Chapter 1: Blood in the Sand
Chapter Text
It was long after dark when the crowd started dispersing from the center of town. Citizens began to grab hold of their senses and began to clean up the damage left behind. Some tended to the fire that had been slowly dying outside of the saloon. Others were helping Mara fix the broken beaming at the inn. Able knew he needed to check on her, but he couldn’t stop pacing.
Even after the action had started to wane, Beck was still nowhere to be found. He knew his son had clambered onto the nearest horse and took off into the desert while the Occupation was too stunned to react, but surely he would have snuck back by now. He always did, even with bruises and a limp. It was a wonder Beck had never considered that Able knew what he had been up to.
But Beck had taken quite the beating this time. Able was certain that Beck was not able to dodge all of those bullets, let alone being thrown around like a ragdoll and nearly strangled.
At that thought, Able glanced to the space under his bed, where his rifle hid. It was moments like this that he was glad he had it, but he wasn’t quick enough to spare his son from injury. Maybe he made it to Tron and Yori, or maybe…
He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought. Instead, he fished his rifle from beneath the bed again and slung it over his back. He made his way down the stairs slowly, as if Beck would be hiding in the back room, trying to clean himself up. Yet the backroom and even the front of the shop were dark and empty. With a sigh, he pulled back up his bandanna and retrieved his hat from next to the door. He pulled the rim just above his eyes and checked his surroundings before stepping outside. He quickly crossed to his horse and hoisted himself up. He took one more cautionary glance around before coaxing his horse into the desert.
He could see the fire from the distance, and the figure watching him approach. Even from his distance, he could see the tell-tale signs that Tron was aiming to kill, but waiting for his target to discern themselves as friend or foe. To help, Able held his hands up in surrender as he approached.
“Able,” Yori spoke first in relief, letting her whip relax in her hand when she recognized him. He nodded and slipped off his horse when he came to a stop.
Tron lowered his gun, but his gaze was narrowed. “You’re not Beck.”
It was an obvious statement, but Able knew what he meant. “You mean he’s not here?”
He shook his head and holstered his gun. “He was supposed to be back before sundown after he saved those hostages.”
Able grimaced at that and both outlaws tensed.
“What happened?” Yori asked, her fear signaling off her easier and louder than Tron. But Able could see the downturn in his expression, how tight his arms were over his chest.
“I…” He sighed as he took off his hat. “I had grounded him, tried to keep him next to me.”
“You what? ” Tron growled, and Yori hurried to put a hand on his arm.
“Well, it was a better idea than sending him into that death trap!” Able snapped.
“Which is why I had told him to break the hostages out before sundown-!”
“ Boys! ” Yori snapped, putting herself in between both of them, matching their glares with one of her own. Many often forget that her temper could rival Tron’s if pushed. “Arguing won’t solve anything.”
She then turned to Able, letting her glare soften just slightly. “I assume grounding him didn’t work.”
Able shook his head. “I wish it had. I had sent him to Father Dumont, to keep him out of the danger, but he snuck out. He tried to fight Tesler and fled into the desert.” His grip tightened on the strap for his rifle.
Tron glanced at his grip, before looking at him. He didn’t need to know anything more at that moment. “Then we need to find him. He could be anywhere.”
Yori nodded and wrapped up her whip. She attached it to her hip before hurrying to the fire. She retrieved a piece of wood before digging out three lanterns. After each was lit, she passed them out. “This will help us find him. We need to hurry; he could be running out of time.”
The two men nodded and took the lanterns. They exchanged a glance with each other before climbing on their horses. Without another word, the three took off along the path back to town before splitting into three different directions.
Yori had always thought of Beck like he was her boy.
Of course, he couldn’t be. She and Tron had never had any children, but she’d like to think their children would be a lot like Beck. Headstrong, but with his heart in the right place. Kind, even if to a fault. She found herself drawn to the boy immediately, and she knows he’s grown on Tron, too.
This might explain why her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, she thought she might be dying. She was glad the wind was loud as she galloped through the desert, otherwise, she might have been able to hear her blood roaring in her ears.
Able hadn’t said what exactly happened to Beck, but he didn’t need to. It had been ages since she had seen Able with his gun and she had heard the stories about Tesler from Beck’s previous fights. Even with all his training, the boy still had a long way to go before he could take on the sheriff on his own.
She forced herself to slow when the town’s lights were in sight. She raised her lantern high as her eyes combed the dirt. The sand was spotless, with no sign of footprints, hoofprints, blood or (thankfully) a corpse. Still, she frowned and guided her horse forward in a slow gait. She prayed to something that he was found soon, and wasn’t dead. They would have to find a new successor for Tron, and she could barely stomach the image of Beck lifeless in the sand-
Her thoughts halted at the sight of the horse trotting towards her. Her hand instinctively reached for her whip but paused when she realized the horse did not have a rider.
She slipped off her horse and hurried forward to stop the animal. Thankfully, the lone horse wasn’t spooked by her approach. Rather, it let her close in, pawing at the ground impatiently.
“You’re Beck’s horse…” She murmured softly, patting its side. She looked up at it. “Lead me to him.”
As if it understood, the horse turned back and began to trot off. As it turned, her heart stuttered at the bloody handprint on its side.
She didn’t even climb on her horse, delegating instead to lead it by the reins as they followed Beck’s horse, holding her lantern out in front of her. It didn’t take long for the horse to slow, and her light uncovered a prone form in the sand.
She nearly dropped her lantern as she ran to Beck’s side. He didn’t stir as she approached or when she turned him onto his back. It took a moment of shaking him for him to groan. He squeezed his eyes shut at the light.
“Beck, wake up!” She hissed, almost begging.
“Yori?” He mumbled, slowly cracking his eyes open. He was pale and his eyes were glazed.
“I’m here.” She promised, taking one of his hands in hers as she searched his body. She could see the faintest stains across his shirt and pants. She tried to avoid looking at the bruising at his neck. “Where does it hurt?”
He didn’t answer. She looked up to see his eyes closing, and shook him. “Hey, stay with me.”
He blinked rapidly at that. “Sorry.” He slurred. “ ‘m tired.”
“I know.” She gently pressed a hand against his side, and he cried out weakly. “Sorry.” Her hand came back covered in blood. Shit.
She tried to not let her hands shake as her mind raced. She needed the men, and fast. They hadn’t talked about a way to call each other should they find Beck…Her hands blindly searched herself until they traced her long-forgotten pistol. It wasn’t her weapon of choice…but it might just be the key.
She began to rise, and he clung to her hand desperately. His eyes were wide. “Don’t leave me!” He begged.
“I’m not.” She promised gently and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
His hand was shaking when she gently unwrapped his fingers from her hand. She kept her gaze on him as she stepped back from him and the horses. Then, she aimed her gun at the sky and fired.
The shot echoed across the silent desert. She waited for a moment, before firing again. She watched the horizon and listened intently. Her hands shook as she fired one more shot. The moment the gun had stopped smoking, she holstered it and ran back to Beck, retrieving her lantern. She held it up high, searching the skyline.
Finally, she heard the clattering of hooves and two horses galloped towards her. She swung her light as a beacon until she could discern Tron and Able’s forms. Then, she returned to Beck’s side, gently shaking him awake again. “Stay with me.”
She heard someone jump off their horse and Able ran to her side. He gasped softly and cupped Beck’s face. Beck leaned into it wordlessly, the effort too great at that moment.
“He needs medical attention.” She stated. “More than we have at the camp.”
Able nodded with a deep swallow. His hands were shaking. “Let’s get him on my horse. He won’t stay on his own.”
She nodded and slipped her hands underneath Beck. She heard Tron join them and say: “Get on your horse, Able.”
Able didn’t argue, hurrying back to his horse. Tron took Beck in for a quick moment. “Cradle his head and neck.” He directed to Yori. “I’ll get the rest of his body.”
She nodded and moved to his head. He was staring up at her, eyes glassy but she was thankful she could feel his labored breathing. After a quick count, the two lifted him. She noticed Tron’s grip tighten when Beck didn’t respond. They carried him to Able’s outstretched arms. Yori let go the moment Able scooped him up, leaving Tron to help Able hoist the boy up. Beck’s limp body leaned into Able’s heavily, head drooping into his shoulder. Able wrapped one hand around his back and used the other to prompt his horse into motion.
“Go catch up with them,” Tron told her as they watched the two take off into the night. When she glanced over, his jaw was clenched and brow pressed. “I’ll take care of his horse.”
She nodded and hoisted herself onto her horse. She looked back down to him. “He’ll be okay.” She found herself saying. “He’s in good hands now.”
Tron said nothing, turning his back to her. As she took off after Able and Beck, she realized she didn’t really believe herself either.
Beck’s head was lolling back by the time Able came to a stop at the shop. Able cradled his head close, trying to keep his neck straight and immobile. “Beck?”
He groaned softly and Able couldn’t help but sigh with relief. He carefully slipped off the horse first before pulling Beck into his arms. He gasped at the movement, hand blindly going to his side.
“I know.” Able whispered. “I know. Hang on, son.”
He ignored the sound of hooves hitting the dirt as he made his way to the door, trying not to jostle Beck. It wasn’t until someone reached out for the door before him did he start.
“Let me get the door.” Yori insisted and Able had to keep himself from slumping in relief. They hadn’t been caught.
She opened it and he slipped past, maneuvering Beck through the doorway. He made his way up the stairs in a familiar fashion and he heard Yori shut the door before hurrying up after him.
The moon shined over the two empty beds. Able gingerly laid Beck on his bed, and his boy groaned. The older man couldn’t keep the shake out of his hands now that they were free. However, he ignored that as he hurried to the lantern at the side of his bed.
“What do you need from me?” Yori asked from behind him as he grabbed the matches. He struck one and the light warmed up the pallor of the room.
“There are more lanterns downstairs, in storage,” Able said as he lit the lantern and shut the casing. He shook the match and the match went out. “Grab as many as you can and bring them up here.”
He assumed she nodded because her footsteps thundered down the stairs. He looked up to the moon peeking through the window and lunged up. He stole a glance at the empty square before he pulled the blinds down, blocking out the moon’s watchful eye.
Only then did he turn to Beck. Shaking hands removed his hat and untied his bandanna. The shadows and fabric were gone, leaving Beck’s pale face exposed. Still, Able couldn’t hold back his gasp at the unnatural crook in his nose, the black eye and swollen lip, and the blood dried in streams over his chin and cheeks. His one eye that wasn’t swollen shut opened blearily with a groan. “Able?” He asked, voice hoarse and broken.
“I’m here.” Able promised, taking his hand.
He looked up as Yori returned, arms full of lanterns. She gasped softly at the sight of Beck’s face.
Beck attempted to grimace. “That bad?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Able diverted. “We can fix this.”
Another set of footsteps hurried up the stairs and Tron appeared in the doorway. He froze at the sight of Beck, several emotions playing across his face before they were shut down into a guarded expression.
“Tron,” Able took off his rifle and held it out. “You can either hold on to it or put it under my bed. Either way, I need you to grab the medical kit underneath there.”
Tron nodded and took the rifle. He carefully slid it beneath the bed before dragging out the large box. He pulled it next to Able and straightened. Yori was still lighting lanterns, placing them around the scene. Each light brought more of Beck’s form out of the dark.
“We need to check beneath his clothes,” Able said suddenly. When Tron looked at him, he continued. “He was shot at multiple times. I have a feeling he didn’t miss all of them.”
Tron nodded and leaned over Beck to unbutton his shirt. The boy shivered at the cold air as he was exposed but Tron was avoiding his gaze.
“Sit him up,” Tron said finally. Able nodded and gently sat his son up, trying to ignore how his stomach churned when the boy cried out and blindly reached out for Tron.
Tron took his hand and gently helped Beck shed the shirt before squeezing his hand. The boy was panting hard, tears running down his face. “Stop.” He begged. What little voice he had shook. “ Please .”
“I’ve got you,” Tron promised instead and began to slowly lay Beck back down. Beck’s body shook with choked sobs with each movement.
“ Make it stop! ” He sobbed, chest heaving. Tron squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry.” The hero said. “I wish I could.” His stomach twisted itself into knots over Beck’s pleading and sobs. An unnatural reaction for him, he notes silently.
Able sucked in a quick breath, pulling Tron out of his thoughts. He turned to the other man. “What is it?”
“I was right,” Able said, examining the wounds across Beck’s midriff and chest. “Some of those are bullet wounds. And it doesn’t look like they passed through.”
At that, Tron cursed. “We’ll need to remove the bullets from his body. They’ll risk creating a blockage or infection.”
“I know that!” But Able’s hands were shaking against his lap. He wouldn’t be able to remove them, not without hurting Beck.
“I’ll do it.” Tron insisted though he didn’t feel much better. He had helped remove bullets from his men before but this was a kid -
“One problem,” Yori called out. The two men turned to see her sorting out the first aid kit. “We’re out of gauze, needle, and threads and there are no painkillers in here.”
That got Able’s full attention. He crawled over and began digging through the kit, and he cursed softly. “I gave the last of my laudanum to Zed when he got kicked by a horse. The next shipment won’t be here for weeks!”
Yori grimaced over Able’s head to Tron. Laudanum was the best pain relief for what they were going to have to do. Most anything else wouldn’t be enough.
“What about everything else?” Tron directed instead, trying not to think about what all Beck would feel.
“I have more gauze and sewing supplies downstairs. Yori, could you-”
Knock knock
Everyone froze at the sound and the air became static. After a moment, an elderly voice called through the door. “Able? I know it’s late, but I wanted to make sure Beck was here. He slipped out during my evening prayer.”
Dumont? Yori mouthed in confusion. Tron nodded.
“Able?” Dumont called again, and the knob began to turn.
“Oh, yes!” Able called, trying to quickly make his way to the stairs. “Everything’s fine! You need not worry-”
He barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before the priest opened the door. Tron pulled Yori out of sight of the doorway. Able blocked the sight up the stairs about the same time.
“Father Dumont!” He greeted in a cheery voice that was spread thin. “You didn’t have the make the walk all the way here!”
Dumont did not seem to believe the pained grin on Able’s face if his suspicious expression was anything to go by. “I wanted to make sure Beck had gotten home safely. As I said, he had snuck out during my evening prayer. Link, the poor boy, hadn’t been able to convince him to stay in the church. I assume he had gone to watch the fight, and I heard it got rather out of hand.”
Tron faintly realized Beck was wheezing. He looked up to see Beck blindly searching for some sort of comfort, one of his hands clutching his side as he began to bleed again.
“He came home.” Able promised. “He got the lecture and grounding of a lifetime, but he’s safe-”
Tron had no choice. If he didn’t tend to Beck then, the bleeding would only grow. But tending to Beck would put him in direct sight of the priest, who he could not guarantee wouldn’t report the sighting to the Occupation. With a grunt, he kicked the bedroom door and it slammed shut. Both men below whipped around to the shut door.
“Is everything okay, Able?” Dumont asked after a pause. Able slowly turned back. “Are you sure he wasn’t hurt?”
Tron scrambled over to Beck, blindly grabbing at the first aid. His fingers clumsily grab a cloth.
“ What are you doing ?” Yori hissed, still against the door.
“He’s going to bleed out if we don’t do something!” Tron pressed enough to try and clot the bleeding and Beck screamed .
For an old man, Dumont had a surprising amount of strength. He shoved Able out of the way and began his way up the stairs as quickly as he could. All Able could do is yell, “Father, wait-!”
Yori barely scrambled out of the way as Dumont pushed the door open. His gaze caught on her first, then roved over to where Tron was frozen over Beck, covered in his blood. Their wide eyes were stuck on the priest, and for a moment, the only sound was Beck’s quiet sobs.
“Father…” Able tried again, coming up behind him. “I can explain-”
Dumont held up a hand, and Able went silent. His eyes searched the rest of the scene before he slowly approached Tron and Beck.
“Let me see, sheriff.” The priest said finally. Tron slowly let go and backed away as Dumont took his place over Beck. He hummed softly, before going to his knees with a quiet grunt. He gently wiped the sweat off of Beck’s brow, and the boy’s feverish gaze tried to find him, but couldn’t see him.
“Yori.” She looked up at her name, but Dumont didn’t look at her. “I need you to go to the church. In my office is a fully stocked kit. I need you to make sure there are six vials of Laudanum in there. Bring that kit here, and don’t be seen. Got it?”
She nodded before she managed a:” Yes, Father”. She then scrambled to her feet and took off down the stairs.
“Able,” Dumont continued. “Go to Zuse and ask for the bottle of his strongest. We’re going to need it.”
He took off as well. Dumont carefully grabbed another rag and began to roll it up. All Tron could find himself doing was watching him work.
Dumont then leaned forward, pushing Beck’s hair out of his hair. “Open.” He commanded gently, and slowly opened Beck’s mouth. He placed the rag between his teeth and closed Beck’s mouth again. “I need you to bite on that.”
After a moment, he turned his attention back to the wounds. “How many of these are bullet wounds?” He asked Tron without looking up.
“Three. The bullets are still inside.”
Dumont sighed. “Just what I was afraid of.” He carefully retrieved the tweezers. “Tron, I need you to hold him down. He’s not going to have any relief until that laudanum is in his system.”
Tron nodded and rounded to the front of the bed. He placed his hands on Beck’s shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Dumont took a deep breath, showing the severity of the situation for the first time on his face. After a moment, he began to work.
It was nearing sunrise when Dumont patched up the final wound. Able and Yori had been quick to return. Able had mixed the liquor and the laudanum mixture together and gently coxed it down Beck’s throat, distracting him from Dumont disinfecting the gunshot in his side. After that, it was hard to tell if the mixture had been strong enough to lull him to sleep, or if he finally passed out from the pain.
Now, he slept soundly as Dumont examined his throat, gently running his fingers across the bruising.
“It’s going to take some time for this bruising to heal.” He spoke for the first time in hours. “But we’re lucky his windpipe wasn’t crushed.”
No one spoke, wrung out from the long night. Tron was still standing at the head of the bed, watching his apprentice sleep. Yori crossed her arms as she stood in the corner, eyes bloodshot. Able was sitting on the edge of his bed across from Beck, head in his hands.
At some point during the night, someone had fetched a bucket of water. Dumont sighed as he knelt in front of it, using it to scrub his hands.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Able,” Dumont said gently, looking up to his friend. Able glanced up at that. “You did the right thing, bringing him back here. He would not have survived in the desert.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tron spoke as well, throat dry. “You tried to protect him.”
“Tron, come wash that blood off your hands,” Dumont called as he dried his hands. Tron obeyed, kneeling next to the bucket as well. His expression was…unreadable.
“If anything, it’s our fault.” Tron continued after a moment, glaring down at the blood on his hands. “ My fault.”
Yori nodded in agreement. “We’re the ones that convinced him to fight back. If we hadn’t, Beck wouldn’t have been forced into this situation.”
Dumont hummed as he sat on the edge of Able’s bed. “Oh, I think Beck would have fought regardless. After all, he burned down the mayor’s house. And I doubt he was acting on your orders.”
“Why do you think that?” Tron asked.
Dumont looked at him critically. “That was Flynn’s house. You and I both know you would have never asked the boy to burn down the last physical memory of Flynn we had. Maybe scare Dyson out of living there, but not burn it down.”
Tron didn’t know what to say to that.
“He would have kept fighting, regardless of if he had your approval. I like to think that perhaps you kept him from getting killed this long.”
Tron nodded and looked to where Beck was sleeping.
“We’ll need to stay here for the day if that’s okay with you, Able,” Yori said finally. “There’s too much light for Tron and me to sneak back out of town without being seen.”
Able nodded. “That’s fine. He’ll want to see you when he wakes, anyway.” He then turned to Dumont. “You don’t have to wait, Father. I know you have duties to attend to back at the church.”
Dumont waved him off. “Link can handle them for me today. I want to make sure there aren’t any further complications.” He looked up to Tron and Yori. “Why don’t you two take a seat and tell us how he became your Renegade?”
The bullet tore into his side and he fell to his knees. One hand slammed into the dirt, while the other hurried to cradle his side. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as he felt the warm liquid spilling over his fingers.
Hands grabbed the back of his shirt and suddenly he was flying. He yelled as his back hit something that splintered beneath him. As he tried to stumble to his feet, Tesler grabbed him again and slammed him into another beam of the inn. Beck slipped and squirmed out of the hold. He swung with a cry at Tesler’s midriff, making contact once, twice-
The backhand knocked him off his feet and he rolled back into the square. He scrambled to his feet as Tesler strolled towards him. His breathing was roaring in his ears as he unsheathed his knife. He backed up until he was away from the inn, then lunged at Tesler with a cry.
Tesler caught his wrist and twisted it with all his strength. His war cry was choked and he dropped the knife. Before he could dive for it, Tesler kicked it away. He dragged him by the arm, further and further away from the knife. When he let go, Beck tried to crawl away but Tesler placed a foot on his back.
“This. Ends. Now.” The sheriff gritted out.
Think Beck! Think!
The gun!
Tesler grunted when Beck twisted and slammed Tesler’s discarded gun into his knee. He had little time to celebrate as Tesler grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground. Stars danced in his line of sight, and he could have sworn he felt like he was floating.
Tesler lifted him to eye-level, but far enough that Beck couldn’t swing or kick. There was a pressure on his throat, Beck realized after too long of a moment, and the pressure was growing. He tried to take a shaky breath, hands struggling to grab at Tesler’s wrist. His breath was blocked, trapping dead air in his lungs. His legs swung desperately but uselessly.
“This is what you can make of your Renegade!” Tesler called. “He’s not Tron, but he’s about to share his fate!”
His vision was growing dark, thoughts too crowded to do anything but panic. I can’t breathe , he could feel himself hyperventilating, choking on air, I’m going to die…
The thoughts stopped seeming scary. They were stringing apart, words growing softer and softer…
BANG!
Tesler cried out suddenly. Something warm splattered across his face. The pressure on his neck was gone, and his back slammed into something hard-
Beck gasped as he shot up. Pain erupted in his side, ripping a hoarse cry from his throat as his hand shot to his side.
Two hands were immediately on his shoulders, “Easy.” A familiar voice said gently as they eased him back down. It took a long moment for his eyes to focus on Tron’s upside-down face above him.
“Tron.” He breathed, and though his throat ached, the tension melted from his body. He was safe.
Tron nodded at his name. “You need to take it easy, Beck. You’re only awake because the medicine wore off.”
“He’s right.” Beck slowly turned to see Able next to the bed. If that wasn’t confusing enough, just beyond him Yori was creating some concoction and Dumont was slowly standing up from Able’s bed.
“Able?” He whispered. He glanced back to Tron, and then to Able again. “You two know each other?”
Despite everything, Tron couldn’t help but snort at that. Able shot him a look but nodded. “Yes. We’ve known each other for a long time. Longer than they’ve known you and longer than you’ve been the Renegade.”
That last sentence sunk in and his eyes widened with a gasp, he tried to look away. Able gently set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Beck. I…I know.”
He stole a glance at him. “How long?”
Able sighed and shook his head. “Too long.”
“He’s why you’re here,” Yori said gently, approaching Beck. “He had been looking for you, after your fight with Tesler. He had come to us, and we searched for you. You wouldn’t have survived if we hadn’t found you.”
Beck’s stomach sank into his toes. “Oh.” He said softly.
“Let me check his injuries.” An old voice said. Tron, Able, and Yori backed away to let Dumont through. The priest examined his bandages, humming with approval before gently placing his hand on Beck’s throat. Beck flinched, but Dumont never tightened his grip.
“Everything seems to be healing nicely,” Dumont announced, removing his hand. He glanced at Able and Tron. “He’ll be back to work in no time at all. For both of you.”
“Father,” Dumont looked back down at Beck’s quiet voice. His eyes were wide. “Are you going to turn me in?”
Eight eyes were on the priest. After a moment, Dumont pushed back Beck’s hair and shook his head. “No, child. Why would I stop the new Tron in his fight for justice?”
Beck blinked up at him in confusion but Dumont paid him no mind. Instead, he turned and shook everyone’s hand. “Send for me if his condition changes.”
Able nodded. “We will. Thank you, Father.”
Dumont nodded and slowly made his way down the stairs. Everyone was silent until the back door to the shop swung closed. When he was gone, Tron sighed and situated himself on the edge of Beck’s bed. “Beck, I need you to understand that you’ve changed things.”
Beck could no longer meet his gaze, delegating instead to stare at the wall. “How so? Tesler nearly beat me. He almost killed me. From where I’m sitting, it looks a lot like square one.”
“What you have done,” Yori spoke up, “is show the people of Argon that they don’t have to sit by and watch bad things happen. They can choose to fight. That is what you did. Not me or Tron.”
Beck still didn’t look at them, but he was smiling softly. “I suppose I should thank y’all for saving me. Again.”
Tron’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“With the fight.” Beck finally looked at them. “You shot Tesler!” And then he turned to Yori, “And you must have helped keep the guards away.”
Tron and Yori exchanged a confused look. “That wasn’t us, Beck,” Yori said.
“We were in the desert the whole time,” Tron added.
Beck’s frown grew in thought. “Then if it wasn’t you…”
Slowly, Tron and Yori looked to Able to see him slowly push his rifle further beneath his bed. Beck didn’t miss it, gaze turning to his adoptive father.
“It was you?” There was an odd, indiscernible expression on his face. “You took out Tesler!”
Able gave a nervous chuckle. “Now how could an old man like me possibly manage a stunt like that?”
“With your gun,” Tron said dryly. The look Able shot him made Beck chuckle. It quickly broke off with a groan as he cradled his side.
“Here.” Yori retrieved the concoction and opens the top. “Drink some of this. It’ll help.”
Beck obeyed, the taste of ginger and alcohol hitting his tongue. Tron’s hand was on his back, propping him up as he drank. When he finished, the old sheriff gently laid him back down. Already, he could drowsiness setting in, and he rubbed his eyes.
Someone chuckled, and another hand settled in his hair. “Get some sleep, Beck,” Able said. “We’ll be here when you wake.”
And Beck didn’t argue, giving in to deep sleep.
Chapter 2: Broken Glass Bottles
Summary:
Beck has a problem, a barely hidden secret. What happens when Able, Yori and Tron notice it spiraling out of control?
Notes:
I had written this in two parts for fictober on my Tumblr, which you should totally check out at askbeckandpaige if you want to see the other prompts!
TW for alcoholism, alcohol withdrawals, and vomit
Chapter Text
The putrid stench of alcohol hit Able’s nose as he woke. He wrinkled his nose and the memories of just hours before flooded back in. He groaned softly as he urged his aching body up and turned to look at the occupant of the other bed.
Beck was snoring softly, sprawled out across the bed. The bottle he had been drunkenly clinging to the night before was still on the floor, where the last few drops try to escape.
Able urged himself to his feet and sighed as he picked up the bottle. Ever since Bodhi had passed, it seemed that Beck was drinking more and more. Sometimes, he would be able to stumble home on his own. Other times, Gem or one of her girls would have to help him, but that was rare. Well, used to be rare.
It seemed that ever since Beck’s near brush with death, he was drinking more and more. Able pondered this as he dressed. What was once a rare occurrence became a nightly habit of meeting one of the sporting women to help Beck upstairs and into bed before he puked or pissed himself. Able’s new morning ritual was to pick up any sick or abandoned bottles from the night before and try to wake Beck as gently as possible.
Able opened the curtains, which shined directly into Beck’s eyes. The boy groaned and tried to cover his eyes. “Abllleee!” He cried hoarsely. “Close the curtain! You’re makin’ my head hurt.”
“I think your hangover is hurting your head more than I am.” Able responded in a deadpan as he tossed out the bottle. “Time to get up.”
He heard Beck groan and say something more, but he ignored it as he made his way down into the shop, consumed in his own worries.
This was only getting worse.
Surely Tron had noticed, too.
“It’s hard to talk to him,” Yori admitted. “The smell of alcohol is always on his breath. It’s overwhelming.”
Able nodded his understanding from the rock he sat on. “Does he ever slur his words, or maybe drink during the day?”
She nodded. “He’s started carrying a flask. He’s tried to convince us that it’s just water, but it’s easy to tell when he starts stumbling or slurring.”
Able glanced at Tron, who had been unnervingly silent. “What did you guys do when that happened?”
Yori also stole a slow look at Tron, who was glaring at the desert sand with crossed arms. “...we usually send him home. Back to you.”
“And he hasn’t been going home, has he?” Tron asked finally, otherwise unmoving. When Able slowly shook his head, the outlaw sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a rare show of…concern. “Shit.”
“One of the girls from Zuse’s saloon has to bring him home most nights,” Able said. “I…I don’t know what to do.”
Yori looked over to Tron and put a steady hand on his arm. He took a steady breath. “There’s one way that comes to mind. I’ve seen a lot of my men have to resort to this method in order to save themselves…But it’s not easy. It’ll be difficult for everyone, but most especially Beck. And he’ll have to stick to this method for the rest of his life.”
Able barely dared to ask. “...What is it?”
Tron sighed. “Total detox. We would cut off any ways for Beck to get his hands on alcohol, and he would have to also hold himself accountable by never drinking again. Not even once.”
That was…harsh, Able couldn’t help but think. “...Does it work?”
“Usually, yes. But Beck has to be on board with it, or he’ll just find new ways to get his hands on alcohol.” Tron finally looked up to him. “Do you know where he is?”
“Not exactly,” Able admitted, watching the sunset. “But I do have an idea.”
“I haven’t seen him recently,” Zuse said, barely looking up from his glass. “He didn’t go home?”
Able sighed and pinched his brow. “No. He’s not there. You’re telling me he hasn’t been here at all?”
Zuse paused at that. After a moment, he set the glass down with a sigh. “I cut him off. Well, tried to.” He looked up to him. “Do you know how hard it is to take care of a boy every night who has no self-preservation? He’s been coming in every night to get drunk off his ass! It’s been scaring off the other customers! I’ve been losing business because of your boy!” “I know, and I’m sorry-”
“So why do you keep letting it happen?” Zuse challenged, leaning across the bar. “He stole three bottles of foreign imports tonight, and all you’re going to do is clean up his sick and let him come back tomorrow! Can’t you control him?”
“Yes!” Able protested but then paused. “No,” he admitted, before sighing again. “I don’t know.”
“Well if you don’t stop him, I’m calling the Occupation on both of you!”
Able felt his heart drop to his stomach. “I’m looking for him so I can fix this-”
“How?!” Zuse snapped. “You just told me you don’t know if you can control him-”
There was a sudden hand on Able’s shoulder, and something made Zuse stops in his tracks, eyes wide.
“We are going to fix this,” Tron said behind Able, voice almost a growl. “Able is a great father, so don’t you dare insult him like that.” Tron dug in his pocket and slammed some cash on the counter, making Zuse start like a gun shot off. “For the liquor,” Tron muttered before digging his fingers into Able’s shoulders and turning him around.
“I could’ve handled that, you know.” Able said as they leave. “Not that I’m not thankful, but I wasn’t bothered by what he said.”
Tron ignored the comment. “We found him.” Was all he said before letting go of Able’s shoulder. He slipped in between the saloon and the shop, and Able didn’t hesitate to follow. As they slip through the alleyway between the two buildings, Able began to faintly hear sobs. The sound made him pick up his pace, passing Tron and rounding the corner.
Beck was slumped back against the wall of the shop. Two bottles sat empty, and he was clutching the third like a lifeline as he sloppily dried his tears. Yori sat across from Beck, but the moment Able ran up, she scooted out of the way. He took her place in front of the boy. “Beck, what’s wrong?”
Beck shook his head, hiccuping with a sob. He started to take another swig, but Able stopped him.
“No, Beck. You don’t need anymore.”
“Lea’e me ‘lone.” Beck slurred, voice wet.
As much as Beck’s tears broke his heart, he remained rooted in his spot. “I’m not leaving you, son.”
“None of us are,” Yori added, glancing to Tron, who nodded as well. After a moment, Tron moved closer.
“Let’s get everyone inside.” He said, before kneeling down to help Able pull Beck to his feet. Almost immediately, Beck’s feet crumbled beneath him. Able grunted at the sudden weight, but Tron took over. He scooped Beck up into his arms and carried him inside. Beck was practically limp in his hold, and as they crossed the threshold of the building the bottle slipped out of his grip and crashed to the floor. Able and Yori had stepped back in surprise, and Tron glanced back.
“I’ll take care of the mess,” Yori said before anyone else could move. “You two get him upstairs.”
Able nodded and stepped around the broken glass to follow Tron upstairs. Beck groaned as Tron turned him to the bed. He began to squirm in his grip.
“Beck, stop fighting me.” Tron sighed. “You need to lay down.”
Beck suddenly and barely turned in time as he puked onto the floor. The splatter hit Tron’s shoes, and even he was struggling to not drop Beck to cover his nose.
“I’ll get it,” Able said and took off downstairs. Beck groaned, now hanging in the angle he had thrown up like a ragdoll. Tron bit back a sigh and changed his grip to lay Beck over his shoulder.
Beck’s breath was hot against his neck. “I don’ feel good.” He mumbled.
“I know.” He found himself saying gently, even though he was beyond aggravated with his mentee. “We’re gonna get you some water and rest.”
Beck whined and hid his face in his neck. “No.”
Tron sighed. “Yes, Beck. That’s what you need right now.”
He shook his head into his shoulder. “I don’t want it to come back!”
Tron turned his head slightly to look at him. “Want what to come back?” Beck didn’t answer. Able was coming back into the room, and Tron put a hand on Beck’s back. “Beck, you don’t want what to come back?”
Able froze at that, trying to listen without disturbing them. Tron glanced up and made eye contact with Able, before shooting his gaze over to Beck. Able nodded and crept forward to clean up the mess quickly.
“What happened,” Beck said finally, his voice wet. Tron felt hot tears hit his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt to think about B-Bodhi o–or nearly dying right now…”
“But it does when you’re sober,” Able said softly as Yori came back into the room, overhearing that last bit. Able’s heart broke as Beck began to sob and he put a hand on his back. “Oh, Beck. I’m so sorry.”
Yori joined Able, putting one of her hands on Beck’s back as well. Tron continued to hold him, feeling the boy’s arms wrap around him as he sobbed. It was one of the times when Beck seemed so small, that Tron was reminded he was just a child…
“I’m sorry.” He found himself saying softly to Beck. “I wish you hadn’t lost Bodhi, or that you haven’t had to go through what you have. But I can tell you from experience that this isn’t going to solve the pain. Not forever. Someday, it won’t be enough. Someday, someone could get hurt.”
Beck hiccuped with a sob, and Tron felt his hand automatically go to his back. Yori spoke up next. “Beck, I’m so proud of how strong you’ve been. But Tron’s right: this won’t help you.”
Able walked around so he could look Beck in the eyes. “Beck, it’s time to stop drinking. We all care about you, and it hurts to see you in pain like this.” He didn’t glance at the others as he said. “We’ll stay with you until you feel better until you’re sober again. We’ll help you work through this.”
Yori nodded and took Tron’s head. “We’ll be here. All of us. As long as you need us. But you have to stop drinking.”
“I’ll go sober with you,” Tron said suddenly, and everyone looked at him. Especially Beck. He turned and meet his gaze. “As long as you don’t have another drop of alcohol, I won’t either. You’re not alone. So, are you ready?”
Beck thought for a moment before nodding. “I’m ready.” He said softly.
The three adults sighed in relief. Tron nodded. “Let’s get you some water and rest, then.”
Beck did not sleep long, maybe less than five hours. In the time he slept, Able had had time to go to Dumont for counseling on Beck’s condition and to go by Zuse to enact some of Dumont’s advice. Zuse agreed to the guidelines and was going to ban Beck from any alcoholic drinks.
Tron and Yori stayed in the small room above the shop, so they were there when Beck woke with a pounding headache. Able returned as Yori was making Beck drink water, and Tron was sitting next to him on the bed. Beck’s skin was starting to look clammy, and his hands held the most minuscule of shakes.
“I brought back some food,” Able said, approaching as Beck shakily set down his glass.
Beck shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He said softly.
His heart ached in sympathy. “I’m sorry, kiddo.” He watched Beck’s shaky hands wring together. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “I can’t have a drink, so no.”
Able took his hand and squeezed it. “I know. Just hang in there.”
The sun rose and set again, but Beck was tossing and turning in bed. He grunted as he kicked off the sheets and sat up. He began to peel off his sweat-covered when he saw Tron rise. He froze as Tron neared.
“You alright?” Tron asked softly as he reached out. Beck jerked away from his touch.
“Fine.” He grumbled. “Just hot.”
Tron checked his glass to see it was empty. “I’ll get you some more water.”
Beck shook his head. “Having a drink will help me cool down better.”
Tron turned back to him. That was not even a logical conclusion. “No, Beck, it won’t.”
“Okay, maybe not, but I could do with one right now. Could you get me one?”
Tron shook his head. “No. Just water.”
Beck begins to frown, and his voice takes a steely edge. “Why not?”
“Because we agreed. No more liquor.”
“Oh come on! I was drunk! You can’t blame that on me!”
Able and Yori began to stir at that, but Tron ignored them. “That doesn’t change anything. You’re not having any more liquor.”
Beck glared at him, before getting up. His gait was weak, and he barely got two steps in before Tron stepped in front of him. “I said no.”
“I don’t give a shit!” He spat, “If you won’t get it for me, I’ll get it myself.” Beck tried to step around him, but Tron just remained in his way.
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Are you kidding me?!” Beck exploded. “You can’t trap me here!” He stumbled back as Tron began to step towards him, trying to get him back in bed. “If you really cared about me, you would let me go!” Able started to step forward. “Beck you know that isn’t true-”
“Shut up!” He snapped.
Tron stepped close and knocked Beck back onto the bed. “Apologize right now.” Tron ground out, hands balled into fists at his side. “Able has moved heaven and earth for you, and you don’t get to talk to him like that!”
Beck looked up at him with wide eyes, having rarely seen Tron’s actual rage.
“Apologize.”
Beck looked down. “Sorry, Able.”
Able sighed and nodded. “Thank you, Beck.”
Beck refused to look at him. He flopped down onto his bed and turned his back to them.
“Beck…” Tron started when Yori put a hand on his arm. He looked at her and she shook her head.
“Let it go.”
He sighed but nodded, stepping back. Yori nodded as well and reached for the glass. “I’ll get him some more water.”
It was the middle of the second night when things got worse.
Able held Beck up as he keeled over the bucket, puking. Unfortunately, all he had was water, so the water was all that came back up.
Able gently shushed Beck as he rubbed his back, the skin worryingly warm. “It’s okay. Deep breaths, Beck.”
Beck was gasping for air after his final gag, clinging to the edge of the bucket for dear life. However, he went with Yori’s gentle pull into her and she began to run her hand through his hair. “It’s okay.” She whispered as he leaned heavily into her. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Tron grabbed the bucket and Able shot him a thankful look before turning back to his son. Tron tried to ignore the fact that he could hear Beck’s sobs all the way down the stairs.
“Make it stop,” Beck begged softly. He looked up at her with glassy, fever-ridden eyes. “Please.”
Her heart squeezes painfully and she tucks his head beneath hers. “I wish I could. I wish I could…”
Beck had nothing to say to that, still crying. Tron came back upstairs and Able rose to meet him.
“It’s only getting worse.” He said as he stood next to Tron. “I think he has a fever.”
Tron nodded. “Probably. Unfortunately, it only gets worse before it gets better.”
“Is there anything we can give him?” Able almost begged. “Maybe some laudanum?”
“That has alcohol, remember?”
Able sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s right. It’s been a long few days.”
Tron said nothing for a long moment, before turning away.
“Where are you going?”
“To see if Dumont has any valerian root.”
“Valerian what?”
Tron didn’t answer, already out the door. Able sighed and turned back to Beck’s sobs. Together, he and Yori helped Beck back into bed. By the time Beck has begun to quiet down, Tron returned. He carefully carried a steaming cup of tea to Beck’s bedside.
“Hey.” He said softly, and Beck turned to look at him, eyes still teary. “Sit up and drink this. It’ll help.”
Beck quietly nodded, and Able rushed to his side to help him sit up with a groan. With shaking hands, Beck took the cup from Tron’s hands and began to drink. Tron kept his hands held out in case Beck’s grip was to give. When he drank it all, Tron took the cup back and Able helped Beck lay down again. Within minutes, Beck was asleep, and the three could breathe easier again.
The worst was over.
Chapter 3: Ghost Tales Part 1
Summary:
There are many stories of what happened to the Sheriff Tron and his wife. Legends, myths, ghost stories...this is the only truth. This a past full of ghosts of its own. [Part 1 of 3]
Chapter Text
“As we look to our future, the past must be our guide.”
The late afternoon sun was shining down on the desert city. It cast a glow over Clu, highlighting the golden seams in his suit as he stood at the podium overlooking the crowd. He continued.
“We were one of the first settlements in this new world, the first to explore the West. We have my father, Mr. Kevin Flynn to thank for that.” Polite applause rippled through the crowd as Clu gestured back to his father, who gave a sheepish wave.
Despite it, Tron can’t help but frown from his perch. He’s thankful that Kevin did not force him to be on the stage. The man originally insisted, but Tron pointed out that he should be running security over the event. After all, there had just been a murder.
And with Clu’s reaction when he found out...Tron didn’t trust that he didn’t know anything about Jalen’s death. After all, Clu had made his distaste of the ISO colony clear before.
If only Dyson could be here. Even with only one eye intact, the man always provided sound advice. Even with his sharp glare and spitting hate about the ISOs after the…incident, Dyson could still be neutral. He had before. Maybe he would know what to do about Clu.
“However, we did not come here alone. Other colonies have settled out here, among them the ISOs.” Clu pauses as he looks over the crowd, failing to reign in the faintest traces of distaste in his expression. “And today, we take a historic step. Today, we officially join with these ISOs. Our two settlements will work and live side-by-side not just here.” Clu’s eyes flick over to the faction of cross-armed Flynn settlers, standing off from the ISOs, “but throughout the West. And if Mr. Flynn says that sharing the Governor seat with an ISO is the next step, then I say: let the future begin!” Clu plasters a fake grin on his face as the majority of the crowd cheers.
“May I introduce your new ISO governor: Radia King.”
The woman rises from her seat. Despite the occasion, she wears black, and her face is solemn as she takes the podium.
“Greetings, Flynn and ISO settlers. While I am honored to accept this honor on this historic occasion, I do it with a heavy heart. For I was to share this honor with my husband, Jalen, until his tragic demise. I wish with all my being that he could have been here to witness this great moment. I’m sure he looks down on us among the gods.” Her face falls minutely, and Tron knows Yori’s heart must be breaking somewhere in the crowd.
After a moment, Radia’s strength resolves, and she continues. “However, my daughter and I will continue on-” Behind her, her daughter bows her head, black hair hiding Quorra’s expression from view- “and I will push aside my grief. We all must, to make progress and to embrace this era of cooperation and coexistence between our two settlements-”
Someone in the crowd screams. The stage party starts and Tron’s head whips to the source. In the middle of the crowd, people are shoving each other, trampling to get away from something-
No. Someone .
Tron leaped down from his perch and readied his gun. He took off into the fray, knowing his team was leading citizens to safety. On the other side, he could faintly see Radia and Quorra being escorted off stage. Good. Tron turned his full attention to the man in the middle of the crowd.
Well, he at least thought they were human. Their shape was human, but the way they stood was…wrong. Their fingers gnarled and curled and they stumbled as if every step stabbed pain. Still, that didn’t stop their claw-like fingers from wrapping around a bystander’s neck, lifting them with surprising strength. The bystander’s feet kicked uselessly as they struggled.
“HEY!” Tron shouted, raising his gun. He wouldn’t shoot, couldn’t without hitting the innocent. But this…creature didn’t know that. “Put them down!”
The creature cooly regarded him, face hidden by hat and bandanna. They flexed their hand with a gut-churning crunch , the innocent went still. The creature tossed the corpse off to the side and turned away from Tron.
BANG
A warning shot. It barely missed the creature’s ear and they stopped in their tracks. Tron took the delay to holster his gun as he charged. Despite the shock of the shot, the creature stepped out of the way, as if sensing Tron’s lunge. Tron stumbled, trying to regain his footing to whip around when the elbow caught him in the face. There’s a sickening crack , and pain blossomed in Tron’s nose. He stumbled back, and the creature advanced much quicker. Just like the bystander, the creature’s hand wrapped around his neck, lifting him in the air. Tron’s hands automatically wrapped around the creature’s talons, trying to force some give as the air was trapped in his lungs.
“ You shouldn’t have gotten in my way. ” The creature spoke, voice as gnarled as its shape. Tron attempted to parse an identity but still met a dark mask only aided by the spots in his vision. “ Now, you’ll pay for your stupidity. ”
The sharp talons began to dig into Tron’s skin. Tron weakly grunted as he dug his nails into their hand, kicking as hard as he could to reach the creature.
Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was a distraction. But then the creature growls, “ You. ”
Tron is dropped unceremoniously to the sand. The return of air assaulted his lungs with a gasp and the blood dripping into his mouth made him choke.
The creature had forgotten about him. Tron’s blurry vision began to clear just enough to see the creature lumber towards the stage where two people and their guards remained. The guards rushed forward to protect the Flynns. The creature pulled out a knife and almost seamlessly twisted it. It felt so familiar , but how…?
The first guard crumpled from a clean slice across the throat. The second stumbled from the first slice to their knee. The creature lunged forward with surprising speed, sinking the blade into the guard’s gut, before pulling out the blade and letting the body fall. The third guard charged forward with a valiant cry, but the creature dodged, letting his blade deal the same fate as the first soldier. They don’t glance at the corpses as they stalk forward.
“ It’s your time. ” The creature growled, gripping their blood-soaked knife tight. He stepped onto the stage, closing in on father and son. “ Embrace it. ”
“ No… ” Tron wiped the blood from his face and struggled to his feet. “NO!”
Before he could reach for his gun, a blur tackled the creature.
“Anon!”
The younger man glanced up at him. “Get them out of here!” He shouted, struggling to keep the creature pinned. Tron didn’t need to be told twice, tearing towards the stage. He effortlessly hoists himself onto the stage. As soon as the Flynns are in reach, he begins to push.
“Move!” He ordered. His head whipped back at the grunt to see Anon fly into the pulpit, the wood shattering beneath the impact. He needed to help Anon, but he couldn’t do that until the two men were far away. Still, he drew his gun and kept his sight on the approaching creature as he pushed the Flynns back.
“ Surrender, soldier. ” The creature tilted its head at a terrifying angle. “ You’ll save yourself from a worse fate. ”
Tron managed to catch a glimpse of Anon. He was stirring, reaching for the calvary sword on his hip. Anon lifted his head and made eye contact with Tron. Tron shot his gaze to the creature, and the other fighter gave a small nod.
“Never,” Tron answered with a growl, cocking his gun.
A rumble rose from their throat, further distorting their voice when they spoke. “ So be it. ” And they charged.
Tron threw himself out of the way, allowing the creature to run through where he had been standing moments before. They stumbled in confusion, and Tron took the moment to strike. Even as they both slammed to the floor, the creature squirmed in Tron’s grip as Tron’s gun skittered out of his grip. Tron grabbed onto their wrist, scrambling for the knife. Unexpectedly, the creature rolled its weight, slamming Tron against the ground. He grunted as his shoulder hit the ground but held firm as the knife now hung in the air above his chest. The creature growled and pushed with all its might. Tron’s arms shook but he held steady, keeping the blade above him. “NOW!” He yelled.
Anon swooped in, sword gleaming in the sun before meeting flesh. The creature shrieked and Tron almost dropped the severed hand at the sudden loss of force.
The creature fell back, red human blood splattering across the stage floor beneath their stump. They held the stump close to their chest and scrambled to their feet as both soldiers rose.
“ I think you would have preferred death to your new fate !” They spat. Before either soldier could act, they lunged for Tron’s gun. Too late, Tron lunged as well. The creature grabbed it first and shot. Anon shouted as he dropped to the floor, but the shot sailed far to his left.
It’s all the distraction the creature needed, as when Tron turned back around, they were gone. He still held their severed hand.
“TRON!” He turned at his name, and his heart leaped to his throat as his wife was running towards him, Ram hot on her heels. He pushed himself to his feet as they approached.
“What are you two doing here? This is a crime scene-”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Yori cupped his face, ignoring his protests. Her blue eyes searched his face. “Oh, you’re bleeding…”
“Huh?” He reached up to his face and winced when his fingers grazed his nose. “Oh. I think that thing broke my nose.”
“Good thing that was the only thing it broke,” Anon commented. Tron shot him a warning look, and the boy went quiet.
“What was that thing?” Ram asked, staring wide-eyed at the severed hand. Tron followed his gaze. That was a good question.
“Is everyone okay?” Kevin asked, running up to the group. Clu followed behind much slower, content to stay with the remains of his escort.
Tron turned his gaze to the devastated town square, almost thankful to draw his gaze from the severed limb. He could instantly spot the bodies of victims, being tended to by medics arriving on the scene.
“At least six casualties from the intruder, I can’t say how many from the stampede after. The assailant evaded capture.”
“Not in one piece it seems,” Kevin commented, glancing down to the hand. Tron held it up so he could examine it closer as the other man continued. “Any idea who that was?”
“Or what?” Anon added, shaking his head as he wiped his brow. “I’m not sure that thing was even human.”
“It is, actually.” Clu interrupted, strolling up to the group. He noted the severed limb with a quirked eyebrow and curled lip. “Or it at least was . And I think I know who. Tron, I think you do, too.”
“What are you talking about?” Ram asked. Clu simply regarded him, before turning his attention to Tron. Tron wouldn’t look anywhere but the limb now.
“I know you recognized that knife twist from your little games . I’m sure if you look at the knife, you’ll see his crest.”
“Who’s crest?” Anon glanced between Tron and Clu, setting his hands on his hips. “Anyone care to clue the rest of us in?!”
Tron didn’t answer immediately. Rather, he gently pulled each finger gripping the blade back until he could see the familiar hexagon and triangle design. The hand clattered to the floor, but Tron barely noticed, staring in horror. That crest belonged to only one family, and only one member carried knives…
“It’s Jalen’s,” Tron said finally, and Yori gasped.
“ What? ”
“But that’s impossible!” Kevin added. “Jalen’s dead. He was murdered!”
“Maybe the murderer stole his knives?” Ram suggested.
Clu gave a ‘ humph ’, “That wouldn’t explain why the assailant used all of Jalen’s old techniques. And we never found a body, just traces of blood. Face it, he’s not dead after all.”
“But why would Jalen do this?” Yori argued. “That’s not like him at all!”
“I have a few theories. Perhaps one of those prayers to his gods went wrong, and the Lord cursed him for his disbelief.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” Tron said finally.
“You don’t know that,” Clu argued. “You could ask Father Sark, and he would agree that the Lord crushes the unbeliever beneath his fist until they beg for repentance. The ISOs will fall to disease and madness, just like Jalen. It is God’s curse on them, and it will only be a matter of time before other ISOs fall-”
“Stop it!” Kevin cut him off. “You and I both know that’s not true! The ISOs were here before any of us, and they deserve to be here just as much as anyone else! I won’t have you entertain this idea anymore, understand?”
Clu glared for a long moment, before finally looking away without a word. Kevin sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s just been a long day.”
Clu simply nodded but averted his gaze to glare at the floor.
“But we need to stay focused.” Kevin continued. “We need to find Jalen before he hurts anyone else.”
Tron nodded. “I’ll have my men enforce a curfew for all citizens until he’s found. In the meantime, Kevin, we need to get you to the train station.”
“But-”
“Sam is waiting for you. We can handle it here.”
Kevin sighed and nodded. “Okay. But I’m not sitting this one out. I’ll see what I can find, and send reinforcements.”
“Very well. I’ll escort you to the train station.” Tron pulled Anon close as he whispered: “You go ahead and start the search. Once I’m sure Kevin is safe, and the city is under curfew, I’ll join you.” Anon nodded and jumped off the stage before taking off out of the square.
“How can we help?” Yori asked. Tron turned to her determined face.
“Yori…I need you to go home.”
Her frown grew. “You need me. You know I can help-”
“I know you can.” Tron set his hands on her shoulders. “But it’s too dangerous right now. I need you and Ram to go home. Lock your doors, and don’t open them until I get back.”
“But-”
“ Yori .” He broke off with a sigh before he whispered. “I can’t lose you.”
Her resolve dissolved at that. She raised onto the tips of her toes and kissed his forehead. His gaze flicked up to her as she cupped his face.
“Okay.” She relented. “But the moment you are done, you come straight home. I can’t lose you either.”
Despite the looming gravity, Tron’s lips quirked up in a small smile, and he stole a quick kiss. “I promise.”
She nodded, and only then let go. She took Ram by the arm and led him away. Tron watched their retreating backs for a long moment, knowing it’d be late before he saw her again.
Finally, Tron turned to Kevin and nodded. “Let’s get you to the train.”
“I need some things from my office, first,” Kevin answered, watching the others go their separate directions. “I want to grab my journal and files about Jalen’s death. There must be something we’re missing…”
Tron glanced up to the sky. The sun was beginning to descend to the horizon, and the train left at sundown. “Fine.” He sighed. “But we need to be quick.”
The rays of the sun were touching the city’s outposts when Kevin emerged from his office with a pile of papers. Tron uncrossed his arms to place a hand on his gun at his hip as he joined Kevin’s side. He glanced up to the sun again and his stomach twisted into knots. “I don’t like this.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Kevin answered, balancing the pile in his hands.
“I don’t like any of this,” Tron answered, scanning the alleyways they pass, hoping to urge the other man on by taking on a brisk walk. “Most of all, I don’t like how close you’re cutting it. The train leaves in five minutes, Kevin!”
“Will you relax ?” Kevin sighed but quickened his pace to keep up with Tron. “They’re not going to leave without me. And this whole…Jalen issue, it’s just a fluke. Probably some fanatic who took their obsession too far.” The more Kevin spoke, the less he seemed to be speaking to Tron and more to himself. “Yeah. Everything’s just fine . Everything’s under control-!”
“FATHER!”
Tron started at the call, hand slipping off his gun. Both men stopped as Clu stepped out of the growing shadows. The look on Clu’s face, that furrowed brow and set jaw…Tron’s fingers began to twitch for his gun.
“Is the West still ours?”
Kevin’s brow furrowed. A frown grew on his face, and Tron found himself frozen, waiting for the order. “Yeah?” Kevin said finally.
Clu straightened and began to step away. “Then you’ll understand what I have to do.” Before Kevin or Tron could respond, Clu snapped his fingers and masked men emerged from the shadows with guns ready.
At the sight, Tron stepped in front of Kevin and reached for his gun. “Kevin, go!”
Tron didn’t glance back to see if Kevin listened. He clicked off the safety and shot. One man’s head jerked back from the impact of the bullet, and he collapsed. The ranks stepped around the body and closed the gap, erasing him from existence.
Tron dropped to a crouch as Clu’s men fired at where he had been standing. Staying low, he took off towards the nearest alleyway, only to stop as more soldiers emerged. He scrambled back to find himself surrounded. He shot again, taking down a second, then a third, and a fourth. He went to reload much too slow, and one brave coward fired at him. The bullet caught him in the left shoulder, the impact making him stumble back with an unwilling shout. The gun clattered from his hands and was lost in the closing ring.
He curled in on himself and dropped to his knees. His heartbeat roared in his ears as he panted, trying to clutch the pain out of his shoulder. He could see their boots growing closer and closer. He lets his blood-covered right-hand drop from the wound, falling to his belt.
Before any of the soldiers could move, Tron whipped out the knife from his belt and lunged. The nearest soldier screamed and Tron ripped the knife out of their thigh. They collapsed, and Tron snatched their gun. He switched the gun to his right hand, letting his left hand curl close to his chest with the knife. He fired without hesitation. His right hand was nowhere as steady as his left, and some of his shots sailed past or landed in non-lethal zones. Still, soldiers collapsed and the crowd began to thin.
He tossed down the emptied gun and had begun to reach for another when he saw the abandoned pile of papers severing from each other in the wind. And just beyond that, Kevin was on the ground, trapped underneath Clu’s foot and the aim of his gun.
“ Kevin… Kevin!”
The soldiers forgotten, Tron charged. His lungs and his shoulder burned as he slammed into Clu. Both men tumbled to the ground, and a grunt slipped from Tron’s gritted teeth as he managed to pin the traitor down. His right hand was weaker than his left, but Tron’s blows still landed with enough force to crack Clu’s nose. Blood stained Tron’s knuckles, and he happened to look up to see Kevin frozen on the ground, staring at him with wide eyes. What a sight he must be: a friend covered in the blood of his traitorous son.
“Kevin, go !” His voice cracked from the strain, doubled when Clu’s hand shot up and wrapped around his neck. “ RUN!”
For once, his friend obeyed, scrabbling to his feet and turning into the dark of the city. Clu, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice, more interested in slamming the sheriff into the dirt. The dust collected in Tron’s lungs and he choked on a cough as he gripped at the hand around his neck. He’s lifted by his throat and suddenly slammed down again. His head connects with the ground and something cracked. Stars danced in front of Tron’s eyes, and the pain in his head doubled as Clu bashed his head in again.
Only when Tron’s hands slip from their grip around Clu does the man let go of the Sheriff and rise. The bastard son of Kevin was panting, seething as blood ran down his face and stained his lips and teeth. Still, Clu gave a sharp grin at Tron below him.
It was hard to think past the pounding in his head. He swore the dirt below his head was slowly growing wet, but he could be imagining things. He squinted as he tried to focus on the blur of gold above him and strained his voice above a whisper. In the midst of all of this pain, there was still one victory.
“You failed, Clu.” He rasped. “Kevin’s gone. He’s the one in charge. H-He’ll get back and-”
“Stop me?” Surprisingly, Clu chuckled. “He won’t get far. The train was already long gone, and my men burnt down the station after it left. Beyond that, I don’t care where he goes. It was you I was after. Without the mighty Tron , Kevin Flynn will fall, and Clu will rise.” He turned his head back to someone behind him. “Don’t you agree, Dyson?”
The little Tron had escaped him in a gasp. “ Dyson ?”
Clu laughed softly. “If only you could see it, Tron.” A second person stepped into his blurry vision. “I fixed him after your mistake .”
“Dyson?” Tron asked again. “What are you doing ? Clu…” His voice was beginning to fail and black was edging into his vision. “H-he betrayed us.”
“ Wrong .” Dyson’s voice sounded like a dream, like a nightmare turned ugly. “Kevin Flynn betrayed us by letting those savages in. He betrayed all of us . Now the West will be ours and ours alone.”
Something clicked above Tron and the golden blob that was Clu shifted. “We’ll see if you survive that long.”
Tron didn’t have the chance to register those words before the bullet rang out. Pain exploded in his chest, and it dragged him under.
Chapter 4: Ghost Tales Part 2
Summary:
The ghost tale continues, with Tron caught in Clu and Dyson's clutches.
Notes:
TW: corpses, attempted lobotomies, torture, eye removal, blood (lots of blood), PTSD flashback, riot, implied and explicit character death
Reader discretion advised
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tron didn’t so much as glance up from the dregs of his coffee as the door opened. The tell-tale rhythm of boots hitting the wooden floor provided enough identification, enough that he didn’t bother removing his boots from their recline.
“Just once, Dyson, I wish you came to me when you didn’t have bad news.” He sighed.
“But then I wouldn’t be doing my job.” His deputy responded. When Tron looked up to him, Dyson gave a small, knowing smile. Tron shared it for the blink of an eye, before reverting to his serious brow and taking his feet off his desk.
“Let me guess,” he asked as he rose, abandoning the remains of his coffee, “another disturbance in the ISO camp.”
Dyson hummed an affirmative and followed Tron through his rounds of the holding cells. Men glared at them sullenly but Tron ignored them as Dyson spoke.
“Ever since Mr. Flynn created their camp, crime has just shot up.”
“You talk as if we’ve never had issues before.”
“But…this is different.” Dyson protested. “They’re not like us. They don’t look like us. They’re not God-fearing men and women. You’ve seen the smoke rising at night. They’ve got to be up to something nefarious - ”
Tron turned on him after they passed the holding cells back to the main office, and Dyson stopped. Tron’s stare isn’t thunderous, but rather long-suffering.
“We’ve had this conversation before Dyson. You know how I feel about this.”
“Just because there isn’t any evidence doesn’t mean there isn’t something happening-!”
“I know. And that doesn’t mean I’m not looking. But our jobs are to protect everyone , not just people like us.”
Dyson looked away at that. Tron didn’t wait for an answer as he put a hand on Dyson’s shoulder.
“Grab a posse.”
“Already done. Reeve, Gale, and Wayne are outside.” Dyson said without looking at him. Tron didn’t notice, for he wasn’t looking at Dyson either.
“Good.” He patted Dyson’s shoulder. “Bring them in.”
Dyson nodded and slipped out. Once the door shut, Tron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated these arguments. More and more of his men feel this way, spearheaded by one of his closest friends. How much longer before they refuse to protect the ISOs anymore?
How much longer until the city splits in two?
The throbbing of his head pulled Tron out of the depths of unconsciousness with a soft groan. His throat burned at the soft sound and he pried his eyes open. The blob of brown above him slowly cleared into a dim ceiling, a far cry from the darkening sky he last remembered. What happened then…?
Oh. His body reminded him with a sharp pain in his chest when he tried to take a deep breath. Right.
Despite the pounding protest his head gave, Tron dragged his head to his left shoulder. His vest and sheriff star were gone, and he could see the cess of blood staining and pulling his shirt into the wound. He hissed between his teeth as he reached up and tried to pull the fabric out of the wound, only for his hand to tremble and give out, flopping to his stomach. His lungs couldn’t seem to pull enough air, and he tried to pant for more as his eyes started to search the room. What he first spotted caused his breath to freeze in his chest.
Someone lay next to him. The streams of dried blood on their face made identification near impossible, but the star on their chest…
Tron grunted as he rolled off the table. His knees slamming against the floor made his vision go black, but he blinked hard to keep from passing out. His hands blindly searched upward, eventually brushing against the wood. He heaved his gaze up and grabbed onto the edge of the wooden table, knuckles brushing cold skin. The sensation made him pause, fragmented thoughts trying to piece together an explanation. They faded near as soon as they arrived, and Tron brushed away the remaining cobwebs and with a grunt, pulled himself to his feet.
His suspicions were right, unfortunately. Up this close, Tron could clearly see Reeve’s face. But…
Tron felt his knees go weak and he gripped the edge of the table for dear life. But this was not how he remembered the young gunslinger.
In life, Reeve held a confident swagger. It was always paired with a cocky grin and his thumbs resting on the revolvers on his waist. Tron had to admit that for all his pride, Reeve had a sharp eye, and his confidence with a gun was well warranted.
But now, that swagger is gone. No grin painted his face, and his guns were long gone. All color had been drained from his skin, save for the streams and stains of red down his face: from his broken nose, and his swollen lips. The streams from his forehead - Tron fought the bile rising up his throat- from two large holes in the center of his forehead, these streams drenched his eyelids.
“Oh god!” A different face flashed in front of him. The right side of Dyson’s face was lost to the crimson tide. Tron could see tissue, muscle-
“Oh god.” The present Tron repeated hoarsely. One hand shakily dared to rest on Reeve’s shoulder. He shook him once. “Reeve?”
Dyson’s head snapped back as the gunshot rang through a now silent world. All Tron could hear was his own heart beating in his ears as Dyson fell from his horse.
Tron shook Reeve again. And again. “Reeve, wake up. That’s an order!” The lump in his throat must have negated the weight of his demand, for Reeve didn’t stir.
People were still charging at each other, at his own men, but at the gunshot, the tide was turning as people began to panic. Tron didn’t care. He pushed them aside as he forced through the stampede. He threw himself over Dyson’s body before the trampling began.
“Reeve!” His voice broke. “I gave you an order!” But Reeve wouldn’t wake up, he realized. The dead couldn’t wake anymore.
Tron cupped Dyson’s head. The blood was hot against his hands. “Dyson-!”
His deputy didn’t stir. The bullet wound in the side of his face obscured any sign of consciousness, of life. His eye was missing.
“Oh god…” In the midst of his men screaming at him and the shrieks of ISOs and settlers, Tron couldn’t swallow the feverish hysteria crawling up his throat. “Oh god!” The right side of Dyson’s face was lost to the crimson tide. Tron could see tissue, muscle. Dyson’s blood was staining the sand below-
Tron was pulled away by his right shoulder. He gasped, initially digging his heels into the ground as they forced his arm behind his back. “HEY!”
A second pair of hands wrenched his left arm back, and his legs gave with a gasp. The faceless hands did not share any sympathy for the sheriff, instead feasting on the opportunity of weakness to drag him away from Reeve.
“No!” Tron’s protest came out far weaker than he wanted, impeded by panting and a pain threatening to pull him under again. “Let go of me!”
He went ignored. A doctor approached Reeve’s body, leaning over his face. After a moment, the doctor pointed to Reeve and two masked men lifted him away. Tron’s vision began to blur at that, but not from pain.
“No! Reeve !”
Tron was dragged through a door, and Reeve was out of his sight.
His breath returned to him with a gasp as he’s slammed against a flat surface. It was trapped in his lungs, only released with a ragged exhale as he’s jostled. His gaze shot to his left at the throbbing pain to see a soldier tying his wrist to the table leg beneath him. He wanted to bare his teeth and give an animalistic growl to scare off this traitor, but he couldn’t find the strength.
He settled for a glare that the soldier ignored as they straightened and walked out of sight. Tron straightened his head to see the soldiers slip out, and for a lone figure to stride in. Tron squinted to try and see this stranger in shadow when they spoke.
“Hello.” The stranger stepped into sight, and Dyson gave a smug look barely hidden by a facade of pity. “Old friend.”
Tron’s curious squint became a glare, but Dyson merely ignored the look as he took Tron in.
“Aren’t you in a state?” Dyson neared his left side, hands folded behind his back. Tron refused to look him directly in the eye as he set his jaw. Out of the corner of his eye, Tron could see the of the epithesis that curved across Dyson’s face, just barely lifting away from his jawline.
Ah. So hadn’t made him perfect after all.
Blinding pain shot through his chest, and Tron couldn’t prevent the cry from slipping out from between gritted teeth. Jesus!
“Hm.” Dyson hummed, and the prodding momentarily ceased. “That hurt, didn’t it?” Tron refused to answer, but Dyson didn’t seem to expect him to. “No matter. I can patch it up-”
Tron’s gaze shot to him at that as he hissed: “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
“And what’ll you do about it?” Dyson challenged, dropping the smarmy pity. “You couldn’t even lift a finger now. It’s only by Clu’s orders that you’re alive.”
Tron looked away at that, trying to seem angry but growing more confused by the moment. But Clu tried to kill him? Why would he now want him alive?
“You should be grateful he chose you.” Dyson continued, and Tron didn’t answer. What did that even mean ?
For the moment, Dyson seemed content not to supply an answer as he turned to a side table. He returned with a needle, thread, and a knife, and Tron caught his breath and steeled himself as his shirt was cut away.
The first time the tweezers dipped into flesh, Tron had to grit his teeth to keep his groan back. Of course , the sadistic bastard didn’t believe in numbing.
That didn’t mean that he would be getting a sound out of Tron. And for the moment, Dyson let it abide. After a long moment of the metal digging and scraping muscle, Dyson pulled out a bullet and dropped it on the tray next to him. It clinged, stabbing into Tron’s ears, making him tense. Dyson paused long enough to force his shoulders away from his ears. “Relax. You’re only making this difficult.”
He left a bloody handprint on Tron’s collarbone, and Tron could faintly see it from the corner of his eye. He forced himself to glare at the ceiling and fight back curses. He clenched his fists as the tweezers dug into the hole in his shoulder.
After an agonizing eternity, the pain faded, and Tron trusted himself to exhale as Dyson began to stitch up his chest wound. His head began to clear, and Reeve’s face floated in front of the cracks in the ceiling. Where were they…? What about Reeve?
“You haven’t said a word,” Dyson observed with a chuckle as he returned the thread and needle to the tray. He picked it up and carried it to the wash basin nearby. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me anymore.”
“What…?” Tron’s voice was ragged, and he had to push to raise his voice. His chest felt tight with the stitches. “What did you do to them?”
“Who?” It took a moment before Dyson clicked his tongue. “Ah, the team. Clu’s been trying this new method he saw back north. It’s…this idea that you can rewire someone’s mind by manually changing parts of the brain. I don’t remember what it’s called, but Clu calls it…uh… repourposing . Unfortunately, he has not had a successful patient thus far.”
“How many…?”
“Under your command? All of them.” The little wind in Tron’s lungs was sucked away, and his gaze to the floor. Not just Reeve, all of his men were in piles in some back room, holes in their foreheads…the thought made bile rise up his throat. He swallowed it, hearing Dyson approach. The slimy snake continued. “You are Flynn’s last soldier, old friend.”
At the hand on his arm, Tron whipped his head to Dyson with a roar. Dyson stepped back in surprise but Tron had no bite left after that sap of strength. His head lolled forward with a heavy sigh, preparing himself for the same horror of screws in his head that his men must have felt.
“If I’m next…then get it over with.”
“No.” Dyson had already turned back to his tray of tolls. “Repourposing is too risky, it would most likely kill you. Despite what Clu said in the square, he wants you alive. In fact, he wants you to join willingly.”
“Join him?” Tron lifted his head at that as he growled, piercing a hole in Dyson’s back. “I’d never.”
“ Are you blind ?” Dyson spat, rounding on him suddenly with the still-bloody scalpel. “By overthrowing Flynn and ridding of the ISOs, only then can we be truly free and rule the West!”
“You’re delusional.”
“Says the man refusing the winning side.”
“ Side ?” Tron shouted, surprised at the sudden return of strength. “There wouldn’t be sides if Clu hadn’t destroyed the peace. If you hadn’t joined him just to fix your face!” And to add insult to injury, Tron summoned enough strength and saliva to spit in Dyson’s face. It hit the epithesis and slid down the porcelain.
The porcelain remained a neutral expression, while the other side of Dyson’s face was wrinkled and contorted. And then just as quickly, the rage was gone, replaced with something Tron couldn’t quite read.
“I didn’t want to do this, you know.” Before Tron could register what Dyson said, his torturer grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head back against the table. He bit back a wince as Dyson leaned over him. The scalpel was tracing his left cheek, and despite every instinct screaming at him, Tron remained frozen.
“I’m going to teach you what it’s like to be…” The scalpel traveled up, dangling over his eye. “ Imperfect. ”
The last thing Tron could see was the glint of the metal through the cracks in the roof as it shot down like a guillotine. Fire burnt from the contact, and Tron couldn’t hold back the strangled cry from his throat. Tron tried to squeeze his eyes shut, to let the world go dark, and the flaming pain only spread up his eyebrow, to his forehead, and down his cheek and jaw. It dragged down the side of his neck, his collarbone, and his chest. The stitching reopened, the carnage in the rampage down his body. If he was screaming, he couldn’t tell behind the deafening pain. Down his hip, his thigh, his knee, his shin…
Something ripped open the stitches in his shoulder. Then one thing stabbed down, digging and snipping. Bile rises up his throat, almost worse than anything dealt before. A second thing stabs in, then a third.
And then, suddenly, it’s over. Tron scrambled for his breath, gasping for air. He coughed as the iron taste of blood rushed down his throat.
Something clattered off to the side. It’s almost a gargantuan effort to pry his eyes open. One part of the room was dark, but why-?
(You know why, you know why- but why-)
On the other end of the room, his vision blurred, but he could faintly see a figure growing further and further away. He wanted to scream, demand what have you done? ( You know- no no noitcan’tbetrue-)
The blood made his throat raw, and all he could manage was a weak groan. The still air stung against the left side of his face ( why why why ).
“Take him to Clu.” He faintly heard Dyson say faintly. “Do not remove anything .”
And like that, Dyson was gone. Any adrenaline was sapped. His head was so heavy, and he let it lead off to the right side. His body was beginning to go under, and for once he was too weak to say no.
He was already unconscious when one of the soldiers was close enough to see the damage done, and couldn’t hold back their gasp. The left side of his face was indistinguishable beneath the scarlet and open tissue. The wound split open into different rivers down his chest, right through his now destroyed stitching, and down his left leg, taking care to carve into the knee. In his shoulder, a pair of scissors, a knife, and a rotted piece from one of the old beams were stabbed into the bullet wound.
The soldier was jerked out of their horror when their comrade cleared their throat. Their head snapped up to see the other soldier begin untying the binds. The first soldier shook their head and joined in.
It took both of them to lift the disgraced sheriff. The first soldier grimaced as they braced Tron’s head and shoulders, feeling the blood spread across their hands. Even more concerning was that the prisoner did not make a sound. The soldier let their fingers press against the right side of their neck and sighed in relief when they felt the fluttering pulse. Together, the two made their way out of the room, and then out the front door.
It was almost sundown as the two approached the horse-drawn carriage waiting for them. The soldier’s hand shook as they lifted Tron into the carriage.
Something clicked, and the soldier froze when he felt the barrel of a gun poke the back of his head. “Don’t move.” A feminine voice growled.
On the ground, where the second soldier had just let go of Tron’s legs, a masked bandit had wrapped an arm around his comrade’s neck.
“Drop him.” For once when she held a gun, Yori’s hand didn’t shake. Her husband would be proud if he could see her now. “Slowly.”
The soldier obeyed, crouching until Tron’s head gently rested against the wooden floor. Tron groaned softly, but his eye (his only eye she realized with a horror she quickly smushed down) didn’t open.
“Good.” Yori reactivated the safety. The soldier relaxed as they rose to their full height, and Yori took the opportunity to flip her grip to the barrel and swing the butt. It cracked with the back of the soldier’s head, and they crumpled against the side of the wagon.
At the sight, the other soldier swung their elbow back. Ram grunted as it slammed into his gut, and he lost his grip. Like an eel, the soldier slipped out of Ram’s grip and took off around the corner of the building.
“Shit!” Ram gasped, clutching his side and beginning to turn to run.
“Forget him!” Yori shouted. “We need to go now !”
Ram nodded and sprinted to the front of the wagon, hoisting himself up. With a grunt, Yori hoisted the soldier’s body over the edge of the wagon.
“HYAH!” Ram shouted, whipping the reigns. The horses took off, and Yori crouched down to keep from being thrown over the edge with the soldier.
Once she had her balance, she reached down and shook Tron’s right shoulder. “Tron? Tron!”
Tron groaned. His eye blinked open for a moment, before falling shut again.
“No no no! Wake up!”
“He’s not waking?” Ram shouted back.
“Not for long!” She realized blood was seeping into the wood. “ Shit ! He’s still bleeding!”
“Try and stop it until we can get out of town!”
Yori nodded, but a shot cracked through the sky. She ducked down and whipped her head back to see three horses taking chase, each rider wearing Clu’s colors.
“We got company!” She shouted back and readied her gun. In all honesty, she was a shit shot.
But even terrible shooters get lucky once.
Her second shot hit a soldier in the shoulder with enough force to knock them off their horse. A different shot hit the end of the wagon, sending wood flying near Tron’s foot.
That was too close. Yori crawled closer, placing herself in front of Tron as she struggled to keep her balance. Tron would kill her if he saw this.
Ram swung a wide right and the wagon went up on two wheels. Yori abandoned her aim to cling to the side, automatically grabbing Tron’s ankle to keep him from sliding.
The soldiers came to a stop before they rounded the corner. Yori couldn’t help the laugh bubbling from her lips. “They’re not following!”
She spoke too soon. A crack rang out and a horse screamed before going down. The second horse tripped over their fallen legs and began to go down. The front of the wagon hits them. The back flipped. Ram screamed, and Yori did all she could to throw herself over Tron before the ground pummeled towards her.
She rolled forward, and Tron was ripped from her grip. She eventually rolled to a stop a couple of feet away. The world spun, she must have hit her head…
With a groan, she pushed herself up. Her right wrist screamed at the pain, but she pushed through. With a sigh, she looked back to the scene. Instantly she gasped and scrambled to the shattered wagon. Thankfully, Tron had managed to avoid most of the carnage and lay off to the side but Ram-
She ripped away broken panels, throwing them off to the side as she dug. “Ram? Ram!”
His groan alerted her, and she pulled back two more panels to see his face. He blearily opened his eyes. “My leg…T-there was a gunman…he must still be nearby.”
She nodded, swallowing back her fear at that. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you out of here.”
Her hand grasped around one panel when a horse whinnied. She looked up with a gasp to see the horsemen slowly approach.
“Yori.” Her gaze shot back to Ram as he took her hand. His eye was swelling up already, but he still managed to pin her with a serious look. “You and Tron need to get out of here. Take an alley. Get out of the city.”
Without me .
She shook her head. “We’re not leaving without you.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He urged. “I’ll only slow you down. I can buy you some time.”
Out of all the things she saw and experienced today alone, this was the moment her body decided to betray her. Tears raced down her cheeks as she bit her lip and shook her head.
At her tears, he gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be okay. Keep him alive. I’ll find you both.”
He was right. They would kill Tron if they got their hands on him. She was the only one who could keep that from happening.
She nodded and squeezed his hand. He squeezed, and then let go to reach for his gun. With his no longer anchoring her, she found herself running from her lifelong friend to her husband’s side. Tron groaned as she lifted him, and her wrist protested, but she managed to hook her arms under his armpits. She dragged them both into an alleyway as the horses came to a stop. She made herself keep moving, keeping her gaze down on Tron or on the darkening way ahead of her. They round a corner, the scene out of sight.
Gunshots rang out in the night and despite everything telling her not to, she looked back. She couldn’t see Ram or the soldiers any more, but she knew his chances.
“ Ram .” She couldn’t help but whimper as fresh tears escaped. She pulled one arm from Tron to wipe her cheek with her dirty sleeve. He was really gone…
It was just the two of them now.
They have to keep moving.
She sniffed back her tears and wrapped her arms back around Tron. With a grunt, she hoisted him, and continued dragging him into the dark of the city.
Notes:
There will be one more part to the Ghost Tales arc, and then I'll be back to posting to Keep on Living!
Chapter 5: Ghost Tales Part III
Notes:
This took WAY longer than I planned. Sorry! Hopefully, almost 6,000 words will make up for it.
Now that this arc is over, I can return to the main plot in 'Survivor'! I should be able to get that chapter out quicker since I've already written bits and pieces of it.
Chapter Text
Sweat mixed with tears the longer she dragged them through the city. It blurred her vision, making the already indistinguishable buildings and alleys a blur of shadow. Anytime she would pause for her breath, she could hear men calling into the night. Her partially restored breath would hitch, and she would drag on. Conceriningly, her Tron never stirred with more than a soft groan, and the little undamaged skin he had was burning in her grip.
When the alleys and shadows finally parted to a moonlit sky, Yori felt as if all lost air had returned to her in a rush. Surely they were at the edge of the city, now. Any other option would expose them, damn them…
She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, which only made her eyes sting from the dirt. However, her vision cleared enough for her to look around.
Her back spasmed as she straightened to see the alleyways from whence they came. In her peripherals, faint lights dotted the skyline at far distances, homes settling for the night. She risked looking behind her to see a house, already dark for the night. Still, she pulled herself and Tron out of sight of the windows and to the side of the house.
They were safe. For now. But more than anything, they needed shelter. Tron surely couldn’t make it much further, not like this.
She peeked around the side of the house, beyond into the field. Whoever owned this property had fenced off this field, where cattle had settled to sleep. And beyond them, a barn sat, only lit by the moon above.
The ache that had been settling into her bones gave to her a burst of hope. She hoisted Tron up by his armpits. Her husband didn’t respond this time, head lolling forward to his chest. The moonlight reflected the new blood on his abdomen and leg.
“Come on…” She begged quietly as she began to drag him along the fenceline, separating them from the cattle and bulls with only the aging wood and barbed wire. “Don’t give up on me, love.”
It felt like eternity, but the moon had barely moved in the sky by the time she reached the barn. Thankfully, it only took a simple push for the barn door to creak open. She sighed in relief, making the final stretch of their journey into the dark barn. The smell of hay and animal overwhelmed her senses immediately, but at least they were safe. She dragged Tron to a pile of hay and laid him on it. He was soundless as he sank into it, only slightly illuminated by the moonlight streaming in. Until she could find a lantern, that would have to do for now. She knelt next to him and allowed herself to really look at him.
She hadn’t been imagining things earlier. A large cavern had been etched into his face where his left eye used to be. She couldn't stare long into the cavern as she felt bile rising in her throat at the sight of exposed tissue and ripped skin. Instead, she allowed her gaze to follow the trail of wounds down his neck and chest and tried to ignore the way his breath rattled. His left pant leg was shredded, and the skin beneath was stained red. His left arm was twisted at an odd angle that was disturbingly limp, and blood flowed down from his gaping shoulder.
“Oh, Tron,” she whispered, her hand cupping the right side of his face. Unconsciously, he leaned into her touch, and she finally felt the heat in his face. She placed her other hand against the uninjured part of his head, where her worries were confirmed.
Forget making it out of the city; he may not make it through the night.
Her hand trembled as she pulled away. His brow furrowed, and his head turned to search for her touch with a groan. “...Yori?” He begged softly through cracked lips. He hadn’t opened his eye. Maybe he thought he was dreaming.
She instantly returned to his side, close enough that her words would trace his skin. “I’m here.” She promised, pushing his hair back. “I’m here.”
His eye fluttered open, and she could see how glassy it was. If she had any doubt, she was now certain a fever was setting in. Despite everything, the lines in his face relaxed when he finally saw her. “You’re here.”
She nodded and took his uninjured hand. Surprisingly, he tried to pull away and shook his head.
“Tron-”
“Y-you shouldn’t be here.” He managed. “If Dyson finds you, h-he’ll-”
“Tron.” She squeezed his hand. “Dyson isn’t here. You’re safe.”
It was as if he didn’t hear her. He tried to sit up and gasped at the movement. Yori took the opportunity to lay him back down. There’s a tear on his cheek- or perhaps it was sweat or maybe even blood-and he shook his head. “I-I can’t lose you. Not to him.”
“You won’t lose me.” She promised. “He can’t get us now.”
He didn’t respond, but settled back into a feverish daze. She sighed softly and pressed her lips to his forehead, hoping to soothe. He couldn’t die, not in this barn. Not like this.
Think Yori think!
First things first: she needs to clean off the dried blood, she thought as she oriented herself. Figure out the source of the bleeding and then go from there.
Her eyes struggled to adjust in the dark as she rose to her feet. She removed her bandanna. This would do for fabric, for now. But to find some water…
She blindly made her way from their corner towards the rows of stables. Maybe one of these had some water.
The horses eyed her warily as she crept by. One huffed and turned its back to her, and she paused at its stall to peek. There, just inside! She could see the trough from where she stood at the door. She’d rather not step inside, in case the horse was unfriendly. But maybe, if she could just reach…
A rifle clicked behind her, and she froze.
“Hold it right there!”
Shit!
“Turn around with your hands up.” The voice of the shooter demanded. Surely they hadn’t been caught!? “Slowly.”
Yori was left with no choice but to obey. She held her hands up next to her head and slowly turned. She squinted to try and see her captor’s face, but they were smart and stood in a shadow. All she could see was the muzzle of the rifle aimed at her face.
“...Who are you?” She couldn’t help but ask.
“I’m the one asking questions here!” The gunman snapped. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”
At his question, she couldn’t help but relax. It wasn’t Clu. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I can explain…”
“You better start talking.” He commanded. “I don’t take kindly to trespassers or horse thieves.”
“Horse thieves?” She shook her head. “Oh no sir, I’m not-”
“Stop lying!” He snapped. She instantly shut up. “You have five seconds to get the hell out before I start shooting. Five!”
“Please, sir! I-I just need-”
“Four!”
She began backing away. The gunman came out of the shadows, revealing an older man with graying hair but a piercing glare. The rifle remained aimed at her face. She was so focused on it, she tripped over something and stumbled. She managed to catch herself, looking back to find her path.
“Three!”
Instead, she noticed the pile of hay Tron had been lying on was unoccupied, and she couldn’t help but gasp. Where is he??
“Two!”
Her gaze shot back up to the guman. Tron was gone. She was alone and cornered.
“One-” The word is choked in the gunman’s throat when a bloody hand shot out of the shadows, wrapping around his neck. The gunman’s eyes bulge, but he slammed the butt of his rifle back with all his strength. Tron’s air ripped from him, and his grip slipped back into the shadows. There’s a loud THUD and Yori gasped.
“TRON!” Threat forgotten, Yori shoved past the gunman to her husband. He’s slumped against the wall. One of the scars on his side has reopened and is bleeding out. “Shit!”
“TRON?!” The gunman instantly pointed his rifle down at the floor at the name. Yori didn’t dare look back to parse his reaction.
At the gunman’s voice, Tron lifted his head with a groan. Despite the pathetic sound and the sweat gathering on the remains of his brow, he managed a glare as he growled: “Leave her alone.” His voice cracked on the last word, breaking off into a coughing fit. One rough cough spits blood down his chin and into his lap. His arm gave out beneath him. His chest slamming into the ground beneath him unleashed a torrent of liquid in his chest that spilled over his lips. With each wheeze, his eye was beginning to grow glassy and shut.
“No no no-” She cupped his face as she begged: “Stay with me.”
“That's…” Yori couldn't hide the tears in her eyes as she looked up to the gunman. The man was choosing his words carefully, but his grip hadn't relented on the gun. “How is he alive?”
“I don't have time to explain.” She managed, her voice wet. “Please, he needs medicine. I-i don't have much money, but I'll give you what I have if you just please…”
The gunman frowned, and for a moment, he looked away from them and out towards the house. After a short pause, the man nodded. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
With that, the man took off. Yori watched him go, still holding on to her husband. She pulled him closer to her chest. The man was already out of sight, and she prayed he was being honest and had not gone to flag down a soldier. She wouldn’t be strong enough to handle a soldier; they had barely escaped as it is!
Moments passed, and Yori still found herself frozen to the spot, praying to some force above while her eyes searched the ground for a weapon. Even though she was never a competent fighter, she wouldn’t let Clu get Tron easily.
Footsteps thud, growing in volume as they close in. Yori, unfortunately, could not find a suitable weapon, but was relieved when the man returned alone.
“Here.” He set the box down in front of them and crossed to the stables. A match lit in the night, and the man went to each lantern, filling the barn with light. Finally, he returned to the couple. “Lay him down.”
Yori heeded his gentle instruction and was careful to lay Tron on his back. Still, her heart clenched as her husband groaned. His eye flickered open before rolling back into his head moments later.
“Fill this bucket with water.” The man instructed, passing her a bucket. He pointed around the corner. “There’s a pump over there.”
She nodded and hurried to fill the bucket. When she returned, the man was prepping a concoction.
“...What is that?” The man looked up at her question. However, he didn’t seem angry. Just worried.
“Laudanum. It’ll numb the pain. I wish I had some morphine. That would work better for his state…”
“This will have to work.” She told him and set the bucket down next to him. The man nodded.
“Can you help me make sure he swallows it?”
She nodded and sat back down across from him, next to Tron’s head. Gently, she propped Tron up and held his head straight. She tried hard to ignore her husband’s pants as the man poured the mixture down his throat, massaging the unscathed parts of Tron’s neck to make him swallow. Only when he did, did she lay him back down.
“It should start working soon.” The man said, pulling out a bottle of alcohol. He turned it over against a rag, letting it moisten the fabric. “I’ll need to start now to make sure he doesn’t get an infection.”
She nodded, biting her lip. “Do what you need to do. I’ll keep him calm.”
The man actually seemed relieved at that. “Thank you.”
Her hands went to Tron’s shoulders. She squeezed them once and leaned close to whisper: “I’m here.” She took a deep breath to steel herself and kept a tight grip as the old man set to work.
“There.” The old man sighed, sitting back on his knees. He wiped the sweat off his brow, unintentionally smearing blood across his forehead. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do for now.”
“Thank you.” Yori said, her first words in hours. Tron slept in her lap, leaning into her thigh as she ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he slept soundly. “I don’t know how to repay you…”
“Don’t.” The old man cut her off. He groaned as he readjusted himself off his knees. “I didn’t do this for thanks. And don’t go tellin’ people I did this. I got too many mouths to feed to be getting that kind of attention.”
“I don’t have anyone to tell,” Yori admitted, looking down at her husband again. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have anyone now.”
The old man paused at that. “...Who are you?”
Yori dared looking up to the man again. “My name is Yori.” Her hand stilled in Tron’s hair as she awaited whatever reaction the old man might have. “Tron is my husband.”
“Yori…” The old man simply stared at her for a long moment. His icy gaze was surprisingly defrosting with each passing second. “I’ve heard of you. Not sure where, though.”
Tron groaned weakly below them. Yori looked down and resumed running her hand through his hair. His expression softened, and he went quiet again.
“Our friend helped me break Tron out of prison….” She bit her lip to hold back the tears before she steadied herself again. “He didn’t make it.”
The man hummed softly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He settled down on a hay bale nearby with a soft sigh. “This world is going to hell in a handbasket. Do you know what Clu is saying about Tron?”
“No.” Her brow furrowed. “What is he saying?”
“He says that Tron betrayed everyone. That he was planning to run with Flynn and let everyone fend for themselves.”
She couldn’t help her gasp. “He would never!”
“I know that, and you know that, and anyone with half a brain knows that. Unfortunately, I’m not sure how many people are using those right now. The city is hanging on to Clu’s every word, turning on the ISOs in the city. You could hear their screams from out here.”
“No…”
“Had to tell my kids they were hearing wolves, not people. Not sure Bodhi believed it; kid’s too smart for his own good. That’s why I have to get us out of here.”
“You have children?” Yori asked, then hesitated. “I realized I never asked your name…”
The old man waved it off. “I didn’t give it, but I reckon you don’t have anyone to share my name with. My name is Able. I have four kids up at the house, ranging between 4 and 8.”
“They’re so young.” She said softly.
Able’s gaze grew heavy. “I know. That’s why we’re getting out of here on the next wagon train. I won’t let them see this violence every day, and I’d rather die than lose any of them to this madness.”
“Where will you go?”
“Beyond the railroad. Somewhere Clu can’t reach. Right now that seems to be the Argon settlement, down southwest.”
Argon. Yori briefly remembered Tron mentioning that settlement. So brand new, he hadn’t even been out there to inspect it yet. “Sounds perfect.”
Able nodded and looked out the crack in the door. After a long silence, he sighed and pushed up to his feet. “Moon’s starting to set, so I better get back. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Nobody’s been looking at the house, but someone does have their sights on the barn. You two can move into the house tomorrow night until he’s well enough to move. Then I suggest you get the hell out of here.”
“Able?” He looked back at her call. Despite everything, she managed a small smile. The smallest hope. “Thank you.”
Able simply nodded. “Keep each other alive. You two may be our only hopes left.” And with that, he ambled into the night.
He couldn’t stop falling.
Clu’s grin grows larger and larger the further Tron falls. Then, it suddenly shrinks, starting all over again. When will it end-?!
Something cold wrenched his eyes open with a gasp. His throat burned, and his left eye was dark, while his right blurred-
The shush and the hand tracing his face were both gentle. Something deep inside screamed at him to get away, but his body wouldn’t respond.
Somebody spoke, and Tron knew he should listen, but his eyes shut against his will, pulling him back into the pit.
There were bodies everywhere.
Tron should move, should investigate the damage. Whatever could have caused this many casualties should be found, stopped-
Yet he rolled through space like water, slow to sit up. Something sharp and heavy pinned his left arm, slowing him to a near stop. With the simplest tug, his arm suddenly ripped away. Blood spurted from the stump, and Tron couldn’t hide his scream as he scrambled away. Without his body, his arm went limp, his hand stuck beneath a corpse. Reeve held his arm in place, wide eyes staring up at nothing. The hole in his head bled trickles down his face, painting his skin red.
Tron’s hand clung tight over his mouth as suddenly Reeve sat up. Blood turned his pupils black. He turned and pinned Tron to the spot with his pupiless stare.
“Where were you?” Reeve’s corpse rasped. He began to crawl towards Tron, legs dragging limply behind him. Blood stained the floor with each strain forward. “Why didn’t you save me?”
Tron let go of his face to scrabble back from the body. “I-I didn’t know-”
“Why not?” Tron’s back hit a table. Breath almost drowning out Reeve, he pulled himself to his feet. Looking down, he could see the trail of blood streaming behind Reeve, pooling among the other bodies. “How could you have been so blind?”
Something brushed Tron’s hand, and he instantly jerked back with a gasp. Klax’s lifeless eyes blinked up at him, the holes in her head matching Reeve’s. Her movements were jerky as she pushed herself off the table. Though unsteady, she remained on her feet and began to shuffle towards him.
“Dyson did this to us.” She spoke. More bodies clamber from the piles towards them in the same lifeless limp. “And you never even stopped him. You let him take us.”
“I-I didn’t….Klax, I’m so sorry-”
A third body grabbed his wrist, and he whipped to them with a gasp. He tried to pull away but the corpse remained tight. Reeve latched onto his left ankle. His unblinking eyes stared up at Tron, challenging him to kick Reeve away. And Tron…couldn’t.
A fourth corpse pulled at his right knee, and the joint gave. Tron slammed to his knees, repeating a litany of sorrows to his fallen men. They fall on deaf ears as hands scrabble for a hold of his arm, his chest, his face- he’s drowning in them, choking on their streaming blood.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”
He’s slammed onto his back. His litany crumbled at the sight above him.
“Dyson?” The man in question grinned down at him, jarring against the prosthesis. The two-pronged drill in his hand whirred to life.
“No…please no! You can’t do this!” He struggled against the weight of the writhing corpses on top of him, only to remain pinned. The drill lowered closer and closer…
“NO-!”
“Tron!” The voice sounded familiar, but in the way of a ghost calling out to him that made bile rush up his throat. It couldn’t escape his mouth! He must still be choking on the blood-!
His blurry world disorientingly turned. Suddenly, the blood escaped from his mouth, his bile, everything escaped-
The gag was what pulled him out of the haze. He was staring at a wooden floor, and when his vision cleared, he could see the clear puddle of liquid beneath him. His stomach lurched, and he vomited again.
He almost didn’t feel the gentle hand on his back until he heard the soft shush in his ear. The hand traced circles, just like Yori would when he was upset. He should push this away, but his body doesn’t respond to the thought.
It took a long moment to stop vomiting, and he finally had to gasp for air. He had to breathe, he was so close to blacking out, his vision on his left was already black-
“It’s okay.” Yori’s voice whispered. It must be some sick trick of Dyson’s. “You’re safe.”
At the name, anger surged enough strength through his body to curl away from the touch. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed.
There was a small huff, so similar to Yori’s, but they didn’t touch him again. “It’s me, Tron. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He refused to answer. Talking back must have gotten him into this mess. He won’t make that mistake again.
“It was just a nightmare.” Not-Yori continued. “You’re safe here, with me…”
He shook his head, but the small gesture blurred his vision with a harsh throb that pulled a groan from him. She sighed, and the weight on the bed rose. Worn boots and dirtied trousers stepped around the pile of sick before kneeling in front of him.
She must be a ghost. A trick. Could she really be in front of him?
“....Yori?” He rasped. She smiled encouragingly at that.
“It’s me, Tron. You’re safe. Now, let’s lay you back down.”
This time, he didn’t fight her as she helped him. His back rested into something soft, his head on a soaked yet soft pillow. His gaze followed her hands down as she fussed with a fabric sling on his arm, straightening it so it raised his left arm level. Even though part of her hand left his vision, he let her press the back of her hand against his forehead. After a long pause, she pulled away.
“Feels like your fever’s broken. The worst should be over. Let’s get you some water.”
She reached over him and came back with a tin. His left fingers wriggled as he tried to reach for it, only to groan at the flicker of pain.
“Let your arm rest. It needs to heal. Here.”
She held the tin up to his lips. The cool metal brought attention to his dry and cracking lips, and he swallowed greedily when she poured the water.
“Slowly.” She chastised softly, but without any real edge to her voice. Still, he obeyed, savoring the cool taste until she pulled it away. “That’s enough for now. You can have some more later.”
He wanted to say something, to at least acknowledge her. But his muscles screamed for rest, and opening his lips became a gargantuan effort as his eyelids dropped.
He heard her chuckle and felt a gentle press of her lips against his forehead. “Get some more rest. I’ll be here.”
Spots of sunlight pressed against his eyelids, trying to pierce through. His head throbbed in response, and the groan of pain escaped before he could stop himself. What time was it?
He pried his eyes open to find himself staring up at the peak of the sun through a worn curtain. The fabric was dark, unrecognizable. The walls were foreign, nothing like that prison he had last been in. Where is he…?
The memories rushed back in. Dyson. The scalpel.
Yori…
“Yori?” He dared to call. His voice wavered, dying in the crowding silence. A lump grew in his throat. He couldn’t see on his left (the scalpel-) so he had to turn his head to an empty wall. This made no sense, she had been here-! “Yori!”
Something creaked back on his right, and he rolled his head back as fast he could to see a door in the corner of the room open and there. She was here, and in moments she was by his side.
“I’m here.” She promised, reaching out and cupping his face. Her skin was so warm, so real-
It was hard to swallow beyond the lump. “You’re here.” His voice failed him again, his words soft.
“I am.” She repeated softly. “And you’re safe now.”
He grimaced at the thought, and the skin on the left side of his face protested the movement.
“Well,” she amended her statement. “Clu at least doesn’t know where you are.”
Tron took the moment to examine the room again. It certainly didn’t look like a prison. In fact, it seemed to be a bedroom, but it was empty…
“...And where are we?”
“In the farmlands. Outside the city.”
"How did we…?" He broke off when her smile faded. "What happened?"
She couldn't meet his gaze anymore and instead took his right hand. "Ram and I broke you out when they were trying to transport you. We thought we were going to get away, but they managed to flip the wagon. Ram got trapped underneath. I didn't have time to get both of you, so I had to leave him. He…" Her bottom lip trembled, and she took a shaky breath. "He went down with a fight. But they killed him."
Tron didn't mean to, but his grip loosened on her hand at that. His faint awareness wished to float away, to join Ram off this earth. The three of them had moved out here together. Ram had been his friend since childhood. There were countless hellos, but he never got to say goodbye…
Yori pulled out of his grip, bringing him back to the present. She turned away from him, eyes brimming as she hurriedly wiped at them. Her exhale was shaky, threatening to well into a sob.
"Yori…"
"I'm sorry." She whispered, still not able to look at him. "We should have been more careful. I should have saved him-"
"Stop that." Tron said firmly. She froze at that, hunching on herself. With a grunt, Tron reached out to place his hand on her leg. "That kind of guilt won't bring him back. Trust me, I know."
She didn't answer, so he continued with a sigh.
"What's done is done. Everything that has happened has been a mix of bad choices and mistakes from everyone. But unfortunately, all thinking about them will do is bring pain and blind us to what we should do now." He realized his words were all rough-edged, not exactly comforting to his wife. With a small sigh, he squeezes her leg. "I'll…miss him. We both will. But he wouldn't want us to wonder what we could have done differently. Not while we're still alive."
She finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her expression was hard to read until she finally nodded.
"You're right." She exhaled, looking down at his hand. She took it again. "He wouldn't."
Tron nodded, leaning back into his pillow unwillingly. That exhaustive weight was beginning to return. "We need to make a plan."
"We'll make one." She promised. Her expression was beginning to settle again, returning to the blend of concern and determination. "But for now, you need to rest some more."
He opened his mouth to protest, tired as he is, but was broken off when she kissed his forehead. "Rest." She whispered.
He loved his wife. His mind and being all knew it as they began to drift. What could he do but obey?
The sun had yet to show itself this morning, so Yori stared at her reflection with the help of a dented pot and a candle. The knife in her hand was heavy, slowly pointing more and more towards the floor.
The mattress shifted behind her, and Tron gave a near imperceptible hiss. Own problems forgotten, she turned to see him slowly prop himself up with his working hand.
"Are you sure you can handle the journey?" She was the first to break the dawn silence.
Tron finally looked at her, taking in the knife resting in her hand with little concern. "I can walk." He finally rasped, voice heavy with sleep for the first time in years. Before she could argue that that wasn't what she asked, he canted his head to the knife. "What are you doing?"
Yori considered the blade in her hand once more. The candle glinted off the metal.
"They'll be looking for us." She said, finally. "Even with our plan, we'll need to be able to blend in. Plus," she turned the knife, watching the light bounce off with each rotation, "it'll just get in the way long term."
If Tron understood what she meant, he didn't comment on it. However, he didn't stop her either when she took a shaky breath before curling her hair into her fist. The blade rose higher, and higher, before shearing through the locks with surprising resistance. She let go, and her hair fell to the floor. Her breath left her with a tremble. It's done…
She didn't hear him approach until his hand was on her shoulder. She didn't look at him. She couldn't pull her gaze from the shimmering arc of hair spread across the wood….
"…I like it." Tron spoke up after a long moment. His hand was gentle as it traced the nape of her neck, wiping off stray hairs.
Her hand followed his. It felt….lighter. Emptier. "You do?"
"I do." He confirmed, before kissing the top of her head. He held the moment, nose buried in her scalp, taking in her warmth.
Yori glanced up to the window. The first rays of light were beginning to peek through. "It's almost time." She gently pulled away to stand. It was hard to take her gaze off the sun, but Tron's hand squeeze was grounding. "We should get moving."
The train was practically waiting for them as the sky began to tinge with daylight. They approached, brims pulled low. Even though the yard was surprisingly empty, her head was a rotating swivel as the two shuffled towards the train. She could tell Tron was doing the same, his grip around her shoulder tight as if he dared the world to separate them again.
The duo reached the train car without anyone pouncing down on them. Only then does Yori dare to push open the car door. It required more force and a heavy grunt before it rolled back with a CLANG. Both cringed as the sound echoed through the yard. But nobody came searching.
"Okay." Yori breathed. "Up. Quickly."
Tron squeezed her closer to him, their earlier argument about this part on his tongue. He'd be damned if he lost her again. She huffed, though, and he finally let go.
His good hand planted on the edge of the car. He tried to bend his knees to spring himself up. His bad leg gave at the weight, making his lunge sloppy and flopping. "Shit!"
Yori caught his legs. "I got you." She laced her hands beneath his feet, and Tron tried to ignore the flush through his face, thankful at least that no one was around to witness this.
One final push sent Tron's momentum rolling into the train car. As he tried to catch his breath, Yori vaulted up after him. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." He shakily huffed. Still, her hands were around his waist as she helped him back up.
"Here, the hay…"
He went without complaint, sighing as he landed among the straw. She hurried to the door, and the two took one last glimpse of the rising sun before the door slid shut.
They were left in the dark. Sleep threatened to overtake him simply from the slight exertion, but he forced himself to focus on the small sliver of light that snuck in. His wife stood half in its light, half in shadow as she settled down across from him. Taking guard, like he usually would. The flush on his face grew.
"Sorry." He muttered into the dark. His eyelids were getting heavy, but he noticed Yori stiffen.
"What for?"
The words tumbled in his mouth as he considered them, letting silence stretch between them. Finally, she sighed as she understood. "Tron, you were tortured." She scooted closer. "You're lucky you walked away from it."
"I shouldn't have ended up there." He murmured. "I should have been able to predict that Clu would turn on his father, that Dyson…" He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.
"How could you have predicted it?" She prompted. She didn't give him time to answer. "You couldn't. No one could. You shouldn't beat yourself up over what they did."
Maybe she was right, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there must have been some sort of sign…
He was pulled out of his spiral as she slid into his side. Her hand was gentle but firm as she guided him to look at her. Even in the dark, he could see her eyes taking him in: his bandaged eye, his bruised cheek, his set jaw…
"Even if there was something you could have predicted, there's nothing we can do about it now." Her thumb traced a circle on his cheek, soothing the aching bruise. "Just like you told me, all we can do is keep moving."
He wanted to believe that, he really did. But the ghosts clung to him, trying to pull him back with them…
"Tron." Her voice was grounding, and he blinked to find her pressing their foreheads together, practically in his lap. "Stay with me here. Remind me of the plan."
Plan? What plan…?
It came to him in moments, almost automatic. "Ride the train to the end of the line."
"Good." She praised softly. "Then what?"
"Start…start walking." For how long? Tron wasn't sure, but Yori seemed satisfied with the answer. She rewarded him with a kiss. The warmth wrapped around him, chasing off ghosts with light and weight that held him firmly on the car floor.
Right, they were in a train car already. How had he managed to forget that?
"Feel better?" Yori asked when she finally pulled away, just enough for her breath to brush his chin.
"…I think so." He admitted. The weight was growing into exhaustion again, and he felt too disoriented to fight it. He had to remember the plan. Ride the train. Get off. Start walking.
But for how long?
He wasn't sure, but Yori didn't let him dwell on that. Her hands guided him back into the hay, a surprising comfort. "Rest." She whispered. "I'll keep watch."
He knew he would. She never wanted to lose him again, just like he couldn't bear to lose her. She slid off his lap and nestled back into his side. The faint light that had snuck in had grown brighter, moving closer to them and then receding as the train began to roll. The gentle rocking and the warmth of his wife at his side finally lulled him into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
solar_siren on Chapter 1 Thu 26 May 2022 07:52AM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 1 Wed 06 Jul 2022 06:45PM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 2 Tue 18 Oct 2022 09:15PM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 3 Sun 10 Mar 2024 09:48AM UTC
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Krisdaughter_of_Athena on Chapter 3 Mon 11 Mar 2024 12:29AM UTC
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solar_siren on Chapter 4 Fri 17 May 2024 03:50AM UTC
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Oosbeck on Chapter 4 Fri 17 May 2024 12:35PM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 4 Fri 17 May 2024 04:37PM UTC
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MontagSuperior on Chapter 4 Sun 11 May 2025 08:59PM UTC
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Krisdaughter_of_Athena on Chapter 4 Sun 11 May 2025 09:53PM UTC
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MontagSuperior on Chapter 4 Thu 29 May 2025 03:55PM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 4 Fri 27 Jun 2025 09:15PM UTC
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Krisdaughter_of_Athena on Chapter 4 Sun 29 Jun 2025 12:31AM UTC
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solar_siren on Chapter 5 Fri 12 Dec 2025 03:15AM UTC
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Krisdaughter_of_Athena on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Dec 2025 02:53AM UTC
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solar_siren on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Dec 2025 02:21PM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 5 Fri 12 Dec 2025 06:41PM UTC
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Krisdaughter_of_Athena on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Dec 2025 02:51AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 14 Dec 2025 02:58AM UTC
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QuimeraTheTraveler on Chapter 5 Sun 14 Dec 2025 03:28PM UTC
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