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FC/OC VS Battles Wiki

This story is set after the Paradise City RP. It is highly recommended that you read the rest of the threads and the written conclusion before reading this piece.

1 month after the Final Countdown

She blinked, dumbfounded.

"P-pregnant?"

Oh Christ there came the tears. It was a good thing he'd gotten used to this sort of thing the past few weeks. It was rather disgusting how he thought of her panic attacks as almost routine at this point, but that was the only way he couldn't lose it himself when he saw her like this.

So routine they became. When her brother wasn't around, he'd take charge of the situation. He owed her, and everyone else that much as the very. He wheeled over to her bed, grasping her hands firmly with his much bigger ones.

"Hey hey hey," he said, something he'd done quite a few times to get her attention, even if this case was...unique. When her eyes were still crossing over him, he put his other hand in front of her face, tracing back to his. "Hey, look at me alright? Deep breaths. Deep breaths."

Despite everything, she obliged. The shrinks ought to hire him one of these days.

After spending the next few minutes just ensuring her of his presence, getting her to take those slow, deliberate breaths full of air, he brushed her hair off her face and got her to drink some water. She still looked like a mess, but at least she didn't make him want to die as well now.

"W-w-whe-when? H-how?"

"I don't know. That's for you to figure out. I'm sorry Jess."

"H-how did y-you find out?"

Michael released a deep sigh, exhaling all the air from his lung, before looking her dead in the eyes with the best comforting gaze he could give.

"Tests after you started showing weird habits. Y'know, the vomiting, the odd cravings, that sort of stuff. I told the doctor he was being absurd. That there was no way you could..." he trailed off, before huffing loudly. "I guess at least he's good at his job, eh?"

He let a smile play at his lips, more for her sake than for any humor he might come up with. They stood like that for some time, her expression blankly staring into some point beyond the walls.

"Jess."

Silence.

"Jess."

Barely even breathing.

"Jess."

She turned around at last, looking about to cry again. His hands wound tighter. It was amazing how much a little pressure could diffuse such complex issues.

"I know you're hurting. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. But I need you to be strong alright? We're all here for you, every single one, to the end. And I promise you on my life," he said, making a cross over his heart. "I will never allow anyone to hurt you again."

She still looked shocked to the core. He exhaled with force once more.

"Do you want me to bring the doctor here? Hook you up with some sedatives?"

A long and uncomfortable pause. Then a nod.

Actually more of twitch he noted as he called for them down the hall. When he returned to the room, Jess was staring at him intently.

She began to mumble as the doctor worked to put her to sleep. Michael, as always, was right by her side, clutching her hand.

She was giving him a dazed look. He just chalked it up to the medicine. Until she spoke.

"I-it's not...that. They're...they're Otto's..."

She trailed off as she fell asleep, but the damage had already been done. Michael heard his heart start thumping in his chest, his skin burn, everything around him become hazy and out of focus.

He didn't know how long he stood like. His mind was preoccupied. His fingers never stopped clutching hers.

T...T

Shoot to Thrill just had to manifest. It had to. There couldn't be anymore ignoring it.

"GET THE FUCK BACK YOU TIN CAN FUCK!"

Michael waved a bottle menacingly in it's face. It was hardly threatening given the half a dozen others behind him.

"Ara."

"I DON'T GIVE A SINGLE FLYING FUCK ABOUT OVERDOSE!"

"Ara."

At that he tried to smash the battle against it, but Shoot to Thrill simply grabbed his arm, not letting go.

"WHAT THE FUCK LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKING FUCKITY F-"

Shoot to Thrill would've smirked if it were capable. If there was one good thing about booze, it was that it made him far less precise and even incapable of controlling the Stand. So he merely grabbed both wrists, not budging an inch until the man relented, slumping to the ground in despair.

It was always one of the two: frothing rage or driveling despair. A cycle he'd been in for the past few hours. And Shoot to Thrill was genuinely sick of it.

A hard slap nailed the man to the wall, with the Stand looking absolutely livid, for as much as it could emote.

"ARA ARA ARA! ARA!"

Moments passed between them. Words understood only by it's owner, it's host soul. Then a sigh, as the defeated man nodded.

"You're right," he laughed without humor. "I'm so...pathetic. I should be helping her. Making sure she doesn't lose her goddamn mind over this. And here I am."

He looked up to his Stand.

"I...I used to hate you once. Your unhinged behavior, your reckless bloodthirst, everything...But now, I can see what you are. You're a safety net. You bring out the best in me by taking out the worst," he said, getting to his wheelchair, Stand at last disappearing.

He looked onward to the door of his face, attempting to move only to find something at his feet. Tor was firmly pressing it's face against his foot, purring lightly.

He looked at him, dumbstruck. This was the first time the cat had displayed any affection that wasn't food-based.

Animals can tell moods and all that, he mused, scratching Tor's neck. I guess you do have a heart, don't you?

T...T

"Hey Otto. It's been a while since the funeral right? Sorry about that. Work just has me so slumped it's unreal."

He decided to mosey off his wheelchair. He could walk somewhat, very slowly, but it was shoddy. He never really figured out how these things proceeded, so he'd just brought whatever flowers he found pretty and laid them there.

"So uh, I got good news and bad news. Which do you wanna hear first?"

The grave showed no strong opinion either way.

"Well bad news first cause I'm feeling mean today: you're a horny bastard y'know? I hope wherever you are you're being made fun of for being worse than Michael fucking Prince. Like, wow, you couldn't wait a few days could you?"

He laughed, but it was a pained laughter. He would've teased the Hell out of him if he still could.

"The good news is: you're gonna be a dad!" the grave had no strong opinion on that either. "And with twins at that."

...

"Oh come on, show a bit of joy! I know how much of a softie you really are you prick," he said, smiling genuinely this time, ignoring the wet marks dripping down his cheeks. "Hey, so. Since you're not doing so hot right, I thought..."

He swallowed

"I'm going to take care of them. If there's anyone I'd rather protect, it would be both of them, and their mom. And I think...I think you'd do the same, if I'd gotten in the same pickle."

He grinned widely at that.

"So don't worry wherever you are you son of a bitch, I'm here for you and I sure as shit will be there for them."