Fic: Reaper of Bones
Title: Reaper of Bones
Author: miss_m_cricket
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot! / Doom Crossover.
Rating: NC-17 for language and goriness and brief sexytimes
Pairing: will be Reaper!McCoy/James T. Kirk
Disclaimer: Own neither Doom, nor Star Trek. (Nor Abstergo Industries or the Animus)
Summary: Starfleet has ordered the Enterprise to Mars to reactivate the Olduvai facility and Bones is once again forced to face his demons...
A/N: Some of these snippets of life with RRTS 6 were gleaned from my obsessive reading of the Doom novel. However none of them are copied directly.
A/N 2: This chapter was also WAAAY longer than I expected it to be. The idea was for nine pages, and finish all the memory sequence. However the RRTS boys wouldn't shut up...so the chapter was 17 pages long and you'll see where we get up to. xD Hope you enjoy anyway.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Reaper of Bones
"So Sarge was the one to name you Reaper."
"Yeah, he was."
"Bones..."
"Don't say anything Kid, just watch."
~*~
He was alone in the Barracks, hanging out on his bunk, a book held loosely in his hand, when he heard heavy footsteps walk across the hallway upstairs. Only one person would walk like that, and towards the CO quarters. It meant Sarge was back from his trip to the Caribbean, a trip insisted upon by the higher ups. They wanted to make sure that Sarge would have the stones for important command decisions.
Reaper hesitated, before putting the worn paperback down on his pillow before swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing up. Making his way up the stairs and down the gantry way to the CO's rooms, he paused once more before knocking quietly. "Sarge...?"
"Go away Reaper." the voice sounded tired and defeated even through the thick metal door.
Ignoring the order the dark haired marine pushed the door open, stepping inside the clean and impersonal sanctum of the Commanding Officer of RRTS 6. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the 'ready to receive' flashing emanating from the console on the desk. Sarge himself was sitting on the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands.
"Thought I told you to go away." he growled in Reaper's direction.
"First lesson in Command. Don't give an order you know won't be obeyed." Sarge snorted, sitting up slowly and Reaper could see the bleakness in his dark eyes. It scared him; Sarge was never out of control, was never anything less than professional. But this wasn't work, this was Reaper in Sarge's private space, "What's up Sarge?" he asked quietly.
"I could haul you up for mutinous insurrection," Sarge rumbled softly, sounding much too tired to even consider following through on the half-hearted threat, "Why the hell are you even here anyway?"
"Thought you might appreciate company." Reaper sat down beside the bigger man, turning his head to look at the stony profile of his Commanding Officer, "Even if you don't wanna talk about whatever the fuck went down out there."
There was silence then for long moments as Reaper looked away and considered the blank metal wall across the room with great interest. He could feel Sarge struggling beside him, fighting through natural reticence and wariness, wondering if he could trust Reaper. He logically knew he could, but would that be enough to break through the mental, instinctual barriers that every Marine built up to protect themselves.
"We killed them all." Sarge's voice rumbled out of the darkness, rough with suppressed emotion, "The UAC base was killing them, leaking radiation. The villagers rounded up a militia and stormed the base, which pretended to surrender long enough for us to get there and wipe them out. We hunted them down, every last man, woman and child and buried them in a shallow grave on the pristine white beach. Place looked like fucking paradise, until you came too close and could smell the rotting flesh, and see where animals had dug them up to feast." Sarge shuddered, "Feelings make it too hard Reaper, trust me. Feelings just make you hurt. Work on that for me would you? Shutting yourself off from everything?"
Reaper knew what Sarge was asking, the hidden meaning behind the questions. It was a plea for help, in the only way that Sarge could ask.
"Sure thing Sarge." He said, patting his CO's arm, awkwardly, "Anything you want."
~*~
"Don't give an order you know won't be obeyed. I like that."
"Why doesn't that surprise me...?"
~*~
“Reaper!” Sarge’s voice bellowed through the base, reverberating up into the showers where the dark haired marine paused halfway through brushing his teeth, “Reaper! Stop putting on your makeup and get your ass down here!”
Reaper looked into the mirror, pulling a face, the only response he could give to his CO’s insults, and spat out the wad of toothpaste in his mouth. Rinsing it out of his mouth, he headed downstairs, according Sarge a laconic eyebrow.
“You called honey?”
The smack to the head was immediate, just like he had known it would be.
What he hadn’t expected however was a soft snicker to his left. Looking there, he came face to face with two big burly soldiers, both with dark chocolate brown skin, darker than Sarge’s. One of them looked like he was trying not to smile, while the other one openly grinned.
“Reaper.” Sarge drawled, clapping his hand firmly on the smaller man’s shoulder, “Meet two of your newest brothers in arms. Destroyer, Duke this is my second, Reaper.”
“Hey bro.” The one called Duke chirped easily, slouching comfortably and winking at the dark haired marine. Destroyer just nodded, not really being a big one for words. Sarge’s hand tightened on Reaper’s shoulder briefly and then he let go, nodding at the three of them.
“Gotta collect the other ladies to join the slumber party. Blow up anything while I’m gone and it’s coming out of your salary, or I’ll redecorate the barracks with your innards. Got it?”
And on that cheerful note their CO left.
“So...” Duke said, strolling into the barracks and looking around interestedly before turning back to look at Reaper, “Do you like video games?”
“Yeah...” Reaper said, eyebrow heading towards the ceiling again, unsure of this man’s line of questioning.
Duke grinned and wandered back over to slap the other mans back. “Then my friend, we are going to get along just fine.”
~*~
“I think I would have liked Duke too.”
“I know you would have, though I hesitate to think of the chaos wreaked on the innocent world if you two had met.”
“You just have a thing for cocky men Bones.”
“Shut up Jim...”
~*~
The sun was burning down on his bare head, although his sunglasses kept his eyes shaded.
They were hurtling through the desert in a massive six wheeled armoured vehicle. Sarge was driving because he had pulled the Commanding Officer Rank card, and Duke was riding shotgun, because he had childishly called it first, and had proceeded to cuss Reaper out when the other man had tried to hop in.
Reaper and Destroyer were in the middle part, sitting on the edges of the vehicle and holding on to the supports for dear life as they whizzed along, Duke whooping, Destroyer shaking his head, and Reaper laughing.
In the back were three other men, Red Morrison, Rolf Gestetburg and Lee Zhang. They too were grinning at the speed that Sarge was gunning the machine, although Rolf was looking a little green around the gills.
Duke twisted around in his seat, ignoring Sarge’s growl to turn the right way around, and grinned impishly at his squadmates.
“One thing you can’t live with in a lay!” he hollered over the roar of the vehicle.
“Hairy!” Red yelled back.
“Ugly!” Lee whooped.
“Snoring!” Sarge surprised them all by contributing, a small grin tugging around his mouth.
“Don’t sleep with Reaper then.” Duke quipped, ducking the two hands that shot out to rough him up, one from Reaper and the other from his Commanding Officer, “Man snores like crazy!”
“I do not!” Reaper yelled back, grinning, “I sleep mumble, I don’t snore!”
“Rolf snores,” Destroyer supplied, chuckling, “When he isn’t stinking up the place farting.”
Rolf flipped the bird at him, and the whole squad laughed.
And that was when the pressure grenade struck the right rear fender of their vehicle.
Rolf and Red died within moments, screaming as the shrapnel tore them apart. Lee was thrown clear, landing in the sand dunes and regaining consciousness a few moments later, only to realise he had lost most of his lower body. No one heard his gunshot over the sounds of the battle raging in the dune valley.
Duke had been blasted out of his seat and a piece of shrapnel had sliced up his arm pretty badly and he lay in the sand, dazed and head spinning. Sarge had been concussed by something smashing into his head, and only came to when Destroyer hauled him bodily out of their now crushed transport, seconds before the whole thing blew up.
Everyone, including the desert guerrillas who had been pouring over the dunes was flattened by this second explosion, and that also included Reaper who had been out on the road, a cut bleeding freely from his scalp, as he fired at the incoming enemy.
The fireball singed them all, knocking Duke, who had been muzzily climbing to his feet, flat once more, stunned; burning off Destroyer’s eyebrows which made him a rather terrifying figure, chaingun in hand, brows smoking as he fired; and setting Reaper’s jacket alight, which caused the dark haired man to swear viscously.
Putting it out by rolling in the sand, Reaper quickly got to his feet, running low and letting off bursts of fire as he moved, he got to Duke, hauling the other man bodily over a ridge where he could stand over him with greater ease.
There they were joined by Destroyer, carrying Sarge, and the two marines stood over their fallen comrades until every single one of the insurgents were dead.
It was only later, when the chopper arrived and Reaper tended to Sarge’s injuries that Destroyer went out to find the others. All dead, he reported to Reaper grimly, Lee by his own hand, with his own firearm.
Dismissing the other man to have someone else look over the smoked brows, Reaper looked down at his CO and saw Sarge’s dark eyes looking back at him.
“You alright?” he asked gruffly.
Sarge nodded and gripped Reaper’s arm tightly, before closing his eyes again. Gently the dark haired marine pressed the needle to his CO’s shoulder and injected him with a sedative. Best that he wake up again after all of this was cleaned up.
Then he got to his feet and left to organise the clean up crews.
~*~
Silence.
“You alright kid?”
“Bones...you...”
“Hey,” and now it was his turn to give one of those funny almost mind-hugs, “I’m here, I’m safe. Just a memory.”
“I know.” But Jim’s mind held the embrace tight even as they slipped into the next memory.
~*~
“Two new guys.” Duke’s voice blurted into his ear, just as he was halfway through a paragraph in his latest book. Unimpressed Reaper looked up at his friend and scowled.
“And it was important to inform me of this, by spitting in my ear, why?”
Duke wasn’t offended, very little offended Duke. Instead he just grinned and reached out to ruffle Reaper’s hair, an action that scored him a solid blow to his ribs.
“Well I know how much you love the men Reaper,” Another smack, this time towards his head, which Duke laughingly ducked, “Nah, just thought you would like to know. One of them seems like a bit of a chatterbox, so your reading-“
“Hey Grimm!” A familiar voice chirped from the doorway.
There stood Finnegan from his boot camp close to five years ago. He looked older, more worn and leaner, hungrier, but those bright blue eyes were the same, as was that brilliant white smile that flashed as Reaper looked up.
“Oh god.” He groaned, “They let just anyone in here these days now do they?”
Finnegan grinned and bounced over to him and Duke, leaving the other, unnoticed man in the doorway. Reaper noted his coolly handsome features, intelligent dark eyes before Destroyer took him in hand, leading him into the living area.
“Now Grimm.” Finnegan said, giving Reaper a playful wink, “That is just not friendly.”
“You know each other?” Duke asked, obviously amused by the scowl that Reaper was sending the oblivious red haired man’s way. “Should I start feeling jealous Reaper?”
“This your girlfriend Grimm?” Finnegan chimed, sassing Duke right back. Reaper slunk down in his bed, feeling suddenly ten years older. “Pretty.”
Duke chortled and held out his hand, “Duke,” he introduced himself. Finnegan immediately clasped it back and winked again.
“Jumper.” He replied in kind, and then the blue eyes were back on Reaper, “And you are Reaper? As in Grimm?”
“Sarge picked it.” Reaper growled, feeling grumpy and knowing that he wasn’t going to get back to his book today.
“Ah yes Sarge.” Jumper nodded, mouth pursing, “Do you think he remembers me?”
“Did he ever threaten to tie anyone else’s tongue in a knot and hang them by their ankles in the well? I think he remembers you.”
“Reaper!” Sarge’s bellow roared down the stairwell and both of the new guys jumped as the man stomped down the stairs, “There you are.” Sarge growled, “I was looking for you to introduce out new recruits to you, but I see someone else got there first.”
“I haven’t met our other one,” Reaper said, hopping off his bed and moving over to join Sarge near the other new guy and Destroyer, “I was kind of ambushed.”
Duke snorted, while Sarge glowered, but nodded.
“This is erm...” The big Commanding Officer stumbled and scowled, “How do you say your name again?” he asked the Asian man, grumpily.
“Katshuhiko Kumanosuke Takaashi.” He answered easily, with no hint of resentment, “Call me Mac.”
“This is Mac,” Sarge grunted, “Mac, this is Reaper.”
“Nice to meet you man.” They shook hands and then Sarge turned to Jumper, scowling again.
“And you.”
“I’m Jumper,” the red-haired man chirped, un-phased by the dark glower being sent his way, and ignoring the warning looks that Reaper was giving him. “And I was wrong before, Duke isn’t your girlfriend is he, Reaper. It’s Sarge.”
Duke groaned, but Reaper was too horrified to do anything but gape at Jumper. He kind of wanted to laugh, and he could hear Destroyer chuckling, and could see Mac smiling nervously, but his eyes were on Sarge who was glaring furiously at the still smiling marine.
Then he turned to Reaper and the man’s big hand came up, his finger pointing at Jumper, “Reaper, ‘that’” and there was a world of annoyance and sadistic glee in his voice as he jabbed his finger at Jumper’s chest, “is your responsibility.”
“Aw but Sarge.”
“That’s an order soldier.”
Fucking hell.
Sarge gave them all a last look before turning and leaving, heavy footsteps falling on the stairs until the metal door to the CO’s office swung shut.
Silence reigned for a few more moments before Jumper turned to Reaper and grinned, “You were right, he did remember me.”
Destroyer and Duke burst out laughing as Reaper pointed at his old friend, eyes narrowing.
“You are so going to pay for that in the gym Jumper!”
Duke, walking past to his bunk, clapped the redhead on his back.
“It was nice knowing you mate.” He said solemnly, before chuckling once more, picking up his newest game console as Reaper dragged the protesting Jumper out of the room.
~*~
“Kind of ironic after all those gay jokes they cracked, that you turned out to swing both ways isn’t it...?”
“...”
“Bones...?”
~*~
“How’s yours?” Duke called over the screen partition.
Reaper, lying with his head back grinned before groaning softly as the whore’s warm mouth moved over his cock. From next door he heard a rustling and then Jumper’s voice rang out over the tops as well.
“She’s great...but small!”
Reaper’s hand covered his eyes and he chuckled drunkenly. Never would he have let the guys drag him to this sober, which of course they had known, and gotten him completely smashed before hauling him through the whorehouse doors.
The fact that the boys were keeping up a running commentary, was rather amusing, a little arousing, and would have been a lot embarrassing, but right now Reaper was beyond embarrassment.
“Hey yo, mine’s big enough to kick my ass.” Mac’s voice chimed from the other side of Duke and Reaper couldn’t help the laugh that dropped from his lips.
The girl wriggled up his body, leaving him awash with sensation, listening to the other men’s voices as they egged each other on, and feeling the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her mouth and the soft sweep of silken dark hair against his bare shoulder.
He loved furloughs.
~*~
Jim’s mind was cackling madly with laughter, and he didn’t have time to catch his breath and stop before the next memory began.
Probably a good thing, Bones mused with a mental blush.
~*~
“Invite Portman.”
Reaper turned with surprise, to see a pair of determined dark eyes looking back at hm. Mac. Sometimes it was a shock when the other man spoke, he was usually so quiet, so careful of what he said. But then the words sank in and Reaper frowned.
“What?”
“You heard me. You have an extra ticket. Invite Portman.”
Portman and Goat were the two newest members of RRTS 6. Goat had been invited days ago, but no one had been planning on inviting Portman along for this social activity. Portman was still a bit of a social outcast, despite having been with the squad for over seven months.
The man was rude, clearly disturbed, attention seeking, sick, twisted, fucked up...Reaper stopped the mental diatribe there and looked at Mac with a small frown. He knew that Mac and Portman had gone out together for the last furlough, hanging out together the entire time. And it was quite touching to see just how devoted Portman was to Mac now.
But he was surprised to see it went both ways.
“But...”
“Reaper...” Mac’s eyes bored into him, and Reaper felt it, that awful stab of guilt. Mac was right, it was cruel to leave Portman here, all alone while all of the rest of them went out to the ball game. It would make him a bully and Reaper loathed bullies.
So he nodded, and felt better when Mac gave him a small smile of thanks.
Leaving the bathroom and heading back down to the living areas he could hear Jumper tormenting Portman, teasing him about going out that night. It was the one thing he didn’t like about Jumper, the one flaw to his friends nature.
“Hey Portman,” he said, walking over. “You doing anything tonight?”
He got a miserable look as an answer, a defiant, bitter, angry and hurt look that made him hate Jumper for being a cruel smartass. Portman thought he had come over to join in the fun.
“Sure Reaper.” Portman sneered in his nasally voice, “I’ve got so many plans tonight that they are pouring out of my ass.”
Internally Reaper shuddered at the man’s crude attempt at sarcastic humour but pressed on.
“I know you do.” He said, voice firm, “Cause you are coming to the game with us.”
Shocked silence for a moment and then Jumper whined.
“Aw fuck Reaper!”
“He is coming Jumper, and that’s final.” Reaper was unaware that his voice had moulded to the resonance and timbre of Sarge’s when he gave a definitive answer, but Jumper did and he scowled, skulking off.
“You...you really mean it?” Portman looked lost, watery dark blue eyes blinking up at Reaper owlishly.
“Yeah I mean it,” Reaper said, putting the extra ticket down before the other man, “You’re not so bad corporal.”
Later on that night, Mac came up alongside Reaper as they left the ballpark, watching Portman and Duke drape themselves over one another and caterwaul the dirtiest song they knew to the sky.
“Thank you.” He said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
~*~
”Even as a hard-headed soldier, you still went to mush whenever someone asked you for something personal.”
“You are such a brat.”
“Nah, nah! I’m not mocking Bones; I think it’s really...sweet of you.”
“Jim are you feeling alright...?”
~*~
“This is a fucking milk run.” Duke griped from where he was lounged in the sand, playing with his gun, “Babysitting a crew of Navy assholes unloading a shipment.”
“You know Duke,” Reaper drawled back, resting his head against the trunk of the tree he was sitting under, “Sometimes I think you want to get your head blown off. Be grateful we don’t have to do anything.”
Duke rolled his eyes at his friend and then chuckled as a navy marine tripped in the shallow waters. He, Goat, who was a veteran although new to RRTS 6, and Destroyer, shouted jibes at the sweating, annoyed navy men while Reaper just smiled, closing his eyes.
Then he heard it. The shuh-shuh-shuh-shuh sound of an incoming missile. Instantly he was on his feet, weapon in his hands and roaring out, “GET DOWN! INCOMING!”
The navy marines dived for the ground and the robot arm machinery that they had been using on the docks exploded as the surface-to-surface missile blew it to pieces. A truck barrelled around the headland, rocketing towards them, local insurgents everywhere on it.
Of course everyone knew that the whole truck was wired anyway, a weapon all on its own. Ready and waiting to explode and take them all with it. And Reaper was running, Destroyer with him, running towards the careening vehicle, gunfire ripping through the front so that only the radiator exploded.
Then it was a mess, gunfire everywhere. He and Destroyer at the fore, Duke and Goat flanking the insurgents who tumbled out of the vehicle.
He remembered it in flashes.
Duke surrounded, slaughtering everyone but unaware of a rebel coming up on him from the side. Goat blasting the rebel away and turning to watch Duke’s six even as Duke did the same for him.
Destroyer mowing down the enemy, signalling at Reaper to get down, which he did, before blasting the men who had been trying to flank them. He remembered standing back to back with Destroyer, reaping a killing field until there were only six left, and he signalled a charge.
Soon enough all of the insurgents were dead.
Goat had lost a chunk of his hip, Duke had scored a round in his shoulder and Reaper had bruised ribs from the several rounds he had caught in the chest. Thank god for Kevlar vests.
They were patching each other up when a young man walked up to them, looking nervous and a little twitchy. Reaper recognised him as one of the Navy lot.
“What?” Destroyer growled.
“I just wanted to say...”
“You’re welcome. Now fuck off.” And the big black man turned back to Duke’s wound, disinfecting it.
Reaper looked up, seeing the young man hesitate, “You call a med chopper?”
“On their way.”
It was after another few moments of bandaging that Destroyer realised the kid was still there.
“What?”
“You guys...did a great job.”
“So? We’re supposed to.”
“I guess - we were sorta bad mouthing you...”
“And you wanted to say sorry?” Duke sneered, rolling his eyes, a gesture he had picked up through eight years of friendship with Reaper, “We don’t need it. We only accept sorry from people we respect.”
Destroyer jammed a needle into Duke’s shoulder, ignoring his friends face and groan of annoyed pain, “Actually,” he said, “I turned around, the Kid was coming up with us, firing at the enemy. The only one of that bunch that did. Shows...I dunno. Shows something.”
The kid fairly glowed at the praise.
“So kid, you want a medal? Go get us something to drink if you really want to be useful.” Duke grumbled, still smarting over Destroyer’s use of the med equipment.
“Sure,” the kid said eagerly, “I mean, get the water that is.” He turned to leave and then paused, turning back, “Um, how do I...”
“Get water?” Destroyer stared at him balefully, “You get a canteen and you shake it. If it goes gurgle, gurgle, it’s got water in it. Then you bring it back to me first, not these other jarheads.”
“Hey fuck you Destroyer,” Duke said, “Who you calling jarhead, jarhead? Don’t listen to him kid; bring the water back to me first alright?”
“But-But how do I...?”
“What?”
“I want in.” The kid blurted out, cheeks pinking, “Be...you know...one of you.”
Duke snorted and Destroyer shook his head. “Special deals have to be made with changing from your lot to ours, plus the training would kill you. Now Big Balls, how’s about that water?”
“I’ll get you water, but I want in.”
He was persistent, Reaper gave him that.
“What? We don’t get water unless we say you can join up?”
“No, I’m not saying that...”
“Then fuck off.”
“Look I just want in.”
“Heard you before.”
The kid stalked off, looking annoyed, and Reaper hid a grin as he sewed up the gash on Goat’s hip. Soon enough he was back, and it was clear he was going to try another strategy.
“I want in, or...uh...I don’t get you in to see Hotties in Orbit tonight.”
Duke immediately perked up. “Hotties in Orbit? You can get us in to that?”
“Come on Duke,” Reaper muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Hey I want to see that thing. Yeah...and the kid was good. Boy howdy he was good. You see how good he was, backing us up like that Reaper? I heard they got that blonde with the tattoos on her undyplaces in that thing man...that genius actress with the humungous...”
“Oh Christ, are you really going to saddle us with a kid Duke?” Reaper laughed, turning to face them all as Goat got up and moved over towards the dead guerrillas. “He doesn’t look old enough to shave. How old are you kid?” he asked, glaring at the now happier looking young man.
“Twenty one sir!” he informed him proudly, before his face turned a bit green. Reaper didn’t need to turn around to know that the kid was watching Goat scalping their fallen opponents and collecting them together.
“Alright kid.” Reaper said, leaning back and ignoring Duke’s low ‘yesssssssssss’ from nearby, “You get us in, and we’ll put in a good word to Sarge. What’s your name anyway.”
“Dantalian.” The kid said, eyes shining.
~*~
”The kid...”
“Yeah...”
“So you got him in...”
“Only to have Sarge kill him on his first mission. Yeah.”
“What happened next?”
~*~
Bones showed Jim everything, everything from the Amazon, and the death of Jumper because of his mistakes, knew Jim could feel the grief and the anger singing through their joined minds, the echo of memory.
~*~
Reaper shuddered under a plexiglass coffin, as images swam up on the viewscreen above his head. They were broadcasting his memories, an older and cruder version of the animus. Reaper twitched and shuddered as he relived the fateful day in the jungle, while impassive faced scientists watched on.
Electrodes were taped to his temples and he stirred fitfully, not really having agreed to this. But the military psychologist had insisted.
“I insist Mr Grimm,” she had said soothingly, but with no room for argument, “I really must insist.”
Suddenly Reaper’s eyes opened, but they didn’t see the plexiglass or the white room beyond, he could only see the Amazon, and Jumper. His body stilled but his mouth moved as he gave Jumper the orders which would send him to his death.
The screen showed Jumper moving off, and Reaper leading Destroyer and Goat into the jungle, until they got to the part where the guerrilla appeared out of nowhere and Reaper was forced to kill him. Then Reaper thrashed, trapped in the glass coffin, and he writhed as he shot the bullet that killed the young guerrilla.
“I think he is fighting the therapy, maybe we’d better...” one of the scientists took a step forward.
“No,” the woman who was in charge said with firm finality, “if he doesn’t relive this now, he’ll relive it as repression stress. He’ll snap in combat...”
Reaper’s body twisted horribly, a terrible parody of the happenings on the memory screen as Reaper looked at the young guerrilla dying on the forest floor. His actions echoed the dying mans before them.
Then there was mad action on the screen. Reaper racing for Jumper, ignoring his own safety, and inside the coffin, the dark haired marine’s heartrate accelerated and he writhed with pained, helpless moans. He knew what was going to happen even though he now had to see it again.
Jumper’s mutilated body appeared on the screen and Reaper began to scream, inside the memory and inside the coffin, horrible screams of war and pain and absolute mad fury. The picture on the screen dissolved and Reaper went limp as technicians hurried around, twisting knobs and dials.
“John Grimm? Are you with us?” one of them asked as Reaper opened his eyes tiredly. He nodded and she smiled brightly, “We lost track of the memory- stress levels too high, but I do think we made some progress. How do you feel?”
“I want to get back to my unit.” Reaper said, his voice dull, “Take all this fucking gear off me.”
~*~
”Oh fuck Bones...”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not! No wonder you didn’t want to use this Animus thing.”
“Just leave it Jim.”
“But...”
“Please.”
Silence for a brief moment.
“Alright Bones.”
Author: miss_m_cricket
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot! / Doom Crossover.
Rating: NC-17 for language and goriness and brief sexytimes
Pairing: will be Reaper!McCoy/James T. Kirk
Disclaimer: Own neither Doom, nor Star Trek. (Nor Abstergo Industries or the Animus)
Summary: Starfleet has ordered the Enterprise to Mars to reactivate the Olduvai facility and Bones is once again forced to face his demons...
A/N: Some of these snippets of life with RRTS 6 were gleaned from my obsessive reading of the Doom novel. However none of them are copied directly.
A/N 2: This chapter was also WAAAY longer than I expected it to be. The idea was for nine pages, and finish all the memory sequence. However the RRTS boys wouldn't shut up...so the chapter was 17 pages long and you'll see where we get up to. xD Hope you enjoy anyway.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Reaper of Bones
"So Sarge was the one to name you Reaper."
"Yeah, he was."
"Bones..."
"Don't say anything Kid, just watch."
~*~
He was alone in the Barracks, hanging out on his bunk, a book held loosely in his hand, when he heard heavy footsteps walk across the hallway upstairs. Only one person would walk like that, and towards the CO quarters. It meant Sarge was back from his trip to the Caribbean, a trip insisted upon by the higher ups. They wanted to make sure that Sarge would have the stones for important command decisions.
Reaper hesitated, before putting the worn paperback down on his pillow before swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing up. Making his way up the stairs and down the gantry way to the CO's rooms, he paused once more before knocking quietly. "Sarge...?"
"Go away Reaper." the voice sounded tired and defeated even through the thick metal door.
Ignoring the order the dark haired marine pushed the door open, stepping inside the clean and impersonal sanctum of the Commanding Officer of RRTS 6. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the 'ready to receive' flashing emanating from the console on the desk. Sarge himself was sitting on the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands.
"Thought I told you to go away." he growled in Reaper's direction.
"First lesson in Command. Don't give an order you know won't be obeyed." Sarge snorted, sitting up slowly and Reaper could see the bleakness in his dark eyes. It scared him; Sarge was never out of control, was never anything less than professional. But this wasn't work, this was Reaper in Sarge's private space, "What's up Sarge?" he asked quietly.
"I could haul you up for mutinous insurrection," Sarge rumbled softly, sounding much too tired to even consider following through on the half-hearted threat, "Why the hell are you even here anyway?"
"Thought you might appreciate company." Reaper sat down beside the bigger man, turning his head to look at the stony profile of his Commanding Officer, "Even if you don't wanna talk about whatever the fuck went down out there."
There was silence then for long moments as Reaper looked away and considered the blank metal wall across the room with great interest. He could feel Sarge struggling beside him, fighting through natural reticence and wariness, wondering if he could trust Reaper. He logically knew he could, but would that be enough to break through the mental, instinctual barriers that every Marine built up to protect themselves.
"We killed them all." Sarge's voice rumbled out of the darkness, rough with suppressed emotion, "The UAC base was killing them, leaking radiation. The villagers rounded up a militia and stormed the base, which pretended to surrender long enough for us to get there and wipe them out. We hunted them down, every last man, woman and child and buried them in a shallow grave on the pristine white beach. Place looked like fucking paradise, until you came too close and could smell the rotting flesh, and see where animals had dug them up to feast." Sarge shuddered, "Feelings make it too hard Reaper, trust me. Feelings just make you hurt. Work on that for me would you? Shutting yourself off from everything?"
Reaper knew what Sarge was asking, the hidden meaning behind the questions. It was a plea for help, in the only way that Sarge could ask.
"Sure thing Sarge." He said, patting his CO's arm, awkwardly, "Anything you want."
~*~
"Don't give an order you know won't be obeyed. I like that."
"Why doesn't that surprise me...?"
~*~
“Reaper!” Sarge’s voice bellowed through the base, reverberating up into the showers where the dark haired marine paused halfway through brushing his teeth, “Reaper! Stop putting on your makeup and get your ass down here!”
Reaper looked into the mirror, pulling a face, the only response he could give to his CO’s insults, and spat out the wad of toothpaste in his mouth. Rinsing it out of his mouth, he headed downstairs, according Sarge a laconic eyebrow.
“You called honey?”
The smack to the head was immediate, just like he had known it would be.
What he hadn’t expected however was a soft snicker to his left. Looking there, he came face to face with two big burly soldiers, both with dark chocolate brown skin, darker than Sarge’s. One of them looked like he was trying not to smile, while the other one openly grinned.
“Reaper.” Sarge drawled, clapping his hand firmly on the smaller man’s shoulder, “Meet two of your newest brothers in arms. Destroyer, Duke this is my second, Reaper.”
“Hey bro.” The one called Duke chirped easily, slouching comfortably and winking at the dark haired marine. Destroyer just nodded, not really being a big one for words. Sarge’s hand tightened on Reaper’s shoulder briefly and then he let go, nodding at the three of them.
“Gotta collect the other ladies to join the slumber party. Blow up anything while I’m gone and it’s coming out of your salary, or I’ll redecorate the barracks with your innards. Got it?”
And on that cheerful note their CO left.
“So...” Duke said, strolling into the barracks and looking around interestedly before turning back to look at Reaper, “Do you like video games?”
“Yeah...” Reaper said, eyebrow heading towards the ceiling again, unsure of this man’s line of questioning.
Duke grinned and wandered back over to slap the other mans back. “Then my friend, we are going to get along just fine.”
~*~
“I think I would have liked Duke too.”
“I know you would have, though I hesitate to think of the chaos wreaked on the innocent world if you two had met.”
“You just have a thing for cocky men Bones.”
“Shut up Jim...”
~*~
The sun was burning down on his bare head, although his sunglasses kept his eyes shaded.
They were hurtling through the desert in a massive six wheeled armoured vehicle. Sarge was driving because he had pulled the Commanding Officer Rank card, and Duke was riding shotgun, because he had childishly called it first, and had proceeded to cuss Reaper out when the other man had tried to hop in.
Reaper and Destroyer were in the middle part, sitting on the edges of the vehicle and holding on to the supports for dear life as they whizzed along, Duke whooping, Destroyer shaking his head, and Reaper laughing.
In the back were three other men, Red Morrison, Rolf Gestetburg and Lee Zhang. They too were grinning at the speed that Sarge was gunning the machine, although Rolf was looking a little green around the gills.
Duke twisted around in his seat, ignoring Sarge’s growl to turn the right way around, and grinned impishly at his squadmates.
“One thing you can’t live with in a lay!” he hollered over the roar of the vehicle.
“Hairy!” Red yelled back.
“Ugly!” Lee whooped.
“Snoring!” Sarge surprised them all by contributing, a small grin tugging around his mouth.
“Don’t sleep with Reaper then.” Duke quipped, ducking the two hands that shot out to rough him up, one from Reaper and the other from his Commanding Officer, “Man snores like crazy!”
“I do not!” Reaper yelled back, grinning, “I sleep mumble, I don’t snore!”
“Rolf snores,” Destroyer supplied, chuckling, “When he isn’t stinking up the place farting.”
Rolf flipped the bird at him, and the whole squad laughed.
And that was when the pressure grenade struck the right rear fender of their vehicle.
Rolf and Red died within moments, screaming as the shrapnel tore them apart. Lee was thrown clear, landing in the sand dunes and regaining consciousness a few moments later, only to realise he had lost most of his lower body. No one heard his gunshot over the sounds of the battle raging in the dune valley.
Duke had been blasted out of his seat and a piece of shrapnel had sliced up his arm pretty badly and he lay in the sand, dazed and head spinning. Sarge had been concussed by something smashing into his head, and only came to when Destroyer hauled him bodily out of their now crushed transport, seconds before the whole thing blew up.
Everyone, including the desert guerrillas who had been pouring over the dunes was flattened by this second explosion, and that also included Reaper who had been out on the road, a cut bleeding freely from his scalp, as he fired at the incoming enemy.
The fireball singed them all, knocking Duke, who had been muzzily climbing to his feet, flat once more, stunned; burning off Destroyer’s eyebrows which made him a rather terrifying figure, chaingun in hand, brows smoking as he fired; and setting Reaper’s jacket alight, which caused the dark haired man to swear viscously.
Putting it out by rolling in the sand, Reaper quickly got to his feet, running low and letting off bursts of fire as he moved, he got to Duke, hauling the other man bodily over a ridge where he could stand over him with greater ease.
There they were joined by Destroyer, carrying Sarge, and the two marines stood over their fallen comrades until every single one of the insurgents were dead.
It was only later, when the chopper arrived and Reaper tended to Sarge’s injuries that Destroyer went out to find the others. All dead, he reported to Reaper grimly, Lee by his own hand, with his own firearm.
Dismissing the other man to have someone else look over the smoked brows, Reaper looked down at his CO and saw Sarge’s dark eyes looking back at him.
“You alright?” he asked gruffly.
Sarge nodded and gripped Reaper’s arm tightly, before closing his eyes again. Gently the dark haired marine pressed the needle to his CO’s shoulder and injected him with a sedative. Best that he wake up again after all of this was cleaned up.
Then he got to his feet and left to organise the clean up crews.
~*~
Silence.
“You alright kid?”
“Bones...you...”
“Hey,” and now it was his turn to give one of those funny almost mind-hugs, “I’m here, I’m safe. Just a memory.”
“I know.” But Jim’s mind held the embrace tight even as they slipped into the next memory.
~*~
“Two new guys.” Duke’s voice blurted into his ear, just as he was halfway through a paragraph in his latest book. Unimpressed Reaper looked up at his friend and scowled.
“And it was important to inform me of this, by spitting in my ear, why?”
Duke wasn’t offended, very little offended Duke. Instead he just grinned and reached out to ruffle Reaper’s hair, an action that scored him a solid blow to his ribs.
“Well I know how much you love the men Reaper,” Another smack, this time towards his head, which Duke laughingly ducked, “Nah, just thought you would like to know. One of them seems like a bit of a chatterbox, so your reading-“
“Hey Grimm!” A familiar voice chirped from the doorway.
There stood Finnegan from his boot camp close to five years ago. He looked older, more worn and leaner, hungrier, but those bright blue eyes were the same, as was that brilliant white smile that flashed as Reaper looked up.
“Oh god.” He groaned, “They let just anyone in here these days now do they?”
Finnegan grinned and bounced over to him and Duke, leaving the other, unnoticed man in the doorway. Reaper noted his coolly handsome features, intelligent dark eyes before Destroyer took him in hand, leading him into the living area.
“Now Grimm.” Finnegan said, giving Reaper a playful wink, “That is just not friendly.”
“You know each other?” Duke asked, obviously amused by the scowl that Reaper was sending the oblivious red haired man’s way. “Should I start feeling jealous Reaper?”
“This your girlfriend Grimm?” Finnegan chimed, sassing Duke right back. Reaper slunk down in his bed, feeling suddenly ten years older. “Pretty.”
Duke chortled and held out his hand, “Duke,” he introduced himself. Finnegan immediately clasped it back and winked again.
“Jumper.” He replied in kind, and then the blue eyes were back on Reaper, “And you are Reaper? As in Grimm?”
“Sarge picked it.” Reaper growled, feeling grumpy and knowing that he wasn’t going to get back to his book today.
“Ah yes Sarge.” Jumper nodded, mouth pursing, “Do you think he remembers me?”
“Did he ever threaten to tie anyone else’s tongue in a knot and hang them by their ankles in the well? I think he remembers you.”
“Reaper!” Sarge’s bellow roared down the stairwell and both of the new guys jumped as the man stomped down the stairs, “There you are.” Sarge growled, “I was looking for you to introduce out new recruits to you, but I see someone else got there first.”
“I haven’t met our other one,” Reaper said, hopping off his bed and moving over to join Sarge near the other new guy and Destroyer, “I was kind of ambushed.”
Duke snorted, while Sarge glowered, but nodded.
“This is erm...” The big Commanding Officer stumbled and scowled, “How do you say your name again?” he asked the Asian man, grumpily.
“Katshuhiko Kumanosuke Takaashi.” He answered easily, with no hint of resentment, “Call me Mac.”
“This is Mac,” Sarge grunted, “Mac, this is Reaper.”
“Nice to meet you man.” They shook hands and then Sarge turned to Jumper, scowling again.
“And you.”
“I’m Jumper,” the red-haired man chirped, un-phased by the dark glower being sent his way, and ignoring the warning looks that Reaper was giving him. “And I was wrong before, Duke isn’t your girlfriend is he, Reaper. It’s Sarge.”
Duke groaned, but Reaper was too horrified to do anything but gape at Jumper. He kind of wanted to laugh, and he could hear Destroyer chuckling, and could see Mac smiling nervously, but his eyes were on Sarge who was glaring furiously at the still smiling marine.
Then he turned to Reaper and the man’s big hand came up, his finger pointing at Jumper, “Reaper, ‘that’” and there was a world of annoyance and sadistic glee in his voice as he jabbed his finger at Jumper’s chest, “is your responsibility.”
“Aw but Sarge.”
“That’s an order soldier.”
Fucking hell.
Sarge gave them all a last look before turning and leaving, heavy footsteps falling on the stairs until the metal door to the CO’s office swung shut.
Silence reigned for a few more moments before Jumper turned to Reaper and grinned, “You were right, he did remember me.”
Destroyer and Duke burst out laughing as Reaper pointed at his old friend, eyes narrowing.
“You are so going to pay for that in the gym Jumper!”
Duke, walking past to his bunk, clapped the redhead on his back.
“It was nice knowing you mate.” He said solemnly, before chuckling once more, picking up his newest game console as Reaper dragged the protesting Jumper out of the room.
~*~
“Kind of ironic after all those gay jokes they cracked, that you turned out to swing both ways isn’t it...?”
“...”
“Bones...?”
~*~
“How’s yours?” Duke called over the screen partition.
Reaper, lying with his head back grinned before groaning softly as the whore’s warm mouth moved over his cock. From next door he heard a rustling and then Jumper’s voice rang out over the tops as well.
“She’s great...but small!”
Reaper’s hand covered his eyes and he chuckled drunkenly. Never would he have let the guys drag him to this sober, which of course they had known, and gotten him completely smashed before hauling him through the whorehouse doors.
The fact that the boys were keeping up a running commentary, was rather amusing, a little arousing, and would have been a lot embarrassing, but right now Reaper was beyond embarrassment.
“Hey yo, mine’s big enough to kick my ass.” Mac’s voice chimed from the other side of Duke and Reaper couldn’t help the laugh that dropped from his lips.
The girl wriggled up his body, leaving him awash with sensation, listening to the other men’s voices as they egged each other on, and feeling the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her mouth and the soft sweep of silken dark hair against his bare shoulder.
He loved furloughs.
~*~
Jim’s mind was cackling madly with laughter, and he didn’t have time to catch his breath and stop before the next memory began.
Probably a good thing, Bones mused with a mental blush.
~*~
“Invite Portman.”
Reaper turned with surprise, to see a pair of determined dark eyes looking back at hm. Mac. Sometimes it was a shock when the other man spoke, he was usually so quiet, so careful of what he said. But then the words sank in and Reaper frowned.
“What?”
“You heard me. You have an extra ticket. Invite Portman.”
Portman and Goat were the two newest members of RRTS 6. Goat had been invited days ago, but no one had been planning on inviting Portman along for this social activity. Portman was still a bit of a social outcast, despite having been with the squad for over seven months.
The man was rude, clearly disturbed, attention seeking, sick, twisted, fucked up...Reaper stopped the mental diatribe there and looked at Mac with a small frown. He knew that Mac and Portman had gone out together for the last furlough, hanging out together the entire time. And it was quite touching to see just how devoted Portman was to Mac now.
But he was surprised to see it went both ways.
“But...”
“Reaper...” Mac’s eyes bored into him, and Reaper felt it, that awful stab of guilt. Mac was right, it was cruel to leave Portman here, all alone while all of the rest of them went out to the ball game. It would make him a bully and Reaper loathed bullies.
So he nodded, and felt better when Mac gave him a small smile of thanks.
Leaving the bathroom and heading back down to the living areas he could hear Jumper tormenting Portman, teasing him about going out that night. It was the one thing he didn’t like about Jumper, the one flaw to his friends nature.
“Hey Portman,” he said, walking over. “You doing anything tonight?”
He got a miserable look as an answer, a defiant, bitter, angry and hurt look that made him hate Jumper for being a cruel smartass. Portman thought he had come over to join in the fun.
“Sure Reaper.” Portman sneered in his nasally voice, “I’ve got so many plans tonight that they are pouring out of my ass.”
Internally Reaper shuddered at the man’s crude attempt at sarcastic humour but pressed on.
“I know you do.” He said, voice firm, “Cause you are coming to the game with us.”
Shocked silence for a moment and then Jumper whined.
“Aw fuck Reaper!”
“He is coming Jumper, and that’s final.” Reaper was unaware that his voice had moulded to the resonance and timbre of Sarge’s when he gave a definitive answer, but Jumper did and he scowled, skulking off.
“You...you really mean it?” Portman looked lost, watery dark blue eyes blinking up at Reaper owlishly.
“Yeah I mean it,” Reaper said, putting the extra ticket down before the other man, “You’re not so bad corporal.”
Later on that night, Mac came up alongside Reaper as they left the ballpark, watching Portman and Duke drape themselves over one another and caterwaul the dirtiest song they knew to the sky.
“Thank you.” He said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
~*~
”Even as a hard-headed soldier, you still went to mush whenever someone asked you for something personal.”
“You are such a brat.”
“Nah, nah! I’m not mocking Bones; I think it’s really...sweet of you.”
“Jim are you feeling alright...?”
~*~
“This is a fucking milk run.” Duke griped from where he was lounged in the sand, playing with his gun, “Babysitting a crew of Navy assholes unloading a shipment.”
“You know Duke,” Reaper drawled back, resting his head against the trunk of the tree he was sitting under, “Sometimes I think you want to get your head blown off. Be grateful we don’t have to do anything.”
Duke rolled his eyes at his friend and then chuckled as a navy marine tripped in the shallow waters. He, Goat, who was a veteran although new to RRTS 6, and Destroyer, shouted jibes at the sweating, annoyed navy men while Reaper just smiled, closing his eyes.
Then he heard it. The shuh-shuh-shuh-shuh sound of an incoming missile. Instantly he was on his feet, weapon in his hands and roaring out, “GET DOWN! INCOMING!”
The navy marines dived for the ground and the robot arm machinery that they had been using on the docks exploded as the surface-to-surface missile blew it to pieces. A truck barrelled around the headland, rocketing towards them, local insurgents everywhere on it.
Of course everyone knew that the whole truck was wired anyway, a weapon all on its own. Ready and waiting to explode and take them all with it. And Reaper was running, Destroyer with him, running towards the careening vehicle, gunfire ripping through the front so that only the radiator exploded.
Then it was a mess, gunfire everywhere. He and Destroyer at the fore, Duke and Goat flanking the insurgents who tumbled out of the vehicle.
He remembered it in flashes.
Duke surrounded, slaughtering everyone but unaware of a rebel coming up on him from the side. Goat blasting the rebel away and turning to watch Duke’s six even as Duke did the same for him.
Destroyer mowing down the enemy, signalling at Reaper to get down, which he did, before blasting the men who had been trying to flank them. He remembered standing back to back with Destroyer, reaping a killing field until there were only six left, and he signalled a charge.
Soon enough all of the insurgents were dead.
Goat had lost a chunk of his hip, Duke had scored a round in his shoulder and Reaper had bruised ribs from the several rounds he had caught in the chest. Thank god for Kevlar vests.
They were patching each other up when a young man walked up to them, looking nervous and a little twitchy. Reaper recognised him as one of the Navy lot.
“What?” Destroyer growled.
“I just wanted to say...”
“You’re welcome. Now fuck off.” And the big black man turned back to Duke’s wound, disinfecting it.
Reaper looked up, seeing the young man hesitate, “You call a med chopper?”
“On their way.”
It was after another few moments of bandaging that Destroyer realised the kid was still there.
“What?”
“You guys...did a great job.”
“So? We’re supposed to.”
“I guess - we were sorta bad mouthing you...”
“And you wanted to say sorry?” Duke sneered, rolling his eyes, a gesture he had picked up through eight years of friendship with Reaper, “We don’t need it. We only accept sorry from people we respect.”
Destroyer jammed a needle into Duke’s shoulder, ignoring his friends face and groan of annoyed pain, “Actually,” he said, “I turned around, the Kid was coming up with us, firing at the enemy. The only one of that bunch that did. Shows...I dunno. Shows something.”
The kid fairly glowed at the praise.
“So kid, you want a medal? Go get us something to drink if you really want to be useful.” Duke grumbled, still smarting over Destroyer’s use of the med equipment.
“Sure,” the kid said eagerly, “I mean, get the water that is.” He turned to leave and then paused, turning back, “Um, how do I...”
“Get water?” Destroyer stared at him balefully, “You get a canteen and you shake it. If it goes gurgle, gurgle, it’s got water in it. Then you bring it back to me first, not these other jarheads.”
“Hey fuck you Destroyer,” Duke said, “Who you calling jarhead, jarhead? Don’t listen to him kid; bring the water back to me first alright?”
“But-But how do I...?”
“What?”
“I want in.” The kid blurted out, cheeks pinking, “Be...you know...one of you.”
Duke snorted and Destroyer shook his head. “Special deals have to be made with changing from your lot to ours, plus the training would kill you. Now Big Balls, how’s about that water?”
“I’ll get you water, but I want in.”
He was persistent, Reaper gave him that.
“What? We don’t get water unless we say you can join up?”
“No, I’m not saying that...”
“Then fuck off.”
“Look I just want in.”
“Heard you before.”
The kid stalked off, looking annoyed, and Reaper hid a grin as he sewed up the gash on Goat’s hip. Soon enough he was back, and it was clear he was going to try another strategy.
“I want in, or...uh...I don’t get you in to see Hotties in Orbit tonight.”
Duke immediately perked up. “Hotties in Orbit? You can get us in to that?”
“Come on Duke,” Reaper muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Hey I want to see that thing. Yeah...and the kid was good. Boy howdy he was good. You see how good he was, backing us up like that Reaper? I heard they got that blonde with the tattoos on her undyplaces in that thing man...that genius actress with the humungous...”
“Oh Christ, are you really going to saddle us with a kid Duke?” Reaper laughed, turning to face them all as Goat got up and moved over towards the dead guerrillas. “He doesn’t look old enough to shave. How old are you kid?” he asked, glaring at the now happier looking young man.
“Twenty one sir!” he informed him proudly, before his face turned a bit green. Reaper didn’t need to turn around to know that the kid was watching Goat scalping their fallen opponents and collecting them together.
“Alright kid.” Reaper said, leaning back and ignoring Duke’s low ‘yesssssssssss’ from nearby, “You get us in, and we’ll put in a good word to Sarge. What’s your name anyway.”
“Dantalian.” The kid said, eyes shining.
~*~
”The kid...”
“Yeah...”
“So you got him in...”
“Only to have Sarge kill him on his first mission. Yeah.”
“What happened next?”
~*~
Bones showed Jim everything, everything from the Amazon, and the death of Jumper because of his mistakes, knew Jim could feel the grief and the anger singing through their joined minds, the echo of memory.
~*~
Reaper shuddered under a plexiglass coffin, as images swam up on the viewscreen above his head. They were broadcasting his memories, an older and cruder version of the animus. Reaper twitched and shuddered as he relived the fateful day in the jungle, while impassive faced scientists watched on.
Electrodes were taped to his temples and he stirred fitfully, not really having agreed to this. But the military psychologist had insisted.
“I insist Mr Grimm,” she had said soothingly, but with no room for argument, “I really must insist.”
Suddenly Reaper’s eyes opened, but they didn’t see the plexiglass or the white room beyond, he could only see the Amazon, and Jumper. His body stilled but his mouth moved as he gave Jumper the orders which would send him to his death.
The screen showed Jumper moving off, and Reaper leading Destroyer and Goat into the jungle, until they got to the part where the guerrilla appeared out of nowhere and Reaper was forced to kill him. Then Reaper thrashed, trapped in the glass coffin, and he writhed as he shot the bullet that killed the young guerrilla.
“I think he is fighting the therapy, maybe we’d better...” one of the scientists took a step forward.
“No,” the woman who was in charge said with firm finality, “if he doesn’t relive this now, he’ll relive it as repression stress. He’ll snap in combat...”
Reaper’s body twisted horribly, a terrible parody of the happenings on the memory screen as Reaper looked at the young guerrilla dying on the forest floor. His actions echoed the dying mans before them.
Then there was mad action on the screen. Reaper racing for Jumper, ignoring his own safety, and inside the coffin, the dark haired marine’s heartrate accelerated and he writhed with pained, helpless moans. He knew what was going to happen even though he now had to see it again.
Jumper’s mutilated body appeared on the screen and Reaper began to scream, inside the memory and inside the coffin, horrible screams of war and pain and absolute mad fury. The picture on the screen dissolved and Reaper went limp as technicians hurried around, twisting knobs and dials.
“John Grimm? Are you with us?” one of them asked as Reaper opened his eyes tiredly. He nodded and she smiled brightly, “We lost track of the memory- stress levels too high, but I do think we made some progress. How do you feel?”
“I want to get back to my unit.” Reaper said, his voice dull, “Take all this fucking gear off me.”
~*~
”Oh fuck Bones...”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not! No wonder you didn’t want to use this Animus thing.”
“Just leave it Jim.”
“But...”
“Please.”
Silence for a brief moment.
“Alright Bones.”