Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“John.” He snaps his head up from where it's buried in his computer. “Can you get me an address?” Harcourt barks.

“On it.”

The mission is simple, really, but knowing her team, simple can turn into complicated within the blink of an eye. They're all skilled, yes, exceptionally so, but they're reckless, and rash, and aloof, and childish. That last one is more directed towards Beavis and Butthead dressed head to toe in leather and kevlar, but Economos and Adebayo have their fair share of white-knuckle inducing shenanigans as well.

If all goes well, the intel mission will tie this thing up, but if worst comes to worst, all they have to do is infiltrate a few white supremacist rallies, gather as much evidence as they can, and get out.

Since the death of the White Dragon, the pieces of shit have been scrambling to reorganize, expand, and find and build up the reputation of the replacement White Dragon.

Right now, the number one priority (evidence wise) is to identify that replacement.

ARGUS is shit at explaining the parameters for their missions, so Harcourt is left to fill in the blanks. The bastards have always been strict about killing, which, fair. But the one that irks her is the fact that they're not allowed to ask questions (directed at ARGUS higher-ups or the shitheads they might kill) without proper clearance from ARGUS. It's total bullshit, and it's only because their rules are strict and clearance all depends on whoever they're reporting to, and who that is now, well, let's just say they're not the biggest fan of her team. Which doesn't make much sense to her as Harcourt's entire task force (even Adrian) have more experience than him.

His name is Shepard. Some big wig, bald, white guy who thinks he's better than the rest. He's not, it's clear in the way he speaks and the few times Harcourt has had the misfortune of fighting alongside him. Shepard is cocky, mean, and judgemental. In fact, Harcourt doesn't care much about feelings, but a part of her fears for Adrian and the future scrutiny he will have to face. Vigilante is an easy target for someone like Shepard, even though Chase—despite his mental setbacks—is clearly a better soldier. He may not have proper emotions, but Vigilante also has compassion in the field, while Shepard is a stiff, straight-edged board of disdain and disgust.

Harcourt just hopes that they will have to deal with Shepard as little as humanly possible.

Unlikely, but a girl's gotta dream.

“7433 Zeeman Drive.” Economos voices after a pause, a pause which isn't actually a pause because the entire time Chris and Adrian were bickering about whether M&M's taste differed depending on color.

“Hah! Zeeman.” Adrian cackles. “like-”

“Semen.” Chris nudges Adrian's arm, also laughing. Harcourt rolls her eyes, and Adebayo hides her smile behind her hand.

“You guy's done?” Economos asks in his usual exasperated tone.

“Just ignore them.” Harcourt sighs. “What's it looking like?”

“Uh- it looks like someone's house. There's a welcome mat with an American flag design.” This is the part that comes before the rally. They were given a lead that may wrap the whole thing up before they even need to go to the bigot gathering. It's highly unlikely that it does, but Harcourt isn't going to pass up the opportunity.

“Can't say I think this'll end the job, but we have to try.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky for once? Hopefully?” Adebayo shrugs. She doesn't look like she believes it herself, more like she wants it more than anything.

“When have we ever been lucky?” Economos adds, sighing. Never, Harcourt thinks, but we get the job done.

“Alright.” She grabs everyone's attention back. Harcourt has thought long and hard about how she's going to direct this case, and it hasn't been an easy one. “Adebayo, Economos, and Smith, you'll be stuck in the van for this one.”

Peacemaker groans. She ignores him.

“Vigilante and I will be the ones with boots on the ground this time.” Usually, she has Chase and Smith do all the action-heavy shit around here, but this time is different.

Peacemaker can’t be used because he can't be seen by his father's hate group, they'll recognize him instantly.

Harcourt doesn't want Adebayo on the line here considering she's both a woman and of color. Harcourt isn't comfortable sending her out there amongst vile KKK scum just for some information gathering.

Economos isn't fit for it either, not only because he's not exactly in the shape required, but because she needs him on surveillance. He's the most tech savvy person she knows and the only one she trusts.

Harcourt and Chase are the best ones for this job. Vigilante without his suit looks like any normal, attractive, young guy. He can easily dress to fit the alt-right pipeline style, and she's confident he can act it too. Harcourt also thinks that she might be useful in that she's a white, blonde lady who can play up her charm as much as she needs to in order to come across as a helpless, obedient housewife.

“Cool! ” Adrian stands up, makes his way towards Harcourt and holds his hand out for a high-five. Harcourt glares at him. She had decided she wasn't going to reciprocate, but after a few seconds of trying to scare him away, Harcourt can't help but feel bad and give into Adrian's puppy-like smile, slapping her hand against his. That seems to please him, so he plops himself back in his chair.

“Why him and not me?” Chris is bitter, annoyingly so.

“Because his father wasn't the fucking White Dragon.”

“Yeah man, my dad's really chill, and like super not racist. Plus, he's alive.” Adrian has a sympathetic look on his face as he talks to Chris, “Sorry.” Peacemaker just groans again.

“Quit complaining, Smith. You'll be there if we need backup, and knowing that these are white supremacists we're dealing with, it's not unlikely that we'll need it if things go south.”

“Hey, Em,” Adrian says, and Harcourt ignores the stupid nickname that she hates. “Why can't we just kill these racist dickwads?”

“Because murder is illegal, Chase, no matter how much of a useless piece of shit they are.”

Vigilante makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth, then disappointment settles in his face.

“Wait, hold on,” Economos interrupts, attention on Vigilante, “You kill people for jaywalking and shoplifting, but you get to murder? Without any sort of repercussions or self-punishment for breaking the law you strictly dickride?”

Adrian thinks for a second. “Yes.”

Economos shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck's sake. We're working with fucking blood-thirsty Batman over here-”

“Hey!” Adrian shouts at the same time Chris butts in, “Vigilante is way better than that pansy-ass, crime-fighting furry!”

“Focus!” Harcourt silences them. “First, Adrian and I will get the info we need. In and out, quick.” Or, as quickly as they can. “All you guys need to do is stay on comms and make sure we don't get any unexpected visitors, okay?”

“Loud and clear, boss.” Adebayo responds first. Economos nods at her, Vigilante gives an enthusiastic thumbs up, and Chris, well, Chris is Chris, and huffs loudly, but his look tells her that he understands.

———

To Harcourt's dismay, she and Adrian share a car, while the others pack into the van.

It's crucial that the van not be spotted, so it needs to stay far away from the house. They don't have any time to spare, so they drive separately so that she and Vigilante don't have to walk 3 ½ miles to the house from the van.

Vigilante has been messing with the radio for the past ten minutes and Harcourt is just about ready to cut his fucking hand off if he touches the dile one more time. Luckily for him, he seems to land in something he's content with, finally.

“Are you excited?”

“For what?”

“Our teamup!”

“We've already teamed up. You're in my fucking task force, dipshit.”

“Ouch.” Harcourt sorta feels bad, but not enough to apologize. “Okay, well, I meant a teamup teamup. Like me and Peacemaker!” She knows what he means. “Exept, maybe not totally like me and P, I mean- he's my bff so we'll always have a deeper connection when we work together, but still similar! Just not with the soul-binding coexistence that I share with Chris. Here, ours, it's like- like- oh! Like when you dip French fries into a vanilla milkshake! At first you're like, ‘Woah. That's a fucking weird combo, you’re a sickfuck for that,’ but then you try it and you're like, “Shit! Dipping fries into a milkshake isn't something that happens everyday, but damn is it good!’ That's our team up.”

What in the fresh hell is wrong with him?

And why the fuck was that such a great metaphor?

Harcourt side eyes him, but shifts her attention back on the road quickly.

“So, if this doesn't end things, do you already have a plan?" God, does this guy ever stop talking?

Harcourt sighs, “Yeah, I have some semblance of one.”

Adrian gasps excitedly at something and it startles her. “Can we be siblings? I've always wanted a sister!”

Harcourt's original plan was that during the rally she and Adrian pose as a fucked up, patriarchal couple, but now that he brings it up, siblings might not be the worst idea. She can't for the life of her imagine even letting her arm rest around his waist like that without bile threatening to rise out of her throat. It's probably for the best.

And it's nice to see Vigilante treated well for once, as much as Harcourt hates to admit it.

She's never been nice to him, sure, but she's trying to change that. The only person who doesn't treat him like shit is Adebayo (and maybe Eagly, but that thing isn't human), and the way Chris seems to get agitated with him so often makes Harcourt pissed sometimes. Mostly because it endangers missions, but that deep, deep, deep, deep part of her feels bad for him. She let it show only after picking Adrian up from Prison. As much as the guy likes to say that he doesn't feel emotion, he sure as hell looked gutted at the fact that he might have made Chris’ life harder.

“Fuck it. Sure, why the hell not?”

Adrian pumps his fist in the air. “What are our names?”

“For fuck's sake, Chase, just wait for the damn briefing.” A briefing that may not happen if they're lucky.

(It will happen).

Adrian frowns. Harcourt thinks that'll be the end of it, but of course, he doesn't drop it.

“Why?”

She groans. “We're using our real first names!”

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed. “Thats so lame. What kind of undercover mission uses the spies real names?”

“This one.”

“Isn't that kind of stupid though? If things get out of hand, they're gonna think Adrian is Vigilante!”

“Because Adrian is Vigilante. You are Vigilante!” She yells.

“Hey! Not too loud, someone could hear!”

“We're on a secluded road!”

“Well-” He cuts himself off. “You're right.” Adrian slouches in his seat.

“Thank you.”

“But only about how no one heard that.”

Harcourt doesn't respond, and Adrian begins fidgeting in his seat. It starts small, only his leg bouncing until it becomes both legs, then a finger tap on the car door, then bring nails, then adjusting his glasses every 10 seconds, then-

“You think Chris is mad at me?”

It catches her off guard. She glances at him. Again, he looks sad and concerned for a no-emotion guy. He has a deep set frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched.

“Because of the mission.” He explains further.

“Why would you think that?” Harcourt softens her voice as much as she can. The question came out of nowhere, and she's honestly surprised that he feels comfortable enough to talk to her about it. The only person Harcourt thinks is worth confiding in is Adebayo. The rest of them were fucked up and awkward in the feeling department.

“He doesn't get to participate, but I do. I think he gets resentful.” Adrian winces and picks the skin on his index finger. Harcourt has to suppress her shudder at that.

In her mind, Harcourt dismisses the ‘Chris resents Adrian' thing because hell no he doesn't.

It's been months since the butterflies and the two of them have only gotten closer. Sure, Chris can still be a dick to Adrian, but it's tamer, more constructive than plain insults.

One situation in particular comes to mind.

A few weeks back, Vigilante had been out of commission. He was given leave (unpaid, they're not made of money) for some family thing.

Work had to continue, of course though they struggled through the two jobs assigned. Harcourt isn't afraid to admit that Vigilante is an extremely valuable asset. Peacemaker and Vigilante complete each other in a way.

Vig kills when Peacemaker can't.

Peacemaker keeps Vig from killing when it's necessary.

They're in sync almost perfectly. It wasn't always like this, but their time in the task force has delicately crafted this dynamic.

But, it's not just Peacemaker and Vigilante.

It's Chris Smith and Adrian Chase too.

Harcourt would be blind if she couldn't see the way they compliment each other. At first she thought they were just budding idiots who liked to bicker, but not anymore.

Chris likes to pretend that Adrian isn't his ‘bff’ but it's clear that he is.

On that mission, Harcourt remembers, Economos made some offhand comment about Vigilante being a nuisance and a psychopath (the last one might be true), and Peacemaker took offense.

In the moment it had been a turning point. Harcourt finally started to notice how things had changed between them.

Chris tore Economos a new one for that.

‘Something, something, dye beard, something, something, fuck you, something, something, Vigilante is way more fucking useful than you.’

Harcourt tuned most of it out because her only concern was that her team was turning against each other for the simple fact that they were missing their serial killer. In fact, things continued to go to shit during those missions. Adebayo fucked up her aim more times than she ever had, John accidently unplugged his entire setup a few times, and well, Chris was almost lost without his gangly, murderous nerd. Harcourt stayed stressed and frustrated, as she always is, but this time the dial was turned up double its usual amount.

No one will ever admit to Adrian that he is a crucial piece in their puzzle, but the three of them keep it in mind.

Harcourt scoffs. “He does not resent you.”

“I wouldn't be so sure, Em.” Serisouly, fuck that nickname. “He gets all-” Harcourt looks at him. Adrian scrunches up his face, trying his hardest to mimic Peacemaker's rage-face. “-when I get to do fun shit and he's sidelined.”

“Sure, it might piss him off, but that guy could never hold a grudge against you.”

“Really?” He seems genuinely surprised.

“Listen, Chase. Chris might be a selfish asshole, but he'll get over this ego trip. He's probably more mad at me than anyone.” And that was the truth.

Harcourt is glad Chris finally got over his little crush on her. He still makes the occasional ‘I would fuck you’ joke, but its clear that he doesn't want anything more. She isn't sure what changed in him, but she's glad it did. Harcourt has never been one for relationships. At first, she thought it was because she was too busy putting task forces together and saving the world, but now…she thinks it isn't that deep. She doesn't want a romantic relationship. Period. Growing up she never really did either.

Her childhood wasn't normal by any means, no, she was trained to be this way from a young age, but even so, things like high school boyfriends, and dating seemed so unimportant in the grand scheme of things. She never felt romantically inclined to any of her month-long flings in high school, her one night stands as an adult. Maybe there was something wrong with her?

Nope.

She just has her priorities straight. Always has.

“Okay.” Adrian frowns deeper. Harcourt sighs. He's not going to let this go.

“I'll talk to him. After we get this over with.” She can't have Chris irritated, and Adrian anxious and paranoid about him.

“Oh.” His tone is shocked, like he hadn't expected that. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Now can I have some peace and quiet?”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” Adrian resituates himself in the passenger seat. His whole demeanor has seemed to relax. “Thank you.” He mutters awkwardly.

“Don't mention it.” And she means it. It makes her uncomfortable. “Seriously.”

———

Harcourt's knees are killing her and she's pretty sure her jeans are permanently stained green from the recently shaved grass.

Her and Vig have been kneeled down behind a bush just behind the house for what felt like a century, waiting for Adebayo's signal for them to move in.

Of course, unexpectedly, the bigots invited even more bigots than anticipated. They had arrived around the same time she and Adrian did. Totally uncalled for.

Thankfully, the only thing they had to do was wait it out. They were sure that the pack would all migrate into the dining room sooner or later.

Later is the correct option.

Harcourt can feel Vigilante getting antsy to her left. He keeps switching positions. At first, he kept his kneeling stance, the same as Harcourt, but now, as they near a full hour of waiting around, he has forgone any ‘professionalism’ (if you could even call it that), and decided to lay supine on the ground behind the bush.

The comms were silent for the first 30 minutes, but that changed as soon as Chris opened his big mouth.

“This sitting duck shit is getting really old.” Chris complains and it hurts her ears. He's a grown man!

“Suck it the fuck up, Smith. Just be glad you have heating.” Harcourt shivers. Coldest night of the year, of course. They weren't supposed to be out during sundown, but here they are.

“I think my visor is frozen.” Adrian murmurs into the comm. Harcourt turns to him to see his red visor all fogged up. He flips it open, takes off his glove, and attempts to clean the frost off with it.

“Any update?” Harcourt directs her attention back to Ecomomos and Adebayo.

“Eh. There's still two of ‘em on the porch.” Adebayo says.

“Most of them have gone though.” Economos sighs. “Just gotta wait another 12 years and you'll be in the clear.” He sneered.

Harcourt can feel the confusion radiating off of Adrian, and shuts down his stupid comment about not actually waiting 12 years before it comes out. “Bu-”

“That was sarcasm.” She turns to him. Adrian makes an ‘O’ with his mouth.

“Might not be at this rate.” Chris mumbles, scoffing.

Harcourt takes a deep breath.

She will not murder Christopher Smith after this mission.

She won't.

But maybe she wishes for a second that she could choke him out. Non-lethally of course. She's just sick of his snide remarks.

“Hang on, I think we got something here.” Harcourt can practically see Economos sit up straight in his chair. Back to business. Even Adrian comes up from his position to kneel next to Harcourt.

“What do you see, John?”

“Dumb and Dumber left their porch post.”

“You got eyes on them?”

“They're inside now. But they didn't close the door behind them.”

“Are they in the room?” Harcourt snaps.

“Hard to tell, but it looks like it.”

“Shit.” Harcourt needs to think. On one hand, going in right now would be a horrible idea. Her and Adrian could walk in and be killed on sight, or severely injured. But on the other hand, this could be their best opportunity. She pauses for a good minute. “Any movement?”

“None.”

Fuck it. “We're going in.”

Harcourt looks at Vigilante and nudges her head towards the house. The two of them move slowly, easing their way out from behind the bush. From where they are, they have no view of the front of the house, only the left side and the back. Harcourt takes the lead, Vigilante in tow.

“Wait.” Harcourt vaguely hears Chris whisper under his breath on comms, tone unsure. She doesn't have time to worry about it. “Oh fuck.” He's loud and clear now. He sounds like he's realized something, or saw something.

“Shit! They're out of the house now!” Adebayo yells.”They're coming around the corner, Harcourt!”

Harcourt and Vigilante share a look of concern before they turn around and she pushes him back towards the woods.

She chances a glance over her shoulder and sees two shadows getting dangerously close to turning the corner.

Just before the two men are able to see them—like right before—Harcourt and Vigilante make it close enough to their bush-hideout for her to shove Vig to the ground behind it, flinging herself down along with him. She lands hard beside him, and she's lucky she doesn't hurt herself too badly. She would prefer not to have to relive her physical therapy days.

“Did they see us?” Harcourt whisper-shouts into comms.

“No, but I think they heard you.” Economos replies, an edge to his voice.

“Fuck.” Chris curses. “Give me the okay to come and help.”

“No. We can handle it.” Harcourt quickly scolds. She doesn't need his brawn right now.

“This is handling it?”

“For fuck's sake, can one of you handle him.” Her patience is waning.

“What do we do?” Vigilante whispers. He must not be paying attention to comms.

She pauses and thinks for a moment. “Wait till they get close. Then we'll subdue them. Non-lethally.” She emphasizes.

Harcourt expects some protest, but Vigilante just nods.

“John, tell us when.”

The silence only accompanied by the soft, growing sounds of sneakers on the grass is excruciating. It feels like centuries before Economos gives them the okay.

Harcourt launches herself up and to her right, twists, and quickly jabs her fist into the man's temple. He's out in seconds, body falling unceremoniously to the ground. Vigilante to her right had done much of the same, though instead of the temple-punch, he stabbed the guy's neck with his index and middle finger, incapacitating him instantly.

“Beautiful.” Adebayo chuckles, less tension in her voice.

“Dropped ‘em like flies.” Chris praises. Finally, something other than complaining.

“We didn't kill them though.” Adrian corrects.

“Just take the compliment, Adrian.” Harcourt can practically feel his eyes roll.

“Adrian? I don't- Adr-?”

Harcourt groans, cutting him off. “We don't have time for this!” She yells as loudly as she knows she can without alerting anyone. “Is it clear?”

“Crystal.” Economos confirms.

“Let's go.” They move the same way they did before, just this time they won't be interrupted; Harcourt leading, Vigilante following.

The house is the biggest in the cul-de-sac. There's two floors, but thankfully, the room containing the evidence is on the first. The only light on inside the house is the dining room towards the left end of the house, the rest is black. The front door is towards the opposite side of the house (right side), and the office (the room her and Vig need to sneak into) is only a few doors down from the dining room.

They need to retrieve a hard drive containing the list of planned rallies and special guest appearances at said rallies. They have a running theory that whoever is going to be the next White Dragon is most likely one of the guests.

The goal is for the evidence to already contain the name of the White Dragon. Intel says that they could possibly have it be planned as a reveal at one of the rallies. If so, they would have the name in their event organization.

The problem is…Intel also tells them that the big name is on a separate device that will need to be downloaded onto the drive, which could take god knows how long. Even if it takes seconds, that's more than enough time for one of the bigots to come snooping.

This is the part where Harcourt thinks things will go wrong.

According to the ARGUS briefing, the group in this house likes to take random sweeps around to look for anything out of the ordinary. As stupid as racists are, they are some scared, paranoid motherfuckers, so this doesn't surprise her. But, it does inconvenience and agitate her.

Despite all this, Harcourt thinks that they might have a chance. A small percentage, sure, but they've dealt with worse.

Worst comes to worst, the mission continues, and they have to deal with Shepard for longer.

When they walk in, the first hallway is clear. They check rooms on their way to the office; all clear. The house looks as if someone had just bought it. It has furniture, but it's all brand new, and the house has a sterile, chemical smell.

As the two get closer to the dining room, their steps slow. Harcourt can barely hear Vigilante behind her. It's a wonder how he can stay so quiet when the man under the mask is Adrian Chase.

Muffled voices can be heard from the room. Harcourt can't make out what they're saying exactly, and she doesn't dwell on it. She doesn't have time to try and decipher their words.

She moves quickly and quietly, turning the door knob to the office with amazing precision, silent as a mouse. Harcourt steps aside to let Adrian in first, then closes the door behind them just as softly as when she opened it.

She sighs in relief.

First hard part over and done with.

Now, time to find this damn drive.

“The eagle has landed.” Adrian whispers into the comm. Chris laughs.

“We're in the office. Any ideas on where exactly this drive might be?” Harcourt starts sorting through the various cardboard boxes littered around the room. She pays little attention to her mission partner.

“Probably well-hidden.” Economos starts. “Like in a locked drawer or something.”

“Ooh! Or in a secret hiding spot, like in those movies where the bookshelf is actually a door to another room.” Adebayo muses.

“There's no fucking way that-”

“Found it!” Adrian says as loudly as he's able to without compromising them, cutting John off. He holds the drive up in the air. Harcourt can tell he's smiling like a maniac under his mask.

Harcourt huffs, smirking. “Well done, Vig.”

“It was just lying on the desk over here. Convenient, right?”

“Stupid, more like it.” Economos chuckles over comms.

There's a computer on the desk next to Adrian that Harcourt makes quick work of powering up, and signing in with the password ARGUS provided.

“Vigilante, drive.” She holds out her hand without looking at him. He hands it over without protest. Harcourt inserts the drive into the computer, and starts her search for the file needed.

Adrian and comms are surprisingly quiet for a total of 5 minutes as she roots through the computer. After that time is up, Adrian opens his mouth.

“Hey, Em?”

She sighs, turning to him. “What, Adrian?” Harcourt mentally kicks herself for using his real name while he's in the suit, but she thinks they're safe from being compromised. For now.

“There's a door here.” Adrian points to the opposite side of the room, behind a desk cluttered with all kinds of useless shit. It's hard to notice, only a faint outline showing by a light on the other side of it, and Harcourt can't help it when her face contorts in surprise. ARGUS didn't say shit about another room within the office, so either they knew and decided not to tell her team, or they failed to gather the sufficient amount of information needed for the mission.

Harcourt clenches her fists. She can practically feel the steam coming out her ears.

Fucking ARGUS fucks.

It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest if they omitted this detail in hopes that it would trip her and the team up. Waller still has power, Shepard hates her guts, and she's sure some other ARGUS pricks have it out for her. In fact, Rick Flag Sr. is an active member, one of high power too, and ally to Amanda Waller (most of the time). Even if he decided to go against Waller, Harcourt is sure that he would still have a grudge against her and her team. She can't blame him for it, not really. Chris did kill his son, a valued colonel and genuinely good man. But, she would have to protect her own.

Peacemaker may have killed Rick Flag, but he did it under Waller's order; her manipulation of his vow. She used his devotion to peace, the one he made after his brother's tragic death, to get him to cover for the fucking United States.

So yeah, if this is ARGUS trying to fuck with them, Harcourt is mostly unfazed. The 11th Street Kids have a lot of enemies.

“Fuck.” She mutters under her breath.

“What door?” John worries.

“Behind a desk. ARGUS didn’t fucking mention another room, did they?”

“Uh…no, they didn't.”

“I fucking thought so.” Harcourt shakes her head, and goes back to finding the file. The door isn't a threat right now, and if she can locate and download the file onto the drive quickly, they won't ever have to know what's behind it.

“Are we not going to check it out?” Adrian asks. He's disappointed, she can hear it in his high-pitched voice.

“No. Our target is the drive. There's no need to make unnecessary detours.” At least for the time being. She doesn't wait for a response as she finally finds the file, and begins the download. It's slow. Shit, she should've expected it to be.

“Hey, I got movement outside the house.” Economos says.

“What movement exactly?”

“Two vans pulled up, a bunch of guys got out, but they're not going inside. Yet, anyways.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Harcourt resists the urge to slam her fist into the wooden table repeatedly. “Are they armed?”

John pauses for a second, and Harcourt feels her stomach curl. “To the teeth.”

“This totally wouldn't have happened if I was there.” Chris interjects.

Harcourt fumes. “Yeah, because your dumbass would've gotten us killed a lot earlier.” It's hard to keep her voice quiet.

“I know you're team leader and all, Har, but im telling you, having me out there right now would seriously benef-”

“For the everloving fuck's sake, someone get Smith off comms!” She snaps. Harcourt sees Adrian flinch (weird, and she feels kind of sorry about it), and Adebayo mutters a low “Jesus” into the comm.

“Adrian, a little backup here?” Always count on Chris to never have a good comeback, no, just use his fucking puppy dog to validate his feelings.

“Uh,” Vigilante glances at Harcourt, “P, I really don't wanna piss off my fake sister bro, she can be super fucking scary man.”

Before Chris can reply, both Adrian and Harcourt startle when whatever is in the (semi) hidden room shakes the whole damn house. At first, Harcourt thinks it might've been an earthquake, but quickly writes that off when frantic footballs are heard around the house.

They're heading right for the office.

She acts on autopilot as she barks an order at Adrian to quickly help her barricade the door (not the secret one). They move the desk that previously had been blocking their recently revealed door to block the office entrance. They then carry some of the boxes littered around the room, and place them on top of the desk.

The door rattles. The assholes must be using all their combined strength to make the thing budge.

Next to her, Vigilante unsheaths his sword and stands at the ready. Harcourt takes her pistol out of its holster and keeps it trained on the office door.

Her eyes scan the room for any sort of alternative exit. Unfortunately, and very fucking inconvenient for them, there are no windows in this damn office. There's a vent near the ceiling, but even Harcourt isn't small enough to fit through there.

The banging gets stronger, the door hinges get weaker, and the desk inches further into the room.

Her gaze lands on the newly exposed mystery door.

Its a bad fucking idea, a horrible fucking idea.

“On a scale of fucked raw to completely obliterated in the ass, how shit of an idea is it to open that mystery door?” Harcourt forgoes any discretion (no point in staying quiet now), yelling into the comm.

“I'd say that's way past fucked raw, but im not sure why you'd say being fucked raw is a bad thing in the first place!” Chris screams back. Harcourt doesn't even have time to tell him how stupid he is.

“Fuck!” Economos stresses. “I'm sorry to say, but your options are stay there and fight to the death, or unleash the possible horrors of the mystery door!”

“Vig?” She feels like she has to get his input. They are in this together after all.

“I really, really wanna kill these guys, but as completely fucking badass as we are, Em- I don't know if we can take them all.” Adrian sighs.

Seriously, how did they fuck up this badly. The only thing Harcourt can think that would've made this go to shit so easily is bad Intel. Which is not that far fetched all things considered. ARGUS hates their guts, but they're useful.

Maybe not useful enough anymore.

No, that's probably too irrational of thinking.

“We're gonna try the door.” Harocourt decides. “There's obviously someone or something in there. Maybe we can lure it out, and use it.”

“Hang on, slow down!” Ads cuts in. “How the shit are you guys going to lure out a potentially highly dangerous individual or creature-” she emphasizes that word, “-to only go after the guys you just barricaded the door from?”

“You have a better fucking idea?”

The line is silent.

“Thought so.” Harcourt huffs. A couple of boxes fall from the desk holding the door closed. “Listen. I'll pick the lock on the mystery door while Vigilante moves the desk. We'll time it correctly so that when the mystery door opens, so does the office door. The men will come rushing through, and whatever's in here will do the same. Hopefully it'll knock them down like dominos.”

“Hey uh- what about me? Like, won't I be caught in the crossfire or something?” Adrian worries. “What if I'm one of the dominos?”

“You won't be. We'll be swapping places with the guy behind mystery door- “ A loud bang sounds from said door, “-speak of the devil. You just gotta be fast.”

“Being fast isn't a problem for me, sister. I've got limber limbs.”

Harcourt doesn't have time to roll her eyes, instead they get into position.

This is by far one of the shittiest plans she's ever had. The likelihood of them pulling this off is near none, and she can't hide the annoyance she feels when she thinks about how Adrian Chase is the person she's going to die alongside. To white supremacists no less. Fuck.

“Vigilante, now!” Adrian shoves the desk away from the door, what was left of the boxes and shit on top of it now strewn across the floor.

Just as Harcourt is about to fling the mystery door open, a chorus of deafening gunshots sounds from behind the main door before any of the bigots break through.

Vigilante and Harcourt freeze in place, giving each other a confused look.

The gunshots continue and so do the sounds of evil men choking on their blood, until there's silence, save for the banging coming from the mystery door.

Harcourt focuses on the comms, “Hey, what the fuck just happened? Peacemaker?” It must've been Chris, it must have. Who else would come in so recklessly, guns ablazing, disregarding ARGUS instruction?

The comm comes up as static.

“Fuck!”

“P?” Adrian asks.

“Adebayo? John?” Nothing. Harcourt is pacing now, trying her best to rationalize and figure out what the fuck is going on. She decides to get her pistol ready again, pointed at the door. Adrian mimics her, readying his sword once more.

The house outside the office is quiet. She knows that whoever killed the white dragon cultists is still out there, but they're stealthy. A chill runs down her spine, but she doesn't falter.

Her father used to chastise her about hesitation; about waiting until the last moment. It's part of the reason why she freaked out on Adebayo so much that one time. Harcourt's been conditioned to know when to put emotions aside, and when to use them. Well, she hasn't quite figured out that second part, but she's trying harder nowadays.

“Who the fuck are you? Yeah, we know you're out there motherfucker!” Harcourt moves to rest her back on the left side of the door, motioning for Vigilante to be at her side. She doesn't want them both to be gunned down if the attacker decides to rain bullets down through the doorway. She's seen it happen one too many times.

“Shit, you think he's invisible?” Adrian whispers next to her ear.

“Why would he be invisible?”

“Because he doesn't have any footsteps?”

“Thats not how that fucking works, now shut the fuck up, Vig.” Adrian gets that kicked puppy look, but Harcourt can't feel bad about it right now.

“Sor-” Vigilante goes to apologize, but is interrupted by the down being kicked open, dust and grime fogging their vision.

Harcourt fires in the direction of the attacker, but she knows that misses because she feels a sudden sharp, excruciating pain in her jaw when an armored hand connects with it. Vigilante springs into action quickly, jumping onto the back of the man, but is swiftly flung forward onto the ground, his face hitting the floor with a loud crack. Harcourt's heart drops, but she knows how resilient Adrian is (probable meta human abilities), and gathers that he's been knocked out.

Harcourt's vision is tunneled and blurred, likely from the worst sucker punch ever that she just endured, but as the dust settles on the ground, she sees him.

She recognizes him.

“Emilia Harcourt.” That familiar British draw makes her shudder; he sounds surprised. “Fuck me.” he murmured to himself, almost inaudible.

“DuBois.” She spits a chunk of who-the-fuck-knows what onto the ground. “Funny seen’ you ‘here.” She just hopes it's not a tooth. His mask stares at her for a moment, or two moments, or three, she can't really tell before he draws a gun on her.

“You working with the Peacemaker?” Bloodsport cocks the gun. Harcourt focuses more on the fact that he's supposed to be back in Belle Reve. She would've gotten wind of it if he had either escaped, or given the Peacemaker treatment.

“‘Fraid tha's ‘classfied.” Harcourt slurs. Shit, the motherfucker knocked her good. No one's ever been able to incapacitate her by a single punch.

“Oh fuck off.” He scoffs. “You tell the truth and I might just make this quick.” Okay, why the fuck is Bloodsport threatening her? Sure, ARGUS stuck her with Christopher Smith even after he killed her (their) friend Rick Flag, but she didn't choose that (though deep inside, she's glad for it, but she'd never voice that, even hesitating to think it).

“Wha’ do you wan’ with ‘im?” Harcourt hardens her stare. She hated Peacemaker at first, but now she's an 11th Street Kid. Why would she sell him out, after everything they've been through? After he proved to her that he's changing?

“Christopher Smith is the fucking successor of the White Dragon.”

Shit.

Chapter Text

Adrian's head fucking hurts.

Mostly his nose. It feels like it got crushed, and he's pretty sure his visor is completely broken. What a bummer. He just got it fixed not that long ago!

The last thing he remembers is a total unit of a man—though not nearly as ripped and strong and hot and strong and ripped as Peacemaker—throwing him onto the ground, then pow! Lights out. Adrian had acted on impulse there and wasn't afraid to admit that that wasn't his best move, but cut him some slack! The guy had just knocked the daylights out of his fake sister! What kind of fake brother would he be if he didn't act fast? A totally shitty one, that's for damn sure!

He hears voices, but they're distant and muffled. One sounds like a Harcourt after too many at the bar, and the other sounds like this one guy Adrian had a one night stand with like 2 years ago. Although, he's around 99% sure its not him because the guy he fucked didn’t wear armor, but a totally cool black duster! Though, Adrian thought it was less cool when all he could smell coming off of it was cigarette smoke. That shit is so nasty. He wishes cigarettes were illegal.

Adrian groans as he attempts to lift himself off the ground. He can't find the strength to stand or sit up, so he flips himself onto his back so he can at least shoot the guy.

Vigilante decides to instead throw a knife at him. Chris has been pestering about killing, and he's sure Harcourt would want answers out of terminator here.

Adrian pulls a knife out of his pocket and throws it, aiming for the space between the back of the man's head and his shoulders, right at the base of his neck.

Somehow, the guy notices and dodges Adrian's knife just milliseconds before it connects.

“Oh shit.” Adrian has to roll onto his side to avoid the bullet. It's a hair away from grazing his back.

“DuBois!” Harcourt yells. “DuBois, stop!” She orders, though her speech sounds unsteady.

He actually stops, which Adrian did not expect.

“We didn't know!” We didn't know what?

“And I should take your word for it?” He points his gun at Emilia, and Adrian acts before thinking, or does good on his promise to be a good fake brother. He gathers all his strength and lunges towards DuBois (weird name).

Adrian is able to grab one of his other knives and jam it into the guy's thigh. Harcourt is screaming something at him, but Adrian's not listening. He's too busy saving her life!

He smiles to himself, but that lasts a whopping 2 seconds before he feels a familiar burning sting in his gut.

The motherfucker shot him!

Adrian lets his body fall back to the floor, clutching his stomach. He's never been good at keeping his blood in his body, but he tries his best to keep pressure on it.

“Fuck, Adrian!” Harcourt comes into view above him. Shit, what if DuBois shoots her too?

“You- ah,” fuck this hurts, “you should go, I got this.” He smiles at her, not realizing in the moment that she can't see it.

“Shut up.” Harcourt is being mean, he notices. Which hurts him a little since he's kind of dying right now. He's never been shot in the gut before, so he's not exactly sure how the healing would work, or if it will do it on time. You know? Before he dies and all.

Adrian wishes Chris was here. Not that he doesn't like spending time with Em, but it would've been nice to talk to his BFF before bleeding out. He guesses he'll just have to wait till the ghost process starts and then he can spend the afterlife as a poltergeist living with Peacemaker. Sounds kind of sick actually, now that he thinks about it. Maybe dying right here wouldn't be so bad; his sister Harcourt by his side, weird, kind of badass-looking asshole here too.

“Peacemaker isn't the next White Dragon.” Harcourt admonishes.

What?

Of course he's not.

He's Peacemaker!

“Whatever Intel you found or- or were given, its fucking wrong.” Holy shit the room spins! And DuBois and Harcourt must have killer balance because they stay rooted to their spots.

“Bull fucking shit, I heard the bloody tape!”

“What tape?” Adrian turns his attention to Harcourt rather than the motion of the room around them. She looks stunned, like that one time she and Adrian talked about politics and she was weirdly surprised that Adrian knows what he's talking about (for the most part). He likes justice, and politics lacks that to a whole nother level! If killing politicians wasn't super illegal, he totally would!

“Em, how are you so good at staying still?” He giggles. She ignores him.

“The one of that cunt and his father having an evening with their hooded friends around a campfire!” Okay, what? Chris does not have friends that aren't him, Harcourt, Adebayo, or Economos, so that's off the table! Plus, Chris hates his completely dead, racist father!

“Its not fucking real, Robert! Are you that much of a dunce that you believe that shit?”

“Would I fucking be here if I wasn't dead fucking serious, Emilia?” Harcourt looks down at Adrian, and places her hands over his that are still attempting to keep his innards in-nards. The extra pressure hurts like a bitch, and he lets out a groan.

“Fucking ARGUS!” Harcourts puts even more pressure.

“Ow, ow, ow, Harcourt, fuck!” Adrian squeezes his eyes shut. Fucking hell.

“We don't have time for this.” She sighs. “You shot my fucking friend over nothing. Chris isn't taking up the mantle. We were assigned this mission to figure out who really is.”

“We can prove it!” Adrian cuts in, making his wound hurt more by the exertion. “That Chris isn't the next White Dragon!” It would be easy, because he isn't.

“He's right. And he needs to get to a hospital-”

“No hosp-”

“Shut the fuck up, Adrian! You're going to a hospital.” Adrian frowns under his mask. And now he's realizing that terminator knows his name! Fuck! “DuBois, the evidence you found is likely fabricated. By who? I dont fucking know, but we can find out. I promise you, Peacemaker might be a piece of shit, but Chris Smith isn't. Not anymore.”

Adrian opens his eyes again when the mystery door finally bursts open behind him and Harcourt. He wants to move, but the pain is too much. He just hopes Harcourt gets out on time.

“Shit!” Harcourt grabs her pistol, pointing it at what looks to Adrian like some sort of ugly opossum-wolf hybrid. The thing growls, low and guttural. Harcourt takes a shot, but it's much too wide, probably to do with the brutal punch earlier.

Adrian thinks that he and Harcourt are absolutely fucked, but then the Brit loads an entire clip into the animal's face, maiming and disfiguring it.

“Fuckin’ coo'” Adrian slurs, his vision is blurring, and his breath is slowing, but its okay. At least he got to see that sick ass fatality.

——— (H)

Harcourt pants, trying to steady her breathing. The vertigo is getting to be too much, and she thinks Adrian might be out cold, judging by how still he is.

“Fucking nasty bugger.” DuBois reloads.

“Thanks.” Harcourt feels the need to say. Her and Adrian would've surely gotten mauled in their current states.

“Didn't kill it for you.”

“Still.” She sighs. Harcourt decides fuck it, and rips a sleeve off of her jacket to tie around Adrian's wound. It creates a moment of silence between the two. It's awkward, tense, and Harcourt stays vigilant.

“How do I know you're not a part of it? That he hasn't roped you into it?” DuBois asks, reluctant to hear her out, but she knows where this is going.

“Because you know im not a fucking follower of anything, DuBois. Much less a goddamn fascist cult. Our task force is made up of Peacemaker, me, this dumb fuck that's practically in love with Chris-” she points to Adrian, “John Economos, and a fucking black lesbian woman.”

“Just because this alleged force is made up of DEI hires doesn't mean I'll believe it's real.”

“So come and see.”

“No.” He chuckles. “No fucking chance am I seeing Peacemaker without sending a bullet between that twat's eyes.”

“You don't have to be all buddy cop with him, but you can't fucking kill him. And even if you did, Vigilante would kill you. It's a lose-lose, DuBois.” Harcourt gives him a sardonic smile. “Either let us handle this shit with the White Dragon and leave Peacemaker the fuck alone, or help us catch the real White Dragon wannabe piece of shit.”

Harcourt doesn't waste any more time with Robert. She's sure if he was going to shoot her, he would've already done it, so she focuses on lugging Adrian up into her back (yes, piggy-back style, as Adrian would've said). He's surprisingly light for all that muscle.

Harcourt maneuvers through the slew of dead white supremacists in the hall, making it halfway out of the house when she feels DuBois following her.

“He's falling.” DuBois snarks. She rolls her eyes, but he's right. Harcourt had forgotten her fatigue and obvious concussion when she decided she needed to carry Adrian out. She makes the poor decision to try and reposition him, which causes his body to fall flat against the hardwood. She winces.

“Fuck.” She pants.

“I want to get to the bottom of this mess.” Robert says. “but if I even get a whiff of suspicion from Peacemaker's behavior, he's dead. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Harcourt pauses. “Why did you come looking in the first place? Besides the obvious fact that you thought Chris is the new leader of a violent terrorist group?” Robert, for once, takes the mask off, and Harcourt feels nostalgic for a time that she didn't enjoy at all. He looks much the same, maybe a few more scars, but other than that- same DuBois.

“You're one of Peacemaker's allies,” he starts, stopping for a moment to stare at her, hard expression, “so it's none of your goddamn business."

Harcourt should've expected that response. She just huffs, and turns to try and carry Adrian again, but Robert stops her. Instead, he takes Adrian into a fireman's carry.

“Lead the way.”

———

“Will you at least tell me how you got your lead?” Harcourt tries. She needs to know the why and who is framing Chris. The person obviously has the type of skill to fabricate footage of Peacemaker pledging himself as the next White Dragon. And clearly, Robert has no clue about Peacemaker being the one to put his father out of commission.

They're currently taking a long walk towards where the car is parked, and Harcourt feels like she needs to get answers before the inevitable confrontation between DuBois and Peacemaker.

It won't be pretty, but Harcourt just hopes that Chris has learned to be more civil. She knows he feels awful about Corto Malthese, in fact, he once drunkenly cried on her shoulder (embarrassing) and confessed that he wishes he could go back in time and change it all; that he wishes he could've saved Rick Flag.

“I found it.” He says plainly.

“Where? From who?” She can't help but be pissy; it's in her nature. “Was it ARGUS? Waller?”

DuBois scoffs, “What is this? 20 fucking questions?”

“Just answer me.” She sighs. “Please.” Her body is fighting to stay right-side up and all she wants is for this guy to talk.

He sighs too. “I've wanted to get rid of Peacemaker, and I just so happened to come across a good enough reason to.” He says, darkly. “I was busting a different group of nazi bastards and found the tape. I was going to leave it, but then I noticed that stupid fucking dove if peace etched onto it in crude lettering.”

Shit. They must've been spreading this around. What is especially confusing about this ordeal is that Chris’ father fucking hated him. She guesses that that fact must've not been common knowledge to the broader cult, and only the inner circle that Economos fortunately took out before Peacemaker put a bullet between the White Dragon's eyes.

“Tape was super fucking blurry, but it was his voice. Saying shit about family legacy or some crap. Mostly it was a big fucking speech from Auggie Smith, but Peacemaker pledged loyalty to the damn cult.”

How the fuck? This must be some sort of afterlife revenge from August Smith. Harcourt knows that one of Chris' worst fears is ending up like his father, even if he doesn't voice it. Hell, even Vigilante knows that and he's total shit at reading people.

This goes a lot deeper than she thought.

Step one will be actually watching the tape. She'll probably try to order Chris not to watch it, but he'll likely do it anyway, get himself upset, and wallow in that for weeks.

“Look,” she starts, “Chris is nothing like his father-”

Robert scoffs.

Harcourt has to hold herself back, else she'll explode. “For fuck's sake, DuBois, he fucking killed his father!”

Robert's eyes widen just enough that Harcourt catches it. He's trying to suppress his surprise and his belief in her words. He keeps his mouth in a thin line to distract her from his unconscious tell.

“I bet whatever information you found about the White Dragon's death didn't fucking mention that!” Harcourt recomposes herself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “He's trying to- to atone now. I know you'll never forgive him for Corto Maltese, hell, I don't think I'll ever fully forgive him either. He killed my friend.” She misses Rick Flag, distantly, but brushes that off. “But he's paying for it now. And he wants that. He wants to be held accountable. Trust me, it was just as shocking to me too. I couldnt fucking stand to be in the same city as him when he was first assigned to my task force.” Harcourt shakes her head. “I hate to admit it, but he's a- he's a-” God, this is difficult, “a- a friend now. I know what he's capable of, and I know what he's not. And DuBois, Christopher Smith isn't his father.”

Robert doesn't say anything back. Harcourt hopes that it's because he is considering her words, but he's hard to read.

Harcourt tries the comms a few times again, but gives up when she realizes it's not likely that they'll come back.

They fall into a silence as they near the car, but it's eventually broken by DuBois.

“I jammed it; your comms. Not to target your group specifically, but all comms in the area.”

“You owe me new gear.”

He huffs, changing the subject. “So who's the Peacemaker dick-rider?” He's referring to Adrian.

“Vigilante.”

“I heard you call him Adrian.”

“His real name.” She confirms, but she won't give the last name. Harcourt can already feel the useless lecture he'll give her about disclosing his first name with a potential enemy.

“Kid actually got a hit on me.” Harcourt detects a hint of what might be respect in his voice.

She shrugs. “He's skilled. An absolute fucking idiot in every other instance, but he's one of the best fighters I know.”

They finally approach the car. Harcourt tells DuBois to dump Adrian's body in the back seats (lay him down), while she drives and Robert stays in the passenger seat.

The short ride is quiet. They've done enough talking for now.

Harcourt's grip on the steering wheel is crushing. It maybe isn't the best idea for her to drive in her condition, but she isn't too keen on letting Bloodsport behind the wheel.

She finds herself squirming at the silence.

The car ride here was so filled with unnecessary sound, that none at all is unsettling. She misses the radio, and Adrian's incessant voice even more, which she never would have thought could be a possibility.

Harcourt feels that foreign, but familiar churn in her stomach. She's spent years suppressing it, countless missions making sure that her emotions never get the best of her. She's not going to break her streak now, but she is worried.

Adrian may be metahuman, but that doesn't mean he's indestructible; he's not Superman for fuck's sake. A wound large enough, and deep enough could kill him easily. Maybe slower than the average Joe, but he'd still be dead eventually.

Harcourt glances at the back seats, eyes landing on Adrian's unconscious form.

Fuck. At least he's still breathing.

The van is only a few minutes away from the house, though Harcourt parks the car a little ways away from it so as to not draw attention. They're going to have to carry Adrian some more, but at least that's not Harcourt's job anymore.

“You sure this kid's still kicking? That's a lot of fucking blood.” DuBois says as he pulls Adrian out of the back seat, settling the guy back into the fireman's carry.

“Pretty sure he's some sort of metahuman.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Of fucking course he is.”

The van is in view, around a block away from them now. As they start their walk, Harcourt thinks that now is a safe time to use her phone. It's her only way of contacting the crew to warn of their old friend.

Harcourt calls Adebayo. She picks up immediately.

“What the hell happened out there? Are you guys hurt?” Adebayo worries. “Comms got seriously fucked, and the surveliance totally shit itself. Chris is just about ready for a rescue mission.”

“Are you on speaker right now?”

“Uh- yeah.”

“Turn it off.”

“Okay…” Adebayo sounds hesitant, but Harcourt knows she'll obey. “It's off.”

“Mission was a fail. No drive. Adrian caught a bullet to the gut, he needs a hospital.”

“Shit, alright, are you guys close?”

“Walking to the van now, but Adebayo-” She stops herself.

“What?”

“Bloodsport's here. Out of Belle Reve.” She rips off the bandaid.

“WHAT?” Harcourt has to pull the phone away from her ear and grimace.

“Listen, I need you to keep Chris calm. Once he sees DuBois, he's going to freak. Got it?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“I don't fucking know, put a gun to his head or something!”

“Are you insane!”

Harcourt groans. “Just keep him from shooting DuBois, okay? And get the van open.”

“Alright.” She hears her sigh. “Okay.” Harcourt thinks Adebayo says that more to herself. “See you soon.”

“Yeah.” She ends the call.

“For the record, if he pulls a gun on me, I'm shooting him.” Bloodsport says.

“You will not because I know him and he will pull a gun.” Harcourt scolds. “I won't let him shoot you. Leave it to us.” She rolls her eyes, “God, you and Chris always on your goddamn period. Fuck.”

Harcourt hears the van door slide open and sees the light distantly. They're still a few feet away, so it's unlikely the group has spotted her and Robert. She makes the conscious effort to walk in front of Robert (and Adrian's limp body).

As they get closer, she realizes how shit this is going to turn out. Chris is probably going to get a shot in. He's skilled and also not the one currently carrying a human on his back.

Harcourt stops them a few feet from the van, just enough that no one else can hear. They've been walking at an angle where the opening of the van can't see them.

“Stay here.” She doesn't elaborate, and just prays that he listens.

When she comes into view, Chris, John, and Leota all visibly relax.

Chris is sat to the left, John at his usual spot of computer, and Adebayo directly next to Chris.

The first to stand is Adebayo. “Where is he?” She asks, and Harcourt knows she's not talking about Vigilante.

“Yeah, where's Adrian?” Chris frets, running a hand through his hair.

“He's- he's fine, but Chris…” She trails off, unsure of how to go about this. “Don't freak out, alright? I really need you to stay calm when I tell you this.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He sounds impatient. “Vig okay?”

“He was shot.”

“Shit.” Economos lets out a shallow breath.

“But he'll be fine. Meta-healing and a hospital visit will cover that.”

“Then where the fuck is he?” Chris stands now. “Did those nazi fucks kidnap him?” He raises his voice. Adebayo keeps her gaze away from him awkwardly.

“No, we-”

“Don't worry, Pissmaker, your boyfriend's right here.” Harcourt's heart drops, and she closes her eyes slowly, squeezing as hard as she can. Instead of the fireman's carry he had Adrian in before, he's now holding Chase in front of him, arms under Adrian's so that Vigilante's body is covering his.

Fucking Bloodsport and his petty shit.

Why can't anyone ever fucking listen! She swears they do this shit on purpose. If Chris does end up shooting DuBois, she won't feel much remorse as of right now.

“Holy fucking shit! Isn't he supposed to be in fucking jail?” John screams.

Chris quickly and wordlessly draws his gun, pointing it directly at DuBois’ head. At the same time Harcourt puts herself in front of him.

“Relax, Chris, let me explain!” She tries to coax him, putting her hands up. Chris isn't looking at her, just glaring at Bloodsport behind her.

“Careful. Wouldn't want me to use limp dick as a shield, now would you?” DuBois’ head gestures down to Vigilante in his arms. Chris hadn't cocked the gun until that very second. Harcourt groans.

“What is this, Harcourt? Some kinda set up?” Smoke is practically coming out of Chris’ ears and it's almost completely directed at Harcourt, but he has his attention on Robert.

“No. Chris, trust me.” He finally lets his eyes land on hers. She sees his rage, but also a shred of faith. It's small, especially in this iffy of a situation, but it's there. And that's really all she can ask of him at this moment.

“What's he doing here then?” Chris’ gun doesn't fall away.

“Was trying to find you.” Bloodsport says simply.

“Let me guess, you wanna kill me?”

DuBois shrugs condescendingly. “Fair guess.”

Chris scoffs.“For what? You shot me and a building fell on me. You'd think that's enough fucking karma, right?”

“Well, I wasn't going to bother tracking you until I found out you might be the White Dragon.” Chris’ face morphs from startled to disgusted and horrified in milliseconds. Harcourt sees his hand clench the handle of his pistol, and her chest tightens.

“What kind of bullshit is that? You making shit up as an excuse to kill me now?”

“I don't need an excuse-”

“He found a tape of an initiation into your father's nazi cult, Chris.” Harcourt says before DuBois can mess this up further. “It's obviously fucking fake, but of course Bloodsport wasnxt going to catch that.”

“Why the fuck would someone make that?” John speaks up. Adebayo's face is laced with worry and confusion, Harocourt keeps her face stern, and Robert maintains his ‘I don't give a fuck’ look.

Chris’ face falls further than she thought was possible and he winces. “Fuck. You think it was my dad?” He shakes his head. “Fuck! This is probably his plan B. He knew that he'd die sooner or later, and he needed to know that if he didn't kill me first, I'd still be ruined anyway. Shit!”

“That was my theory too.” Harcourt sighs.

“Why the fuck would I be the next White Dragon?” Chris scoffs.

“Maybe because you were raised by him.” Robert mocks.

“Oh yeah?” Chris yells. “Well I seem to remember someone talking about how they were also raised by a shit-bag father back in Corto Maltese! That mean you're just like him?” He guffaws. DuBois glares, but doesn't get a word out. Harcourt is thankful for it.

“Listen, Chris. Bloodsport can be useful here-”

“Fuck no! He's not working with us!”

“Chris!” Harcourt says harshly. “If it helps get the mission done faster and cleaner- then he's in. Whether we love it or not—like I told DuBois—you don't have to kiss the ground he walks on, but Bloodsport is tied to this, and he apparently needs closure too.”

Chris’ face is stuck in anger, the lines on his forehead more prominent than ever. “For what?” He huffs.

“You don’t need to know. What you do need to know is that you're lucky.” His British accent is heavy. “We act like we did in Corto Maltese; get shit done, nothing personal. But, you need to keep your fucking gun in your pants. No threatening to kill orphan girls because they might fuck up your mission.”

Harcourt winces at that.

Ratcatcher 2.

Chris frowns, but stones his expression, and nods. “First, you get your hands off Vigilante.”

Bloodsport laughs. “Gladly. He's getting blood all over my suit.” He moves to set Adrian down on the edge of the Van. The sleeve that Harvorut made into a makeshift bandage is soaked in Adrian's blood. Chris finally puts his gun away and kneels down to inspect Adrian.

“Nazi?” Economos asks in horror after he gets up from his spot to also check on Adrian. Harcourt hesitates. Telling the truth might kill any chance they have at being civil with Bloodsport. Peacemaker might lose his shit, but to be honest Harcourt is kind of pissed DuBois shot Adrian too, and she doesn't really want to lie to her team.

“DuBois.” She glares at Robert who's standing a few feet away from the van now. Harcourt sets a preemptive hand on Chris’ chest to prevent him from doing anything stupid, which works out because as soon as she says the name Chris moves in Robert's direction. “Hey,” she starts, softly, “he also saved us. Maybe not intentionally, but Adrian and I would be dead if it wasn't for him.” She gives Chris a hard look, which he takes just as she wants him to. He backs off.

“Yeah and now he might die because of him.” Chris retorts.

“You and me both know that Adrian will survive this.” She says to comfort him, though she's not entirely sure she believes her own words. This is a close call. One of the closer ones they've had in a while, but he'll pull through. The bleeding has slowed and his heart rate isn't as shallow as when they were driving here, so that's a relief.

He sighs, accepting her words. “You're fucking lucky he's alive.” Chris points an accusatory finger at DuBois.

“Boy's resilient, I'll give him that. Nabbed me in the thigh before I popped one in his gut.” Robert tightens the bandage on his thigh that Harcourt didn't even notice he had on. Fuck, she needs rest.

“Good.” Chris lifts Adrian's body onto the right bench, then sits himself at the passenger seat, wallowing.

“That went as well as I thought it would.” Adebayo finally opens her mouth.

“Yeah, thanks for the back up there, Ads.” Harcourt deadpans, shaking her head. “DuBois and I will take the car, I'll meet you at the hospital once I figure out what to do with him.”

Adebayo nods. “Alright, Boss.” She makes a move to start closing the van door.

“Don't call me that.” Harcourt scolds right as the door shuts.

Chapter Text

Chris has never been a calm person. He's had anger issues ever since Keith's death and he straight up refuses to see a shrink about it.

It's been better recently, for some reason. Probably to do with his father being dead. You'd think the grief would make him more angry, but he finds that the source of that anger was mostly the pressure of his father's expectations weighing down on him. Though, it's not entirely a relief. With less anger Mena s'more room for other emotions. If Chris was crybaby before his dad's death, then what the fuck does that make him now? His pussy ass emotions are always on display now. Hell, Adebayo has walked in on him crying in the back room of HQ more that five fucking times in the last two weeks. Not to mention the time Vig came over and Chris couldn't keep his emotion-pants zipped for two fucking seconds before he broke down in front of him.

But, after today, and seeing the one fucking guy he never wanted to see again carrying what looked like a lifeless Adrian, he finally felt that anger again.

And the guilt.

The ever consuming guilt.

The feeling that he's been trying to shake since his time in Corto Maltese.

He killed Rick Flag, a hero; something Chris will never be.

He tried to kill Cleo. An innocent. Practically a child.

Chris has tried to be better, and he has improved, but there will always be that nagging feeling in his chest, that feeling that will be with him for as long as he fucking lives.

For all the guilt he feels, right now the overwhelming emotion in his body is fury.

“Did you know?” Chris eyes Adebayo. There had been a long silence in the van since it started moving. John is driving and Adebayo is sitting next to Adrian's supine body.

“Only a few minutes before you did.” She's hesitant to tell him, but at least she doesn't lie. Chris’ face gets warmer.

“And you didn't think to warn me?” He shakes his head, shaming her. Everyone seems to think that Chris is some fragile child. He thought of all people, Ads would tell him something like this. Its a pretty fucking big deal.

Leota gives him a sympathetic look. “Harcourt wanted to be the one to tell you. She knew what your reaction would be, and I wasn't sure I could handle you.”

Chris huffs, offended. “Handle me?”

“I didn't- I didn't mean it like that!” She scrambles for an explanation, but Chris is already frowning. “I meant that you have very strong reactions—not a bad thing, by the way! Very valid, in my opinion! At least in this case—anyway, I just knew that I have trouble calming anyone! Harcourt has more people experience, and she's our boss.” Leota purses her lips. “It felt right to leave it to her, but maybe I should've said something.” Her head shakes. “It was some bad BFF-ing, I will admit that, and I'm sorry, Chris.”

Ever since the diary incident during the whole butterfly fiasco, Leota and Chris have been very serious about being honest with each other. Of course, they're not perfect and this is one of the many instances, but in the end, they always tell the truth.

Chris can't be too mad at her. She may have waited to tell him about Bloodsport, but he understands why she did it. It might not change the fact that he's a little hurt, though he'll get over it.

Chris takes a deep breath, attempting to calm himself.

“For the record, Adebayo didn't tell me shit either, so…” Economos trails off. Chris glares at him.

He's about to speak again—probably say something vaguely (very) offensive to Economos—when a soft groan is heard next to Adebayo.

“Fuck.” Adrian draws the word out. His voice is shallow and shaky, attempting to lift himself.

“Hey, hey, don't move too much.” Adebayo puts her hand in Adrian's chest to guide him back to laying down after. “You okay?”

“Don't worry about me guys, ‘m fine.” He doesn't sound fine. The usual Vigilante voice is a lot less bleh and a lot more I have too much energy, I can't ever shut up. The mask is probably making everything worse, so Chris stands up (despite the moving van) and gently removes it. He could've told Ads to take it off, but for some reason Chris felt like it had to be him.

Adrian is injured because of him; in more ways than one.

If Vigilante had never known Peacemaker, he wouldn't have had to deal with the white dragon and his crooked cultists.

If Adrian hadn't met Chris, he would've never had met Bloodsport and gotten shot in the fucking gut over him.

“Oh, hi Chris.” Adrian gives him a dopey smile, but it's upside down because of his supine position on the bench. “I got shot.” Adrian frowns.

“I can see that, dude.” There's a dark puddle of murky red-brown staining the bottom half of his torso.

“Did Harcourt kill Bloodsport?” Adrian sounds disappointed and his frown deepens, making it almost comical.

At first Chris isn't sure as to why Adruan would be disappointed at the prospect of Harcourt killing DuBois, but then he remembers how Vig had reacted to finding out how Peacemaker was almost killed. Chris may have used some colorful language surrounding his attempted murder (a lot of the word ‘cunt’ being thrown around, maybe a couple ‘motherfuckers’ here and there), and got it into Vigilante's head that DuBois is the scum of the earth.

But can you really blame Chris for painting Bloodsport that way? The guy did shoot him in the neck and leave him to rot under rubble.

“No.” Adebayo says for him.

Adrian nods as slow as can be, that dopey smile returning, “Oh, thank god. ‘Thought she took my kill for a second.” He sighs, releived. Fucking weirdo.

“Hate to burst your bubble, Vig, but...” Chris doesn't hide the frustration in his voice. “Bloodsport's a part of the mission now. ‘Can't touch a hair on his goddamn head.” Adrian's face falls into a look of disbelief and disappointment.

“We're gonna work with the guy who fucking shot you?” Adrian fumes.

“And you.”

“Yeah! I should fucking kill that guy!” Vig tries to sit up again, a movement of utter passion from his words, but winces hard and drops back down onto the bench with a bang.

“You can't kill him.” Economos says from the driver's seat. “He got outta Belle Reve with the same shit Chris did. He has some sort of protection since ARGUS is using him for something. He winds up dead, and they'll immediately know it was us.”

“Well that would've been useful information a few hours ago.” Adebayo deadpans, scoffing.

“Uh, I didn't fucking think to look into Bloodsport before we started this mission? How would I know he would just show up? The fuck? I don't have some ARGUS subscription? I won't be informed every time they decide to release someone from prison? I did this after he showed up.” Economos rants, glancing occasionally back at them (Adebayo) to glare as he speaks.

“I don't understand why that prevents me from being able to kill him?” Adrian says drearily, likely started to lose his grip on consciousness again. Fuck, when the hell are they going to finally get to the damn hospital?

“Means there's too many strings attached.” Adebayo says.

“I don't know what that means either…” Adrian cringes. Leota sighs.

“The situation is too complicated, Adrian. You can't get rid of him.” Chris puts it simpler—at least in Vigilante terms.

“After the mission then?” Adrian's eyes are pleading.

Chris sighs. “Unlikely.” Yeah, he's fucking pissed Bloodsport is, well, hunting him for sport, but apparently that's only because he was convinced Chris is the next White Dragon. The thing that pisses him off the most though, the thing that keeps Chris wanting pain for DuBois is the fact that he hurt Harcourt and fucking shot Adrian. Though, Chris knows—at least nowadays—that that might not be the best justification for killing someone.

Chris has done far worse. Hell, he fucking killed one of Harcourt's friends and she still somehow tolerates him?

If Robert DuBois had killed any of them, Chris would've made sure he bit the bullet. Peacemaker doesn't play about the people he cares for. He's lost and missed out on enough family to know that if anyone else close to him were to die, he wouldn't be able to control what would happen to the perpetrator. Natural instinct would guide him, and he's afraid that means doing whatever it takes to bring himself peace.

It just makes him think about how much better of a man DuBois is on the inside. Chris may hate the guy's fucking guts, but he has heart.

Chris feels like he didn't grow one until after Corto Maltese. Everything before then was pleasing his abusive dad, and comparing kills to other mercs like it was some dick-measuring competition.

“We're here.” John says, parking the van.

“Should we…” Adebayo waves her hand in front of Vigilante's suit.

Chris furrows his brows at her.

She rolls her eyes. “Should we change him out of the suit? His identity?”

“Oh, don't do that. I'm not wearing anything under.” Adrian chimes in.

Chris ignores Adrian. “No, it'd hurt him.” He contemplates for a second. Maybe there's a way he could force the hospital to keep Vig's mask on? No. That wouldn't work. Maybe he could threaten them? No, that's more Vigilante's style and Chris isn't too keen on threatening civilians. Shit. “‘Guess this'll be another ‘dine and dash’ sort of visit.” That's what Adrian had called it once, and the name sort of stuck.

“For fuck's sake.” He hears Economos say under his breath distantly, but at that point, Chris’ only focus is gathering Adrian into his arms.

Chris carries Adrian through the ER doors—bridal style—Adebayo and Economos not trailing far behind. A nurse notices them immediately and seems to be calling for help upon their arrival.

When Chris looks down at Adrian in his arms, he's barely conscious anymore. His eyes are opening and closing slowly, and his limbs are going limp.

A few seconds later a team with a stretcher appears in front of Chris. One of them tells him to hand Adrian over, and he does it without protest.

He moves to follow them, but is stopped by a nurse with a hand on his chest. He has to fight every instinct to slap her arm away.

“Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't be in there. Not until he’s stable, and-” Chris sighs, annoyance leaking out of him from every orifice.

“He's stable.” Chris says, stern.

“Chris-” Adebayo starts, but he cuts her off.

“He's had worse and survived. Trust me doc, he's stable.” Chris tries to shove past her, but another hand stops him, this time it's one on his shoulder from behind. He whips around to face the person (and probably slap them, but it turns out to be Economos, giving him a sympathetic frown. Chris looks back at the nurse and she shares a similar expression to John, though hers is much softer.

“Only immediate family is welcome, I'm truly sorry-” this time, Adebayo is the one to cut someone off.

"Sorry, very sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to my friend for one second and come back to you?” Ads winces at her own interruption, giving the nurse an apologetic look. The woman looks confused, but nods. Adebayo grabs Chris' arm and moves them a few feet away from the nurse (and Economos who is left to awkwardly converse with the nurse).

Adebayo gets too close to Chris’ ear for comfort and whispers, “Tell her you're Adrian's partner.” He has trouble even processing what the fuck Adebayo just suggested.

“Im not doing that!” He whisper-shouts back. There's no way anyone would buy it either!

“Why? You clearly want to be there for him, and he obviously would want you there more than any of us!”

Okay, good point, but that doesn't mean he wants all these hospital-people to think he and Adrian are an item. He frequents this place way too much. Plus, what if there are some serious nurse babes out there that he'll never have a chance with because they all think Chris is in a committed relationship with a masked Vigilante?

“Chris, man, I know what you're thinking and it's stupid.” Shit. Fuck this BFF bullshit. She's been getting really good at reading his mind lately. “No one's going to think anything of it, just go support our friend, you dingus!” She leaves their little huddle and goes back to the nurse. Chris exhales, and follows shortly after.

Adebayo apologizes to the nurse again, and Chris crosses his arms.

“Chris is his partner; the guy in the superhero suit's.” Leota clarifies.

This is ridiculous.

Leota nudges his side.

“Oh, yeah, that's me. He's my- my uh- he's my boyfriend- or something.” Chris stammers, mentally kicking himself in the balls because what the fuck? It is not that serious, Chris.

The nursery raises her eyebrow. “Or something?” Adebayo nudges him harder. Ow.

“No, no, sorry. Just the nerves, ya’ know?” He chuckles awkwardly. “My partner was just shot.” Chris glances at Leota, whose attention is on the nurse, waiting for a response, then to Economos who is turned away with his face in his palm.

“Okay.” The nurse draws out. Chris can tell she's skeptical, but judging by the bags under her eyes, she must be too tired to give that much of a shit. “Um, I'm sorry. Come with me.”

———

The room the nurse stuffs Adrian into smells of old lady perfume and rubbing alcohol.

The doctors had made quick work of stitching Vig up, while Chris answered some questions. He hesitated saying his real name, but thought fuck it and did it anyway. He didn't give Adrian's out, instead he said Taylor Smith because he panicked, and Adrian's always talking about Taylor Swift. So now Adrian's name is fucking Taylor, but oh well, its not that big a deal, except it is because everytime the nurse comes to check in she calls Adrian his husband. The first time she said it Chris almost jumped out of his skin.

Anyways, Adrian's doing better. He's no longer bleeding out and delirious. The doctor is already confused as to why Adrian's wound is healing so fast. Judging by Vigilante's previous gunshot, they'd probably be out of there in around 36 hours.

Luckily the grandma-room is only on the second floor, so it's unlikely Adrian will break his legs jumping out of the window.

For hours Adrian has been deep in sleep. Chris hasn't heard his voice since being in the van. It's peaceful, but it's also unsettling.

Chris himself is exhausted.

First he thought Harcourt and Adrian had fucking died, then the Bloodsport bomb was dropped on him, then Adrian actually almost died, so overall, pretty fucking tiring day.

Chris let his head rest in his arms, which are laid on the end of Adrian's hospital bed.

He doesn't know if he sleeps or not because his mind feels awake the entire time.

Nothing can ever be easy, can it? Just when he thought he was free of his father, the Aryan Empire continued their crimes. When they finally started to Crack down on those motherfuckers, of course there had to be some bigger issue.

Chris is just overwhelmed. He doesn't understand Bloodsport's role in all this and why everyone's being so nonchalant about working with him again. They don't even know how he got out of prison. Chris doesn't trust ARGUS, not anymore. This probably has something to do with the fact that they outed Waller after they saved the world.

Only recently did Rick Flag Sr. apparently take over, which might be significantly worse for them, well, more Chris than everyone else.

Something about this whole thing is fishy and Chris is hesitant to go along with it. He knows that Harcourt is smart and she'd come up with an idea to quickly get them out of a mess, but at the same time, what if this is a threat that's too big for them? He knows it sounds ridiculous to think that considering they defeated a near-extinct alien race, preventing them from taking over earth, but this feels…different.

It feels like everything Chris was ever afraid of is all happening at once.

First he went to prison, then he betrayed his team and nearly died for ARGUS, after that he was forced (threatened) into yet another task force, had to fight aliens, and—the cherry on fucking top—Chris killed his own father. Just like he did his brother. His entire family was murdered at his own hand.

Now…well now something (someone) from his past is coming back to haunt him.

Or more likely: kill him.

Chris can't say he didn't see it coming. Not Bloodsport being the one to finally do him in exactly, but he's always known that it would be his own fault. The entire Smith bloodline was bound to end with him and by him.

His father was right; about him. Just one big, giant fuck-up.

More than a fuck-up, actually.

A waste of space.

A worthless piece of shit.

A pansy-ass coward.

The list goes on, and on.

And now his friends are getting hurt because of him.

A few years ago he wouldn't have given much of a shit about Vigilante sustaining an injury—yeah he was an asshole, he knows—but now it feels almost as bad as getting shot himself. Maybe thats totally fucking dramatic, although Chris can’t find a better way to describe it. He felt a similar feeling when he saw Harcourt in the hospital. He couldn't help but feel responsible even when he really wasn't that time.

This time that feeling is doubled. Because right now it is Chris’ fault.

Stupid, stupid, stupi-

The sound of the door closing startles him awake. Whoever it is didn't make much of an effort to stay quiet.

He feels irritation build in his system before he looks up and sees Harcourt standing in the doorway, an almost apologetic look on her face directed at him.

“Sorry.” She says softly. Chris sits up in his chair as Harcourt stalks towards the end of Adrian's bed. “Didn't know you were asleep.” She tells him, but her eyes are trained on Adrian's sleeping form, her gaze doesn't give any emotion away.

“It's fine.” Chris wipes the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his palms. “How'd you get past the doctors? ‘Thought only one visitor was allowed.”

“Eh, I got some privileges from ARGUS. I flash them a badge, and they let me do what I want. Couldn't get Ads or John in here though.” Chris nods. Harcourt grabs the only other chair in the room and drags it next to his, sitting down unceremoniously. She sighs. “Feels weird being on this side of things.”

Chris chuckles softly. “Yeah.” There's a brief silence between them. It's uncomfortable, not because Chris feels awkward around Harcourt, he doesn't, but because the only sound left is the beeping of the heart monitor and the low hum of the machines.

“You know you got a thing for bedside-sitting?” Harcourt teases, but there's not a lot of humor in her voice.

“Makes me feel better.” He's honest. Chris doesn't have the energy to make up some masculine response.

“Woah, big emotions there.” Harcourt smiles at him softly. “Finally going full softie, big guy?”

Chris mirrors her smile and shakes his head.

Her gaze moves towards Adrian, “ How's he been?”

“Asleep. Dead fucking silent. It's freaking me out.”

Harcourt nods. “Yeah. Fucking weird not to hear his voice every 5 seconds.”

“The doctor said he's healing way faster than he should. Metahuman shit. I think we'll bail soon before they figure it out.” Chris lets his eyes scan Adrian's still face. His head is at an angle that Chris is sure will make his neck hurt like a bitch when he wakes up, but then again, with his superhero powers, maybe it won't be a problem. Adrian's glasses aren't on his face, instead tucked away in the pocket of Chris’ jacket. “‘Soon as Vig wakes up.”

Chris looks back at Harcourt, and that soft smile she once wore fades quickly when she returns it. “Hey, Chris.” She pauses. “I’m sorry. About earlier.” Harcourt sounds uncomfortable.

“It's okay.” It's not. It really isn't, but he doesn't want to fight with Emilia. Not right now.

“It's not.” She says sternly. “Listen, I'm not too keen on working with him either. He almost killed Adrian for fuck's sake.” Harcourt runs a frustrated hand through her blonde hair. “ARGUS isn't giving me anything. Only shit about continuing the mission, and that everything else is on ‘need to know’ basis.”

Chris scoffs. He can't believe he ever had confidence and trust in that fuckass organization. Maybe it's because in that moment he thought he was finally doing some good for his country, when in reality he was keeping it from being accountable. If you really love something you should be willing to point out its flaws, Chris sees that now. He's late to the game, but he understands how to play now. ARGUS isn't their friend. Hell, they still have a motherfucking bomb in his head!

“We'll figure this out. All of us.” Harcourt almost demands it.

“Thanks.” Chris says awkwardly. “For apologizing, or whatever.” He feels a strange tug in his chest, familiar in a bad way. It isn't a romantic sort of tug, that's for sure. It feels like a pool of dread. Or worse, doubt. Doubt in Harcourt's words?...He isn't sure (but it feels like it).

“Don't mention it.” Now she looks uncomfortable, shit.

Just as he's about to say a shitty joke or try to spark another conversation to lighten the mood, Harcourt speaks again.

“I told Adrian I'd talk to you about something.” What. This better not be some sappy shit because Chris really cannot handle that right now. He already feels like he's having his fucking man-period with all this emotion. Or maybe it's just another one of Adrian's dumb (and weirdly endearing) animal facts.

Chris gulps and he really hopes Emilia doesn't hear it. “Okay.”

“On the car ride to the house he got super antsy. More antsy than he usually is-”

Extra jittery Adrian; never a good sign.

“-because he thinks you're pissed at him.” Alright, what? Chris is not pissed at Adrian. Maybe right now for getting shot, but not really because it was Bloodsport's fault, not Vigilante's.

“Why the fuck would he think that?” Chris is getting defensive, it's all in his tone.

Harcourt chuckles. “Hell if I know. But, you can be kind of a raging dickhole, Chris. No offense.”

Chris sighs. “That’s fair, I guess.” He really can be a dick, especially to Adrian. He's been trying to be better about it, but he's only human. A very fucked up human.

“He told me he thinks you resent him when he gets to go on the ‘cool’ missions.” She shakes her head slowly. “I thought that was stupid as shit.”

Why did she think that was stupid? Chris can get resentful, in fact, it's one of the things he's trying to improve upon. Though, he can say with full honesty that this mission was progress because he was only irritated that he was benched for a few hours, and then got over it. He didn't even blame Adrian for it either.

“You may be an asshole, but you're bad at hiding your guilt.” Harcourt clocks him entirely. “And after these painful months of getting to know you all, I've seen how much you care. For us all, but mostly for Adrian, in this case. You could never resent that goofball for more than a few hours. He's the yin to your fucking yang or whatever the fuck, no matter how much you deny it.”

Chris wants to do just that, but the energy to do so has long been depleted. Instead, Chris looks at Adrian again.

Adrian may not be his #1 BFF, but he is at least 2nd place in the human category.

Chris can't remember a time when Vigilante didn't have his back. They've argued about stupid, petty shit, but in serious peril, Adrian has always supported Peacemaker. No questions asked. Chris thinks Adrian has probably saved his life more times than he can count. His days before prison were reckless and brutal.

Chris used to let his aggression out on simple criminals, not paying any attention to his own health much. As long as the motherfuckers he was after bit the bullet, he would do anything required. If that meant getting shot himself in the process, then so be it. If it meant he had to get seriously injured, well, that's the price for peace, isn't it?

The thing is though, he never did get fatally wounded because Vigilante had his six on lock at every moment. He would often pull Peacemaker back to reality, or literally pull Chris away from bullets whizzing through the air.

He owes a lot to Adrian, and he realizes that now.

“I said you were probably more pissed off at me than anyone.” Harcourt continues.

“I wasn't-”

“You were. Hey, I don't blame you. I don't like being sidelined either. Its when you dont fucking drop it is when I get annoyed.”

He'll add that to the fucking long ass list of things he needs to improve upon. “Noted.”

“You should make sure he knows you guys are good when he wakes.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “He gets weird when you're angry at him.”

“I know.” Chris frowns. “I will.” Harcourt lays a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder. He sets his hand on top of hers and squeezes lightly, appreciatively. Just then, Harcourt's phone starts ringing through the sterile walls of the hospital room. It makes Chris’ ears ache.

“Shit, it's ARGUS. I gotta take this.” She stands from the chair but leaves it next to Chris. “Actually fucking talk to him, Chris. I mean it.” Emilia jams a finger towards him, then puts her phone to her ear and walks out.

Chris wants to be more vulnerable, so yeah, he'll fucking try with Adrian of all people.

Chapter Text

The only thing that really hurts when Adrian opens his eyes are—well—his eyes.

Whoever decided to put cool-toned fluorescent bulbs in this room needs to be shot. Not literally, of course, unless they actually committed a crime—aside from the honorary felony of installing these bulbs—Adrian wouldn't kill them. Besides the assault on his eyes, they're exceptionally blurry. He really hopes the doctors didn't take his glasses away. That would be seriously inconvenient when he needs to book it out of this bitch.

Adrian straightens himself out on the hospital bed, and when he looks down he sees Chris’ sleeping form, head resting in his arms, torso leaning against the bed.

His first thought is that he looks so peaceful. It's fitting, he thinks.

Hah! Peace-ful. Peace-maker. Funny.

Adrian tries his best to locate his glasses, eyes darting around the room, but he comes up with nothing. The nurse probably stole his glasses or something since they're so cool and slick, great.

Now he has to kill her. Thief.

Before he does that though, he should really warn Peacemaker. Chris has been weird about Adrian killing people for a while now, so he likes to at least tell him before he does it. Sometimes Chris is even able to talk Adrian out of it.

Adrian strains sitting up further. Apparently his wound isn't entirely healed yet. It aches even more when he reaches his arm to tap Chris’ shoulder.

“Chris.” He whispers. “Chris.” He still doesn't wake. “Christopher!” Adrian yells, surprised at his own volume. Chris jumps up, clearly startled and looks at Adrian like he's crazy.

“Jesus! What the fuck, dude!” Chris clutches his heart, heaving in deep breaths.

“Sorry, sorry!” Adrian grimaces.

“Fuck, man.” Chris sighs and shakes his head. “Was that really necessary?” He's mad. Adrian knows because his voice is raised and he’s doing that weird scrunch-thing with his face.

“Yeah. You weren't waking up.” Adrian says simply.

Chris sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “What is it, Adrian?” Vigilante contemplates not letting Chris in on the whole ‘killing the nurse’ thing, but thinks better of it. He was just thinking about his new code with Peacemaker; he can't break it now.

“I have to kill the nurse.”

Chris’ eyes practically bulge out of his head.

Uh oh.

“You have to what? Have you fucking lost your mind?” Chris’ face contorts in confusion and alarm, shouting.

Yes, Adrian thinks. A while ago.

He shakes that thought away.

“She's a thief!” Adrian elaborates strongly. Chris should begin to understand, but for some reason he still looks like Adrian pissed in his corn flakes.

“No, she's not- fuck! She's not even a she, man, she's a he or- he's a he! He's a fucking male nurse!”

“Well in that case, my mistake,” he's genuine in that apology, but doesnt drop his aggravated tone, “he's a filthy fucking burglar!”

“Adrian.” Chris takes in a hard, slow breath, closing his eyes like he's about to explode before opening them and staring at Adrian in his very blurry eyes. “I’ve been here the whole time. The nurse didn't steal jackshit.” Adrian groans. How has Peacemaker not put it together yet?

“The motherfucker took my glasses! That ableist piece of shit! And now I can't see your stupid, muscled face!” Adrian yells before huffing and crosses his arms against his chest. He then remembers that he called Chris’ face stupid, and he feels bad. “Sorry. Your face isn't stupid, Chris.”

“Jesus.” Chris says under his breath. “Adrian. I have your glasses, dumbass.” He reaches his hand into his denim jacket and pulls out the glasses, handing them to Adrian.

Oh.

Well that's embarrassing.

Adrian immediately pushes the glasses onto his nose. Finally, he can see.

“Shit.” Adrian cringes. “Now I feel bad. Should I apologize? I was like- super close to killing him.” He grits his teeth. Adrian can't really read Chris’ face, but he thinks that the other man might be tired.

“No- fuck, Vig. That means he would know you wanted to fucking kill him.”

“Oh!” Chris isn't understanding. Again. “No, I meant should I apologize to you?” For some reason, Chris’ whole expression shifts. At first his face was all scrunched up, something he usually does before he tells Adrian to ‘shut the fuck up,’ but now its softer, more quizzical.

“Uh-” Chris stops himself. “I mean- why would you-” he cuts himself off again, and Adrian is just confused. Does Chris want an apology or not? Because Adrian kind of feels like he needs to. It's a new feeling (as most feelings are to him), but it's strong.

Instead of waiting for Chris to stutter his way through continuing his sentence, Adrian apologizes anyway. “You said you wanted me to kill less, so I'm sorry I almost killed an innocent male nurse.”

“Um, it's- it's alright, man.” Chris stammers. Adrian lets out a breath.

“Okay, cool, because I was worried you were gonna be pissed at me, again.” Adrian says it before he can think. Shit, he isn't supposed to address when Chris is angry. The last time he did that he got a very stern yelling. Adrian's eyes go wide.

Chris sighs, shaking his head. Weird. “Dude, I wasn't pissed at you earlier.”

“Really? Because it seem-”

“I wasn't! Okay?”

“Okay.” Adrian looks away and fidgets with his hand, but looks up at Chris again a few seconds later. “Did Harcourt talk to you?”

“Yeah. She did.” Adrian knows that he gave Harcourt the okay to talk to Chris about it, in fact he had been grateful when she suggested it, but now he feels weirdly peeved. For some reason a voice in his head is telling him that Chris is only saying this because Harcourt talked him into it. He doesn't really mean it. But, doesn't he? Chris is his BFF, right?

“Are you only saying you weren't pissed because you were actually pissed, but Harcourt told you to tell me that you weren't pissed off at me?” He blurts out, not giving Chris a chance to interrupt.

Chris’ face scrunches up again. “Yes.” He deadpans.

“Oh.” Adrian frowns, his stomach feels weird. “Really?”

“No!” Adrian sighs in relief. “I can think for myself, you know! I'm not Harcourt's cuck!”

Vig has really got to get better at differentiating sarcasm from regular speech. Ever since he was a kid, he's been bad at it, or everything to do with social skills in general.

Dorian used to tell him misinformation for fun, only for Adrian to then spread it like wildfire around school to then be treated like he was an idiot. Adrian is afraid to admit how many times he fell for it. He just has a hard time understanding why people choose to lie. It's not nice, and it's not fun. It was just unfortunate that his own brother got off on lying his ass off, knowing that Adrian didn't have a grasp on social cues, and has an oddly strong sense of justice.

“Sorry.” Adrian apologizes. He should really stop making assumptions all the time.

“I was annoyed, but I wasn't mad at you, Adrian.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.” Chris leaves them in an awkward silence, but Adrian doesn't really pick that up.

He idly wonders where Economos and Adebayo are. He also thinks about where Harcourt took Watersport.

“How's your-?” He asks after a moment, gesturing to Adrian's lower torso.

“Just aches a little.” Chris nods. Adrian goes to pat his gut with his fist to see if it's still sensitive, but Chris’ hand smacks his. “Ow!”

“Don't fucking punch it!”

“I was testing to see if it was better!”

“Well it's not gonna get any better doing that!” Okay. P's got a point. But Adrian's done this all before. Whatever, Adrian changes the subject.

“Where's Ads and John?”

“Uh, it's a long story.”

“How long?”

“Just-” Chris sighs, exasperated, “The doc said one visitor.”

“Oh. That's not long at all.” Adrian shrugs. It’s okay, he'll see them soon. At least he has Peacemaker here, his #1 person ever. “And Em?” This one he's curious about. He knows that Harcourt is a busy lady.

“Actually, she stopped by earlier.” Adrian is taken aback.

“How? What about the one visitor thing?”

“Apparently she has ARGUS special privilege or some shit.”

“Did she say anything about Bloodsport?”

Chris shakes his head. “No. Only an apology. I'm not sure what she did with him after all that.”

Adrian gut twists in an uncomfortable way. It's hard to even determine his own emotions, but he thinks he might be unsettled by the fact that no one except Harcourt knows Bloodsport's whereabouts.

“Don't worry about him, Adrian. Just get better so we can leave this shithole.”

It's not a shithole, Adrian thinks. The room theyre in in super fucking sterile, so he's about 90% sure you can't statistically-scientifically say that the hospital is a shithole. But, he lets it slide. For some reason, P doesn't like it when Adrian knows better.

Adrian is about to say something when the door opens slowly, revealing a man in scrubs carrying a tray of bandages and an assortment of tools. Male nurse!

“Sorry, if I'm interrupting.” The nurse smiles and he is hot. Not Chris level hot, but damn that grin could kill. Especially with the combination of his built, lean body. “Gotta change those bandages.” The nurse walks up to the side of the bed where Chris isn't, and begins putting rubber gloves on silently. Adrian is glad he doesn't have to kill this hottie because he seems like a nice guy.

Adrian glances over to Chris, and notices the weird look on his face. If he had to guess, he'd say that Chris looks uneasy.

“Alright.” The nurse clasps his hands together briefly. “I'm gonna lift the gown and get to work, that okay with you?” He asks Adrian politely.

“Okey dokey.” Adrian replies dorkily. Chris scoffs and chuckles.

As soon as the nurse lifts the gown, his eyebrows furrow and his smile falters. Adrian notices Chris go tense. He looks down at his own gut to see what all the fuss is about. The first thing he sees is that there is little to no blood on the bandage, just a small patch. The nurse continues working despite his confusion, slowly peeling off the bandage.

And oh no, male nurse looks shocked.

The stitches are still there, held in place well. There's dried, sticky blood around the wound, but nothing wet and new. The worst of it is the purple and yellow bruising on his abdomen.

“Holy shit.” The nurse breaths out.

. He rebandages Adrian probably too quickly and goes to read off some clipboard. “You got here last night, no? With a gunshot wound?”

“Ye-”

Chris clears his throat. “That must be a mistake. How the fuck would he be mostly healed if he got here last night?” Ah, we're lying.

“But- it says here you signed Mr. Smith-” Mr. Smith? “-in last night around 1 am'”

“Well, I guess your receptionist—or whoever the fuck—fucked up then!” Chris doubles down. Adrian notices that his voice gets deeper, more stern.

The nurse gives Chris a doubtful look and glances towards Adrian's wound, before settling back on Chris’ gaze.

Mr. Nurse's mannerisms seem strange now, like he's suspicious. It triggers Adrian's fight or flight, if he's honest, but he waits for Chris to call the shots.

“Um, I don't think so, our lady's been working here for over 40 years. Mistakes like that aren't easy to make, sir.” He laughs awkwardly and begins gathering the shit he brought in the room faster than Adrian thinks is necessary.

“Oh yeah?” Chris raises his voice. “Maybe she made a mistake because she's fucking ancient? I mean- working here for over 40 fucking years? What is she? Like fuckin’ 93?”

The nurse's eyes go wide and he shudders. “Uh-” he stammers, “I- I'm sorry, ill be- let me ask someone something- and ill clear all this right up!” Male nurse rushes out of the hospital room.

“Shit!” Chris yells as soon as the coast is clear. “Has your healing gotten even faster?”

Adrian tilts his head, his eyebrows screwing together. “No?” He puts a hand to the wound. “Not that I know of.”

“Whatever, we'll figure that out later.” Chris sighs, his unease makes Adrian nervous. “I gotta call Ads, it's time for us to bail.”

That's when it clicks for Adrian. “OH! Because male nurse figured out I'm a low-key metahuman?” Adrian shrieks.

“Yes! And it's not low key, dude. Its pretty fucking high key!”

Welp, this is bad.

The federal world isn't too fond of metahumans right now. Hell, they wanted to fucking put Superman away not that long ago and that guy hasn’t committed a single crime! Adrian may not be his biggest fan, but come on!

Harcourt told them that there are apparently dangers in being metahuman that aren't exactly arrest related too. She said that some are being experimented on, mainly due to their healing factor.

Which—fucking shit—that's Adrian's whole meta-thing!

Usually Adrian wouldn't be concerned about that part of hospital visits, mainly just his identity being revealed, but now he guesses that's not his number 1 priority anymore.

Adrian watches Chris fumble with his phone, put it up to his ear, and then lock the hospital room door.

———(C)

“Hey! How's everything going? Smooth?” Adebayo's voice calmly says into Chris’ ear. He kind of feels like hexs going to explode.

“No, Ads, the opposite actually.”

“Holy shit, what? Did Adrian fucking die? Please tell me he didn't die!” Leota practically screams into the phone. Shit, he didn't mean to make it sound like that.

“No- no, Adrian's fucking fine.” In that moment, Chris puts her on speaker, gesturing at Adrian to speak.

“Hi Lee!” Adrian's grin covers his entire face, and for some reason he waves at the phone like she can fucking see him.

Adebayo sighs loud enough that the phone speaker crackles. “Oh thank god.”

“Don't thank him yet. The goddamn male nurse figured out Vig is metahuman. We need EVAC. Now.”

“Okay, fuck. I'm on my way. What side of the hospital are you guys on?”

“Right side from the entrance, second floor.”

“Alright, let's hope I don't get a speeding ticket.” Adebayo huffs. “Be there soon. Please don't break your legs jumping outta that window.”

“No promises!” Adrian jokes.

Chris sighs and shakes his head. “Thanks, Ads.”

“This is what friends are for Chris. Breaking each other outta hospitals and things of that nature.” Leota chuckles, Chris returns it. “I'll call Ems and let her know the sitch.” Then she ends the call. Luckily, Ads doesn't live too far from the hospital; around 5-7 minutes or so. Though with the speeding she may get here in 2.

“Aw.” Adrian whines. “She didn't say bye.” That comical frown Adrian gets is plastered on his face. Chris briefly thinks that it's funny that Adrian is genuinely saddened, but then mentally kicks himself because that's such an asshole thing to think. Fuck off, sadistic mind.

“Can you stand?” Chris gets down to business. They have no time to waste. Harcourt wasn't kidding when she said that hospitals aren't playing about metahumans. If you are one, you're supposed to disclose that immediately. One of the new protocols, apparently. There's a group, not specifically tied to ARGUS—but Emilia has her theories—has been enforcing it, even going as far as firing staff who don't document it. Fucking ridiculous and a total invasion of rights. The government needs to stay the fuck away from some shit, and that is definitely in there.

Without a word, Adrian bolts up from his sitting position, stands up straight on the opposite side of the bed (the one where Chris isn't), and then collapses to the floor.

Chris stands in shock for a second before his instincts kick in. He rounds the bed and sees that Adrian is still conscious, but looks loopy and in pain.

“No.” Adrian answers his question stupidly, rubbing a hand on the back of his head. He must be dizzy and off balance from the blood loss. Chris knows that the drugs likely didn't do shit to Adrian because of the metahuman thing. Drinking barely did anything to Adrian on a regular occasion. It takes about 12 beers before Adrian can get drunk, he's seen it happen. Hangovers are also not a thing for him, lucky bastard.

Chris doesn't yell like he usually would, instead he helps Adrian sit up before opening the window. He looks down, trying to gauge the distance they'd fall. It's not too far, in fact, he doesn't think it'll cause much injury, but he also not sure now because carrying Adrian's weight might fuck it all up. Chris walks back over to Adrian, sticks his right arm under Adrian's, and then his left under his legs; bridal style. He then goes back to the window, waiting.

“I've had dreams about this.” Adrian giggles.

“About AMA?”

Adrian shakes his head. “No, silly.” He boops Chris’ nose, and he flinches away from it. “You carrying me!”

“That's fucking weird, dude.”

Adrian's smile leaves his face. “No, it's not.”

“I literally carried you yesterday.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't conscious for that so it basically didn't happen at all!”

Chris is starting to regret this. He should've forced Vig to walk, and just kept a steady arm around his shoulder.

“Hey, and why did the male nurse call me Mr. Smith?” Chris’ face redden and he thank whatever fucking God there is that Adrian isnt good at reading social cues.

“I think we should stop talking.” And again, he is blessed because a car horn suddenly sounds from below the window, then followed by some frantic yelling.

“Get your asses down here! I’m parked in the fucking grass!” Adebayo peaks out from the passenger window.

“Okay.” Chris sikes himself up. He turns his head to Adrian's (which is in fact inches away from his). “Hold on so fucking tight, man.” Adrian immediately grips his arms tighter around Chris's neck.

“You should've taken the sheet from the bed and swaddled me to your chest like a baby.” Adrian says creepily into his ear, and for some reason Chris doesn't think that would've been the worst idea. It's way too late now though he thinks as he hears knocking on the hospital door and the sound of the doctor's voice.

The bushes below the window look soft enough. He would've had Ads bring a mattress or something, but they were on a time crunch, so now he's going to have to live with some soreness.

“Any day now!” Ads scolds.

“Shit. We're going.” Chris barely warns Adrian, before jumping.

It feels like they're suspended in the air for 30 seconds straight, the weight of Adrian getting substantially heavier in his arms as they fall.

“Fuck!” He lands right on his ass, sharp twigs practically in his ass and puncturing his entire lower body. His chest and dick were also crushed by Adrian during the fall, so that's great. He's not sure he can stand after that.

“Oh my god, are you guys okay?” Adebayo gets out of her car and runs over to where they're lying in the bushes pathetically.

Adrian laughs. “Totally.” Chris rolls his eyes and shoves Adrian lightly off of him. “Ouch.”

Adebayo helps Chris up first. Chris’ legs crack like hell as she pulls him up, but he's able to stand, so that's a start. The immediate soreness doesn't help, but it's manageable. When he looks at Adrian, he's lying on his back in a starfish position in the bushes, his face content.

“You grab his legs, I'll get his arms.” Chris tells Leota, she nods in response.

They make quick work of shoving Adrian in the back seat. Chris forces him to sit up so that he can actually wear the fucking seat belt. Then, Chris places himself in the passenger seat next to Adebayo.

Chris thinks they're going to peel away slowly, but as soon as Lee's foot meets the pedal, theyre fucking flying across the grass. Chris grips the dash for dear life, hoping that Adrian is stable in the back, though he probably is because all Chris can hear from him is cackling and cheering.

Once the car hits the road, she slows, letting out a harsh breath.

“Woo! Can we do that again?” Adrian leans through the gap between their seats.

“Hell no!” Ads replies before Chris can scold Adrian.

“Why? That was fucking fun as shit!”

“You know we just broke several laws, Adrian?” Adebayo shouts. Chris thinks she should know better. Adrian doesn't mind breaking a couple laws himself as long as he can justify it in some weird way.

“So?” Adrian laughs, shaking his head, but stops quickly, realization and disappointment crossing his features. That famous frown. “Fuck! Chris, my suit! We forgot it!” He whines. His face ends up in his hands.

Chris looks at Ads, and she's able to read his thoughts quickly. “Fuck no, we're not going back!” She puts her foot down. Well, there's no arguing with her on that, and to be honest, Chris doesn't really want to go back either.

“You have extras in your basement, Adrian.” Chris coaxes him. “And it was covered in your own dried blood, dude. Gross.”

“Uh, that's why I have a washing machine, duh?” Adrian rolls his eyes. He seems to drop the topic though, which he thinks both himself and Adebayo appreciate. Adrian can really rant on and on when he gets irritated.

Adebayo's phone vibrates when it's resting in the cup holder. Then again, and again, and again. “Shit, someone's calling me. Can you pick it up?” She asks Chris.

He nods, reaching his hand over-

“I got it!” Adrian snatches the phone from the cup holder. Chris watches him look at the caller ID. “It's Harcourt.” He answers it. “Hey, Em.” Adrian says sweetly into the phone. Chris hears some gentle murmuring coming from the speaker, but it's too low to make anything out. “Yeah.” A pause. “Uh huh.” Another pause. Then Adrian's grin sours. He brings the phone away from his ear. “She wants me to put her on speaker.”

“And that disappoints you, why?” Adebayo sounds just as confused as Chris feels.

“Because I wanted to talk to her.”

“You still can?”

“But now it’s with you guys too, so it's not as special.” Adrian pouts, but puts her on speaker.

“Fuck's sake.” Is the first thing they hear from Harcourt. “Ads, why did Adrian pick up your phone?”

“He just grabbed it, I don't know!” She scrambles. “I meant for Chris to pick it up.”

“Hey! What's wrong with me picking up the phone?” Adrian seems genuinely offended. Chris chooses to stay out of it.

Harcourt groans. “Nothing, Adrian.” He can practically hear her eyes rolling in her head. “You guys get out of there unscathed?”

“For the most part.” Chris finally speaks up.

“Good. Head to HQ. John is here too.”

Adrian giggles. “Ha, that rhymed.”

“Force Adrian to get some fucking sleep while you're on the road. He needs to heal, we got shit to do.”

“Youre not my fucking mom.” Adrian retaliates, but his tone is sort of light, like he isn't sure he wants to test Harcourt. Chris can't help but laugh, ruffling it with the back of his hand.

“No, but im your fucking boss, dickstick. Do what I say.” Adrian sinks down into his seat.

“Fine.” He mumbles.

Chris tells Adrian to move to a window seat so he can rest his head and nap. For some reason, that works, and he sleeps the entire ride.