Chapter Text
They were arguing about something again, they usually were these days. Everyone's nerves were on hair-trigger with the increasing number of dracs sighted in further and further out zones and recourses being so difficult to find.
Fun Ghoul wasn’t even sure what they were quarrelling about and he doesn’t care. He had gone about his days in a stew of anger, snapping at anyone and everyone to the point where there was no one who didn’t avoid him. They didn’t trust him to run supply missions anymore, even Jet was reluctant to let him take care of even minor business.
At some point he became aware that the two of them had started yelling, he watched Party Poison’s hands make wide, sweeping gestures as their agitation increased. He pushed himself to his feet, not sure what he was saying only that despite how good it felt to scream insults back and forth, to let his anger out, the hollow well in his chest just kept refilling, flooding with more rage.
Party spit out some biting remark, something that cut just a little too deep, and everything seemed to tip and blur red.
There was a sharp crack and suddenly, everything went perfectly quiet.
The world rushed back to him in an instant. He watched everything in a detached manner like he was just an outsider witnessing the scene unfold on the old cracked VHS player that Dr. D used to have in his studio. He felt his hand drop back down to his side, (when had he raised it?) and saw Party take a few short stumbling steps backwards. Their hand slowly came up to cradle the quickly reddening splotch on their cheek. It registered with Ghoul that it was an impression his hand had made. Party's eyes were wide and scared, shiny with tears threatening to fall.
He wrestled back into control of his body, opening his mouth to apologise, to say something, anything.
“Pois-” he started, but they had already turned and fled like a rabbit, out into the desert.
He dropped back to the ground, unable to keep himself standing in his shock. He looked down and noticed for the first time that his hands were shaking. Party was gone. He had hit Party, and Party was gone.
“Jet!” He called, desperation colouring his voice with urgency. “JET!”
He started to shudder, quiet sobs forcing their way out as he dropped his head into his hands. The anger was gone now, he was just so tired. He realized Party must have been too. When was the last time he had seen them go to bed, let alone take a break? He was aware then, of how dark the circles under their eyes had been and how thin they were. Had they started drinking again?
The screen door banged open next to him, he jumped and looked up, not bothering to try to wipe away the evidence of his tears.
“I heard yelling, did ’ya call for me?”
Jet’s back was to the sun and Ghoul couldn’t make out his expression but he was sure it was one of pity as he took in his pathetic appearance. He stumbled back to his feet, catching onto the door frame for support. Jet turned to let Ghoul enter and followed him in gently closing the door behind them. With his frame blocking the door, the room was in relative darkness, all the blinds were pulled over the windows. It was much cooler inside.
Ghoul dropped onto the couch and began in a wavering voice, “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to I swear. I, I-”
His words began blurring together and he broke off with a little sniff as he tried to stop the tears that had begun to fall again.
Jet laid a hand on his shoulder, the firm heat was nice, grounding. He took a deep breath and tried again, letting the events pour out of him, broken up by more fits of sobbing. He recounted more than he thought he knew, how the argument has started, most of what was said, he told Jet everything and when he was done, there was a moment of silence, broken only by the occasional hiccups that come after tears.
“For now,” Jet spoke thoughtfully, “there’s nothing you can do but wait. Knowing them they’ll be back in a few hours once they’ve cooled down.”
Ghoul nodded, he knew that everything Jet was saying was true.
“It’s clear that you understand to at least an extent,” he continued, “how your actions were irresponsible and idiotic. But your problem is that you never think about the fact that what you do has consequences before you or someone else gets hurt. None of this would have happened if you had paid attention to someone other than yourself for a few minutes.”
Ghoul made to protest, to argue that he did think about other people, but Jet cut him off.
“You know how Party gets, they’re all worked up, and you can’t just engage them like that when emotions are running high. You get upset and take arguments too far, you know that. I wish that you would at least put in some effort for them. You two are just a ticking time bomb, I swear.”
Jet turned away, “Think about what you’re going to say when they get back.”
Ghoul was left sitting by himself in the dark, he didn’t feel the reassurance he had come to expect from conversations with Jet, he still felt hollow and a little scared. What if he couldn’t control himself when the Girl got back from her stay at the station? What if he hurt her or someone else again? The same set of thoughts circulated through his head over and over, sucking him in.
Ghoul didn’t remember falling asleep, but he opened his eyes to the cool darkness of evening and the sounds that accompanied it. His neck was sore from lying weirdly and he felt light-headed, not a restful nap then. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, listening to the thrum of an idling motorcycle. Was Jet going out? Would he have woken Ghoul to tell him if he was?
After a moment the sound broke off and he heard the slam of the back door. Kobra’s tell-tale footsteps sounded in the kitchen and there was the low hum of voices. He closed his eyes again, hoping that Jet wouldn’t tell him about what had happened between him and Party.
No such luck. He could hear Kobra’s voice rising, though at first, he couldn’t make out the words. Kobra’s words became audible with a shout. “..nd if either of you had bothered to try this wouldn’t have been an issue!”
It was the first time Ghoul had heard him yell, let alone raise his voice in years. He hadn't heard him so angry since Party had fallen into an episode and he almost hadn’t gotten there in time. That was the first time Ghoul had ever actually seen him show that he was upset.
The backdoor slammed again, louder this time and the sound of the Trans AM could be heard starting up outside.
There was a yell of “Kobra you cannot take the car, you can’t drive!” and Jet hurried into the room, grabbing his jacket.
Ghoul bolted upright and yanked his shoes on, hurrying after Jet.
“Where are you going?!”
Jet hadn’t heard him, he was already toeing open the exit. Ghoul followed him quickly to the car. Kobra had already buckled himself into the driver's seat but when he saw Jet he moved and held out the keys, jingling them impatiently. He flashed a glare a Ghoul from under his sunglasses.
Ghoul slipped quietly into the back seat and tried to make himself as small as he could. He didn’t want to be alone with only himself and his thoughts; he was afraid of both.
They drove in relative silence, the static from the radio and the thrum of the engine together created a kind of hazy background noise. He tried to keep his eyes out the window and searched for Party, doing his best not to meet Kobra’s gaze. But even so, he could almost feel the glare burning into the side of his face.
They had only driven for about 20 or so minutes when the sky lit up with a burst of orange and there was the unmistakable sound of raygun fire. Ghoul watched Kobra and Jet’s eyes flick to each other. Jet turned the wheel slightly, probably intending to give the fight a wide birth when there was a shout. The words were unintelligible but the voice was unmistakable.
Jet swerved the car sharply back, but Kobra had already kicked the door open and was sprinting towards the sound.
“Kid-” Jet called out, but he too was pulling his gun from its holster.
Ghoul was suddenly very alone in the car, it took a moment to register in his brain but the second it hit him he scrambled for the buckle to his seat belt. Normally he would have forgone it in the first place, but despite the fact that it was only an old frayed strip of material, it felt like some layer of protection; a shield between him and his mistakes, him and Kobra. He managed to disentangle himself from the strap and stumbled out onto the sand.
Even in the dwindling light, the air was still oppressively hot. He could see bursts of color from over the swell of the next dune and hurried towards the presumed fight. As he reached the top of the hill there was one last bright burst of fire, catching Ghoul and his unadjusted eyes off guard.
Through the spots that danced in his vision, he could see a tall figure silhouetted against the sky hurrying toward him. Jet. But he wasn’t alone; slung over his shoulder was another shape, one he could barely make out as a figure, though who, he could not identify.
There was the sound of sliding sand and quiet cursing, and then the last form came into view, the top of their head just visible over the rise. A motor started up in the distance and Ghoul spun around, unsure if their vehicle had been highjacked, but the trans-am was just where he had left it, engine idling.
He half slid half ran back to the car and yanked open the back doors for Jet. The man stooped and deposited his burden on the seats. As he stepped back to allow the person behind him to slip through, Ghoul caught a glimpse of the pale, blood-streaked figure. It was Kobra. Party was beside him in an instant, without acknowledging the presence of him or Jet, they slid onto the seat beside Kobra, shifting him so that they cradled his head in their lap.
They were trembling badly, Ghould couldn’t tell in the low light whether they were just shaken up or if they too were injured but he felt another pang of worry, the same as when he had first spotted Jet and Kobra.
He slipped back into the passenger seat, yanking the door shut behind him. The sound of the other motor was rapidly rising, whatever it was powering getting closer.
Jet didn’t seem to need the words of encouragement and demands of speed that Ghoul was shouting at him as he stepped on the gas, but he yelled them anyway, desperate to feel like he was doing something.
As they picked up speed, he could make out the shape of two bikers in the side mirror. He made a sound, he was trying to tell Jet but it just came out as more of a strangled yelp. Jet nodded and Ghoul couldn’t tell if he actually understood or was just blindly acknowledging and brushing off his actions as a state of shock. Regardless, he put on more speed and the car shot forward.
Eventually, the image of their pursuit dwindled into mere specks in the mirror and Ghoul relaxed again slightly, taking in the state of everyone else.
Kobra was unconscious in the backseat, pale and still, rivulets of blood making their way down his face from a cut on his forehead, which thankfully, didn’t look too deep. He looked so lifeless, lying there, head in Party’s lap, that if it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Ghoul wouldn’t have been sure if he had escaped the hands of the Phoenix Witch.
Party bent over him, red hair obscuring both of their faces and whispered indistinguishable words in his ear, they were still shaking badly and the movement rocked both of their frames.
Jet was still focused on the road in front of him, shoulders tense, he seemed to be making a point of not looking into the back seat. Ghoul couldn’t blame him, he wanted to turn back around, to keep the images of his teammates- his friends- hurt and broken down from searing itself into his brain, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
The Trans Am skidded to a sudden halt outside of the dinner, throwing up a spray of sand as the wheels slid to a stop. Both Ghoul and Jet abandoned their seats and yanked the back doors open. Jet leaned down and scooped Kobra into his arms, pulling him gently from Party’s hold. Their head jerked up, their eyes glazed and wide, filled with fear. They fell on Jet and narrowed, they tightened their grip on their brother, but Jet was persistent and stronger and in a moment he was walking quickly towards the diner, Kobra cradled in his arms. Ghoul made to help Party up from their seat but they shoved his hand away and clambered out of the car, stumbling after Jet.
Ghoul followed, keeping a little back of Party. He couldn’t blame them for still being angry, he just hoped that they weren’t injured badly; they had a habit of rushing into battles when they were upset with no regard for their life and it had ended quite badly in the past. Going out to pick fights that they probably couldn’t win was one of Party’s worse tendencies.
Kobra was lying on the couch when he entered, Jet kneeling over him. He glanced up as he heard the door close. There were tight lines of worry in his face but he flashed Ghoul a small smile when he saw him.
“It’s not as bad ‘s I thought, he took a nasty knock to the head but he should be just fine. Chance of a concussion but we won't be able to tell till he’s awake.”
Ghoul was flooded with relief, he felt his shoulders slump, the tension going out of his body. He was alive. He was going to make it. Ghoul hadn’t accidentally killed another person he cared about. He wasn’t going to lose another family.
He saw a flash of bright hair disappear down the connecting hall and heard a door slam. He had no way of knowing if Party had heard the news or not, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to make himself follow and tell them so he allowed himself to slide to the floor, his back against the couch. He didn’t think his legs would carry him all the way to his room, and on top of that, he couldn't handle being left alone with his dreams. He was just so tired, the anxiety and adrenaline of the day calming and leaving him empty and cold. Listening to the quiet sounds of Jet moving about and mumbling to himself as he worked and enjoying the proximity to other people, he allowed his heavy eyelids to shut.
For the next two days, Ghoul only saw Party for brief flashes; once for a moment when he had gone to the kitchen to find breakfast they had hurried past him, a can of Power Pup in hand. Beyond that, it was only quick glimpses of their hair as they took brief trips from their room to look at Kobra. He had tried to approach them once, but as soon as they saw him, they had retreated quickly, not giving him the chance to say anything.
Kobra had woken in the middle of the first night, hungry and disoriented but Jet had gotten him back to sleep without too much trouble and he had been dozing, drifting in and out of sleep ever since. Jet had said if he did have a concussion it was extremely minor, but as he couldn’t tell, Kobra was being made to rest; not that he had complained.
Jet had tried to get Party to let him check them for anything major but they had replied sharply that they were fine and had shut their door in Jet's face and had not reappeared since. Jet had chalked up their short temper to the stress of the day and let it go, trusting that Party would come to one of them if something was wrong. The rest of the time passed in relative silence, with Jet checking in on Kobra every once in a while, but once he was satisfied that he didn’t seem to be getting any worse he too had made himself scarce. Kobra, as dazed and unaware as he was, did not make for good conversation and Ghoul didn’t try very long to keep out the quiet by himself.
He stayed both nights with Kobra. Normally when he couldn’t be alone he would have sought shelter in Party’s room but he figured that under the circumstances that didn’t seem like the best idea. Sleeping on the floor next to the couch was still infinitely better than being alone.
Ghoul blinked, the world coming back to him in disjointed pieces, islands surrounded by a sea of static. The room was still dark, shafts of dusty moonlight filtered in through the dirty glass, leaving bright pools scattered across the floor. Someone had draped a grey blanket over his shoulders and his back and neck were stiff. At first he couldn’t identify what had woken him, Jet was gone, presumably asleep in his own room but he could hear the steady rhythm of Kobras breathing on the couch above him.
He was just starting to slip back into sleep when he hear it; a muffled sound from the bathroom followed by clattering. He sat upright and tossed off the blanket. He wasn’t going to be so inattentive and selfish as to go back to sleep without even investigating. He made his way down the hall and paused right outside the bathroom, listening.
There was silence for a moment, then a sharp gasp and a deep shakey breath, almost a sob. The sound only steeled Ghoul’s resolve all the more, he readied himself and pushed the door open.
Party yanked their shirt down so fast it sent them stumbling off balance into the side of the sink with a flurry of quiet curses. They winced, bringing their hand down to cup their side.
“Doesn’t anyone in this damned place knock?” They demanded, glaring at Ghoul, voice barely above a whisper.
Ghoul glanced around. On the counter of the sink was the open medical kit, bloody bandages lying in a heap next to the contents of the container, which were splayed out in no comprehensible order. Party was still in the same clothes they had worn when they had fought with Ghoul. They clearly had made no effort to fix themself up; tear tracks cut through the ash smudged on their face, and their jacket, hanging haphazardly off of one arm, looked like it had been slept in.
Ghoul took a step towards Party and they took a step backwards. Their legs hit the edge of the tub and they sat down hard, nearly toppling over backwards. Ghoul caught their arm steadying them, they slumped against him and took a shakey breath.
Something shiny was gripped tightly in one of their hands. A needle. It was poorly threaded with a piece of translucent fishing line that trailed over their fingers.
Party must have caught the direction of his gaze for they pushed him away and stood up.
“I’m fine.” They said with little conviction, “Now get out of the bathroom. I’m busy.”
There was a deep, long cut running down their side and Ghoul was surprised to see that it didn’t carry any of the characteristic marks of a burn. It looked more like a knife wound than anything a ray gun could have caused. Blood, no longer staunched by the bandages, dripped sluggishly down their side. A haphazard scab had tried to form but had only succeded in forming an ineffectual cracked crust of blood around the edges. The area around the wound was an angry mottled red that spread up their side and faded out into bruising.
Ghould didn’t say anything, he focused on sorting through the various tools and packages scattered across the counter, trying to locate anything that could be useful. He found new gauze to replace the bloody pieces sitting on the counter, a layer of outer bandaging, an antiseptic wipe, and so on. There was a faded, half-empty pill bottle from which the label had long ago rubbed off. Someone had scrawled “Antibiotics” on a piece of paper and taped it to the side in place of a proper indication. Ghould picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. He knew that antibiotics weren’t interchangeable between infections and giving them to Party as a preemptive measure could risk doing more harm than good but he took the bottle anyway. If Party got worse, he would consider it, but he didn’t think anything like that was needed yet.
He took the needle that Party still had gripped tightly between their fingers and re-threaded it carefully. He set the items in front of them carefully. They were breathing in short, shallow gasps and looked dazed. It occurred to Ghoul that since this seemed to be the first they were thoroughly tending to the injury and it was still bleeding, they had probably lost an unreasonable amount of blood.
Party reached again for the needle, fumbling for it with clumsy fingers. Ghoul took it from their hand and placed the package with the disinfectant wipe- their last disinfectant wipe- where it had been. Party looked at him blankly, they blinked slowly, uncomprehending. The dazed expression had grown, they looked lost and confused, like they didn't quite know how they got there in the first place.
Ghoul took the package back, Party didn’t react, just stood there. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he should probably get Jet. But he couldn’t leave now, not when the great Party Poison, the leader of the Fabulous Four, a symbol of hope for the people of the Zones, and his friend looked like they were about to crumble and collapse. He couldn’t leave, even if it was only for a moment. Besides, he’d stitched himself up loads of time before he started running with this crew.
The cut was bleeding more now, without the pressure of the bandages their side was quickly becoming slick with blood. Ghoul dabbed at the area around it with a cloth and Party grimaced, fingers catching on the edge of the sink and tightening.