's pleading, Anna yelling, the medic talking—all blurs into useless noise. The last thing she's aware of before she loses consciousness is someone's hand gripping hers, but she can't manage the strength to squeeze back.
She comes to slowly in the med bay, or what's passing for one. There are far too many people crammed into the tiny space, some conscious but most not. Her side isn't screaming in pain anymore, and there's a thin blanket laid over her. She must be out of the woods if no one is actively fussing over her.
When she turns her head, blinking against the glare of lights, she finds Alex. Somehow she's not surprised. She's still dizzy and her voice is still weak, but at least her thoughts are mostly clear.
They hadn't even tried giving him a deadline. Holden had spotted him while he's been pacing, waiting for the surgery to finish, and the conversation had been short. He left without telling Alex when he needed to be ready to go - just that he should check in, soon as he could, before the ship's got underway again.
It had only actually been a couple of hours, since the surgery. Naomi was off rerouting the power from core back to the drive rather than the laser, Amos and Holden off doing who knows what, and he was here. Crammed in next to Bobbie's bed, praying to a God he hadn't even tried to talk to in decades.
The relief that hit him when she spoke was all ecompassing, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"Yeah," he breathed, reaching for her hand again, squeezing it firmly. Her blood still coated his skin, but it was dry now. "Yeah, it worked. ... Thank you. For trustin' me."
This time she squeezes back, a bit weaker than normal. It worked, and he's safe, and it feels like a weight being lifted off of her chest. She can't think of Mars yet, or about the fact that this is desertion number two. They won't take her back this time, no matter her justifications.
Instead, she focuses on Alex, on the relief in his expression. "Yeah." She swallows, trying to rub a bit of the blood off of one of his knuckles with her thumb. "I'm starting to make a habit of this, aren't I?"
It feels like an incongruous question, coming out of Amos’s mouth. But it’s genuine. He’d found an old data file, in the stuff Prax had left behind. Stuff about mindfulness and yoga and meditation, and while he’s not really tried it on, it’d made for an interesting read and watch ehile they were traveling to the ring.
Now they’re out of it, and things feel unbalanced. He’s not so much looking for a secret than he is looking for a teacher. Maybe. He feels like it’s the kind of thing he could try on for size.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
>> post Io
He still feels it now, although in a residual way. It's like a phantom limb, a rush of thought and a shock of electricity through his body as he remembers. It's hours after the fact, now, the lot of them - and four kids - on the Roci once more, Prax reunited with Mei, Holden reunited with Naomi, Amos allowing himself to feel the lactic acid buildup in his tired, aching muscles. Doesn't make him stop, though, as he hauls the pieces of Bobbie's abused body armor up onto his workbench down in the machine shop. The thing is seriously heavy, even in parts, opened up for him to check over after they extricated her out of it.
He leans over the open chest plate, checking the gel cushioning between the back plates and feeling it squish softly under his fingers, returned to its standard state. Well, that's something he won't have to replace. However, the rest...
He picks up a small screwdriver, and gets to work.
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She finds her armor with Amos, and stops short in the doorway, leaning against the frame. It's clear Amos knows what he's doing in a way Bobbie never has. She was taught to maintain her armor, of course, like all the marines were, and she might have more knowledge than most because she loves fiddling with it, but her abilities are nowhere near Amos' and she knows it.
"How bad does it look?"
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"Knew we couldn't keep you Marines down for long," he says by way of greeting, before taking a diagnostics tool, handing it out towards Bobbie as he looks back at the armor, using the screwdriver on a bolt between two of the back plates, feeling the structure loosen as he does.
"Have a look. It's pretty bad," he continues, movements precise. He's never worked on such a piece of technology, but the Roci herself is pretty much just as advanced, and he deals with her every day. "The back is shot to pieces. You must have smashed the ammo pack when you fell. The battery needs to be replaced, and so does your face shield. Left knee servomotors are shot to hell, too. But considering how much punishment you took, it could have been worse."
She could have gotten crushed in there, after all. Wiping some grease over his cheek with his dirty hands when he rubs at his face, he continues:
"The CPU is still functioning, and we could actually get you out without activating the emergency systems, so it's actually salvageable and not just a bunch of parts."
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"Salvageable?" Bobbie reaches down to run her fingers along a mangled seam. "Do you mean you can fix it now, or do we need parts?"
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"Might not be 100%, but you should be able to use it again. The battery's going to be the biggest problem, but maybe Naomi can rig something."
He turns his head to give her a look, twirling the screwdriver between two fingers.
"You feeling' okay?"
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"I'm fine." That's an obvious lie, but what she means is that she's alive, and that's more than she expected when that thing had her cornered. "What about you?"
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"Sit," he says, a lot softer than a demand would be. "I'm fine. I'm not the one who went one to one with a hybrid."
He gives her a pointed look, letting his eyes travel down, then back up her body, unsubtle as Amos knows how to be.
"That was... something."
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"You know I'm one giant bruise right now, right?"
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Agatha King Rescue AU
That's his first thought, when the bright blue light of yet another med bay forces him to squint as he opens his eyes. Last thing he remembered, he was stumbling down a hall with a head wound and a gun, trying not to let any of that protomolecule bullshit get on him. Trying to find his way to engineering so he could blow the whole goddamn ship in nuclear hellfire.
He wasn't supposed to be back in a med bay.
He blinked, his head thobbing, even though it was a dull, far away ache that told him instantly that he was on pretty strong pain killers. The room was empty, save for him, and as he glanced around, squinting at everything, he was slowly building a picture up in his mind for where the hell he was.
Wait.
This didn't look like an Earth med bay to him. How the hell did he end up on a Martian ship?
His terminal was making a beeping sound - an alarm, he figured, for whoever had put him in this chair - and it wasn't until he reached over to it to turn it off that he realised he wasn't restrained.
Well thank fuck for that.
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Cotyar isn't in great shape, and Bobbie is surprised he's awake so quickly after they dosed him with so many painkillers, and after all that blood he lost. Chrisjen is busy dealing with Mao, so Bobbie heads down to the med bay herself, punching the panel to open the door and stepping inside, not entirely sure how cognizant she'll find him. She'll take what she can get, though—she was certain he was dead as soon as they left Mao's ship.
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The first, was to get out of the chair. He didn't have magboots on, but luckily they were under enough thrust that he didn't need them. That was about all that was lucky about this, however. He didn't realise until he tried standing just how badly off he was - his vision almost blacked out completely as his blood pressure dropped, even at a third of a gee. So the getting out of the chair and standing was a lot more of an accomplishment than he would have otherwise categorised it.
The second thing he had done was to grab something that could potentially be used as a weapon. In this case, it was a metal chair. Look, he was improvising, alright? He'd figure it out as he went.
He kept the chair in hand - not holding it up, but gripping the back of it tight enough to make his knuckles go white - as he heard footsteps come down the hall. Okay. One person, and he couldn't hear anyone else on this floor, so maybe they were on a skeleton crew--
He took a hard breath, bracing himself, when the figure suddenly came in the doorway, and his heart skipped a beat.
"... Bobbie?" It was hard to keep the surprise out of his voice, and he... kind of failed. He'd known that her and Avasarala had made it, but--
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"Good thing you didn't actually swing that thing. You look like you're ready to keel over."
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He even looked relieved. It was one thing to know intellectually that someone wasn't dead, and another thing to see them in the flesh. However, speaking of flesh - she didn't look a whole lot better off than him. He could see the bruises covering almost all of the skin that she had visible.
So he arched an eyebrow, letting out a long breath as he loosened his grip on the chair.
"Yeah, and you look about as good as I feel, marine." He was so, so happy to see her. "Where's--"
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And there's a lot to deal with. Somehow the guy is even more of a dick in person. She holds out a hand, hoping she isn't moving as stiffly as she thinks she is.
"Give me that chair and sit down already."
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He let out a relieved breath, his shoulders sagging as he did so, like a years worth of tension just slid from his shoulders. Safe.
He was so relieved that it took him a few seconds to actually register the rest of that sentence, to catch the word's 'Holden' and 'Mao', which had him open his mouth and furrow his brow with an immediate question that he didn't quite voice.
Instead, he gave her the chair, and then sort of stumbled back to the one he'd been in when he woke up.
"So that's where we are. Here I was worried I'd somehow ended up a prisoner for the Martians, too. But this is Holden's stolen gunship." Explained the Martian med bay. However, it didn't explain: "Did you say they were dealing with Mao?"
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"Mao was making hybrids on Io. We went there to check out the facility and try to save the kids he was experimenting on. Luckily for us, he was there, too."
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> > Finale follow up
He was pressing down, hard, the blood far too hot and running far too freely between his fingers.
"Come on, Gunny," he said, his heart slamming far too fast against his ribs, as if it was trying to make up for her blood loss. His voice was completely drowned out by gunfire. "Come on, Bobbie, stay with me--"
god stop bullying me
"Still here," she manages, voice strained and half choked. There's no way it's audible, but at least it's proof she's conscious.
You literally asked for this
"I got you," he feels - rather than hears - himself sayin, and suddenly the world goes weird. The lights flicker out around them, the gunfire spitting and turning irregular and then stopping altogether.
But the blood didn't stop.
His fingers curled, digging into her side as he put more weight into it, and suddenly before he knew it someone else was there, trying to talk to him. Anna, maybe, though he's not actually paying attention. Another pair of hands presses down on his and they're talking again and he's just nodding, dumbly, as if he can either hear or listen even though he can't.
i did thank you tbh
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He's a little dazed, his hands absolutely soaked with her blood, and as they raise the stretcher up, he grabs for her hand, smearing blood over her fingers as he clasps them tightly in his own.
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She comes to slowly in the med bay, or what's passing for one. There are far too many people crammed into the tiny space, some conscious but most not. Her side isn't screaming in pain anymore, and there's a thin blanket laid over her. She must be out of the woods if no one is actively fussing over her.
When she turns her head, blinking against the glare of lights, she finds Alex. Somehow she's not surprised. She's still dizzy and her voice is still weak, but at least her thoughts are mostly clear.
"Did it work?"
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It had only actually been a couple of hours, since the surgery. Naomi was off rerouting the power from core back to the drive rather than the laser, Amos and Holden off doing who knows what, and he was here. Crammed in next to Bobbie's bed, praying to a God he hadn't even tried to talk to in decades.
The relief that hit him when she spoke was all ecompassing, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"Yeah," he breathed, reaching for her hand again, squeezing it firmly. Her blood still coated his skin, but it was dry now. "Yeah, it worked. ... Thank you. For trustin' me."
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Instead, she focuses on Alex, on the relief in his expression. "Yeah." She swallows, trying to rub a bit of the blood off of one of his knuckles with her thumb. "I'm starting to make a habit of this, aren't I?"
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Christ that last typo of mine
EMBARRASSING!!!
Just throw me in the trash tbh
Re: Just throw me in the trash tbh
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one day they'll have a first kiss that doesn't involved grave bodily harm
WILL THEY THOUGH
ONE DAY. SOME MEME. SOMEWHERE. modern au meme....
wtf a modern au would be cute
we should do it
WE SHOULD TBH
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...
...
...
Action
It feels like an incongruous question, coming out of Amos’s mouth. But it’s genuine. He’d found an old data file, in the stuff Prax had left behind. Stuff about mindfulness and yoga and meditation, and while he’s not really tried it on, it’d made for an interesting read and watch ehile they were traveling to the ring.
Now they’re out of it, and things feel unbalanced. He’s not so much looking for a secret than he is looking for a teacher. Maybe. He feels like it’s the kind of thing he could try on for size.
Maybe they trained them, in the Navy.