Work Text:
Before you have time to raise your gun, his finger is already on the trigger.
A flash, and a body falls.
###
“Wish it was you cutting up my face, Vik.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” He runs a scan on you once more, like he didn't do it twice already while you were coming to. Even though it's just adding a thermal mod to your monowire. Everything looks good, so he motions you towards the door.
“Mean it.” You cross your legs, staying seated in the surgery chair even though he’s done.
“Sure you do.” He considers pulling you up to get you on your way, but on the off chance that you're still drowsy and not just being a bit of a brat, he lets you stay.
“No one else I trust more to get their hands dirty,” you drawl, stretching luxuriously.
Well, if you're determined to stall, he’s not going to stop you.
“Why you even doing it, then?” He starts going through his inventory, even though he's planning to close up once you finally get your butt out of there.
“Above your pay grade,” you reply smoothly. Reed probably wouldn't find out if you spilled, and Vik could probably handle an FIA agent or three, but the knowledge is a burden and Vik’s got enough going on. Probably.
“Mhm. And why'd you even mention it in the first place, then?”
Damn. Old fart always keeps you on your toes. “Just wanted you to see this unique visage one last time before it disappears from the world.”
He snorts, turning off the TV and giving up the pretense that he's doing anything besides waiting for you to leave. “If it's a cosmetic change, they can easily change it back.”
“And if it's not?” You press, because you like to.
“Then it's probably one of those face plates that you can turn on and off. Which still won't actually change your bone structure.”
You cross your arms and eye him suspiciously. As if you didn't know he was on the forefront of technological knowledge despite looking like just an old dude operating out of a basement. “And what would you know about that, Mr. Vector?”
“Eh, lucky guess.” He crosses his arms right back at you. “So? What are you still doing here?”
“Shooting the shit with a choom,” you reply lazily. “Why? You in a hurry?”
“V, it's late. I wanna get home, don't you?”
“Nah. Gotta enjoy my last night of freedom.”
“Before?”
“Before I shoot for the stars, baby.” You draw Alex’s gun and point it at the ceiling.
“Hey, everything stays holstered in my office. You know that.” He sighs, and sits down in his chair. No point in trying to rush you out when you get like this.
“Sorry, Doc.” You put it away, but not before admiring the silencer. Great piece, overall. Just had to sacrifice your life and dignity for it.
~Not that you had much in the first place. Of either.
“Get that secondhand somewhere? Looks like it's taken a beating.” He's being facetious, and you enjoy it.
“It's… vintage,” you offer, holding back a giggle when he rolls his eyes.
He's surprised you're still not budging. Not that you didn't drag your heels here every so often, but somehow you've managed to sink lower into the seat.
“Come on, V.” He uses his stern voice.
“What?” You feign innocence.
“Either get out or get on with what you wanna say.”
“Why do you always take the fun out of it?” You don't actually mind, you rather enjoy his stern voice.
“Because it's fun for you, not me.” Even his disapproving frown can't hide his affection; it travels to his eyes, not quite hidden by his lenses.
“Fine, fine.” You acquiesce, sort of. “You know how I get before the big gigs.”
“Yes I do.” He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples. “You like to hang around here and get on my nerves.”
“And I come back alive and well, after.” You give him a thumbs up. “See, that's on you! You're a cornerstone of my success. Your fabulous company and my fabulous luck.”
“Right, because you're so full of it.” He looks away quickly; it's a touchy subject for both of you, but somehow it's always brought up one way or another.
~He’s talking about me, dip shit
~I know, Johnny, I'm not stupid
~Then why are you waiting around here? Waiting for an old dog to pick up a bone? A half-chewed, half dragged through the mud bone?
~Knew you judged me for sleeping with River
~No. Well I judged you cause he's a cop, not because you slept around. I mean, you're a shitty bone to choose because you're half dead
~WE are half dead you mean
~Whatever. Maybe your old choom here doesn't need the heartbreak of a dying output
~How’s a dying choom any better?
~If you don't get it, you don't get it
~That’s right, I don't get it, Johnny. Enlighten me
~Nah, I'm done for the day
Vik takes your silence for displeasure, and not that you're having an argument with a terrorist sharing your brain.
“Come on, kid. I'll drive you home.”
You let out a long sigh, just to make him feel guilty. Which, of course, works.
“Only if you carry me to your car.”
~Oh barf, V!
~Thought you were done for the day
~You’re just asking to gross me out, aren't you
~No, that's just a pleasant side effect
“Jesus, V. Okay, fine.” He comes over and bends his knees so you can climb onto his back from the chair.
You hop forward onto him, blowing a raspberry in his ear when he pretends to drop you.
True to his word, he piggy backs you to his car. Then he opens his trunk and drops you in.
“Hey!” You try to get out but he closes it too fast. “What the hell, Vik?!”
“Said I’d drive you, didn't say you'd be in the front,” he shouts, getting into his car and speeding away before any cops catch on.
~Starting to like this guy
~You do realize we're both trapped in the trunk, Johnny
~Yes but I'm already trapped in your head so this isn't new to me
You can roughly tell by the turns and stops that you're around your apartment. When he opens the trunk again, you see that he's in the parking garage, right by your spot.
“Have a nice ride, V?” He teases, holding out a hand to help you up.
“Fantastic,” you growl, pushing his hand away and hopping out with a scowl.
“You dropped your gun. Slid back there.”
You realize your holster is empty and lean over to look in the trunk. Then you feel it pressed to your lower back.
“You're slippin, V.”
You stomp on his instep, just hard enough to leave a bruise and elbow him in the gut. It knocks the wind out of him so you spin around and draw your tanto, holding it to his neck. “Am I, Vik?”
He wheezes, and you wait for him to catch his breath, tapping your toe impatiently. But you're both grinning at each other.
“I taught you that move, didn't I?”
“Mhm. And I perfected it.”
“Clearly. Although, I could've shot you though, before you did any of that.”
“And I could've kicked you in the balls soon as you opened the trunk.”
He hands you back your gun and you holster it, pocketing your knife.
“I could've shot you while you were still in the trunk,” Vik remarks, winning this round.
“Yeah, but I trusted you. So, not exactly fair, is it?” You close the trunk and lean on it, looking at him. You're not even pretending to be mad; the two of you used to roughhouse quite often, before Johnny came along.
“And, do you trust the guys you're working with this time?”
You nod knowingly. “Oh, so that's what this is all about.” He's so obvious sometimes, it's ridiculously endearing.
“Nah, just felt like tossing you in a trunk.” He dusts himself off and walks back to the driver's side door. “Take care, V.”
“You too, Vik.”
~This is your chance, dumbass. Tell him you love him before either Hansen’s dogs rip you to pieces or FIA ties you a bomb to you and tells you where to jump.
You laugh, easy and unworried. Because while you were in the trunk mentally cussing Vik out, you realized.
He knows. Fuck, of course he knows. All the years he has on you, he’s as wise as he is handsome. All this time you've been hanging around him there's no way he doesn't.
And if he's said nothing, there's nothing to say. And that's ok.
You rap your knuckles on the trunk as a goodbye and walk to the elevator.
He backs the car out, then pulls up beside you. “One last thing, V.”
“Yeah?”
“Added a little something to your synaptic accelerator. It'll slow things down if it gets too dicey.”
You bite your lip, looking at your feet. “Vik, you didn't-”
“Might not need it. Might save your life. Either way.”
You're frustrated and touched at the same time, and it's overwhelming. And you just love this man so goddamn much.
“Thanks, Vik.” You mumble, turning away and hitting the elevator switch.
###
It was always going to end this way. A traitor, one way or another.
It's a choice that should never have been yours. Lives that shouldn't have been on your hands.
All you'd ever wanted to be was a legend. And maybe that's why you understand her.
All she ever wanted was to be free.
Before you have time to raise your gun, his finger is already on the trigger.
A flash, and a body falls.
###
~Holy shit, how are you not dead? Scratch that, how are WE not dead?!
~Dunno. He pointed his gun at me, then everything went slow. And I fired back. And here we are.
You're on the pier, a day later, still rehashing the final moment with Johnny.
~Is that what Doctor stud was saying? Things would get slow when it got dicey?
~Let’s go ask him
When you get to the clinic, the gate is down and the lights are off. You think you hear faint sounds of the news report, but that could also be the five other stores next to you, and the apartments with their windows open. Everyone is watching the war mongering and propaganda.
You knock on the door sharply.
“We're closed.”
So, Vik is in, just not open. That's literally never happened before, but ok.
“Hey Vik, it's V.”
There's some muffled sounds, then the gate is lifting and Vik is storming out, looking furious.
“V please tell me you were not at the spaceport yesterday.” You've never seen him this upset before. Though you were never present when scavs tried to get to him, so that's something, sort of.
“Okay, Vik. I was not at the spaceport yesterday.” Gotta find a way to calm him down before he has an aneurysm.
“Don't lie to me, V.” Ah, shit, that's not gonna work.
“I can't tell you everything, Vik.” Good start, now how do you proceed from there?
He grabs your wrist and drags you down the stairs, slamming the gate shut behind you.
“Woah, thought that gate ran on a motor.”
“It does.” He stares daggers at you, waiting for you to explain yourself.
“Really?! I thought you didn't get any work done on ya
.” Try to get him to talk about literally anything else.
“I didn't. Gate’s not that heavy.” His eyes are narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.
~That’s a lie. Color me surprised, the ripper is ripped!
~Is this funny to you, Johnny?!
~How pissed he is? Absofuckinglutely!
“Pretty sure it is,” you state adamantly.
“That's hardly the point right now!” There's a vein bulging in his forehead that looks very unhealthy.
“Vik, chill! I'll explain, but please, sit.” You pull his chair over to him and push on his shoulders. “You're scaring me!”
“I'M scaring YOU?!” He thunders, but takes your worried look into account and lets you push him down into the seat.
“Last night, yes, I was at the spaceport. But I did not start the war between NUSA and Orbital Air!”
“Why the hell did you even go there?!” He waves his arms around. This is the first time you've seen him without his mechanical fingers. His arms look really muscular, because his hands are balled into fists- oh right, he's mad at you.
“Dropping a friend off!” You try to keep your tone level, but come off sounding defensive.
“And was that friend involved in said war between NUSA and Orbital?”
“No! Not directly.”
~V you suck at lying
~I don't want to lie to him at all!
~Sticking to a half truth then?
~What’s your great idea then?!
~Don’t have one, just enjoying the show
“V, exactly how much trouble are you in?!”
“None! Well, no more than usual.”
He closes his eyes, and takes several deep breaths. “Are either of the groups gunning for you?”
“No.” Mostly.
He sighs, like the whole world is weighing on his shoulders.
“I’m fine, Viky.”
He groans, pointing you at the chair. “No cutesy nicknames. Now sit. We're doing a full body examination.”
“But I'm fine!” You protest, but when he opens his eyes and glares at you, you meekly do as he asks.
Thirty seconds in, and you regret complying. He looks like he's going to burst a blood vessel. Several, in fact.
“Are these HMG rounds?!”
“There were a few turrets here and there,” you offer casually, like there weren't five heavies chasing you at the time.
“A few?! There's over forty embedded in your skin!”
“But see the subdermal armor protected from any important organs from getting injured,” you cajole. “Ow! Fuck, Vik!”
Vik scowls at you, using his tools to pluck the bullets out one by one.
“Some anesthesia, hello!” You gripe, wondering how he's doing this without his mechanical fingers.
“No. A little pain will do you good. Otherwise you'll never learn your lesson.” He rolls the hem of your shirt up to reach the ones across your stomach.
“Shouldn't you be using your gear?!” You wince and grind your teeth to keep from yelling more.
“For simple extraction like this? Unnecessary.” He glowers at your skin like it got shot on purpose.
“Shit! Vik, stop!” You push him away instinctively when he gets to a particularly stubborn one above your rib cage.
“Can't. Gotta get it out before it gets infected. Local anesthesia won't help with this one either.” His anger seems to be fading, or at least suppressed by his medical experience.
“Put me under, then!”
He walks over to get his gear, already in doctor mode. You'd be freaked out if you hadn't seen him go from chewing out a thief to sewing said thief up when they tried to run away and ran through a pane glass door fifteen yards away. And then chewing him out again afterwards.
“Told you, V. Need you to learn your lesson.” He sounds professional, but also… tired? Exhausted, even.
“Vik, maybe you should get some rest. I can go to Ryder’s instead.”
“Rest, huh?” He leans on the counter. “You know the last time I closed for a day was five years ago?”
“Damn.” You feel your curiosity nagging at you. “Why today all of a sudden?”
“Really wanna know?”
~Why so mysterious
~I know, right?!
~Well hurry up and answer him, V!
“Uh, sure.”
He sits down in his chair, and faces away.
“Was waiting for you.”
You stare at the back of his head for a long moment.
“How’d you know I was coming?”
“Come on, V.”
“No, you come on, Vik.” You want a proper answer from him. “How were you so sure I'd be here today?”
“Because!” He grapples his voice under control. “You always come here after a big gig. No matter how it goes, no matter who you pissed off or what stunt you pulled. Always come back.” Never seemed to bother him before, but clearly something's off this time.
“Okay fine. So you were right.” Not sure why he's the one getting upset when you're the one getting yelled at. “You waited, and I came. Now what?”
“Now I fix you.” The professional tone is back, calm but not gentle, attentive but impersonal. He adjusts his gear so it's perfect. A cold extension of himself.
He hands you an injector. “Take this. You'll be all better when you wake up.”
You hesitate. You've never fought before and you don't want to leave things like this while he works on you. Not that it will affect his performance. Just feels like walking out on a friend mid conversation.
“Go on,” he instructs. “We can talk after I patch you up.”
You take the injector, hoping things will make more sense when you wake up.
When you wake up, everything feels easier. Like all the hard knots were shaken loose. You feel around your stomach, finding some gauze, but no major pain.
“Thanks Viky.”
His back is to you as he carefully removed his gear, cleaning it thoroughly.
“Oh, right. No cutesy nicknames.”
He clears his throat, voice coming out muffled nonetheless. “It's fine. Sorry I yelled.”
“It's fine,” you mimic, getting up a bit too fast and steadying yourself on the arm of the chair. You accidentally knock over a metal tray next to you.
“You're gonna be woozy for a bit. Gave you an extra dose of painkillers while you were under.”
~As a punishment or reward, I wonder
~Don’t see why I should get punished
~Are you dense, V?!
~Why don't you enlighten me, then?!
~Nah, done for the day
~Better not hear you barfing then
You consider asking Vik for a ride, but even though the tension from earlier is gone, something still feels off.
Still, might not be the best idea to drive right now.
“Not thinking of driving, are you?”
Of course, Vik is quick on the uptake.
“Nah, I'll call Del.”
You slowly make your way to the stairs, but before you can grab the banister, Vik pulls you back by the back of your shirt.
“I'll give you a ride.”
“Don't feel like going in the trunk.” You try to pull away, but he reels you in laughably easy like a guppy on a hook.
He picks you up by your armpits and sets you on the counter. “That was a one-time thing. Promise.”
“Mhm.” You respond sarcastically, slumping against the cabinets behind you. Whatever dose Vik had given you definitely felt too high.
“Not gonna lie, thought of trapping you in there until the coast was clear.” He putters around the clinic, looking like he's tidying up.
“What coast?” You try to sound crabby but you're not actually offended.
“Whatever thing you had going on. It's not like they couldn't do it without you.”
“Except they kinda couldn’t.” They’d have to dig out another FIA gonk from underground. Would’ve been easier for them to track you down and pull you out of hiding, you assume.
“You're terrible at the secret agent thing, you know.”
Your jaw drops and you gape at him. He turns to look at you and shakes his head. “Come on, V. Really didn't think I'd figure it out?”
“Stop with the come on, thing!” You yell, in shock and knocked completely off-guard. “How the fuck did you know about that?!”
~He’s right, you're terrible at it
“You disappear off to Dogtown around the time Myers’ plane drops out of the sky? Come back with a wad of cash and scars around the time she's back in DC? The facelift? And this.” He tosses a bullet into your hands. “Special issue for FIA senior officer use only. Pulled that out of your shoulder.”
Right. The slow-down helped you dodge a lethal shot, but it still landed. Everything on your body hurt equally, though, so you’d forgotten about it.
“How do you know what rounds FIA uses?!” You narrow your eyes, rooting through your brain sluggishly. “Farida. Grew up in Watson. You know her? Trained her?”
“Not as dumb as you look,” he grumbles, finishing up with his busywork.
“Well, don't worry. Not going to deal with that anymore.” You close your eyes, resting your head on your shoulder.
“Nobody burns the FIA and gets away with it.” He stalks over and rights your head up to look at him properly. “They'll send someone after you.”
You laugh dryly, leaning into the hand he’s using to hold your head up. “Already have.”
He tilts his head, looking at you closely. “Struck a deal?”
“Be dead in a few months. She'll collect, then.”
He yanks his hand from your head and moves aside, winding up and punching a hole in the plaster of the wall. “Goddamnit V!”
“It's the truth.” You close your eyes, feeling the unconscious drawing you in, barely registering his outburst.
“Wasn't the reason you were working with them, that they'd give you the cure?!”
You'd ask how he knows, but at this moment you wouldn't be surprised if he had a crystal ball or came from the future. “Cost was too high.”
He pulls his fist out of the wall, rubbing his knuckles to lessen the pain. Was a gonk thing to do, but he couldn't help himself. “Didn't want to be under their thumb?”
“Saw a glimpse of it. Live by their hand. Die by it too. I won’t.” You smile sleepily, the bitterness already swallowed when you raised a glass across the bar of your assassin, to dear friends.
“Tell me you have other leads, V.” His arms drop to his sides, useless.
“I do. Not gonna lay down and die just yet.” You open your eyes and try to get off the counter but he blocks you. “But I do wanna lay down and sleep. So get out of the way. Unless you wanna be my pillow.”
He groans in frustration, but moves to let you pass. You slip off the counter and stumble forward, bumping your head against his incredibly firm chest.
“Too buff to be a good pillow,” you grumble.
Still, it's warm and feels safe, somehow. So you sag forward, pressing your face into him.
“Come on, V. Get up,” he chides grumpily, but you ignore him, slipping your arms through his to hang loosely around his hips.
“Just a minute,” you mumble, your arms tightening when he tries to move them back.
“Come on, V.” The words are the same, but his voice has grown softer.
“Use that phrase too much,” you whisper back, arms wrapped securely around his waist now.
“Don't make me push you away. Please.”
You draw your head up to look at him in confusion. It's a rejection but it's also a plea, and you're really not sure how to take it. How to even respond.
“Vik, you know how I feel. I mean, you gotta.”
He looks down at you, expression unreadable, or at least unrecognizable. “I do.”
“Don't you want to hold me, just once before I go?”
“What happened to other leads?” He stops trying to move your arms, and drops them back to his sides.
“Maybe I'm just trying to take advantage of your pity,” you murmur, still trying to read his face. You take off his glasses so you can see his eyes, see if there's some hint that will pull this whole mess together.
“If I hold you, V, even for a second, I'm not gonna be able to let you go.”
It clicks, then, the set of his jaw, the look in his eyes.
He's trying not to cry.
~Finally figured it out, V?
~Fuck.
~Yep
You look away, not strong enough to leave him be, not strong enough to look him in the eye.
“Saved my life, you know.” You shrug the shoulder that had gotten shot.
“Not the first time.”
“Might be the last.”
He laughs, a bitter and choked off exhale. “Twist the knife, why don't you?”
“Just being straight with you.”
“Cause it's the only thing you can give me?”
“Only thing you'd take.”
He moves his arms once more, hovering over your shoulders, and you turn back to look at him. You press your forehead against his, but still his hands hover, not willing to touch you.
“Is it worth it, V? To die free?”
“It's worth trying.” You lean forward to kiss him, and he doesn't move to stop you.
His eyes do.
Another blink, and it's gone, but you reach your thumb to brush the corner of his lid and it's wet all the same.
You ghost your lips past his, making sure there's just a hint of space between them so you can convince yourself you never crossed the line.
“I love you, Viky.”
He's right, the gate’s not that heavy. You lift it in one go and step out.
Maybe it's your imagination, maybe it's wishful thinking, but whichever, you hear it all the same.
“Love you too, kid.”