Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

(Summary: After an encounter with some husks went wrong, Drift is forced to recover in an ally base until his is fit for action. However, his recovery leave him with plenty of time to think about how much has changed for him.)

When it happened, it had been far to late for Drift to dodge. The husks he was fighting had managed to back him up ever so slowly, eventually sending him tumbling down a small drop off, and into the path of a precariously balance log, which proceed to fall down.

Directly on him.

Great.

Shaking his head in an attempted to clear his vision of the black spots that had burst into view, Drift looked up to see the husks continuing to advance on him. Reaching for his gun, he let out a sharp cry as pain raced up and down his body, reminding him that hey, you're being crushed right now!

Moving slower this time, he reached around him until his hand was met with the barrel of his pistol. Grimacing, he took aim at the approaching husks, and lucky for him, they still couldn't do much against bullets tearing into them. A quick scan around him confirmed that those were the only husks that had followed, which let him take a sigh of relief and begin to focus on problem 2.

He was still stuck.

The log, which originally struck him on his head and back, had rolled during the fall onto his legs and lower back, leaving that part stuck while his upper body was free. Attempting to assess the damage, Drift wiggled his legs, then hissed and stopped immediately as pain ran through them. But, they moved, so that means he probably doesn't have to worry about paralysis. Probably. Moving onto his arms, he held them out in front of him and was relieved to see only minor cuts, with the deepest only needing a large bandaid.

Now onto his head.

He knew he needed to take his kitsune masks off, but as he started to slide the straps over his head, pressure was put on were the log hit, and the pain truly started. Gasping, Drift let himself go limp and laid on the ground, just trying desperately to overcome the nausea and aching that had struck him. As soon as he could control his breathing, he braced himself, and with a much more gentle hand, slide the mask off and dropped it on the ground.

Feeling exhausted, he let his head drop into his folded arms. As his eyes slipped shut, he thought of how tired he was, and how of how he couldn't wait to get some sleep at the base.

Wait.

Why was he here again?

His head shot up despite the pain as he realized what he was doing. He couldn't go to sleep here! Not with the husks still being around! Not with his head injure, which he definitely thought was a concussion by now!
Not with the little fact that no one knew were he was!

Scrambling around, he was able to grab onto the strap of his backpack. Pulling it close, he rummaged through it until he found what he needed. The emergency beacon. Trying to remember what to press to send out the correct distress signal (and trying not to berate himself for not paying attention to the instructions when he had the chance) he eventually ended up pressing the right one, and let out a small "Yes!" at his success.

All he had to do now was wait.

__________

It turns out waiting was a lot harder with a concussion.

Drift tried to stay awake, but as each minutes passed, his body began to shut down.

The pain, which was largely blocked by the adrenaline before, had come back with a vengeance as the adrenaline faded. One leg had to be broken somewhere, alongside one of his ribs, as each breath he took rattled his very core. Each thought was hard to force into coherence, and he felt himself slowly begin to slip.

His eyes slid shut against his will and time seemed to stop.

It was quiet for a moment.

Until he was pulled out of the darkness by footsteps, and then hands. Someone was talking to him, but no matter how hard he focused, he couldn't understand. Whoever was talking was closer now, and he felt his head be gently lifted and something soft slid under it.

Some else was talking to him now, but he still couldn't understand, so with a Herculean effort, he tried getting his eyes open. Pushing aside his raging headache, he looked up to see the blurry figure talking to him. Pink hair was cascading around her face, and she looked panicked as she tried to keep his attention.

Brite Bomber.

Realizing he was awake, she began to talk even more, but Drift used up the last of his energy. His eyes slid shut, and despite the talking and desperate pats against his face, he began to slip again. He knew he should really fight it... But it was already so hard. Could he just stop for a little break? That won't hurt him... right?

Everything went black.

...........

Chapter Text

When Drift woke up, the first thing he wanted to do was go back to sleep. It was warm.. and soft... and comfortable... And his bed at base was none of those things, so he should probably figure out were he was.

Cracking his eyes open, he groaned as he looked around, the white, sterile environment revealing exactly where he was.

The Ghost infirmary.

Drift, already deciding to go back to sleep, tried to shut his eyes, but a doctor decided it was the perfect moment to barge into his quiet room, ruining any chance at further shut eye.

" I'm glad to see you're awake! I'm Dr. Renee and I am the one in charge of your care." She said politely as she turned to the wall and pulled a clipboard out of the one of the cabinets. Drift didn't recognize her, meaning she probably didn't participate in any combat missions, but she seems nice enough.

Turning back to him, she studied him for a moment, before continuing,

" Now that you awake, I have a few questions I must ask before I'll let you get some rest. Are you experiencing any sharp pain? Any nausea or dizziness?"

"Um... No, for both." He shrugged. "I mean, I feel pretty rough right now, but nothing is too bad."

She grimaced sympathetically, wrote something on the clip board, before turning back and replying,

"Sorry about any soreness, we can't do anything for that at the moment, due to some of the medicine we gave you earlier."

She continued to drill Drift for about 10 more minutes, asking  questions and explaining his injuries. Turns out he was right about his leg being broken, but had only heavily bruised his ribs. He also had almost cracked his skull, but fortunately, it didn't break. He was going to count his blessings and just be happy it wasn't worse, like the last time he had been here. That... wasn't a pleasant memory.

After a few more questions, she finally seemed satisfied with his replies and began to walk to the door.

"Remember, please tell a nurse if anything changes, and I'll be back in a few hours. Right now, you just need some rest!" She said cheerily as she opened the door, only to pause. Someone had been standing outside the door when she had opened it, and had narrowly avoided being hit.

Straining to see around the doctor, Drift sighed when he caught a glimpse of the person.

Midas.

Dr. Renee seemed to be telling him something, and she gestured towards the hall way, before Midas said something in response. She stared at him for a long moment before allowing him into the room, before walking down the hall, out of sight.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence as both of them stared at each other, before Midas walked over to the window and looked out.

" I told your friends that you're awake." He started.

Drift mentally face palm. He didn't ask the doctor anything about his friends!

" Are they ok?" He tentatively asked.

"Yes, they are fine." Midas turned back to face Drift and stared, his face unreadable. Drift suddenly felt very self-conscious and wondered if something was wrong with him. Had he cut his face?

Wait. Was Midas... Worried?

"Are you ok?" Drift finally asked, trying to figure out what was going on. Since when was Midas, the epitome of professionalism and class, worried about anyone? Especially him? He had seen Midas fight on the battle field, and he had never seen him shaken by anything, and Drift knew that Midas had seen some messed up stuff.

"Drift," Midas said, "they thought you were dead."

Oh

That why.

He knew his injuries were bad... But he didn't realize how bad it must have been if this was the stoic Midas's reaction. What where his friends thinking? Knowing Brite, she was probably ready to burn this place to the ground if they weren't letting her see him, and the others were probably just as worried.

Drift was interrupted from his thought by Midas continuing,

" I told them that you're stable, but the doctor doesn't want anyone to see you until you get more rest. I had to promise to leave after 5 minutes to be able to talk to you now." Midas turned and began to walk to the door.

"Hey Midas?" Drift called, causing the man to pause. Drift thought that while Midas wasn't the sentimental type, he at least owed him a thank you.

"Thanks for helping out with all of this." He continued, "I probably wouldn't be alive without it."

A ghost of a smile formed on Midas's face.

"My pleasure." He responded. "Just get some rest."

And then he was gone.

Drift shut his eyes and layer back on his pillow. It had been quite some time since he was able to have a break. Frowning, he tried to recall the last time he truly had a break. It had to have been at least a month ago...

He almost let out a bitter laugh. Before any of this, before he was taken into this new world, his life was an easy one.

Sure, he had a job and had to deal with unfriendly people, but he had co-workers, friends and the worst of his troubles was trying to waking up on time. He didn't have to worry about secret organizations and zombies.

He didn't have to think about whether he was going to survive his next mission.

But... He also didn't have much else.

His old friends were just friends by proximity, and he never truly had a bond with them. He had forgotten most of their names anyway. His job, while peaceful, was a dead end and wouldn't take him anywhere.

He was alone the majority of the time, and his family... Well, he was never on good terms with them.. Compared to his new friendships with Brite, Rex, and even the stoic Midas, his old relationships were nothing. And alongside that, the weird powers he had gotten were a nice bonus (even if he didn't know how to use them)

Still, sometimes the peace and quiet of his old world called to him like a siren and left him aching for a lost life. To be shoved into a world of new and exciting, but chaotic and dangerous things was hard to adapt too.

After a few minutes more, stuck in thought, Drift finally fell asleep

Chapter Text

_____

Drift was finally able to leave the Ghost infirmary, and he was overjoyed.

Don't get him wrong, he appreciated all the work the doctors had done, but one can only love a hospital stay so much.

His friends had all got to visit him, which lead to a tearful reunion (in which Drift 100% didn't cry and anyone who says anything else is a liar!), but they could only stay for so long before something came up again, and then they were gone.

Some of the henchman stopped by between their shifts, which gave him some company, and Skye even stopped by once, but they couldn't stay long either, meaning most of his time was spent alone.

Which translates to most of his time spent being bored out of his mind.

So when he finally got the ok to leave, it took everything in him not to vault himself out the door. Or, at least try to, as right now he was still hobbling around on crutches.

The doctor had given him a special type of slurp juice that was meant to speed up the healing process to only three weeks. Turns out slurp juice isn't a miracle cure all, and while it works fast on the squishy parts, shattered bone required more effort.

However, she also cautioned against any physical or dangerous activities during that time, meaning tagging along on missions was not an option. So, his boredom would probably be following him home.

Oh well.

_________

"Hey Drift?" Brite bomber called from across the house.

House would be more of an overstatement, however, as they lived in a former shadow compound which was redone to serve as housing.

Mostly ghost henchmen and agents lived here, but some, like himself, Brite, Rex, as well as a few others, didn't officially work for ghost, and just rented out an apartment. It worked out well for them and gave them flexibility for what jobs they wanted to do (even if most were for ghost anyway)
 
"Yeah?" He finally responded from his seat on the couch.

"I have to go help delivery some supplies to one of the ghost bases, I'll be back in a few hours." She walked into the living room and  began to pack her bags, checking to ensure she wouldn't run out of supplies.

"Hey, want me to come along?" Called a voice from upstairs. A few moments later, Rex's face poked out around the corner.

Rex was one of the first people that Drift had met, way back when they where still living in the old island. Back then, they all had lived separately, but since the... Sudden relocation to the new island, he had been living with himself and Brite.

" I'm free right now," he continues, "so I don't mind."

"Sure! That would help a bunch!" Brite responded " I was going to need another person anyway for this shipment!"

Drift resisted the urge to scowl. If he hadn't have broken his leg, he could help Brite, and Rex wouldn't have to use his free time to work. It really was an uncomfortable feeling to be useless.

"Ok we'll be back later, see you then!" With that, Brite and Rex left and Drift was alone.

Sighing, he turned on the TV and began watching some old comedian. This was one blessings the ghost infirmary didn't have, why, Drift will never know.

You think that someone stuck in a bed for days would appreciate it, but he hadn't seen a glimpse of one anywhere. The storm was still messing with his phone, so that was out of the question, leaving him with not many options for entertainment.

Still, it was nice to be able to kick back a relax. Drift didn't realize how high stung he was until recently, and this break from work, while annoying, was really nice.

Sinking back into the pillows, Drift let himself get lost in the peaceful atmosphere.

_____________

2 weeks later

Drift was proud to announce that he didn't need the crutches anymore. He still limped when he walked and had a brace on his leg, but hey, progress is progress.

He even tried to convince his friend to let him tag along on a mission, bit that was met with a swift nope as soon as the words left his mouth.

With a little more mobility, Drift decide he should probably be productive, and managed to get almost half of the apartment clean! "Only half?" You may ask? Well, he may have dropped the vacuum cleaner on himself, leading to him clutching his leg in pain.

After that, he decided he had been productive enough and promptly threw himself into the couch.

Even though the boredom was rough, Drift felt almost revitalized. He hadn't been able to give himself as much attention as he should, and his broken leg of all things had been the thing to help fix that.

Sometimes things just fall into place.