Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything is different now. 

That was all he could think of the predicament he’d found himself in. Blackrock’s Greatest— Or former greatest— was now running for his life. The only home he’d known had turned its back on him; chewed him up and spat him out as nothing but a shell of an ambitious genius. 

It had started that morning. 

The Blackrock facilities were buzzing with occupied workers, and he, as per-usual, was cooped up in his own office. Rather than reworking a damaged biograft, he sat unusually still in his seat. It was all he could do, at this rate. It had been weeks since he’d even touched his work, and the higher ups were indefinitely on his ass about it. Still,  his body refused to comply with the demands. 

It hurt . 

Not just the rot that had steadily crept its way through his system, but the empty void his now ex-partner had left. He lacked motivation, often having to drag his fatigued self out of bed in the mornings, or ask the Biografts to do it for him. He was pathetic, like a soggy rag in the rain. His mind was completely lost to thought, eyelids heavy with weariness. He was quite aware that he was a complete mess, hair unkempt and horns unpolished. Subspace had let himself go– That was the least of what currently occupied his mind. 

“CREATOR.”

His slitted pink pupils slowly rolled over to the Biograft that stood beside him, only mustering a deep exhale that turned into a tiny (but sickening) cough.

“THE COUNCIL WISHES TO SEE YOU. IT IS MANDATORY.” The Biograft reported in its monotonous voice, a voice that Subspace had grown to hate within the past few days.

Subspace took in a deep, labored breath before gripping the arms of his chair and bracing himself for the rather short walk to the meeting room. Lately, simple activities like walking up stairs or bending over to pick up fallen items had become extremely straining on him. He staggered to his feet, steadying himself on his disorganized desk as he began to trudge towards the door to his office.

The Biograft followed in a uniform fashion, its metal joints clunking along as the two slowly made their way down the hall. 

Some employees exchanged pitiful or concerned looks with Subspace, but they didn’t offer to help him. 

They’re scared of me. He recalled with a bitter thought.

As they arrived at the double doors of the meeting room, they couldn’t help  but feel a twinge of worry. They hadn’t had time to tidy themselves up, and Subspace instinctively knew that he hadn’t exactly had any good exchanges with his superiors as of late. 

Regardless, he took a step inside, suppressing another sickly cough as he forced his unsteady legs to walk over to the table. He sat, folding his claws neatly in his lap. 

They all stared at him– It was very evident that they were unhappy. Angry, even.

“T. Mine.” One of the heads spoke, “You’ve been quite unproductive lately.”

Subspace could hardly muster a response. Unproductive. He hated that word with every fiber of his being. 

“Do we need to remind you that even though you were a valuable asset to Blackrock’s industries, we would be more than happy to replace you with the second-best demon that strolls along?”

‘Were?’

Subspace pinched his knee, as he does when he’s anxious. “I know.” He grumbled, “You may not be happy with me now, but I promise I’m working on something that will–”

“Your coworkers have also noticed you’ve been quite… Sickly, lately.”

He heard heavy metal footsteps enter the room behind him, the doors softly clicking shut. 

Okay, Okay. 

Don’t panic.

Don’t panic.

“It’s..Well, as you know ... .Blackrock's traitor left me in poor condition. But I will not let that interfere with my work.” He insisted, attempting to reason with the council.

“But you already have.” They retorted, their voice laced with menace. “We can’t have you using up valuable resources, sitting around and coughing up a storm all day while you slowly rot away in that laboratory of yours.” They stood, hands folded behind their backs. “We’re afraid we’ll simply have to….let you go.”

Subspace whipped around at break-neck speed, which he nearly did, as his muscles begged him to take a chill pill.

The Biograft was stalking toward him, menacingly unsheathing its blades.

“Biograft?” Subspace backed away, nearly tripping over the edge of the table. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” He snapped, his words sputtering with panic. ”I’M YOUR CREATOR. THE GREAT SUBSPACE T. MINE!! ”

The Biograft did not respond, and kept itself focused on its newly assigned task. 

[Terminate Subspace T. Mine.]

Subspace began to form a crystal in the palm of his hand, his mind racing.

Is this a test?

Surely they can’t be serious. 

Before he could even finish that train of thought, the graft lunged at him, swiping at his sweater with its blades.

Subspace shrieked, tumbling backwards. In a jerky and unprepared movement, he threw the crystal at the Biograft….and missed completely.

The Crystal had struck one of the lights that illuminated the room, and they sparked forebodingly. 

Possibly some loose wiring. . Nothing to worry about. 

The graft grabbed Subspace by the neck and slammed him into the ground promptly, winding back it’s other arm as it prepared to cut into him as if he were a stick of butter.

Subspace clawed and kicked desperately, fighting tooth and nail as his claws left tiny scratches in the machine’s metallic armor, his efforts futile.

Another crystal formed in his palm, and this time he grasped onto it, and shoved it in the Biograft’s eye.

It momentarily hesitates, likely experiencing multiple malfunctions as a result of the attack.

Subspace took the opportunity to reach out and claw at its face like a rabid animal fighting for it's freedom.

THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING TO ME. 

He distinctly remembers more sparks flying from the light above, before the entire thing simply came crashing down on top of Biograft.

The machine went limp for a few moments, allowing Subspace to skitter free. He tumbled across the floor, wheezing with effort. 

“Tsk. Please don’t make this hard for us, T. Mine.” The speaker from earlier shook their head shamefully.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” Subspace choked, holding back tears. He was Blackrock’s greatest, and they were tossing him aside like chewed gum that’s lost its flavor. It hurt. It hurt so, so badly.

“You simply are of no  use to us anymore.” The speaker snapped their fingers, and two more Biografts stepped into the room, turning their menacing sights onto Subspace.

Subspace stood stunned, like a deer in headlights. What should I do? It all felt so surreal.

A black pipe running horizontally from one wall to the other caught his attention. It was a gas line. 

As the robots lurched to seize Subspace in their iron claws, he leapt for the gas pipe, a sloppily developed crystal in palm. If I’m going down, I’m taking you all with me.

It all happened so fast. 

With a deafening explosion, pink flames engulfed the room as plasma came into contact with methane.
The shrill shrieks fell on deaf ears, as soon the flames began to spread through the halls, quickly alerting the employees and other grafts. 

Subspace’s ears rang, his vision blurry. He quickly came to the realization that the blast had knocked him outdoors, through the large glass windows of the meeting room. He lay for a moment, feeling cold flakes of snow cover his body with a soothing contrast to the pile of glass he found himself on top of.

The ringing soon faded and he heard voices coming from just around the bend. 

I should be dead.

He thought, his heart pounding in his ears. He rolled over onto his stomach, using his elbows to drag himself through the deep snow that coated the area. 

I have to keep moving. 

He got to his feet, or rather his knees, as his legs kept buckling weaky under him. The adrenaline kept his body going, despite the ungodly amount of blood he was losing through the several large gashes that littered his skin, leaving crimson stains in his clothing. His rotted arm had twisted itself into an odd angle, which made him feel lucky all the nerves there had practically turned to mush. 

The red had also left a trail in the snow, which Subspace knew would become a problem, but that was something he would worry about later. He needed to get to safety.

Now, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the snow surrounding the facility.

Knowing the layout of the facility like the back of his claws, it didn’t take him long to formulate an escape plan. Though his mind kept trailing off to other wonders, like what the hell just happened? And Am I worth anything anymore? And Where will I go? He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Get the hell outta dodge. 

Eventually Subspace found one of the many overstretching service roads, coated neatly in a thin layer of snow. He trudged on, dragging his feet as the adrenaline wore off and left him with nothing but a weighing exhaustion. His horns omitted a soft pink light, one of a dying flashlight. All he could do was stare at the ground, unsure of how long he’d be walking or how long he’d even been walking. Normally his internal clock was more precise, but due to the nature of his circumstances it was all…discombobulated. 

He looked up at the streetlights, squinting as he tried to get a look of the horizon. There was nothing but darkness interrupted by the flurries that drifted from the skies. He grimaced, hearing nothing but his own labored breaths and the dragging of his feet in the snow. 

Is this how Meddy felt?  

The former scientist couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream every profanity and curse at the gods, but he knew his complaints would fall on deaf ears….or attract unwanted company.

He stopped walking, and fell face-flat on the shoulder of the road. The cold wasn’t very comforting, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care anymore. Tears began to trickle down his cheek as he softly sobbed into a pile of snow. He’d lost everything. Was it even worth carrying on now? Who was he anymore? Without the title he’d worked his entire life for, he was truthfully nothing.

All the fear and panic that had driven Subspace this far out was replaced by sheer grief, rendering him useless; practically paralyzed as he stained the white snow below him with his crimson blood.

The sound of an approaching truck was extremely faint in his ringing ears. 

He hoped it was  a search party, so they could put him out of his misery.

As the truck rolled to a halt, much to his dismay, it was just Hyperlaser.

“Oh wow…” The helmeted demon commented, stepping out of the truck and standing beside the ragdolling Subspace. “The Great Subspace T. Mine, fleeing from his own faction? You don’t see that everyday.” 

He spoke with such lightheartedness it sickened Subspace. He wanted to bark an order at the blue demon, but he knew he was in no position to do so. 

“What do you want..” Subspace groaned, not even looking at Hyperlaser. “Are you here to kill me like I’m some kind of ill dog?” He spat, his words laced with bitter rage.

“Firstly, no.” Hyperlaser bent down, scooping the surprisingly light man into his arms. “Personally, I would’ve loved to see you get ripped to shreds by Biografts.” 

His words were utterly confusing in contrast with his actions, as Subspace is loaded into the passenger side of what he now noticed was one of the transportation trucks.

“Then why–”

“I’m getting you out of here.” Hyperlaser shut the door, and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I…. guess I feel bad for you.” He admitted, putting on his seatbelt and shutting his own door. “But mostly, I think you absolutely deserved what you got.” 

Subspace scrunched up his nose, slouching in his seat grouchily. “Wow….Thanks Hyperlaser.” He spoke sarcastically.

“Watch your tone.” Hyperlaser warned, driving at a leisurely pace, likely to avoid any suspicion.

The two sat in an odd, heavy silence.

“...Why a delivery truck?” Subspace questioned. He knew it was likely to avoid suspicion, but he needed to strike up some kind of conversation to distract himself from the burning pain in every atom of his being.

“I think you know the answer to that question, Tripmine.” Hyperlaser grumbled.

Subspace furrowed a brow, regretting ever asking the question in the first place. He’d never enjoyed Hyperlaser’s company, mostly because of the demon’s condescending tone. He was to be respected. He is head scientist of— No, wait. Not anymore.

“I’m dropping you off in the crossroads. I don’t want to deal with you more than I feel like I have to.” Hyperlaser announced, ripping Subspace from his sinking thoughts.

The pink-horned demon only responded with a nod, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He succumbed to slumber, his body forcing him to put his trust in his coworker. 

When Subspace awoke, the sun had already begun to rise. He was still sitting in the passenger seat of the truck.

They were crossing over the bridge towards the center of crossroads, the tall metal tower coming into view. 

Hyperlaser glanced over at Subspace briefly. “Finally awake, sleepyhead?” 

Subspace mumbled some disgruntled remark, feeling the truck roll to a stop on the side of the road. 

Hyperlaser rolled down his window, peeking out of the truck as he glanced around. “Looks like they haven’t started searching here. They probably think you died.” 

Subspace reluctantly opened his door, and took a bit of a tumble as he missed a step and fell flat on his bum.

“Try not to get yourself killed, yeah?” Hyperlaser hums, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d never thought highly of Subspace…Maybe a high pain in the ass. But thinking of the demon as his superior? Hell no. 

Still, he made the choice to help him. He supposed it wasn’t entirely his fault he’d been enabled to be such a terrible person.

However, his sympathy only went so far. 

“...Thank you.” Subspace mumbled. He surprised himself more than he surprised Hyperlaser. Perhaps the circumstances had finally humbled him.

“...You’re welcome.” Hyperlaser returned after a few moments, nodding. 

Subspace stepped onto the sidewalk, watching Hyperlaser sadly as he watched the truck drive away. Now he was really alone. 

A disturbing rumble coming from his stomach tore him from his moment of absentmindedness. Right, food.

He hadn’t eaten in a while, now that he thought about it….and, unfortunately, he didn’t have any cash on him. He wasn’t really worried about that right now..He’s gone days without eating before. Many, many times, hunched over a worktable and losing track of the days as he worked on his inventions. 

Subspace turned around, placing a claw on one of his wounds, which had now stained his black sweater in blood. He could worry about that later, too. Despite the nap he had taken earlier, he still needed someplace to rest. 

The scientist stumbled down an alleyway, finding a nice box to sleep in. He was so glad no one could see him right now, curled up in a box as if it were the most comfortable place in the world. In a way, it was. The cardboard had a way of blocking out the busy sounds of Crossroads, providing Subspace with a decently drowned-out resting place.

He was completely unaware, however, that he was being watched.

Chapter Text

Subspace awoke from his slumber, he finding himself limp with pain. It was a hassle getting out of the box he slept in, and admittedly it was comforting despite the unusual circumstances.

His claws scraped the brick walls of the alleyway, his head spinning. He’d finally come down from his adrenaline-fueled high and realized how loopy he felt from the loss of blood. Subspace clutched his wounds and clenched his teeth, his suffering only pushed further by the starvation that clawed at his insides and the dry feeling of his tongue. 

He’d never felt so needy before…Perhaps now his brain had realized how poorly taken care of his body was. He took a few shaky steps out of the alleyway.

The sun was casting its ungodly rays upon the Crossroads, the blistering heat sizzled anything it could get its teeth on.

Including Subspace, unfortunately.

Swords, why?

Subspace slumped against a lamppost a few paces away from the alleyway. He’d only made it a handful of steps away, yet he already wanted to crawl back into his box and die. 

No.

You are STILL AMAZING and SUPER AWESOME, SUBSPACE T. MINE!

….Even if you aren't the head scientist anymore.

He looks up at the clear blue sky, vision blurry.

Even if your life is worthless now.

His bellowing stomach pulled him abruptly from his thoughts. Right…Food. 

He tried to raise his hand to block out the sun, but it became heavily apparent that his muscles were too damaged to even do that .Subspace grunted, moving his other arm to quell the stabbing pain.

He probably also needs a doctor, too.

But the only one I know is In that SWORDS-FORSAKEN LOST TEMPLE!!! STUPID TRAITOR WITH YOUR STUPID NEW FACTION!!!! 

His tail twitched irritably. Subspace wanted to throw a chair or take his anger out on some innocent civilian, but he had to lay low for now. Hopefully he was presumed dead, he doesn’t have the energy to run for his life right now. He took in a deep breath (which resulted in him coughing and gagging more grossly than he’d like to admit), and set off in hopes of stumbling across a cheap cafe or a few bux that would be conveniently laying around. 

….Yeah, so, this didn’t go well.

It had been hours.

Hours of taking small, fragile steps around the block and collapsing onto his knees.

Hours of stabbing, burning pain.

Hours of broiling heat.

Hours of starving.

Hours of garnering awkward stares from passing civilians.

Why won’t anyone help me?

Subspace frowned, too dehydrated to muster tears. He was now crouched in the shade of another alleyway, staring at a half-eaten pizza slice that was on the concrete beside a dumpster. Hunger really makes anything appetizing. 

He felt so many rushing emotions bellowing inside of him, emotions he couldn’t quite understand, or didn’t want to understand. Guilt? Fear? Grief? The feeling of being watched?

That made the hairs on his neck stand up.

 It’s nothing, Subspace. You’re just delirious…and possibly on your deathbed. 

A yellow and purple billboard caught his attention, and then it occurred to him that most of the time he spent limping around felt aimless and absentminded. His brain was filled with thoughts that clouded his vision and fogged his mind. 

Why didn’t I think of that SOONER? 

FLIPSIDE’S PHIGHT NIGHT! 12PM-3PM 

FIGHT FOR GLORY AND WIN BUX!

OF COURSE.

Enter a Phight. Win money.

Easy-peasy, right? 

He’d attended Phights before, yes…But only when he was certain he could handle it. Showing up in front of a group of other demons, tattered bloody and shredded? The mere thought felt humiliating…

But I don’t have much of a choice, do I?

.

.

.

.

.

.

Subspace could tell others tried so hard not to stare at him, as he sat crouched in a chair with his knees huddled to his chest. He didn’t care.

The lobby of the PHIGHT! Had complimentary snacks, which he quickly took advantage of, gathering an array of baked goods on a cheap plastic plate, and a nice cup of water. 

He couldn’t taste anything, but he scarfed down those cookies like they were the best damn thing he’d ever eaten. Satisfyingly, he washed it all down with a few (dozen) cups of water. 

He paid no mind to prying eyes as he took the moment of having an available bathroom to splash cold water on his wounds and dirt-ridden skin. Staring into the mirror, the former scientist sighs. He looks awful…More awful than what he’s used to. His mask was cracked, for starters, and he was sure his upper left horn was about to fall off completely. Open gashes littered his physique. The water didn’t help much, as expected.

Who are you?

Where will you go?

The corners of his lips twisted into a smile, his lungs wheezing with struggle as he managed to hack up a twisted laugh. He couldn’t help himself, wrapping his arms around his chest as a stabbing pain prodded at him, his laughter proceeding to echo through the bathrooms.

This just..happens sometimes.  The most inappropriate of times, actually.

For example, When you’re tearing out your lab partner’s eyes while your flesh is being melted away by poison, you probably shouldn’t be breaking out into uncontrollable laughter…But I guess it just happens. 

Subspace rolled onto the tile floors of the bathrooms, tears streaming down his cheeks as he continued to guffaw. There was nothing amusing about his situation.

He was crouched on his knees, claws gripping his sides as he rested his forehead on the rile floors of the bathroom when he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“.......Subspace?”

That voice.

The pink demon’s laughter ceased, his gaze snapping to attention as his eye widened. His gut twisted sickeningly with more emotions that he could not describe.

The teal deer sneered, partially in disgust but there was also a twinge of concern buried somewhere in that expression. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at T. Mine. 

When The Broker had stated he spotted the Blackrockian sleeping in a cardboard box, he figured they were just joking.

He wanted to question why Subspace had attended the PHIGHT! In his usual sarcastic tone, holding his tongue as he could tell something was…clearly wrong.

But.. Why should he care? 

Subspace couldn’t speak, his mouth just as dry as it had been prior to drinking the couple (dozen) cups of water. 

“Meddy..”

He stumbled to his feet, gripping the side of the sink for support. The quick movement put a strain on his legs, as he tumbled back onto the floor pathetically. He coughed, a clot of blood splattering onto the floor.

Medkit scrunched up his nose, looking the scientist up and down with a skeptical expression. It was very rare for Subspace to crawl out of that giant dumpster bin known as Blackrock. It had been almost a month since Medkit had gotten a glimpse of Subspace, at the last PHIGHT! They attended. He stared at the glob of blood that was seeping in-between the tiles. 

“...Don’t cough up any blood on me.”

Medkit grumbles, forcing himself to turn away. 

He wanted to help. 

He wanted to ask what’s wrong? 

But on the other side of the coin, Subspace had traded their relationship for a stupid career. A fucking title under the cruelest faction in the Inpherno. Maybe he was finally getting what he deserved.

Medkit opened the bathroom door, his shoulders heavy as he walked out. 

Snap out of it. 

He scolded himself. The PHIGHT was starting soon, anyways. He doesn’t have time for this.

Subspace took a few moments to get off of the floor, wiping his mouth with paper towels and exiting the bathroom with a grief-stricken expression. 

Focus on the task at hand.

Don’t let that traitor get to you.

It was much easier said than done, as sorrow still ladened upon him like iron shackles.

PHIGHT!

The contestants sprang into action with the command, seeking to annihilate their opponents. 

Subspace navigated the chosen arena carefully, taking much longer than he would’ve liked to reach the excitement of the match. He hid carefully behind a wall, struggling to form a crystal in his shaking palm. 

“Come on..” He seethed, pain searing through him. “WORK YOU INFERNAL POISON!” The demon spat furiously, but the overexertion didn’t help his body obey his demands. If anything, it felt as though he’d just collapse right there.

Unluckily for him, his shouting had been heard by one of his competitors. 

Heavy, rapidly-approaching footsteps rounded the corner.

“THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, MOMMA!” 

Before Subspace could even react, he felt a smashing pain crack through his body, sending him wailing with an ear splitting caterwaul as he was flung over the railing of the upper level of the museum.

Banhammer.

That NUISANCE. 

Subspace’s claws were caught on the banister, leaving him dangling harrowingly over the long drop. He could hear shots being rung out over the battlefield, presumably Medkit’s revolver. All he could do was hope nobody saw this embarrassing display.

What are you DOING? STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID

He kicked his legs, trying to pull himself up. His rotted arm had felt noticeably numb. He couldn’t move it at all.

Shit.

There was a sickening crackling sound, but it didn’t come from the raging battle below…

It was coming from Subspace’s body.

His heart pounded in his heart. Did he break a rib? What was happening? Why can’t I move my arm? Well..The answer was obvious, but he never truly thought it would get THIS bad. His other hand slipped, leaving him dangling by his rotted arm. Subspace was , quite literally, hanging by a thread. 

Rip.

The thin layer of skin that remained on the arm began to peel away.

Crackle

Muscle tendons were pulled apart like sticks of celery. 

SNAP!

Subspace didn’t process what was happening. All he remembered was the sound of his softened bones snapping apart like twigs, and the feeling of wind hitting his back. 

The fall lasted a lifetime, a stream of blood coming down with Subspace. 

Subspace and the now dismembered arm.

Subspace hit the ground, pain shooting down his spine, another throbbing pain prodded at his skull. His upper left horn clattered across the floor like a broken toy. Oh Gods, is that mine? It felt like time had stopped, the only sounds in his ears were his beating heart, his body limp and growing ever lifeless with the passing seconds. He allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness. 

Everyone had stopped Fighting, pausing to stare at the gory sight. Sure, a little blood had never bothered any of them. They quite literally fought each other for a hobby…But this was somehow different.

Skateboard turned and gagged, rushing off to find the nearest trash bin.

He couldn’t stomach seeing Subspace’s unattached arm writhe around on the floor like a dead roach. 

Chapter Text

Goddammit, Subspace.

Medkit repeated over and over again in his head.

The PHIGHT had been halted due to the events from moments before. Sword and his friend Rocket helped move the unconscious scientist onto a bench to be treated. Medkit made great haste of the matter, knowing the ambulance probably wouldn’t arrive fast enough for Subspace to survive the….Dismembering.

He shivered. He was treating the man who he swore he’d kill when he had the chance. 

His gun felt heavy in its holster, lingering like a burden rather than the tool he thought it to be. 

Maybe another time.

Medkit shooed away a curious Boombox as he armed himself with a pair of latex gloves, preferring to work in silence. He made haste of the situation, wrapping the gaping hole where Subspace’s arm used to be in thick bandaging after cleaning it thoroughly. He nearly used an entire roll on it before realizing Subspace was covered in wounds. 

What the hell happened?

Medkit pondered, squinting. Some of these clearly weren’t just from the PHIGHT. He ran his neatly trimmed claws over burns, scrapes, bruises and gashes, coming across a slit of glass sticking right out of his side. 

A better question would be ‘How Are You Even Alive?’

He tsked, tending to the excessive amount of wounds that covered the pink demon’s body. He didn’t want to waste precious healing crystals on Tripmine, no matter how bad  he felt for him. Once he was finished, he sat beside the other’s unconscious body with a sigh, removing the latex gloves he was equipped with for the process, wiping away a few beads of sweat with a handkerchief. He turned to look at the slumbering Subspace, furrowing his brow. 

Why am I helping you?

Medkit vividly remembers fleeing the cold, vast mountains of Blackrock; Clutching his empty eye socket as an ungodly amount of blood seeped through his fingers, the crimson liquid staining everything it came into contact with. He was lucky enough to be taken in by Scythe, Sword, and…Broker. 

Scythe and Broker, although shady criminals, were kind to him. Much kinder than Blackrock. It came as a surprise, for the first meeting, that Sword was much more trustworthy than the two. He smiled faintly. Sword had always felt like a little brother to him, and for the longest time the blade-wielding demon filled the void Subspace left behind. 

Just as his thoughts began to shroud his brain in fog, he jumped as Subspace stirred in their unconscious state. 

It was a disgusting gurgling sound, as if they were choking on their own fluids. 

Medkit grimaced, reaching over to help the poor demon sit up properly. “Finally decided to wake up?” He remarks.

Subspace stared through his hollow eye, looking right through Medkit as if he’d seen horrors beyond his comprehension. 

“Subspace?” Medkit cocked a brow, waving a hand in front of the other’s face. “Hello?”

Subspace did not respond, not a thought behind his glossy eye. 

“.....” Medkit frowned. “Subspace, answer me.”  He demanded, his voice wavering as he moved his hand to shake the other’s shoulder ever so slightly. Honestly, he was afraid. This was unusual for the usually boisterous scientist. 

“....What happened to you? Did you get all these wounds from the Phight?” He finally decided to question.

Subspace lifted what was left of his dismembered arm, his eye widening as he came to the realization that it just ... .wasn't there anymore. To his dismay, the arm was missing. 

Probably for the best, but it still freaked him out.

Medkit sighs. “Don’t …Freak out.” He advises, as if he read the other’s thoughts. “Your arm kinda….ripped off.” 

“Well I can SEE that, deer boy!” Subspace spat, his words laced with venom. 

“You should be more grateful.” Medkit scrunched up his nose. “I saved your life, y’know.” He raised a hand to rub his temples, grumbling. “Whatever…The ambulance is on its way, anyways.” 

“AMBULANCE? YOU IMBECILE! THEY’LL FIND ME!” Subspace reacted almost immediately, his voice exploding with anger. He cringed, clutching his side as he began to scramble to get away, looking for the nearest exit.

“What do you think you’re doing–” Medkit got up, grabbing the hobbling demon by his shoulders. “Stop moving, you’ll make it worse–”

“YOU’LL make it worse!” Subspace hissed, leaning against the wall as he flinched away from Medkit’s touch. “I need to get out of here..”

“Subspace, STOP!” Medkit snapped, his patience running thin. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on? Who are you running from?”

“Who else could it be, you moron? BLACKROCK!” Subspace bared his teeth at Medkit like a feral animal. 

“What–” Medkit shook his head with disbelief. “Why would Blackrock be after you? What did you do?” Despite his confusion, he understood they should leave immediately to evade detection from anyone who may be willing to turn in information about the pink fugitive. He grabbed his keys.

“I…” Subspace couldn’t bring himself to say it. It still felt so…surreal. One moment, he was at the top of the world. A genius, The face of success. 

Now he was a limping hobo. 

“..Not here.” The former scientist lowered his voice to a mumble.

“You better explain yourself, bastard.” Medkit begrudgingly motions for Subspace to follow, watching him limp along pitifully.

“You could at least help me walk, you useless stag!” Subspace retorts, squinting.

Medkit clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “I don’t know, it’s kind of fun watching you hop around like a rabbit. Maybe I’ll let them catch you.” 

“MEDDY!” Subspace pouts, fuming.

“Fiiiine.” The medic stormed over, grunting as he picked Subspace up in his arms and hauled him out of the establishment, into the parking lot. He was shockingly light in his arms. It was like carrying a bag full of weighted pillows. 

It was…Scary. Nobody should be this light. 

“Onward, trusty steed!” Subspace points in a random direction with his demanding voice. How annoying.

Medkit rolled his eye. “I will drop you right now. ”

“But you love me too much for that, Meddy!” Subspace grins.

Even with his fatal wounds, he never failed to be as inconvenient as possible. It was admirable, really.

Medkit awkwardly positioned himself to open the passenger door, tossing Subspace in the car carelessly. “Don’t mistake this for love, especially not after what you did.” His voice was cold and monotonous, his tone unwavering to get the point across.

A flash of sorrow came over Subspace’s face, and he turned away to look straight ahead through the windshield.

Medkit slammed the door shut, walking around the vehicle to sit in the driver's side. He started the car accordingly.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The ride was silent and awkward. 

If Subspace had a dime for every awkward car ride he’d been in the past 24 hours, he’d have two dimes….Which isn’t much, but it’s weird it happened twice.

Medkit stared ahead, eyes fixed on the road as he gripped the steering wheel. His conscience took over, as he was lost in the inner workings of his thoughts. 

Why am I helping him? How do I know I can even trust him?

He gave Suspace a quick glance, furrowing a brow. 

Subspace was staring out of the window, seemingly having blanked out once again. It was …a little scary.

“So…” Medkit cleared his throat. “Tell me what happened.”

Subspace took a few moments to respond, taking in a deep breath before breaking out into a coughing-fit. 

“Please don’t get blood on my seats.” Medkit winced. “Or..Saliva.”

“Okay Mister-FancY-SmAnCy.” Subspace huffs. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

Medkit nodded for him to go on. 

“It was a day like any other.” Subspace began, his frown growing. “I…Was summoned to the council’s conference room.” He pinched his knee, a habit Medkit had noticed since they worked together. 

“....They used my own Biografts against me.” Subspace sneered, furrowing his brow. “They tried to kill me. ”

Medkit stifled a gasp, yet he couldn’t imagine why he was surprised. It was Blackrock, and he knew from experience that everyone was expendable– Disposable products to be tossed away.

I guess I just thought higher of Subspace.

He reasoned.

“...Well, you kinda deserved it.” Medkit tsked. “Now that you’ve had a taste of your own medicine, how does it feel?” He felt a little guilty for finding pleasure in Subspace’s suffering, yet it was astonishingly amusing.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Subspace glared at the other. “What!? You’re supposed to FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!!”

“....Nah.” Medkit snickers, resting his arm on the open window. “It’s actually pretty funny.”

Subspace huffs once again, slouching in his seat. He was miserable, and the teal stag was getting a kick out of it.

“...But if it makes you feel any better, I think it’ll help knock you down a peg.” Medkit grins. He knew it wouldn’t boost Subspace’s mood. He just wanted to rile him up.

Subspace growled, bellowing like an angry dragon. “WHAT?!! HOW DARE YOU ? I AM THE GREAT SUBSPACE T–”

“ Not really anymore..” Medkit mutters under his breath.

“WHAT WAS THAT, YOU FEEBLE WOODLAND CREATURE?! I’LL STRING YOU UP FOR THE WOLVES!!”

Tuning him out.

Medkit was quite experienced in silencing the scientists’ boisterous nature in his own head. It came with years of bickering. He couldn’t help but smile.

I missed this.

“ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?? DO YOU FIND MY SUFFERING ENTERTAINING, MEDDY?!” Subspace shouted at the top of his lungs, it garnered some concerned looks from civilians walking past the vehicles during red lights.

“..Yes.” Medkit nods.

“I—” Subspace wheezed, guffawed, and coughed up a glob of blood.

Right

In 

Medkit’s

Face.

“ EUGH— ”

Medkit slammed on the brakes, causing the coughing Subspace to hit the dashboard of the car. 

Grimacing, Medkit took out his handkerchief and tried to wipe away some of the crimson fluid. 

Subspace groaned, crawling back onto the seat of the car like a crushed roach. 

“....Sorry, but THAT’S what you get for not buckling your seatbelt.” Medkit was shocked he apologized for the incident, despite being angry his clothes will likely stain. 

“WhatEVERRRRR…” Subspace retorted weakly, his voice low from the absolute whiplash he just caught.

The two soon arrived at Medkit’s living quarters. It was a decent home, with a nicely tended garden in the front yard. 

Getting Subspace out of the car was a hassle, but after several minutes of bickering and threatening each other, they managed to get settled in the living room. 

Medkit sat down in his armchair with a sigh, watching Subspace get comfortable on his sofa. 

“....Filthy thing.” 

“WHAT?”

“Nothing.” Medkit hummed, stretching his arms above his head with a whistle. “Do you want anything to eat? You’re really thin.”

“I don’t want anything from YOU!! You might poison me.” Subspace pouts, rolling onto his side. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion. 

“Well at least let me stitch your wounds properly, you stupid manchild.” Medkit scolds. 

“...But that’s gonna hurt.” Subspace scrunches up his face sourly.

“Do you want to die? ” Medkit questions, rising from his seat and going to fetch his supplies. He doesn’t  bother sticking around for an answer.

Subspace sneered at the rhetorical question, sitting back against the couch with a pout. In the silence, he couldn’t help but look back at the nub that was once his arm, wiggling it awkwardly. Thank swords he can’t feel it anymore. Maybe the rot was actually good for something.

Medkit seated himself beside Subspace on the sofa, placing down disinfectants, antibiotics, a box of gloves, a towel, medical stitches, and higher-quality bandages.

“Ooooh…You’re using the good stuff? On me? I knew you loved me, Meddy!” Subspace smirks from ear-to-ear. 

Medkit doesn’t reply, his brows knitted together with concentration as he focuses on the wounds. 

.

.

.

.

After hours of cleaning, stitching, bickering, getting slapped in various places by an irritated Subspace before just flat-out drugging him with sedatives, and bandaging, Medkit had finally finished patching the pink demon up.

Some of his finest work, he reckoned.

He packed up his things, listening to subspace’s oddly therapeutic snoring. 

He sounds like he’s purring.

Medkit chuckles, surprised to find himself smiling fondly at the dozing demon. He tears his gaze away, putting away his supplies. 

I hope I’m not making a mistake by helping him…Maybe he’s changed now. 

After all, getting kicked out of Blackrock would be a pretty ridiculous lie, right?

Gingerly, he places a blanket on Subspace’s unconscious body before heading off to get ready for bed himself. 

Routinely, he takes a shower and ties his hair back into its casual ponytail before brushing his teeth and glossing his horns. This is absolutely vital to a nightly routine and anyone who says otherwise is filthy, in his opinion.

He remembers getting into fights with Subspace about this, back in Blackrock. 

The scientist just absolutely refused to pay his own hygiene any attention, which often resulted in Medkit bribing him with food. 

Medkit rounded the corner to check the living room once more and flick off the lights.

Subspace was gone. 

A wave of panic surged through the doctor. 

WHERE DID HE GO ?????

He tried to stamp out the feeling, speed-walking around the house.

He checked the bathroom– Not there. 

He checked the living room again, just to make sure he wasn’t losing it– Nope. Still gone.

Checking the kitchen.

A knife is missing.

Okay, time to panic.

Medkit hurried upstairs to his bedroom, hyperventilating.

I need my gun.  

That’s what I get for letting that bastard back into my life.

He opens the door…

Subspace is sitting on the bed, drowsily cutting a crude ham sandwich with the missing kitchen knife.

Medkit just…Stares, his heart rate slowing down.

Well, now this is just ridiculous.

“Ahem.” He shook off his startled expression, crossing his arms. “What are you doing in MY bed?``

“What does it LOOK LIKE I’m doing?” Subspace scoffs, taking a bite out of the sandwich.

“You’re eating on my new sheets.” Medkit grumbles, sauntering over to Subspace. “And– You’re supposed to be sleeping on the couch!”

Subspace continues eating, raising his eyebrows challengingly. “Really? I like this bed more..”

Gulping down the sandwich in a few bites, he places the empty saucer on the nightstand and rolls over, wrapping himself in the luxurious silk sheets.

“Subspace.” Medkit bellows. “Out!”

“Mmm…” Subspace hums, pretending to be asleep.

“You–” Medkit groans, rubbing his temples. “I’m not dealing with this right now…” 

Defeatedly, the teal deer climbs into the other side of the bed and snatches what he can get of the sheets, laying on his side with his back facing Subspace.

“Goodnight, Meddyyyyy~” Subspace purrs, stretching his claws triumphantly.

“Shut up….And take a bath for once. You smell like you crawled out of a dumpster.” Medkit forces his eye shut. 

It was warm, next to the pink demon. He let the feeling envelope him, like an extra pair of caring, loving arms. 

I love you.

Chapter Text

With dawn approaching, Medkit knew exactly how to begin his day. 

He ran on autopilot, his routine burned into his brain. It was no problem, really.

However, now there was a sort of...anomaly In his daily life. 

He opened his eyes, met with bright pink horns instead of the steady sunset he was used to. Riiight. Subspace.

He sat up, stretching his arms above his head as he tore away from the other's iron grip. The night had been surprisingly comfortable, despite being so close to the person he would consider his sworn enemy. 

What were they now? 

Roommates?

Brushing past the thought, Medkit reluctantly got out of the silky soft sheets and went to continue his morning ritual. 

Breakfast, the usual. Bacon and eggs. 

.....Maybe he should make some oatmeal, too. 

Ugh, no. Don't feed the gremlin.

Don't let him sneak into your life again to stab you in the back. 

Don't let him become a part of your routine. 

This is only temporary, remember that. 

Mixed emotions brewed in Medkit's stomach, each arguing fair points.

Lost inthought, he jumped in shock as he realized he'd burned the bacon, the bitter smell of charred food filled his nostrils.

How long has he been standing there? 

Oatmeal it is.

You had bacon yesterday, anyways. 

He set the kettle on the stove to a comfortable temperature and went back to the bedroom, going to peek in on Subspace.

A few concerns crossed his mind. 

Why are you so worried? He hasn't even been here for a day. 

Peeking in on the dozing pink demon, Medkit tapped his nails against the white doorframe ponderingly.

.....Maybe he should still make him take a bath, the smell of blood and filth was hard to ignore. 

And he didn't want him staining the sheets. 

Medkit grabbed a towel from the nearby closet, and marched over to Subspace's side of the bed. He firmly placed the towel on the sleeping demon's lap, and shook his shoulder.

"Wake up."

Subspace jolted awake, swiping his claws at thin air as if he were fighting an invisible enemy. Within moments, he came to his senses, remembering where he was. 

Oh...

Medkit raised an amused brow. "Still thinking about Blackrock?"

Subspace scrunched up his nose at the teal stag, humiliated. "I was RESTING! Aren't you a DOCTOR? Don't you know rest is IMPORTANT?"

'Doctor' was never a title Medkit had liked very much. He twinged. "Hygene is also very important. Get your ass out of my bed and take a bath, before I make you." 

He poked Subspace in the ribs.

"And eat some breakfast." He adds. "....Please."

"Wh--You can't just---" Subspace groaned, kicking his legs in a sort of tantrum. His centipede-like tail thrased around a good bit. 

"Are you done with your tantrum, manchild?' Medkit placed his hands on his hips.

"FINNNEEEEE." Subspace huffs, snatching the towel and grabbing hold of the nightstand, using it as support as he stood up weakly. "A little HELP would be nice!" 

Medkit was already approaching the doorway. "I'll rewrap your wounds once you're done. Just shout if you need anything."

Subspace wrinkled his nose, limping along towards the bathroom. 

He could've ATLEAST helped me get to the bathroom. Bitchboy. 

.

.

It felt like ages before Suspace had finished cleaning himself, and he didn't even do a very good job. He gingerly went around the edges of his stitched wounds with a sponge. The bathwater had a sort of pink tint by the time he was finished, probably from the rot that still lingered on his face.

He got out, he dried himself off, and he stood in the full-length mirror. 

You are hideous. 

You are falling apart. 

You are nothing. 

No wonder they let you go. 

He shivered, pushing those thoughts to the back of his brain. 

Meddy was here now. Everything would be better...

Perhaps he could turn over a new leaf. 

He looked around, finding a change of clothes folded neatly on the counter. 

Just a plain t-shirt and some black shorts. 

Ordinary...

No more lab jackets.

No more freezing mountain weather.

No more lonely studies of world domination.

Subspace stepped out of the bathroom, clearing his throat. 

Overnight, the coughing had mostly cleared up. Deep down, he could feel it was Medkit's doing. He could always work miracles with his crystal. 

However, Subspace was still very much in excruciating pain....atleast he wasn't spitting up his innards anymore. 

He looks down at where his arm used to be. He's never going to get used to that, is he? 

He pittered over to the kitchen, finding Medkit seated politely at the table, drinking a cup of coffee with a bowl of oatmeal. 

Mmmmmm. Oatmeal. 

Subspace sat across from the other, beginning to eat without a second thought. His appetite had been on the rise lately. 

Having nothing to do but think really makes a guy hungry. 

In the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw Medkit grin. He turned his pink pupils on the other, staring. 

Medkit looked up from the book he had stationed In his lap.

He couldn't tell if Subspace was looking at him or through him. 

".....Sub."

"Are you grinning?"

"....?" Medkit tilted his head, giving the pink demon a look of visible confusion.

The look made Subspace run hot with em harassment. 

Come on, T. Mine. Fresh out of work and you're already losing braincells...you need a hobby. 

The two returned to their meals respectively, and once they were finished Medkit went to deal with the dishes. 

It was too silent and awkward to sit in the kitchen, so Subspace went to the living room to watch some useless reality shows. 

They served no purpose. Yet he found them so....captivating.

He was so absorbed in the TV, he hardly registered Medkit entering the room and sitting beside him with his medical supplies. 

Whatever the teal deer said, it was a blur. He's sure it wasn't important. Dance Moms is way more valuable. 

Medkit waved a hand in front of the captivated scientist's face, but to no avail. He got no reponse.

Well, atleast he won't be bickering.

Medkit made quick work of it, rewrapping the wounds in fresh coverings. He found it oddly natural to be so close to Subspace, despite their history. 

It's not like Subspace would care. He's watching The Bachelor. 

Surely he'd be fine for a few hours alone? 

Medkit had errands to run, and he truthfully did not have the patience to drag Subspace along. 

What if he steals?

No...There's nothing worth stealing there. 

And his story seems...honest enough. Believeable.

Plus, he's a grown man. 

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

Upon being left alone in the house for a few heartbeats, Subspace noticed the absence of Medkit’s bickering voice and snapped back into reality. Perhaps the teal deer kept him more grounded than T. Mine gave him credit for. 

….How long had he been sitting there?

Dance Moms was still playing. It was a rerun of an episode Subspace had already seen. 

He stretched his arm above his head, agonizingly achey from sitting in the same position for so long. 

He stood up on trembling legs, limping pitifully towards the kitchen to grab a snack or two. 

What could he possibly do in Medkit’s absence? 

Maybe he could mis-match all his pairs of socks. That would be fun.

Grabbing a snack from the kitchen, Subspace’s racing thoughts kept him occupied as he paced around the house, snacking on animal crackers. 

He slowly made his way upstairs, stopping at the top of the staircase.

Was that painting always there?

It was a large portrait at the end of the hall, depicting some incomprehensible black and green blob. The frame was gloriously crafted and golden, an eye carved in each corner of the rectangle. 

He could’ve sworn it moved.

It made him feel uneasy, as if the abyss was staring right back at him. 

Don’t be ridiculous.

…. Just keep walking.

Subspace hurried into the bedroom, crouching down beside Medkit’s wardrobe and going through his personal belongings. 

Clothes? BORING!

Medication? For what? Nevermind, don’t care.

He stopped sifting, picking up a hefty teal-covered book with an eye symbol embedded on the front. 

His hands shook, but he couldn’t figure out why. 

Subspace had the odd feeling he wasn’t supposed to be holding this….Book?

It put the fear of god in him.

He politely set the book down, and hastily covered it with the clothes and other belongings he’d strewn around the floor. That was enough snooping for today.

Subspace walks back out into the hallway, glancing at the painting once more on his way downstairs.

Maybe he can ask Medkit to take it down. 

It scares him. 

He went to the kitchen for one more snack-grab before trudging back over to the couch, remaining there. His thoughts had been oddly silent, only filled with the image of the painting. Something about it bothered the pink demon, no matter how much he reasoned that it was nothing to be concerned about. 

Subspace hardly touched his snacks and hadn’t even realized the TV wasn’t turned on. He stared at the wall, feeling goosebumps run along his skin with uneasiness.

Keys were jingling softly in the doorway, and the muffled creak of the front door opening filled the downstairs area.

“I’m home.”

Medkit called nonchalantly, not expecting a response. 

He’s probably still watching those weird realityTV shows.

The teal deer peeks into the livingroom, only hearing the sounds of his own footsteps. 

“Subspace?”

The former scientist turned in a startled manner, but quickly tried to compose himself once he realized it was just that familiar antlered demon.

“Oh…Look who finally decided to show up!” Subspace crosses his arms, turning his head sassily.

“I said Hi to you this morning.” Medkit rolls his eyes, going to put the groceries in the kitchen.

“I don’t remember that.” Subspace grumbles.

“That’s because you were too occupied with the TV.” Unpacking the groceries, he makes a mental note to get more bandages next time he goes out. He’s indefinitely running low after treating Subspace for his extensive injuries.

“I am NEVER unaware of my surroundings!” Subspace marched into the kitchen. “I am SUBSPACE T. GOD-DAMNED MINE!” 

Eyeroll. 

“You’re also jobless. Sit down, you’ll loosen your stitches if you keep jumping around like that.” 

“I–You— WHAT DO YOU EVEN KNOW, HUH?!”

“I have a Phd.” Medkit states nonchalantly, pulling out a chair for Subspace to sit down in. (Which, the pink demon reluctantly does sit down.)

Subspace seems like he’s about to retort, but his mind quickly diverts back to the topic at hand–

Right, the painting.

“By the way…Could we move that painting upstairs? It’s stupid and ugly.” 

Medkit raises a brow, placing the fresh carton of milk in the fridge. “Are you feeling feverish?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Subspace taps a claw against the table impatiently. “I don’t like the painting.”

“Subspace, what are you on about?” Medkit grumbles, raising a hand to massage his brows. “Is this some kind of mind game?”

“What?” Subspace sneers. 

“There isn’t a painting upstairs.” 

“Now you’re just playing with me.” Subspace turns away, agitated. 

“You’re insane.” The other remarks, now moving onto getting dinner ready. “You must’ve been dreaming.”

Defeated, Subspace slouches in his seat. “So…what were you doing all day?”

Changing the topic of conversation seemed like an obvious next move. Maybe he’d pull Meddy’s hair in his sleep to get back at him for it.

Almost as if it were routine, Medkit cooked, the two ate, and then they headed off to their individual nightime rituals.

While Subspace rolled around and made a mess of the sheets out of the sheer intent of inconvenience, Medkit performed his usual rounds. 

Shower, Hair, pajamas, teeth, bed.

Lying in the company of one another, the two rested comfortably in satin sheets. 

Well, that was until around 3:30 AM.

Subspace had been disturbed by the aching of his own rot. Sometimes he swears he can feel it creeping along his skin, eating him inside out. It hurts, but he tries not to show it. For some reason he cannot yet comprehend, he doesn’t want Medkit to know he’s in so much pain. The medicine he’d been supplied with made it better, but nothing could stop it from spreading. Deep down, he knew he’d meet his end eventually. 

He just hoped it was a bittersweet one.

Surrounded by the warm embrace of the person he loves.

But for now, he would lie in wait for this end, a future that seemed to close, yet so impossible to grasp.

He opened his eyes, staring towards the foot of the bed.

A hooded figure stood tall, its shadowy silhouette barely visible in the darkness of the room. It was silent, but he knew it was there. 

Watching.

It raised one of its arms, and pointed at him with a wicked claw. 

It was as if the world had gone silent, an invisible pressure weighing down on Subspace’s chest. He trembled, sitting back in the cushions of the bed. 

Normally, he was very open to the idea of killing intruders on sight.

This was different.

This was no intruder. It didn’t want to steal or sith through belongings. It was here with another purpose.

Darkness enclosed his vision, and he slipped into unconsciousness before he could even open his mouth to question the figure.

Yet, it was almost as if it knew what he was going to ask. 

He got no answer, but something tugged at his guts. 

Portent.