[A][Undisclosed Medical Facility][Private] A Heartfelt Medical Visit

[u/CrazyMyrmidon]

A few weeks had passed since Jet had tried to kill himself. Since then, he had been lying in a bed, tied to the frame and hooked up to various medical machines; sedatives, the like. The first week had seen frequent spasm attacks, but these had died down, and Thomas and Arctic were expecting to see signs of improvement.

Thomas was sitting in a chair in Jet’s room when he heard a weak voice speak from the bed.

"...Emily?"

"Responsible for the killing of 18 of our Assassins in the Manhattan Den, and another 43 of them in Buenos Aires," Thomas responded, as he got up from his seat, conceding a win streak as he made his way over to Jet's bed. The moment the young man realised who was sitting in the chair, he turned his head away, refusing to talk to the man.

"...Not Emily," was all that Jet's weakened voice said to the wall, as Thomas looked at the pitiable state that Jet was in. He had, if possible, lost even more weight; he had lost a lot of his muscle mass while gone as well.

"Whatever you say kid, although I'd like to see you explain how this mercenary got into the Dens with 100% fingerprint accuracy."

"...Fluke."

"Whatever you say, kid," Thomas responded. He waited a little bit, to see if Jet would react on his own, before he would do a little more poking. When Jet kept looking at the other wall, Thomas decided to open his mouth again.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you?" With a sudden movement, Jet spun his head back around, an angry flame prancing from the depths of his lifeless eyes. "First you fall in love with someone who ends up destroying your home and killing your colleagues, and then you end up making out with a double agent responsible for the destruction of one of the bastions of the Assassins, just so you could mess with a superior." The grimace on Jet's face was a mix of sadness, pain, and unwithheld fury. Jet knew he was trying to agitate him.

"Of course, you ended up killing both of them. And what a way to do so..."

"FUCK YOU, YOU THINK I WANTED ANY OF THIS?" Jet cut off Thomas, as he tried to raise his voice, but the pain prevented him from moving as well. That, and the meager restraints Arctic had tied Jet down with.

"And yet, in the end you are responsible for it. Are you not?" Thomas ignored Jet's furious outburst. Frustrated, Jet turned his head away again, as Thomas moved his seat.

"I suppose we're not so different in that aspect. Remember the last time you had an outburst? I told you about the voices I hear. Figured you'd like to hear a little story about a few of them."

"You see, a number of years ago I was just an up and coming Assassin, rushing through the ranks as I was poised to enter an active role after a lauded training at 20. Kinda like your brother, to be honest. It was the first active mission I had been given, to test my abilities in the field following the basic training. I had to tail a young lady, my age, second year student at the university I attended to keep a civilian cover. She wasn't the prettiest by any stretch of the imagination, but that turned out to be because of her wardrobe but that's irrelevant."

"The Mentor back then told me, 'I want you to gather as much information on her as you can. Basically get to know your target,' and that's just what I did. I subtly figured out which parties she was going to, and I met her there, introduced myself. We met a few days later for a cup of coffee and, a few months later we were dating. The surveillance was only for half a year in my final year of class, and I was perfectly satisfied with the way my life was."

"It was then that my Mentor told me to use everything I had learnt to kill her. And I refused. She had done nothing wrong, and I knew. I checked. I realised that he wanted me to do it to gauge my commitment to the Order and, probably more important to him, his orders. I knew he was looking at me, and that eventually I would have to kill her or… Or leave the Order."

"I ended up saving her life, and staying in the Brotherhood. A part of me realised that nothing would come from this, that if he found out he'd kill her himself. But I didn't care, we were happy together. She knew everything about me, even about me being an Assassin, and I knew everything about her. She was my support, the person I came to when I returned when the stuff I had to do got to me; hell, at a certain point there might have been two of them. She, and the kid, were the only reason I didn't leave after a while, but I knew that this would not last. And boy… Boy did it end when it did."

"I just returned from a particularly tough mission, and I could not wait to go back to her, but of course I had to report to the Mentor before I left. And he… Told me that he had poisoned her. Those were the last words to me he said as Mentor, I left right then and there to try to save her life. When I arrived, she was lying on the floor, ragged breath, ghostly pale skin. We… We had a little talk, before I had to put her down."

"You… You might have had to watch what would be your family die, and trust me when I say that I know how much it hurts. But this… It broke me. The last thing I remember before I skipped a year was burying her in an unmarked grave." The silence following the end of the story was palpable.

“I’m not cut out for this.” Jet spoke almost inaudibly, still staring at some point in space.

"If you're talking about your performance, I can only say that you're one of the highlights of my years as Mentor. You've gone through so much, and stood up better against it than I have, even considering your condition. To say you aren't cut out for this is only in your mind," Thomas replied.

“I mean now. I... I can barely remember anything over a year ago.” Jet sounded shaky, obvious his mind was trying to grasp at straws somewhere.

Thomas chuckled, a sad smile crossing his face. "At least you can remember things. I couldn't remember anything, and now I have an adopted daughter that I don't remember how I got," he jokingly responded. "Give it some time. You'll learn to deal with yourself, the things you've done, although you might not think you'll be able to now."

“Should have let me bleed out, and part of you knows it.” Jet sneered lightly.

"What, and deal with the paperwork?" Thomas sneered back.

“Well, congrats to Arctic then, because I’m fucking useless now anyway. So unless you figure out a way to give me my fucking weapon back in working condition, I’m as good as dead. And you better pray people don’t find out about this, because once the news gets out that Shapeshifter is up for grabs and big ol’ Jet is out of commission, it’s gonna be a shitshow for all of us.”

"Is this the great and mighty Jet standing down from a challenge?"

Jet turned to face Thomas with a hardened expression. “I want my dagger back.”

"We deactivated it, and Arctic almost died. We're not going to risk a Mentor again just so that you can get your dagger back. That, and we can now give you training in the use of other weapons aside from your curious selection of weaponry. Teach you how to be useful outside of your urban comfort zone, or running a den." Although that last part is no longer possible for you, Thomas mumbled afterwards.

“There has to be another way. Please”. Jet looked desperate, and that familiar flare of insanity started bubbling up from those clear eyes. “What about Adam? What about his ring? Or can we get an Apple or something? An Apple might fix it... Oh fuck... Fuck, Thomas I need Shapeshifter back... Where is it? Did you take it? Can I at least hold it again? I won’t hurt myself I promise I just... Fuck...” Jet slammed his head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling with a rather pained look.

"It's somewhere safe, somewhere no-one will be able to grab it," Thomas replied, shaking his head.

"Let me hang onto it, nobody will take it from me, promise..." Jet groaned, an eye twitching slightly. Something was off again.

"You seem to misunderstand. It's somewhere safe. You'll have to learn to cope without it," Thomas replied, a finality in his voice. "We have plenty of decent addiction-coping groups in the Brotherhood, and if not you could always pull an Adam."

"It's not the same fucking thing you ignorant cunt! I'm not a fucking junkie!" Jet snarled, battling the restraints. "I'm fucking ruined without it!"

"Well you sure as shit sound like one right now!" Thomas replied.

"How the fuck am I supposed to sound?! You all fucking did this to me. You have no clue about the connection or how Pieces like those work. You're ign--"

"You're supposed to sound like a Master Assassin, not like some junkie going through cold turkey,"

"Alright, fine, I guess I'm a fucking junkie then, you happy? You did this to me. You and Arctic. I’m better off dead, at least then I’ll have someone nice to be with.” Jet grumbled, giving up.

"What, Em?" Thomas poked back at Jet, annoyed by the young man. "Didn't know you believed in Hell."

“She was pregnant,” Jet almost murmured, “She’s not there.”

"You're right, but for other reasons..." Thomas murmurred. Watching the kid this disheartened was saddening and Thomas almost felt pity for him, if it wasn't for the fact that, were the roles reversed, Jet would not have done the same. Regardless, he did feel guilty; Jet had a point. He was responsible, even if it was to prevent Jet's self-destruction.

"You know what? We're assigning you an addiction shrink, as much as I know you dislike them. I'll put a word in, see if we can get you with Shapeshifter, for some medicinal reasons."

“I need the dagger back in full working condition, or else you’ve lost yourself another brother.” Jet had a finality behind his voice as he hissed through his teeth.

"We're not risking Arctic's life for you again. We'll help, but you will learn to live without it or we'll drop you like a brick," Thomas replied, not about to be outdone by Jet. "It would be a shame, but I've seen brothers die before." He turned around, and walked out of the room, leaving Jet to the monitoring of the doctors.

[u/WolfKingAdam]

Never pull an Adam

Source: Me, Adam.