Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was certainly not how Brett pictured his Friday going. It had been a seemingly simple task; the team was assigned to go to a party and be friendly with some reptoids to make amends. Easy! Parties were his thing, after all—or at least they used to be back in his Yale days. Sure, it went a little off track after meeting with his old frat bros, and even more off track with the rats, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. However after being chased by the police it became clear that Reagan managed to have an even worse time.

"Order in the court," Judge Judy spoke loud and clear, her voice curt.

"Reagan, you are standing before us for your crimes against Reptoid's. How do you plead?"

"I plead guilty, your honor."

Now that was a shock. To see Reagan just accept defeat was not something he was used to. Still, it wasn’t like this was something they couldn’t handle. InCognito was a powerful agency, surely things could be sorted out. However, the more Brett listened the more he felt his heart sink. The only reason the incident even occurred was because of him, that was becoming glaringly obvious. He was the one meant to give the speech, not her, and it was only because of his absence that she was even put in that situation. He was the one who who should be taking the punishment for this, no one else. Guilt twisted in his stomach like a snake, and without warning, he jumped to his feet.

"It was my fault this happened."

Brett’s words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was immediate, all other protests ceasing.

"What was that?" Judge Judy’s icy voice cut through the air like a knife. She turned in his direction, eyes hard and emotionless. The disdain on her face was clear, which did nothing to stop the growing pit of fear that had taken root in his stomach. He could feel the blood in his veins freeze to ice.

"I made her the arms." Brett knew Reagan was looking at him, shaking her head to stop, but he pressed forward.

"I was just trying to be helpful, but I must have made a mistake and they malfunctioned. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t messed up."

The silence continued, his words left hanging in the air, a confession that could not be taken back. It was Judge Judy who broke it.

"What is your name?"

Despite his growing fear, Brett looked up, attempting to make eye contact.

"Brett."

"Very well, Brett. Thank you for bringing that to our attention." She paused for a second, clearly thinking. "In light of this new information, Reagan will no longer be punished for her crimes against the senator."

Brett lit up, relief plastered on his face. He looked up quickly, trying to meet Reagan’s eyes. Everything was going to be okay. She was going to be okay. However, this fragile sense of peace did not last long.

"Brett Hand, as punishment for your crime, the court orders that you take Reagan’s place. For your crimes against the senate, I sentence you to have your arms removed."

That’s when time truly froze.

"The hell he will!" Reagan shouted, quick to start moving toward Judge Judy. She didn’t get far before a guard grabbed her by the elbow, and the court erupted into chaos around them. Brett was surprised to see the rest of the gang spring into action. Glenn, yelling several things that had to be slurs, pulled out a gun but was immediately tackled to the ground by another guard. Gigi shot up, yelling at the judge, commanding her to listen to reason. Andre seemed to be frozen to his chair, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. Even Myc joined in, but it wasn’t enough. Brett could hardly hear the shouting over the increasingly loud ringing noise that had started to consume his head. None of this seemed real. It couldn’t be. It was only when two guards approached, grabbing his arms and started dragging him backwards, that the panic began to set in. He could have fought back, maybe even gotten away, but he didn’t dare to try. If by some miracle Brett escaped the punishment, it would just fall back on Reagan, and he would never let that happen. She was the most important member of their group, a legit genius who had the whole world laid out in front of her. Brett was a nobody; he had no input to give and, more importantly, he had no impact. This would hurt, sure, but it wouldn’t affect the people around him. However, if Reagan was hurt all of InCognito would surely crumble. Besides, there was no fight in him—just an aching cold that had started to spread, numbing his body and mind. Brett managed to lift his head, making eye contact with Reagan. She was being restrained by several guards, spitting curses at each of them and when she looked over her desperation was clear. Tears hung on her eyelashes, threatening to overspill. This is the first time he had seen her cry, the first time he'd seen her looking so desperate, no longer in control of the situation. He gave a weak attempt at a smile. She needed to know she was going to be okay.

The metal door slammed shut between them, the sound ringing out in the otherwise empty hallway. The air here felt stale, and the cold was noticeable. It didn’t look like they were at Yale anymore, but somewhere else—somewhere old and unforgiving. Brett let himself be dragged down the old stone hallway, if he did his best to cooperate maybe just maybe they would reconsider. The walk seemed to take a considerable amount of time but was probably only a few minutes before they arrived at their destination. One of the guards stopped, knocking a pattern on a seemingly random door before they dragged him inside. The bright light was blinding in comparison to the dark, and Brett’s vision swam. He was immediately set down on something cold and hard—probably a metal table. It took a minute before the spots cleared and the surroundings came into focus. This was a room he was not familiar with, it was small, with all kinds of medical equipment lying around and not much else. This must be the surgery room. Looking to his side he could see two reptoids stood off to the side, both of them wearing scrubs. The guards continued to manhandle him, first tying his feet down before harshly grabbing both arms and pulling them away from his sides before doing the same however despite everything, Brett was proud of his ability to stay relatively calm. However, that quickly changed when something behind him whirred to life. There wasn’t much room for movement, and he was barely able to see over his shoulder, but it was enough to unravel the façade he was trying so hard to hold onto. It was a saw. Rusty, yet obviously sharp. And as it slowly moved toward his right shoulder, he had a terrifying realization: they were going to do it while he was awake. The slow movement picked up, going faster and faster until it was a blur. Cold metal cut through his skin, then his flesh—slicing through it easily. All Brett could do was scream. This was agony: inhumane and depraved. The torment was unbearable, and as the blade met bone, a flood of blinding-hot pain filled his every sense. Everything else died away, leaving nothing but suffering and a body that was struggling to survive. Brett could barely stay conscious, writhing on the table, his screams completely ignored. None of it mattered. They just kept going. It was only when the black spots in his eyes threatened to take over that he could feel something fall. The grinding noise stopped, but the pain remained. It was everywhere, boring down into his senses until it was the only thing he could feel. And still, it went on.

Brett could feel his body give out as soon as the blade began to tear through his other arm, and darkness swallowed him whole.

Chapter Text

There was no way of telling how much time had passed after the rest of the guests left. The minutes dragged on and on, however, out on the entrance, five people remained.

Reagan stood at the bottom of the cold stone staircase, pacing back and forth fervently, her hands twisting together in a barely contained fury that threatened to blow up at any moment. She talked quietly to herself, muttering words that weren’t meant for anybody else to hear. Standing at the side of the stairs, leaning into the ancient building, was Gigi. Her voice rang out loud and clear, the only noise that dared to break the chilling silence that had settled, pressing down like a weight. Her words, harsh and cutting, though underneath all her bravado a quiet dread remained, speaking what she could not.

Despite being on this call since the moment they had been kicked out from the courtroom, it was obvious no progress had been made, whoever was on the other line either didn’t have the power to help, or, more likely, they simply didn’t want to. Regardless, she kept trying, refusing to acknowledge it as the fruitless pursuit it really was.

Sitting at the bottom of the stairs, not far from Reagan, was Andre. And for once, he was quiet. He had been quiet ever since the verdict was decided and the punishment given. His trembling hands held on tightly to some kind of joint, a desperate attempt to calm down.

Glenn stood straight, ready to move at a moment’s notice, for once acting like the soldier he used to be. And for the first time any of them could remember, Myc said nothing. No insults, no jokes, nothing. An unspoken commodore, a silent pact. No one here wanted to be alone.

BANG

The sudden noise cracked through the stillness like thunder, echoing off the walls and making everybody jump.

A dark figure stepped forward from the doorway, revealing himself to be one of the guards from the trial, in his arms Brett’s unconscious body. There was no time to say anything, no time to react before he just
Let
Go.

Brett’s body hit the ground hard, his head cracking against the stone, a sickening noise. There was no delay, no pause before the door slammed shut once more, discarding what remained of their friend. Like he was nothing.

“BRETT!”

The scream ripped its way out of Reagan’s throat before she could stop it, primal and terrified. She was the first to move, hurling herself up the stairs at speeds she herself did not know she was capable of.

God, there was so much blood. The colour seeped into the ground around him, a stark contrast against the grey stone. She dropped to her knees, frantically trying to take what was left of Brett’s body into her arms, desperately trying to find a heartbeat.

It didn’t take long until she found it, a faint, slow rhythm. However, the brief relief she felt was short lived. There was so much blood, Reagan doubted she had ever seen this amount of blood come from one person. It seemed impossible that all this was meant to be keeping her friend alive. That’s when she started to fully take in the damage. The red covered everything, making it hard to discern many details, but no amount of red could cover what they did to him.

Brett’s arms were gone, nothing but empty space from his shoulders down, and the stumps were a horrific sight. These cuts were not precise, not clean. It was as if someone had torn through his flesh and bone with a rusty saw and simply threw a bandage on it. While working at InCognito, Reagan had seen many things, and she was no stranger to the rusty smell that permeated her nose, but this… she was not used to this. Never had she seen a human being cut apart this way, carved like nothing more than an animal to be slaughtered.

“What have they done?” Gigi’s trembling whisper sounded from behind, stripped of all her usual bravado. She just sounded small and scared. Something Reagan never thought she would see her as.

Farther down the stairs, she could hear Andre retching up the contents of his stomach. The other team members should still be there, but she didn’t care enough to check. All her focus narrowed down to Brett. She had to stop the bleeding now.

“Andre, get over here and help me.” There was so much blood, too much blood. Could anyone survive this much blood loss? That was a possibility she forced herself to ignore.

Andre knelt beside her, his skin an ashen grey. Wasting no time, he took off his suit jacket and ripped it into two pieces, shoving one in her hands.

“Glenn, get over here and hold him down.” Andre called out, his voice smaller than it should have been, shaking just as much as his body.

Their eyes made contact.

“When I say so, you need to use the cloth and press firmly on his right shoulder,” he instructed as Glenn squeezed by them and wrapped his arms tight around Brett’s torso, bracing his back on his chest.

“This is going to hurt him, but no matter what, don’t stop. We can’t risk him losing any more blood.”

Reagan nodded, watching as Andre slipped off his belt and shoved it between Brett’s teeth.

“Three…two…one!”

Brett screamed, a horrible noise, body lurching forward, only being kept relatively still by Glenn’s arms.

“I know, I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.” It was only when tears landed on Brett’s suit did Reagan realize she had started crying.

When was the last time she cried?

She was shaken out of her thoughts by the screech of tires on pavement and, looking behind, she was relieved to see the company van, Myc sitting behind the steering wheel.

“Glenn, support his head and upper body. Reagan, support his legs. I’m going to keep pressure on his arms. We need to get him to the van now.”

There was no hesitation, only urgency in his voice, and it only took a few seconds before Brett’s body was secure, and they were carefully descending the stairs to the van.

Gigi ran forward, flinging the door open before immediately throwing herself into shotgun, and it wasn’t long before everyone else was inside.

As soon as the door banged shut behind them, Myc slammed on the gas, tires spinning in pace before they shot forward.

The speedometer rose higher and higher, van shaking around them. No one objected, no one could.

Every bump in the road made Brett flinch in pain, no matter what Glenn did to try and support his body, and all Reagan could do was watch his chest rise and fall, praying to a God she didn’t believe in for a miracle she wasn’t sure was possible.

The van tires screeched once more as they quickly came to a stop. There was not a moment of hesitation before the doors were ripped open and Brett was yanked away.

Several nurses placed him on a bed, and they were off, sprinting back towards the hospital’s open doors, leaving the rest of the team frozen to the spot, covered in their friend’s still warm blood.

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The waiting room was small and sterile, scrubbed clean and smelling faintly like lemons. In another situation Reagan would say it was efficient, controlled. The perfect environment. However right now it did nothing more then remind her how out of control the situation was. Chaos followed them inside, as did the bright red color dripping off their skin and clothes. The blood was an unsettling color pared with the unblemished white surroundings. It was here the team was forced to wait, unconsciously isolating themselves into the far corner. No one spoke; they barely even moved. The sick small of iron permeated the air around them. The hours dragged by with no update of what was going on and no way to tell and the more time went on the more they prepared for the worst. Finally, a doctor dressed in blood-stained scrubs appeared.

“He’s alive and stable.”

It was if the room itself had taken a breath of relief, the cold feeling backing off but not leaving completely.

“You’re lucky you got here when you did. A couple minutes difference is bigger than you would think with these types of issues.”

Reagan was the first to speak up

“His arms, we tried our best-.”

“There wasn’t anything we could save as there was nothing left to save.” The doctor spoke with clinical accuracy, as if this wasn’t about a broken body that desperately hung onto life. He saw no difference; the news will stay the same however he delivers it.

“We can let one person in to see him”

For the first time in hours the team looked at each other. For a while no one spoke.

“I think it should be Reagan” Andre muttered, finally breaking the silence.
Reagan startled, taking a step backwards unintentionally. No, it couldn’t be her. She was the one who caused this, she was the one who put him in that hospital bed, and she doubted Brett would want to wake up next to the person who had caused him to fall.

“I agree.” Gigi’s voice was strained. “You’re his best friend Reagan, you’re closer with him then anyone else.”

Andre nodded slightly. “He’s going to be scared when he wakes up. Don’t let him do it alone. He trusts you more then anybody else.”

Despite her doubts at the accuracy of their statements they were at least partially right. A familiar face could help, and it was better than him waking up alone. Although it did nothing to calm her it did give her enough courage to agree.

The room wasn’t far away. Only a couple hallways length and they were there. The door stood shut, Brett Hand lazily scrawled on a whiteboard outside of the room.

“He isn’t going to be awake yet, but sometimes it helps to talk.”

Reagan nodded slightly; eyes fixed on the doorknob hands frozen at her sides. She didn’t know what to expect on the other side of the door and that terrified her. It was only when she could hear shoes clicking on the polished floor and she was truly alone that she reached out and opened the door.

Her heart in her stomach and she was only able to take a few steps in before freezing at the threshold. A quick glance around the room was all it took. She knew things would be bad, but she thought she was prepared that she could handle this however the shock still left her speechless. Brett had never looked this small, this fragile. IV’s ran from both of his arms along with too many wires to count. Most of his face was covered by a large mask and around him stood several machines, beeping quietly as small lights flashed. A few steps and she was next to him however as desperate as she was to reach out and touch him, she did not choosing instead to walk over to the chair next to the bed and take out a seat. She was the one that caused this. She should have been in his place, she deserved to be in his place. How could Brett, of all people look this small, he never looked small. Parts of him had been viciously ripped away leaving a fragile body behind, one that threatened to collapse at any given moment. Reagan could only hope enough remained that he would still be himself.