sekkritaus | Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

[ It's a diversion that works, at least. Whatever toxin flows through her veins now, driving that violent instinct — it doesn't seem to prefer any one target over another. Maybe she was having fun one-on-one with Rex, but the bloodthirst isn't picky. As soon as that first Imp appears around the corner, she veers off from her dodged pursuit of Rex, launching herself at this fresh meat without even missing a step.

He barely gets a chance to utter a strangled little sound before she's crashing into him, vicious and relentless — a terror with only a knife in her hand, that mean edge peeling open armor to get at the soft flesh beneath. His screaming is muffled by his helmet.

And there's more where that came from. Other guards, following behind. They should keep her busy — for a short while, at least. ]

[ It doesn't... not affect Rex, seeing that. All of them can get vicious in battle, if earned, and while the Imps have earned it, not all of them know what they're doing - many are victims of the machine that they cannot comprehend. Usually when they make it hurt, it's a fair fight. Not like this, Andy like some wild bird carefully picking through the shell of a nut or seed to get to the tender flesh beneath, filled with just as much instinct.

Rex grabs at one of the guards and puts him in a headlock. ]

Where's the antidote? [ He barks. ]

W-what?

Antidote! Where is it! Tell me quickly, now, because she'll get to you before she gets to me.

[ A human shield. Not a fair tactic, but a useful one. The guard stutters and stammers his way through directions (in another wing, not so far from here, no doubt filled with all sorts of nasty things that their scientists have cooked up) and Rex pushes him to the ground shortly thereafter, because he said he wasn't going to use him as a human shield if he was given answers, not that he was going to help him. ]

Good luck, [ he says gruffly, sprinting further ahead to the next door. It needs clearance. Rex, being the genius that he is, punches the keypad. To his credit, rattling his fist among the wires at least makes the door open a smidgen, wide enough for him to get through -- but only if he sheds his armour.

So he does. ]

[ It's a few minutes before Andy emerges from the adjacent hallway. Long enough for Rex's human shield to make his getaway. Long enough for Rex himself to escape through the sliver of an opening left by the broken door. Her eyes trail over to the sparking keypad, then down to the abandoned armor. Her mouth curves up again, slow and mean. Coming up to the door, she casually nudges his helmet with her boot, pushing it back and forth a little before kicking it out of the way.

Her hand leaves a bloody smear when she grips the side of the door, gauging that small space. She never wears armor herself, and she's a good deal slighter than Rex — she just has to duck her head to pass through to the other side. ]

You can't play coy with me forever. We'll run out of Imps, eventually. [ She calls out mildly, those bloodshot eyes drifting around as she searches for signs of her quarry. ] I told you, remember? I'd fight an entire army just to have my way —

[ Suddenly, she stops. Coughs. Violently. Specks of blood fleck the ground in front of her. Oh.

Maybe there was a reason the Empire hadn't released armies of troopers pumped full of whatever poison she'd inhaled. ]

Andy!

[ He wants to rush to her side. At another time, he would, help prop her up, get her seated by the wall, tell her to rest. He can't risk it now. She'd gut him like a fish, especially after he's stripped out of his armour. For the first time today, they're on a level playing field, and when it comes to Andy? Rex isn't ashamed to admit that he needs the handicap.

So once he sees that Andy's busy, he turns his back to her (against his better judgement) and starts rifling through the conservator, cursing underneath his breath as he realizes that he can't simply toss aside the unrelated vials. God only knows what those will do. Near the back, he reaches in to find something that looks like it ought to be the antidote, just based on context clues alone.

Not a great start, but better than what he's got now. ]

You just wait. We'll get this sorted.

[ She lifts her arm to wipe the blood from her mouth, smearing it across her lips and her cheek as she eyes him across the room. Her grip on her knife tightens again, its hungry blade as red as the smudges on her face. She tilts her head aside slowly, spitting out a bit more blood before she starts making her way towards him. Not rushed. Maybe because of her wheezing breaths, and maybe because she doesn't think there's anywhere he can run now. ]

What are you up to, Rex?

[ Dimly, in the back of her head, she recognizes the concern in his voice. That it's for her. And she loves that about him — that he cares about her, even now, even when the one thing she wants more than anything is a fight to the death. Her love coexists with her bloodthirst. Drives it, even. Makes Rex the quarry she can't let go. ]

What are you trying to pull?

I'm not trying to pull anything, you ungrateful woman, [ Rex snaps back, patience fraying in the face of her continued taunting even as he's afraid she's expiring before his very eyes, the fact that she's so intent on violence while speaking to him like she knows him. ]

I'm trying to save you. Because I'm not going back to that ship without you. I refuse.

[ He shouldn't say that. He doesn't mean it. Or -- he shouldn't mean it. Poe's waiting, and even if they did lose her, he doesn't deserve to lose the both of them. But he can't imagine going back without her, doesn't want to. That's not the right of it. She's supposed to be unstoppable. That's what made this whole thing so difficult.

He whirls around, pressing her up against the wall again to spray what he prays is the antidote right into her face. He hopes like hell it is, because he knows how vulnerable he is like this. The only thing is, she is too, her blood sprayed across the sterile surface of the floor. ]

[ There's a split second where she looks absolutely wild as he shoves her up against the wall — eyes bloodshot, teeth bared, her grip on her knife white-knuckled and every muscle in her body taut with killing intent — but that faceful of aerosol antidote stops her dead. The knife falls from her hand and clatters to the floor as she starts to violently cough — so hard that the force of it would have her doubled over if not for his arm holding her back. Her eyes water as if purging themselves, saline streaking down her cheeks as she wheezes out a few pained breaths. Unconsciously, she reaches out for something to steady herself, snagging a tight fistful of his clothes and digging her fingers in as she rides it out.

It seems like an eternity before the tension finally ebbs from her body. Her grip on him goes slack, her head falling back against the wall behind her as she breathes, slow and unsteady. For a long while, she doesn't say anything at all. She just watches him from under half-lowered eyelashes, trying to get her breathing to even out.

Finally, in a rough rasp just tinged with her old wryness: ]

Stubborn bastard.

[ Rex, of course, doesn't let go of her. He keeps her pressed up against the wall, forearm digging into her chest, knuckles still white where he's clutching onto the antidote for dear life. It feels a little wrong - he should be helping her when she's succumbing to something that feels so violent, so contrary to everything he knows about her, the way she should be like, how invincible she's always seemed - but he's no fool.

He doesn't let relief sink in yet. He won't until they're well and truly in the clear. Not if she confirms that she's fine. Not if they get out of here. And not if they get on the ship. No, he'll only relax days from now, when he knows for a fact that it's not lingering in her system, that it hasn't done anything worse.

But for now, he wants the single success. ]

You with me again, Andy?

[ Andy isn't thinking about days from now — the possibility of lingering effects, damage that her Scythian biology might not be able to just shake off. Her thoughts still seem a little sluggish, as if her mind had suddenly been forced out of hyperdrive, everything abruptly slowed down as reality sinks back in. Vaguely, she's aware that there's a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. Her ribs fucking ache from the force of her coughing fit. She's exhausted. It's his arm holding her up more than her own two legs.

But then she hears his voice, and the corner of her lips curves upward just so.

That's their Rex. A seasoned soldier — too good at what he does to give in to the temptation of relief until he's sure. Until he hears her answer. ]

...Afraid so, Captain. [ There's still a strained rasp to her voice, but she isn't actively trying to tear his throat out, so it seems like an honest reply, despite her wryness. ] But give me a minute to catch my breath and I'll chase you around the base again, if you want.

It's not funny, [ Rex snaps. This is how they are, isn't it? They joke under pressure. They always joke under pressure. Others may not see it as jokes - they're admittedly a little flat in their delivery - but that's what they are nonetheless, toying with each other in the midst of battle. This is different. ]

We don't know what that stuff could have done to you. Might still be doing to you.

[ But sometimes -- sometimes, the jokes don't work anymore. And it's at times like these, when someone who ought to be functionally immortal suddenly isn't. He eases off on her a little bit, pressure on her chest lessening until he finally relents entirely, hand slipping down her arm to press against the inside of her wrist. ]

Let's not do that again.

[ But she's Andy — Andy the Scythian, the centuries-old freelancer, that old unkillable bitch, so what can she do except joke about it now? She wouldn't probably know how to cope properly with the idea of death even if it stared her straight in the face. Her relationship with the concept can't ever be normal now — if it ever was. It's easier to pretend the call wasn't close, that they would've been fine no matter what. Rex had it handled, didn't he. It was just a little detour on their mission. A little bump in the road. A little extra adrenaline rush.

It's fine.

It's fine.

Fuck.

Who gives a fuck if she could have died anyway.

Who gives a fuck if she could still maybe die from it —

She might have killed him.

She —

She doesn't realize how tightly she was clenching her fist until she feels his hand at her wrist. Her expression had been composed this whole time, despite the trickle of blood at her mouth and the weariness deepening the lines of her already severe face. She thought she'd been playing it off, but... It. Terrifies her. The idea that she could have murdered him in a gleeful bloody rage. How would she have lived with that? How could she have ever gone home to Poe then? Fuck.

Fuck.

Andy lifts her arm again as if to wipe blood or sweat from her face. But her arm stays raised, covering her eyes. After a few moments, her shoulders start to tremble ever so slightly. ]

[ Rex makes no secret of the fact that his hand dropped to Andy's wrist to check her heartbeat. She's still standing in front of him. Of course she's still alive. But it reassures him to hear it, to feel it, to have pure, tangible proof that she's still standing here in front of him, alive if not wholly well.

He doesn't realize at first what's happening when her pulse quickens and her expression changes, surging forward a little, concerned -- no, afraid. He doesn't know what it's doing to her. If it's tearing her up inside, if the antidote will cause some sort of detoxification period, if she'll bend underneath the pressure, those ancient bones unused to this sort of chemical warfare. ]

What is it, what's happening? Andy, talk to me.

[ She wants to tell him that she's fine. She is fine. Or she will be. It's not that. It's — fuck.

It would be easy to blame the toxin. She could make the excuse that she wasn't herself — that it wasn't her that wanted to tear Rex's throat out — and he would let her get away with it. Maybe he'd even want to believe that. But some part of her thrived while the poison flooded her veins, opening her up to liberate the primal, blood-thirsty thing that's always lived there, deep down. That part of her loved the chase. The kill. And that part of her would have ripped him to shreds, and it wouldn't have mattered how much she loves him.

The tears that threaten at the corners of her eyes are self-loathing and angry. She doesn't want him to see it. To see her. Not like this. But she can't give voice yet to the lies that would be necessary to try and reassure him. So she just doesn't answer. Just stands there with her face covered and her shoulders faintly trembling. ]

[ Rex doesn't know what's happening. Only that Andy is trembling, shuddering before him, lost and vulnerable in a way that looks wrong on her and that he's never quite seen before. He doesn't like it. He doesn't know if it's the detox or -- hell, it could be anything, couldn't it?

He stands there awkwardly for a moment. Longer than Poe would. Poe would have been there straightaway, but he just stands there, hands on either of her shoulders, helplessly squeezing them as he susses out what's next. But he gets the idea eventually and tugs her forward into his arms, trying to wrap them around her.

They could be interrupted by an enemy at any moment, he knows, but if they are, he'll ready to rip their throat out with his teeth, if need be. ] It's all right, [ he murmurs. ] We're going to get out of here, all right? Get you some rest after all that.

[ There's an instinctive tension that rises in her shoulders as he pulls her closer — some part of her that still doesn't trust herself. But it lasts only a moment, that slight resistance to being comforted — then she puts her arms around him fiercely, holding him against her with all the strength left in her body. She's so sorry. Sorry for being reckless, for being barbaric and cruel — but unable to voice that apology, knowing that she isn't likely to change either. She is what she is. A terrible, violent mess.

But she's a terrible, violent mess that loves him. And that love swells painfully in her chest when he tells her it's all right — him, comforting her, when she was the one who nearly murdered him —

Her grip on him tightens. Her voice is muffled when it finally comes: ]

Don't let this change us.

[ Quieter still, low and rough: ]

Please.

We won't be running into any more enemy bases on our own anytime soon, [ Rex murmurs. He doesn't let her go. She seems like she needs it even more than he does, and in fairness, he needs it quite a bit - he still doesn't feel secure with her, worrying that she's going to turn again at any moment, that she's going to crumple in his arms, that something else is going to happen because kriff if he understands biological warfare. He smooths one hand fretfully against the flat of her back. If she ignores the hitch in his breath, he will too. ]

That wasn't you. I know it wasn't. You wouldn't hurt me. [ He considers his previously broken nose. It had been broken a good few times before Andy headbutted him in the face. ] Not like that.

I know, Andy. I know.

[ It shames her. That he's the one offering her comfort when she's the one that tried to cut his throat. That he had to see her like that, bloody and grinning, hungry for the kill. It wouldn't have mattered if it was someone else. She's done terrible things in her long life — without the excuse of some toxin either. She's been a murderer, a thief, a cheat, and a liar. She lived a long, messy life before she ever met him. But when Rex looks at her, she wants —

She wants him to see someone worthwhile. Deserving of his love and his loyalty.

Her grip on him lingers for another long moment before she finally starts to pull back a little — just enough to look him in the eye, her gaze steady despite her shame. Her palms are rough when the come to press against his face, cupping the strong line of his jaw as she tips his head down towards her so that their noses almost brush. ]

I love you. [ A murmur, barely there at all. ] Can we go the fuck home?

I've wanted to go home for a while now, [ Rex says, voice a little hoarse, a terribly fondness in him as he looks at her, pressing his hand to the side of her face, thumb skimming past her cheekbone. He just looks at her for a second. Taking her in. She's pale, still. He's still looking at her, inspecting her veins, her sway, and presses one hand over her heart. He breathes her in, then exhales. She's still here with him. Despite everything, she's still here with him. ]

We'll have to fight our way out. And we can't let them do that to you again. Not ever. [ Or to anyone else, he'd usually say. Usually, he'd want to destroy the source. To hell with everyone else. He cares about her. No principles can get in the way of that. ]

Be careful. Please.

[ Underneath the weight of his hand, her heart still throbs in her chest — a slightly unsteady but strong rhythm, painful for reasons related more to the fondness she sees in his face than the toxin so recently purged from her veins. Yeah. She wants to go home. She wants to go home, curl into bed with him, and not leave for days. But he's right. They'll have to fight their way out first, and she probably hasn't helped things much by putting the entire place on high alert with her bloody rampage.

She doesn't feel entirely ready to move yet. But she has to. She has to force herself to let go of him and brace her tired body for what comes next.

Normally, she'd brush off the idea of being careful. She'd say something wry and dismissive. She might even laugh — that low, rough chuckle of hers. But this time, she looks Rex in the eye, her grip on him tightening. ]

I'll try. [ Finally, she makes her fingers uncurl, releasing him. ] But I need you. I don't... [ Her jaw works. ] I don't fucking trust myself.

Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

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