Chapter Text
Raiden avoided looking up, feeling two gazes boring straight through him, burning with an unidentifiable emotion, but he refused to wither. His throat revolted at being forced to produce words, and he coughed, throaty and raw and painful. Out of the corner of his watery eyes he saw Otacon move towards him, and shook his head rapidly, preemptively rejecting whatever help he was going to offer. He pawed at his throat for a moment, coaxing a few more necessary words out of his abused vocal cords. If he wanted to communicate, he’d have to do it in a way they could both understand.
“Pen.” A thick wheeze. “Paper. Please.”
Both seemed frozen for a moment, and then they moved in tandem, sharing an unseen connection. Snake rifled through the drawers and produced a half-empty legal pad, Otacon left the room and returned with a cheap ballpoint pen, and Raiden was presented with both and ushered to the table.
He swallowed heavily. He’d have to either choke down his shame or slowly force his shaky, untrained hands to produce clearer words, wracking his brain for magazines he’d thumbed through as a teenager to check his own spelling with no guarantee of accuracy.
He opted for speed, and to get the important things out of the way first.
her names sonechka, Raiden scrawled at the top, forcing his hand to still enough to produce legible letters. sunny for short. birthday march 24 2008. she doesnt talk but undirstands and speaks sign languige. too smart for two years old. Not sure what they did but her bracelit said isolation
Looking up, he only saw Snake reading over his shoulder, his expression somewhere between forced neutrality and mild horror. “Sunny, huh…”
Otacon returned a moment later, Sunny still wrapped in his arms, and placed a glass of water on the table in front of Raiden. He begrudgingly accepted it, taking a long sip to cool his aching throat while Otacon scanned the pad from beside him. After a moment, he gasped softly, looking down incredulously at the bundle he was holding. “She can understand you? Is she… how advanced would you say she is?”
Raiden nodded, picking the pen up again. realy advansed. Forgot i was talking to a kid
“Th-that’s crazy…!”
She said they made her do programing. screwed with her brain i think but shes realy smart she can probibly read this and undirstand us talking
All four of them were silent for another long moment, a heavy, aching quiet that filled the room.
“That’s…”
He’d gotten the important part out of the way. Addressing what he’d just overheard was more uncomfortable, but Raiden guessed they’d been holding their breaths for him to bring it up.
we can just ignore all of that. if itd be better
“What do you mean…?” Otacon’s voice was shakier than he’d expected.
the stuff about— He paused, hands trembling. How was he going to word this? —solidus and me and you. you can ignore it if its easyer
A deafening silence. Raiden bit his lip, scrambling to explain himself.
dont feel like you have to keep me here becuz of that
He crossed out keep me here , wrote let me stay above it.
There was another beat of stillness before Otacon blurted, “Raiden, you’re—”
“Let me,” Snake interrupted, his tone low and unreadable.
Raiden turned in his seat to face him, cupping the glass in his hands apprehensively. Seemingly gathering his thoughts, Snake rubbed his temples and let out a long breath.
“...You’re injured. We’re not going to just kick you out until you’re better.”
He exhaled, lowering his head. It wasn’t a guarantee—it was probably the bare minimum—but it was something.
“You got anywhere else to stay?”
Raiden shook his head.
“What about that lady of yours? Don’t you live with her?”
His shoulders stiffened, and he turned back to the pad, starting, She
He crossed it out. We
We I
He scribbled everything out, bearing down hard on the paper, swallowed dryly. didnt work out between us. screwed it up
The silence that followed was… awkward.
Raiden scrambled for some sort of humor to break the tension.
im kinda homeless
He internally whacked himself over the head.
“It’s, uh…” Otacon started.
“We have a couch.” Snake exhaled loudly, something that could almost be mistaken for a laugh. “Can you cook?”
kinda, Raiden wrote, then crossed it out, realizing he was underselling himself. yeah ive been cooking for a while. i can do that ill clean too
“Look, kid, I’m not looking for a maid, just…” Snake paused, apparently searching for the right word. “You can stay here for as long as you need, okay? Look after the—after Sunny.”
Unexpected tears pricked the corners of Raiden’s eyes. What? He blinked them back, reflexively thanked Snake in ASL, then remembered Otacon and hastily wrote, thank you
“It’s not an issue.” Snake chuckled—actually chuckled, was he fucking hallucinating?—and mused, “Y’know, I feel like the kid I met at Big Shell would tell me he deserved to be here, not try to earn his keep.”
Raiden’s hands shook. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?
guess im differint now
A long pause, heavy but not awkward.
Snake shook his head. “Get some more rest. We can work out the rest of this later.”
do you have a first aid kit
“A first aid kit? What’s—”
cuple of bullets got my legs i think. Havent realy checked
It was as if he’d told them he was dying. “Raiden, that’s serious! Are you—”
“—Hold on, let me—”
“—honestly, say something next time, geez—”
“—pain tolerance too but that’s just ridiculous—”
Raiden shrank in his seat, embarrassed despite the circumstances; being fretted over like this made him uncomfortable for a reason he couldn’t quite reach in his mind. He’d honestly nearly forgotten about the possible wounds, a mild annoyance compared to the rawness of his throat.
He’d been expecting for the first aid kit to be presented to him so he could patch himself up, but when Snake produced the kit, still muttering to himself, he instead opened it on the table. Raiden shook his head and wheezed, drawing both of their attentions, then quickly signed, “I can do it myself.”
A roll of gauze dangled from Snake’s hand. “You sure, kid?”
“It’s not really that bad, I can barely feel it.” He was increasingly uncomfortable with the attention, and so stunned by the ease with which Snake seemed to assume he’d be the one tending to his possible wounds, that he was at a loss as to how to accept the kindness. “Really, I… don’t worry about me, please.”
Snake sighed in response, long and heavy. “Alright, but I’m checking after you. I’m not dealing with any infected bullet wounds, got that?”
“Thanks anyway.” Raiden reached across the table and snapped up the first aid kit, wanting to get somewhere he could sort out his thoughts as quickly as possible. As he skittered out of the room, he could hear them bickering quietly, something about how he’d been “let off too easy”. Deciding he’d had more than enough of eavesdropping, he promptly locked himself in the bathroom. He hadn’t had to do it since he was just a kid, and he wasn’t sure if he remembered completely, but… How hard can cleaning a bullet wound be, anyway?
Luckily for Raiden, there were no actual bullet wounds; as he’d expected, upon closer inspection his legs had only been grazed. Only one wound was still bleeding—he wondered to himself how he hadn’t noticed the blood trickling down his calf—and he made quick work of disinfecting and bandaging everything up.
It’ll probably leave a scar, he thought absently. He allowed himself to dwell on the thought, watching the gauze tinge pink with blood under the surface, until his brain changed the topic: Why are they being so damn nice to me?
Because they’re nice people, stupid. Just let them help you.
I’ve asked enough. They’re already giving me more than god damn enough.
What the hell is wrong with you?
At some point, he’d moved from sitting to standing, staring at his own reflection.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He shook his head, pulled his hair back into a ponytail, shook his head again. His curls bounced pleasantly against the back of his neck with the motion, a grounding sensation, and he exhaled, the action still trailing sparks of pain up his throat.
Just take it. Take what they’re giving you and try your best to deserve it.
Watching himself blink in the mirror, his first impulse was for some reason to try observing himself with his eyes closed.
He shook himself a third time, and hiked up the legs of his sweatpants so Snake would be able to get a closer look at his handiwork.
When Raiden returned to the kitchen, Snake and Otacon still seemed to be arguing, though Otacon was now holding Sunny closer, looking her in the eyes, seemingly fussing over her. He knocked gently on the table to announce his presence, then set the first aid kit down. “ It was fine. Just graze wounds.”
“Sit down, and put your legs up on the other chair,” Snake replied, approaching him without acknowledging what he’d signed. He gave his legs a quick once-over, then grunted. “Which antiseptic did you use?”
“Rubbing alcohol.”
“Stings, doesn’t it? Go for the neosporin next time. Looks like you’re patched up alright, though.”
Raiden shrugged. “Doesn’t matter either way.”
Snake seemed to kind of… pause, and Raiden noticed his fingers twitch, probably for a cigarette. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just… get some more rest, will you?”
Raiden mimed writing, and Snake passed the pad he’d been using back to him. He quickly scribbled let me see her, then flipped the page around to show Otacon.
“Oh—” He startled, glancing back down at Sunny in his arms. “She woke up a little bit ago, I’m not sure what she needs…”
just let me. Please
Raiden punctuated the statement with a bit of a pleading glance, and Otacon hesitated for a split second before handing him the bundle of cloth. He smiled down at her, weary and melancholy, and quickly wrote thank you while he still had a free hand. Sunny smiled back at him as he stood, whatever had been bothering her apparently soothed.
The room was still for a moment, interrupted by the sound of Snake planting a firm hand on Raiden’s shoulder. He offered what could have been a smile. “You did good, kid.”
Raiden’s chest welled up and overflowed with an emotion he couldn’t identify, one that he was certain he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The only gesture he could muster in response was a nod, and he left, carrying Sunny, before he could start tearing up again.
As they returned to the living room, Sunny reached up for him curiously, her expression inquisitive, understanding. Raiden took her tiny hand in his as he sat back on the couch, willing himself not to cry again. You’re safe now, he mouthed. We’ll take care of you, it’ll be okay.
Her eyes sparkled, and she took hold of his thumb for a moment before curling up again, satisfied. Raiden allowed himself another weak smile, slowly lying back, carefully nestling Sunny to his chest and kissing the top of her head goodnight.
He dreamt in vague, comforting clouds; dreams of hands pulling him safely from a thick fog, wounds healing themselves, and an all-consuming warmth brimming up from his heart.