H/C - "Ich kann das nicht ohne dich."
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120_minutenTitel: Force of Will
Team: Serenity
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort - “Ich kann das nicht ohne dich.” (für's Team)
Fandom: Altered Carbon (@![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rei17: Kann ich bitte bitte einen Tag haben? :D)
Charaktere: Kristin Ortega, Takeshi Kovacs
Sprache: English
Wörter: 1.100
Widmung:der_jemand
Kommentar: Ich bin in eine neue Obsession gefallen und habe außerdem beschlossen, für die Sommerchallenge noch ein paar Charaktere zu foltern… und deshalb bekommt ihr jetzt das hier. ;) (Erfordert übrigens nicht wirklich Vorwissen. :D)
She’s never seen him so vulnerable before.
Force of Will
She wakes up to a pounding headache. The smell is a slap in the face, like stale rainwater, trash, and cheap fast food. She’s lying in a puddle of what she can only hope is water.
She has to blink a few times to dispel the haze in front of her eyes before she can make out her surroundings. The dark alley could be anywhere, but the fuzzing neon sign way down on the other side of the road looks vaguely familiar. There’s a small shape scurrying into the shadows as she first tries to move.
The memories come back to her in jagged pieces and in no particular order, little more than images with feelings attached. Mostly fear, and pain. Her whole body feels black and blue.
She tries out her voice. “Kovacs.” It sounds like she just swallowed a bag of nails.
No answer. She turns her head and sees a human shape lying about two meters away. As her eyes get used to the dark, she can make up his broad shoulders, the color of his hair.
The adrenaline rush gives her enough energy to get herself upright. “Kovacs.”
He’s not moving.
She crawls towards him. As soon as she is within reach, she grabs his hand and turns it around to feel for a pulse on his wrist. It’s there, but it doesn’t feel right, or maybe that’s her own beating heart muddling everything up.
She pulls at his coat to turn him around. It’s like trying to shift a bag of bricks. Never has she been more aware of how much bigger he is than her.
Finally, she can take a look at his face. It’s completely still, and there’s blood running down his temple and drying in his hair. She’s never seen him so vulnerable before.
She wonders what they had to do to take him down, but her jumbled memories don’t give her an answer. Maybe she was already out by then. But she has no doubt that it had to be significant. She’s seen him fight, that man is like a machine.
Her gaze wanders down his body, catalogues each rip in his clothing, every scrape on his skin, but she can’t tell how much of the blood on him is his and how much is someone else’s.
She pats his cheek and gets his blood on her fingers in the process. “Kovacs, wake up.”
No reaction.
There’s a spike of fear in her chest. What is she gonna do? They have to get out of here, but there’s no way she can carry him.
She grabs the front of his coat and shakes him. “Dammit, Kovacs, come on!”
She can feel her bottom lip trembling and bites down on it hard to make it stop. She can taste the metal of her blood, but maybe that was there before.
“Don’t die on me, okay! I still need you.” Don’t leave me alone, is on her tongue, but she swallows it down. I can’t do this without you.
His groan is so quiet she almost misses it. But then his eyelashes flutter and he opens his eyes. She can see exactly how unfocused his gaze is for a moment before it hones in on her.
“Ortega?” Her name is little more than a whisper, but hearing it has never made her so happy before.
“You bastard!” She punches his chest for good measure, but the resulting wince makes her feel guilty. When she brushes the hair out of his face, she makes sure to be gentle.
His next question does nothing to alleviate her guilt. “Are you okay?”
“I feel like someone put me in a washing machine and then hung me out to dry, but yeah, I’ll live. You look like shit though.”
“What happened?”, he mumbled.
“I was hoping you would tell me.” She notes with alarm that he hasn’t even tried to get up yet.
“All… a bit fuzzy.” His hand comes up to his face, but she catches it before he can touch the wound there.
“Let’s keep all the nasty bacteria that live here away from that, huh?” She pulls a handkerchief out of a pocket and wipes away the worst of the blood. “Do you think you can get up?”
“I don’t know.” His earnestness is both endearing and unsettling.
“Let me rephrase that: If you can’t get up, we might have to stay for the night, because I can’t carry you.”
He groans. “Okay, I can get up.”
Still, it’s more of a team effort, and in some moments it feels like she’s the one doing all the work. The height difference of more than a head doesn’t make things any easier. Kovacs face is growing paler by the minute, and his breath is coming in shallow pants.
“Don’t you dare throw up on me.”
“Trying”, he manages to get out.
The bickering can’t quite hide how worried she is, though. Kovacs is not the type to exaggerate how bad he feels, on the contrary, and she hasn’t even had the chance to take a look at the rest of his body yet. From the way he grits his teeth as she wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, she figures that there are at least a couple cracked ribs in the mix.
“God, why are you so heavy”, she mumbles as she stumbles underneath his weight.
“Why are you so small.”
“Hey, watch it.”
If he can still insult here, maybe it isn’t as bad as it looks.
They manage to make their way out of the alley looking in all probability like a very odd couple competing in a three-legged race. Reality is not far off, since it hasn’t escaped her attention that one of his legs is doing a lot more work than the other.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Don’t know. Hurts.”
“Mierda.”
They stop at the corner so Kovacs can lean against the brick wall to catch his breath. “Ortega… we will never get anywhere like this. We don’t even - know where we are.”
She grins and shakes her head. “I’m a street cop, remember?” She nods towards the fizzing neon sign of the seedy bar across the street. “I know exactly where we are and where we’re going.”
One of the small smiles she has grown to be so familiar with is pulling at the corner of his mouth. “How did I ever survive without you?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. Come on, vamonos.”
Everything will be fine, she thinks as she pulls his arm over her shoulder once again. They’ll get back and she will stitch him back together, no matter how bad it is. It will all be fine.
She’ll make it so.
TBC? ;)
Team: Serenity
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort - “Ich kann das nicht ohne dich.” (für's Team)
Fandom: Altered Carbon (@
rei17: Kann ich bitte bitte einen Tag haben? :D)Charaktere: Kristin Ortega, Takeshi Kovacs
Sprache: English
Wörter: 1.100
Widmung:
der_jemandKommentar: Ich bin in eine neue Obsession gefallen und habe außerdem beschlossen, für die Sommerchallenge noch ein paar Charaktere zu foltern… und deshalb bekommt ihr jetzt das hier. ;) (Erfordert übrigens nicht wirklich Vorwissen. :D)
She’s never seen him so vulnerable before.
Force of Will
She wakes up to a pounding headache. The smell is a slap in the face, like stale rainwater, trash, and cheap fast food. She’s lying in a puddle of what she can only hope is water.
She has to blink a few times to dispel the haze in front of her eyes before she can make out her surroundings. The dark alley could be anywhere, but the fuzzing neon sign way down on the other side of the road looks vaguely familiar. There’s a small shape scurrying into the shadows as she first tries to move.
The memories come back to her in jagged pieces and in no particular order, little more than images with feelings attached. Mostly fear, and pain. Her whole body feels black and blue.
She tries out her voice. “Kovacs.” It sounds like she just swallowed a bag of nails.
No answer. She turns her head and sees a human shape lying about two meters away. As her eyes get used to the dark, she can make up his broad shoulders, the color of his hair.
The adrenaline rush gives her enough energy to get herself upright. “Kovacs.”
He’s not moving.
She crawls towards him. As soon as she is within reach, she grabs his hand and turns it around to feel for a pulse on his wrist. It’s there, but it doesn’t feel right, or maybe that’s her own beating heart muddling everything up.
She pulls at his coat to turn him around. It’s like trying to shift a bag of bricks. Never has she been more aware of how much bigger he is than her.
Finally, she can take a look at his face. It’s completely still, and there’s blood running down his temple and drying in his hair. She’s never seen him so vulnerable before.
She wonders what they had to do to take him down, but her jumbled memories don’t give her an answer. Maybe she was already out by then. But she has no doubt that it had to be significant. She’s seen him fight, that man is like a machine.
Her gaze wanders down his body, catalogues each rip in his clothing, every scrape on his skin, but she can’t tell how much of the blood on him is his and how much is someone else’s.
She pats his cheek and gets his blood on her fingers in the process. “Kovacs, wake up.”
No reaction.
There’s a spike of fear in her chest. What is she gonna do? They have to get out of here, but there’s no way she can carry him.
She grabs the front of his coat and shakes him. “Dammit, Kovacs, come on!”
She can feel her bottom lip trembling and bites down on it hard to make it stop. She can taste the metal of her blood, but maybe that was there before.
“Don’t die on me, okay! I still need you.” Don’t leave me alone, is on her tongue, but she swallows it down. I can’t do this without you.
His groan is so quiet she almost misses it. But then his eyelashes flutter and he opens his eyes. She can see exactly how unfocused his gaze is for a moment before it hones in on her.
“Ortega?” Her name is little more than a whisper, but hearing it has never made her so happy before.
“You bastard!” She punches his chest for good measure, but the resulting wince makes her feel guilty. When she brushes the hair out of his face, she makes sure to be gentle.
His next question does nothing to alleviate her guilt. “Are you okay?”
“I feel like someone put me in a washing machine and then hung me out to dry, but yeah, I’ll live. You look like shit though.”
“What happened?”, he mumbled.
“I was hoping you would tell me.” She notes with alarm that he hasn’t even tried to get up yet.
“All… a bit fuzzy.” His hand comes up to his face, but she catches it before he can touch the wound there.
“Let’s keep all the nasty bacteria that live here away from that, huh?” She pulls a handkerchief out of a pocket and wipes away the worst of the blood. “Do you think you can get up?”
“I don’t know.” His earnestness is both endearing and unsettling.
“Let me rephrase that: If you can’t get up, we might have to stay for the night, because I can’t carry you.”
He groans. “Okay, I can get up.”
Still, it’s more of a team effort, and in some moments it feels like she’s the one doing all the work. The height difference of more than a head doesn’t make things any easier. Kovacs face is growing paler by the minute, and his breath is coming in shallow pants.
“Don’t you dare throw up on me.”
“Trying”, he manages to get out.
The bickering can’t quite hide how worried she is, though. Kovacs is not the type to exaggerate how bad he feels, on the contrary, and she hasn’t even had the chance to take a look at the rest of his body yet. From the way he grits his teeth as she wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, she figures that there are at least a couple cracked ribs in the mix.
“God, why are you so heavy”, she mumbles as she stumbles underneath his weight.
“Why are you so small.”
“Hey, watch it.”
If he can still insult here, maybe it isn’t as bad as it looks.
They manage to make their way out of the alley looking in all probability like a very odd couple competing in a three-legged race. Reality is not far off, since it hasn’t escaped her attention that one of his legs is doing a lot more work than the other.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“Don’t know. Hurts.”
“Mierda.”
They stop at the corner so Kovacs can lean against the brick wall to catch his breath. “Ortega… we will never get anywhere like this. We don’t even - know where we are.”
She grins and shakes her head. “I’m a street cop, remember?” She nods towards the fizzing neon sign of the seedy bar across the street. “I know exactly where we are and where we’re going.”
One of the small smiles she has grown to be so familiar with is pulling at the corner of his mouth. “How did I ever survive without you?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. Come on, vamonos.”
Everything will be fine, she thinks as she pulls his arm over her shoulder once again. They’ll get back and she will stitch him back together, no matter how bad it is. It will all be fine.
She’ll make it so.
TBC? ;)