Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Come on, try it..."

Most Starlings are asleep by this time of night. This one, however, isn't. She's grabbed you from your sleeping quarters, and you're both in the Mensa room.

She sheds her chestplate, undoing the straps that keep it in place as she proceeds to slightly drunkenly giggle.

"Try. Ittttt… das ist ein Befehl..."

As you laugh, she slams the steel onto your chest - more forcefully than you think. She laughs - more due to inebriation than any underlying amusement.

"I think it's a bit big-"

"Nonsenseeee… it looks ADORABLE-hic!"

As her hands wrap around your sides and she leans in for a kiss, she giggles - as the sound of gentle scraping can be heard.

The top of that chest plate is up to your chin.

Several days later...

"Come on… not leaving you here."

You gently tug on the Starling's arm, and she weakly staggers up - being supported by you while walking. 300kg of synthetic meat be damned, it's the right thing to do.

"The hell are you doing this for… just leave me."

Her eyes flit between you and the floor as she grits her teeth in thought - promptly handing you the pistol grip of her shotgun, while the pump is firmly held in her free hand.

"I'll aim, you pull the trigger. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am-"

"Next set of stairs up… that's the main exit, hopefully it's not blocked."

The ascendance of the staircase is unsurprisingly lethargic - with the Starling being unsurprisingly burdensome when she's not supporting herself. As you exit out onto the ground floor, you hear a screech - and the diseased Eule in front doesn't stand up to the 14mm flechettes. It drops as though its strings are cut, and writhes violently on the floor - with the Starling seeming agitated as she pushes you in the back, drawing closer as she finally slams a footpad into its skull.

As the blood-red oxidant makes contact with your skin, your hands begin to burn. You watch it with a weakened stomach, struggling to steel yourself as you try to rub it off on your clothing.

"Come on… surface access is just the next room over."

The ensuing struggle into the room was mercifully short - with the Starling catching her breath as she leant onto the table, wincing slightly.

"How the hell do you know…"

"I'm a janitor."

Oh. That was stupid.

You gently applied a blue repair spray to her side, watching as she hissed loudly from the pain - before slowly standing on her own two footpads, taking the shotgun from you.

"Thanks for that."

You followed her into the surface access lift - feeling the platform shudder as the ceaseless blizzard teased winking lights, and you both raced forward and boarded the evacuation shuttle.

Several hours passed as you both warmed up - with the Starling finally speaking as the microwave dinged loudly.

"I hope you know that this'll be a secret..."

"Why?"

"Can't have a Gestalt saving me... I'd be a laughing stock."

Chapter Text

Several hours later, the Starling glanced down at the Gestalt with concern, his hands covered in blood and viscera.

His eyes seemed hollow.

Tired.

Empty, almost.

She stepped over towards him, her footpads gently thumping against the treadplate as she scrutinised the table - a small amount of blood having dripped from his hands onto it.

Gestalts are emotional creatures, she knows that much.

But why is this one that she knows so well now silent…?

"Come on… let's get you washed."

Gestalts like cuddles, after all. Right?

She gently lifts him from the seat - with a weak groan being the only elicited response.

He really seems out of it.

As she carries him to the shower and sheds her chestplate, she begins to wash herself - before relenting, and silently scrubbing his hands clean.

"Come on… let's go to bed. We'll talk about it in the morning."

She gently dries him, silently carrying him to the AEON-standard double bed as they both rest - delivering a cloying cuddle towards his gentle body.

A single tear is his sole response.

Several weeks had now passed. The Starling now glanced down at him - smiling slightly as she noticed him washing his hands.

That's good... not enough people stay clean these days. He's staying stable... like Storches do.

Of course, there was something always niggling at the back of her mind. She'd only met the one Gestalt, after all.

Can't discern an entire species due to the actions of one man.

One decidedly cute man-

She's getting off track.

Was this truly normal?

She took a glance behind, frowning - before gently shaking herself and stepping out into the halls of the apartment building that they now resided in, noticing some Gestalts milling about by the window. They regarded her with (understandable) fear - almost shrinking as she walked over. One of them wore an old military uniform - glancing up at the Starling through a haze of smoke.

"Excuse me... you wouldn't happen to know whether washing your hands a lot is normal, right?"

"You're that Starling, aren't you? That one from Sierpinski."

"Yes."

"They said a Gestalt escaped with you as well... any specific fluids?"

"Blood. Why?"

"I see. It's probably post-traumatic stress disorder... can take many forms, waking up in a warzone is just the most famous one."

The Starling glanced with confusion and worry as she processed the words - before the man continued on.

"Whoever it is - they think they're still coated in it - trying to get the blood off. Washing away something that isn't there."

"I... see. Thank you."

"Had it happen to too many of my friends... better to make him or her stop it now rather than later. It'll consume them, if ignored."

She bitterly nodded - turning footpad and walking back into the apartment, gently bumping her head on the doorframe with slight irritation.

She heard pained breathing - promptly stepping into the bathroom and seeing a faint spot of white on her lover's heavily bleeding knuckle.

Chapter Text

Bullets are meant to be kept outside of friendly human bodies.

Your mounting trauma had made this rather obvious Volksarmee training be drowned out by a drone of ideation.

10x20mm - Full metal jacket.

Simple.

Light.

Dependable.

Should take the clouding pain away.

Even for a few minutes.

After these months… you want to feel something.

Anything.

Will this be enough?

You press the barrel into your gut - and pull the trigger.

A flash of agony rocks your body - with a gunshot ringing out through the room and corridor.

As you fall to the ground, you hear shouts and footsteps, both heavy and light - with several concerned voices bouncing off of the metallic walls.

Your ears ring like church bells as you feel the gun slip from your grasp - with a hysterical voice barely beating through the droning.

"No, NO!"

"Damn it - will someone get that Eule away-"

You feel a pair of soft hands grabbing your face - now looking up to a Eule, with tears streaming down her faceplates as she bawls - before a thoroughly incensed Storch growls and snatches the gun from the floor.

"CALL A FUCKING MEDICAL TEAM. THE REST OF YOU - GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Your voice rasps - largely from disuse, as the Eule attempts to fruitlessly stem the bleeding.

Why isn't it working.

It's soaking through.

Stop.

STOP!

"Hey… could you sing me a song?"

The Eule blinks through tears, placing her hands on your stomach - looking thoroughly distraught as she mumbles to herself.

I think… I remember one.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away..."

She breaks down again - lifting your head up to her as you close your eyes. The medical team hurriedly take your pallid form, ripping it from the Eule's arms - as a mournful howl emanates from her.

After several minutes, the howling stops - with the Eule having a single dread-inducing thought in her mind.

What am I going to tell the Starling?

Chapter Text

A pair of eyes regarded the coma-stricken Gestalt with worry.

This worry soon gave way to anger.

Hatred.

Contempt.

You selfish-

She gently cracked her neck, her fists shaking as her cooling fans ran overtime - with a final internal flush dispelling her negative emotions as she noticed the Gestalt's eyes open.

"I know the escape changed you, but… it's been almost a year."

The Gestalt groaned weakly - averting his gaze as a pair of hands gently gripped his shoulders, carefully shaking him.

"Damn it, why won't you TALK about it?!"

The Gestalt stayed silent.

"ANSWER ME!"

Something inside the Starling snapped - which had been a long time coming. Her grip tightened as she now shook the Gestalt violently - causing the nurses to restrain her slightly.

"Ma'am, let the Gestalt-"

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST ANSWER ME TRUTHFULLY - FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE! STOP BURYING THIS IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD! YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM IT, YOU CAN'T RUN FROM IT!"

The Gestalt stayed silent as the Starling continued on her tirade.

"YOU CAN'T EVEN COPE, I'VE SEEN YOU RIP YOUR OWN SKIN OFF BECAUSE YOU STILL THINK YOU'RE COVERED IN BLOOD! IT'LL KILL YOU!"

The ward fell silent, and you could hear a pin drop - before the Starling broke into tears, planting her face on the hospital gown as she became wracked with grief.

"Why do you insist on taking it on all by yourself…? I want to help you. That's all I've ever wanted."

Two weeks later…

The Starling locked the door behind her - with the room in front of her containing a bed and two chairs. Spartan though it may have been, she wasn't letting the Gestalt go yet.

"I'm not letting you out of here until we've sorted this. Understood?"

There's a tinge of firmness in her voice as she sits down on the chair - which promptly creaks under her weight as she watches the Gestalt sit with her. She sighs loudly - scooching both herself and the chair closer as she looks down towards the man.

"Why?"

Several minutes pass before the Gestalt speaks - and he coughs slightly as he does so.

She hangs on to every word.

"I didn't want to make you worry."

The Starling deflates - sighing loudly as she cocks her head down towards you with a mask-covered smile, her voice one of slight exasperation.

"You're a fucking idiot, Gestalt! When you hurt yourself - THAT'S what makes me worry! I can handle you talking about it..."

Her mask retracts beneath her cheeks as she smiles tenderly towards the man - pulling his chin up as he finally faces her.

"Stop. Being. A hero. That is an order. You will talk about it with me, and we will find you peace..."

"Fine-"

She lets out a slightly annoyed grumble - her brows furrowing as she places a firm grip on the man's shoulder.

"It is not fine. Say "yes, miss Starling." Now."

He halfheartedly prattles it out - with the Starling kneeling over him.

"Once more. With meaning."

"Yes, miss Starling."

"Hold still."

A firm slap strikes him across the cheek - with a loud grunt emanating from the Starling's vocal chords. Her arms wrap around him as she pulls the Gestalt into a cloying hug, with a sigh emanating from her lips as she smiles.

"You made me worried sick..."

Chapter Text

A year's passed.

The Starling makes sure you've kept on this long - having regular checkups on you whenever she's free, with her hair depigmenting slightly from the stress of it all. You, on the other hand - have perhaps understandably grown attached to her.

As she has to you... although she won't admit it to your face.

She wouldn't dare...

But you can tell her sideglances at you from a mile away. How she leans into you when she visits.

And the tenderness of her voice...

Which is a surprise, considering she's a 7'3 riot policewoman.

She seems more lively than usual - making food for herself and you on breaks and between shooting range drills.

Truth be told... she's someone to depend on. Even after all the shit she's been through, she still holds on.

So why not surprise her?

Starlings like... um… guns? A few days pass as you peruse through the many surplus shops on Rotfront, finding little more than bullet-riddled jackets and deactivated KGs.

No dice.

The Eules keep to themselves regarding relationships. This much is obvious - especially after the first Eule glances with confusion after.

You, however, are as stubborn as a Storch. Therefore, it will take you ten attempts instead of one.

After the tenth attempt, the ball finally drops - and you decide to take it your own way.

Women like jewellery... maybe synthetic ones do too?

Glancing inside the jewellery shop, you find little more than pig-iron rings, with the occasional half-cast of silver palladium shining underneath the drab lights.

As you haggle for it and eventually pay (only costing half of your salary, what a steal), your mind wanders back.

To her.

She's relaxed around you.

You get the feeling that she cares... although she'd never admit it to you herself.

She's close.

She lets her hair down.

She's someone you can rely on.

You rethink about your gift for a brief second...

You quickly walk back to the apartment building, dodging the gaze of the Storch that seems to have it out for you - narrowly dodging the grumble directed your way as she mutters curses underneath her breath.

The Starling has been your rock - through all this time, she's helped you with every one of your problems, injuries, and misfortunes.

Who better to spend a life with than her?

As you enter the apartment, you hear the familiar sound of thumps on carpet and leg actuators whirring - with the Starling leaning over the kitchenette, gently bumping her head on the cabinet and grumbling as she hears the door close.

"There you are… schnitzel for dinner, I couldn't-"

Several silent seconds pass as she raises an eyebrow, scrutinising the box.

"What's that in your hand?"

You get down on one knee, and she gasps underneath her mask as you open the lid.

"HOW MUCH DID THAT-"

"Does it matter?"

"I-but-how-"

She composes herself, and her mask retracts as she reveals a big grin - before getting down to eye level and slipping the ring onto her finger and planting a kiss onto your lips in one smooth motion.

"Heh... how did you even know? Yes, I will marry you."