Chapter Text
The next time Jimmy wakes, he is incredibly disoriented.
Several things are different about this cell. First, it has furniture. This is an important development given that Jimmy is on a comfortable bed for the first time in…who knows how long. Blankets provided, which Jimmy finds himself comfortably tucked into. Second, the air is warm here, with the kind of humidity that makes the temperature weigh down on you. Third, there’s natural light, and a turn of the head shows an open window as the provider of this lovely detail.
In his barely awakened state, Jimmy takes in the new information, and promptly buries himself deeper into the soft, plush, warm, cozy, beautiful bed beneath him.
Nothing will pry me from this bed.
After an unimportant amount of time later, Jimmy tenses at the sound of footsteps approaching his cell. He merely buries himself deeper and wishes for them to leave him alone. They don’t.
The footsteps enter his cell, the sounds of muted talking making their way into the sleepy avian’s ears, before softly someone starts calling out, “Jimmy? Jim?”
It takes a second, but Jim starts to remember the events of whenever that was.
Being dragged into another cell. Tango feeding him food, then feeding him fire. Escaping the facility. Tango calling for help and then being whisked away by…a friend?
Jimmy does not make a pathetic vocalization as his cover is peeled off. Promise, he doesn’t.
“Jimmy,” that’s Tango. Sweet, dazzling Tango. “You’ve been out for a while. You need to eat.”
Oh, the angel that you are, Jimmy thinks, reluctantly sitting up and further unburying himself from the covers.
As he reveals himself to the bedroom (because it’s not a cell), he hears a reactive hiss from across the room, whipping his head around to see his cousin.
“Dude,” Grian starts, “you’re way too skinny.”
There was a pain deep in his stomach. He knew it was hunger, he knew it would eat him alive. Perhaps a bad sign that he hadn’t felt that in weeks.
For a minute, Jimmy could only blink dumbly. “...Hello, yourself.”
A bowl of soup is shoved into Jimmy’s hands, along with a crust of bread, and a glass of water is set on the nightstand. The smell of soup, a lovely mix of mushrooms and broth, ignites Jimmy’s stomach. If anyone were to ask, Grian’s lecture went ignored because Jimmy was busy digging in.
“I mean, seriously Jimmy. You would think to be more careful, those wings make you a walking target in the first place. Remember our old server? It’s not really very safe out there for us, I don’t know what you were thinking-”
“Man, lay off,” Jimmy interrupts, dipping his bread in the soup. “I was in between servers at the time, ok? It’s not my fault.”
Grian sniffs, turning his nose up at Jimmy’s statement. “Well…next time you’re in between servers, message me. I can help you figure something out,”
Jimmy rolls his eyes, scooping more soup and bringing it towards his mouth, “thanks mum, but I can handle it.”
“Jimmy,” Grian says, with a solemnity so rare that Jimmy is forced to look at him. “...I was just worried. I hadn’t heard from you in a while.”
A sharp pain in his neck. Instinctively, his hand went to his neck, pulling out a dart. Then, his vision went black.
Jimmy looks back down at his soup, suddenly finding the leftover broth much more interesting than this conversation.
“Sorry,” Jimmy said, after an awkward minute of silence, “I’ll message you next time.”
Grian nodded, and that was that.
Tango, Grian, and Jimmy sit in a comfortable silence for several minutes, the two hermits watching Jimmy slow to drink the rest of his broth. As Jimmy’s bowl is nearly drained, Tango clears his throat.
“Sooooooo,” Tango starts, “you need to meet Xisuma. Like, as soon as possible. He’s been holding off the raiders since they found this server, and he’s paranoid over whether you let anything in.”
Jimmy nods, handing over the empty bowl to Tango and pivoting so his feet are over flooring wings flaring at the movement, “Sound alright to me, where are we meeting him?”
“He’s downstairs,” Grian responds, frowning silently at Jimmy.
“You look constipated.”
“Your wings are disgusting, I don’t get how you can be comfortable right now.”
“You know, it wasn’t my biggest priority,” Jimmy shoots back, regretting it as Grian flinches back.
His cell had a little pile of dirt from the window. He mixed it with some of his drinking water, covering his bright feathers. Maybe they would find him less appealing.
“...Sorry, that was meant to be funnier.”
“Why don’t we head downstairs,” Tango interrupts, saving the day. “We’ll meet X, then you guys can do your wing thing.”
Jimmy nods, standing from his bed with little fanfare. He follows Tango and Grian out, eyes darting around to take in the massive base around him. It seems to be the size of a castle, with maze-like hallways and an abundance of natural light, though the main body of the building remains dark in palette and light.
While they walk, Jimmy focuses in on Tango. He looks…healthier than Jimmy remembers, in a way that could have made a lesser Jimmy envious. Now that he was standing at full height, Tango was several inches shorter than Jimmy. His hair, previously yellowish-white that implied an unhappy blaze, had receded into a red-orange, sometimes flickering blue as well. And he looked shockingly fit. Had he been held for nearly half as long as Jimmy, he would have suffered from the same starvation and resulting loss of muscle. Instead, it seemed Tango remained largely spared from the long-lasting effects of the facility.
And if Jim were being honest with himself, an unlikely feat, he would admit that the blaze hybrid is a sight. Memories of Tango burning brighter than anything, which allowed them to get out of that situation at all, and the worry he had over whether or not Jimmy would survive the burning. Considerate and brilliant? That only made him more appealing. And he was the first person to give Jimmy actual food in a long time, then again this morning. Quickest way to win a man’s heart.
Grian elbowed Jimmy hard. Hard enough to leave a bruise in the future. Hard enough for Jimmy to look away, and whisper-shout “what?”
“Stop making googly-eyes at him,” Grian whispered back, though his smirk betrayed him. Jimmy did not flush. Because that would be a silly thing to assume.
Jimmy kept his eyes on the infrastructure for the rest of the walk down, but it really wasn’t helping his quickly growing admiration for the blaze now that they were out of perilous danger.
Nor his growing apprehension about…this whole situation. A hybrid-friendly server was too good to believe, but Grian was here. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t safe.
Eventually, after what must have been two-hundred turns, the group enters a quaint kitchen, smelling of freshly baked bread and still-simmering soup. Upon entering the kitchen, Jimmy zeroes in on the two people sitting at a table.
One of which looks to be a voidwalker, though the least-uniformed one Jimmy had ever seen. The man seems to be donning the outfit of a copper golem, antennae included. The only way he knew this was a voidwalker was the mask that released a low whirring and let the voidwalker breathe overworld air. The other one looks to be a furry creeper. Which is weird.
Jimmy had met creeper hybrids through the years, but they were never furry. The goat horns donning his head hint at some goat hybridity in there as well. To add onto his strange appearance, the creeper-goat-man hybrid has a prosthetic arm and eye.
A prosthetic eye that trained directly on him, seemingly dissecting everything about him. Jimmy crosses his arms, a weak defense, but something to hopefully shield him from the man.
“Doc!” Tango exclaims, walking toward the creeper guy, not catching Jimmy’s anxiety. “I’m glad you got here so quick, we gotta check in with Xisuma first then he’s all yours.”
‘He’s all yours’ meant plucked feathers, blood draws, pushing him to the absolute limit. ‘He’s all yours’ was very nearly a death sentence.
Jimmy does not hide behind Grian at that. He just sidesteps and happens to get behind Grian.
“Just a health check, Tim,” Grian whispers. “We won’t leave unless you want us to.”
Jimmy purses his lips, not gracing his cousin with a response.
“Hello,” the voidwalker waves from the table. “I’m Xisuma, the admin of this server. I hope these two told you that I wanted to check your code.”
Jimmy nods at the man, eyes flitting between Grian and Tango, both of which had their respective smiles.
Cautiously, Jimmy sits in the chair closest to Xisuma, eyeing the voidwalker the whole time. It was hard to be so intimidated by him with his copper golem getup.
He hadn’t even fully sat down before they stuck him with the needle-
“Do I have consent to access your coding?”
Jimmy purses his lips, refusing to let the voidwalker see his apprehension. And despite what he knows would be best…
“What if I say no?”
The visor hides the expression, but Jimmy can imagine the admin frowning. “It wouldn’t be ideal, and we’d have to find an alternative server for you. But if you don’t want me to look, I won’t.”
Grian shuffles up behind Jimmy, putting a hand on his shoulder with a sympathetic, pitying smile. “Do whatever you need, bud.”
Jimmy chews the inside of his cheek, looking between his cousin and the admin, then nods. “Go ahead, you can access my code. Just- if you need to change something, tell me.”
Xisuma could easily lie. Jimmy didn’t know a lick of admin stuff. But his cousin did.
Still, Xisuma nods in understanding, pulling up a panel that is nearly unintelligible to Jimmy, save for his name. Immediately, the voidwalker is entranced by code, barely moving his fingers or head as it scrolls in front of him.
The other man, supposedly named Doc, clears his throat to catch Jimmy’s attention.
“While Xisuma’s doing that, I was called to do a general checkup on you.”
Jimmy grimaces. “I’m obviously starved, and therefore underweight. There’s your checkup, what more could you need?”
“Your wings have been neglected,” Doc starts. “That can cause problems down the line, so we want to get ahead of it. You’re a bit pale, so possible dehydration. As you said, you were starved, which means we have to be particular about your diet in the next few weeks to prevent malnutrition. Of course, there’s the mental health component-”
“I get it,” Jimmy says, worrying his lip between his teeth. “Do your doctoral things, then.”
Doc nods and gets to work. It’s quiet in the kitchen for a while, save for the soft whirring of Xisuma’s mask, the simmering of soup, and the gentle beeping of Doc’s doctor stuff. He runs a scanner across Jimmy’s whole body, doubtless seeing scars that he would rather not explain.
Instead, “your body temp is too high.”
“How high?” Grian asks, coming over. Jimmy closes his mouth where he was gonna explain.
“Jimmy naturally has a high body temp, but that’s too high.”
Jimmy’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, “really? ‘Cuz I feel fine.”
“I know what this means,” Grian states, glaring over to Jimmy. “Do you?”
Jimmy slowly shakes his head, met with a sigh from Grian.
“I’ll tell you both later. Mark that down though, Doc. He’s supposed to run at forty degrees, so forty two is a bit worrying, but no emergency.”
Doc jots something down on his notepad and returns to his scans.
Eventually, Doc’s machine makes its way to his wings. A beep sounds out from Doc’s handheld machine, and immediately the smell of gunpowder permeates the room.
“They clipped your wings,” Doc seems to be forcing the words out through clenched teeth, and Jimmy can’t help but tense.
His throat was hoarse, body still trembling. They took his freedom away with just a pair of scissors.
“Not very well, but yeah,” he mutters.
Tango furrows his brow, “but we flew across that ravine.”
Jimmy sighs, slouching into himself. “Correction: we glided over that ravine. Had they clipped me worse, we would have plummeted to our deaths.”
The room is awfully silent for several moments, even Xisuma looking up from his code as the smell of gunpowder gets worse.
“Let’s go get some air,” Tango says, guiding Doc out of the room, widened eyes darting to Jimmy before making their escape.
And Tango leads Doc out of the room. Before Jimmy can so much as blink, Grian is pulling up a chair beside Jimmy, roughly pulling him down for a hug. Jimmy doesn’t even fight, the touch bandaging the festering thoughts in his brain.
He let the scientist take Tango. The first safe person. He needs to get Tango back.
“I wan’ Tango,” Jimmy whispers into Grian’s chest, trying to follow the breathing through rapidly building panic.
“Tango’s cooling down with Doc.”
“I want Tango,” Jimmy repeats, eyes pressing closed as Grian starts brushing through his hair. “Gonna protect him.”
Grian hums, continuing his ministrations. “Protect him from what, bud? He’s fine.”
“Scientist,” he finishes, chest heaving. “Won’t let ‘em hurt him. He’s nice.”
Grian’s hand stills in his hair, a half-hearted whine coming from Jim. Grian mutters out apologies before continuing his petting.
“Doc is my flock, he won’t hurt Tango.”
“Flock?”
“Yeah, bud,” Grian replies. “Flock.”
It doesn’t take long after for Jimmy to come back to himself, muttering out apologies to Grian and Xisuma (rather awkwardly, and very pink in the face). Still, he stays curled into Grian as they wait for the other two to make their way back inside.
It doesn’t take long. Just a few minutes after they’ve left the kitchen, Doc comes in, more tense than last time he left, but the gunpowder smell gone. Trailing behind him is a concerned looking Tango, who only looks more stressed when he takes in Jimmy’s curled up form.
“Jimmy,” Tango starts, glancing to Doc before making eye-contact with him again. “You’re not gonna like the next part of your checkup.”
“I can handle it,” Jimmy says, sitting up.
“Jim, even I couldn’t handle it. You need to get your blood drawn.”
They took so much of his blood, and they just kept. Fucking. Taking. He watched his arm as another syringe full of HIS BLOOD is withdrawn, adding to the myriad of pinprick scars littering his inner elbows.
“-immy! Calm-”
This time, they brought him another syringe. One filled with water, or something of the sort. He supposes that it’s a mistake. That’s until it stabs into his vein without warning, causing him to cry out as a cold cold cold, ice cold liquid is pushed into his blood. It’s wrong.
A bright burst of pain ignites in Jimmy’s leg. He pushes away.
He doesn’t know how many days he lost to that shit. He’s waking up disoriented, masked faces above him shouting for something. He doesn’t remember what.
A figure approaches him rapidly, and it takes everything he has to hiss.
Without warning, that needle was shoved back in his arm, and more days were lost.
Suddenly, he’s enveloped in warmth. It’s nice, but it’s not safe. Jimmy fights the hold, scrambling and kicking and biting and burning. Yet the warmth stays.
Let it be known that Tango is fully out of his depth here.
He expected a reaction, of course. It would be dumb not to. He expected Jimmy to hyperventilate and go glassy-eyed and whatnot. That was fine, Grian would be able to manage that.
He was not expecting Jimmy to launch himself halfway across the room, hitting his leg on a furnace in a way that had to hurt.
Grian rapidly went to chase his cousin, being met with a hiss as Grian gets within a few meters. He also doesn’t expect to barely see steam floating about Jimmy.
“Jimmy, cool yourself. C’mon you know how to.” Grian tries to guide Jimmy’s breathing with distance between them, but he’s having none of it, hissing up a storm and mantling his wings in a way that must be aggression.
“He’s using too much energy to produce heat,” Xisuma starts from the table. ”He’s gonna pass out at this rate. I can manually suppress his heat production from here, but you have to tell me so since he’s out of it.”
“Do it,” Grian responds, eyes training on Jimmy the whole time.
Tango is done standing around. Quickly, he walks over to Doc’s supplies, grabbing two potions of weakness. “Get your syringes ready, I can hold him still.”
Doc purses his lips, but nods nonetheless, turning to his supplies to do…doctor things. Tango takes a deep breath, before approaching Jimmy. He goes wide, letting Grian distract the man and quietly approaching from the side.
As soon as he’s close enough, he grips Jimmy in a bear hug. Jimmy lets out an otherworldly scream, aggression immediately turning to his captor, talons unsheathed to scratch Tango’s arms. Tango refuses to let go, holding him tighter as he attempts to fight and flee.
Eventually, he slumps in Tango’s hold, chest heaving for air and sobs slightly more human.
“I have a potion, buddy, can you drink it?”
Jimmy turns his head into Tango’s shoulder, whole body trembling as he continues to cry. Tango sits, gently rocking Jimmy as he attempts to calm down, ignoring the rapid conversation between Doc and Grian. Ignoring the worried looks Xisuma is shooting him. Ignoring the healing potions in Doc’s hands and the blood tricking down his arms and to the floor.
“Can you drink?” Tango repeats, bringing a hand up to Jimmy’s hair.
The man sighs, but nods.
“Mm, you’re warm,” Jimmy says, as if he’s making an astounding realization. In any other situation, it would be endearing.
Tango pops the cork off one of the weakness potions, pulling Jimmy away enough to let him drink. With an unhappy sigh, Jimmy takes the bottle and downs it, throwing it to the side to snuggle back into Tango’s side.
“...Do it,” Jimmy says. “Before I lose it again.”
Tango sighs, running his hand through Jimmy’ hair. “Doc, do it quick.”
Doc squares his shoulders, walking up to the duo as Grian squawks out “but- consent guys! Especially right now!”
“Do it,” Jimmy repeats, just loud enough for everyone else to hear.
Doc leans down, grabbing Jimmy arm with the reverence saved for particular moments (like this one, but also Tango’s similar breakdown over the blood draw. That was maybe half as bad as Jimmy’s reaction).
“Needle’s going in,” Doc warns, followed by a gasp from Jimmy. Tango can feel his breathing stuttering, his heart picking up the pace-
“Keep breathing,” Tango reminds, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “C’mon you’re almost done, you’re doing so well.”
Jimmy’s claws dig into Tango as the blood gets drawn, until after hours (must have been seconds), Doc is pulling back with a full syringe, capping the needle and putting it in a biosafe bag.
“You did so good,” Tango says, rubbing Jimmy’s back as Doc quickly applies a bandage to the spot. “So so good.”
Jimmy is shaking under his hand, partially full-body trembles but some of it from crying. It takes him a moment to realize, but Tango is also crying.
“‘M sorry.” Jimmy says, “I hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tango responds. Doc sends him a look that says I’m worried about it and I will do something about it.
A silent Grian brings Tango a healing potion, which he downs automatically. Immediately, he can feel his arm’s bleeding slow, but he pays it no mind.
With a small flourish, Xisuma closes the admin panel, rubbing his hands down the mask. Xisuma stands and approaches the group, pulling Grian under his arm and toward his torso. Immediately, Grian is clinging to Xisuma in a way not dissimilar to Jimmy.
“Jimmy,” at his name, the avian turns his head to barely see the admin, tears running down his face. “I had to turn off your heat production briefly while you were panicking. You were gonna crash. It’s back on, and the rest of your code looks fine.”
Jimmy nods, collapsing back into Tango, who continues to hold and rock and calm him.
Jimmy passes out soon after.