Chapter Text
“We should…be safe here. Come…back.”
William sat slumped against the cold wall, his back pressed to peeling paint and his legs heavy with exhaustion. His eyes stayed locked on the shadowed figure beside the window. It stood motionless, the moonlight catching the sharp edges of the machinery built into its frame. It didn't react to William’s voice, not even a twitch, as if the words had dissolved in the dusty air before reaching him.
William’s tired blue eyes narrowed. Every day, something new broke inside them both, something that made it painfully clear they were running out of time. They were held together by scraps of hope and sheer will, and both were wearing thin.
But there was no way in hell William would allow themselves to be captured again.
Fuck that.
He licked his dry, split lips and swallowed, his throat aching. Even speaking felt like dragging a blade across old wounds. He had screamed far too much during those days in captivity, screamed until his vocal cords tore and his voice became a painful rasp.
“Rick,” he called again, louder this time, the sound cracking in his chest. “We’re fine. Come back.”
The effort made him wince. His voice sounded like gravel scraping along stone.
At last, the figure moved. Rick’s head turned slowly, the faint whir of servos breaking the silence. Then he stepped away from the window. Heavy, mechanical footsteps echoed across the room, each one a reminder of how much had been taken from him and how much had been forced into him.
William offered a small, gentle smile, the kind he hoped Rick still recognized.
The moonlight spilled in through the broken boards and traced over Rick’s body, revealing the truth of him. Half man, half machine. A patchwork of old scars and new metal. A survivor stitched together by the hands of monsters.
And still, somehow, his Rick.
“I think we're safe,” William murmured as he scooted over, wincing when his spine brushed the cracked wall. “I mean… we would know by now if they had already found us.” He tried to make the words feel like something solid enough to lean on. But even he could hear the hollow ring in his own voice. He couldn't make himself believe it. Not after everything that's happened.
Rick crouched beside him, joints creaking. Every sound, every grind of metal against metal, was a reminder of how urgently he needed repairs. William would fix him. He would force himself to move, to work, to do whatever it took. He had no choice.
He refused to think about what would happen if he couldn't.
Not now. Not when they were finally out. Not when breathing without terror felt like a new and fragile privilege.
Rick lowered fully beside him, and William’s tired face eased only a bit. They had taken refuge in an abandoned clothing store, the mannequins cracked and faceless, the fabric racks overturned and eaten away by dust. It was the best they could do with the little time they had. His body couldn't go any farther after what had happened before their escape.
His smile faltered as the memories crept in. He could still feel the hands of that deranged bastard on him, still feel the bruises blooming across his ribs, still hear the sickening praise whispered. His fingers curled into fists as the man’s face flashed through his mind
Damn him….
The tension melted the moment Rick’s clawed, mechanical hand slipped over his own. The touch was cold, almost painful, but to William it felt warmer than any human contact he had received in a long time.
He looked up, meeting Rick’s eyes. They were the last pieces of true humanity left in that altered body, a pair of living memories hidden inside metal and scars. William guarded them fiercely. He had promised himself he would never let the one who had done it take those from Rick, not like they had taken everything else.
He let out a shaky breath and curled his fingers around the cold metal ones. He knew Rick wouldn't be able to feel it, not in the way he once did, but William held him anyway. The gesture came from love.
It always did.
“Thank you,” he whispered. The faint rise at the top of Rick’s cheeks showed the hint of a smile. Understanding him physically was getting harder with every new part that had been forced onto him, but William tried with everything he had. He learned every new sound, every new gesture, every new tilt of the head.
Talking was impossible for Rick now. The day he had his tongue removed was the day their voices were stolen from each other.
William moved closer and rested his head against the mechanical arm. The metal hummed quietly beneath him. His fingers stayed wrapped around Rick’s hand, refusing to let go. They would have to leave soon. They were shadows in the night now, hiding, running, surviving. But moments like this, where they could sit together and feel each other's presence, were rare and precious. William held on as if time itself could be slowed by touch.
“I just need to rest,” he whispered, feeling the exhaustion finally pulling him under. “Then we can head out.” His gaze drifted back to the boarded windows, where thin slices of moonlight spilled across the dusty floor.
“He always talked about the rebels out here…,” William continued, his voice barely more than a breath. “I'm sure we'll find a group soon. And then we can finally be free.”
The faint creaking beside him signaled that Rick was nodding his agreement.
“Just… a little… rest…” William breathed, his eyelids slipping down until darkness wrapped around him like a heavy blanket.
And then he was gone, swallowed by sleep.
“BAD BOYS AREN'T ALLOWED OUTSIDE WITHOUT THEIR LEASH! YOU KNOW BETTER!”
William tore himself out of sleep with a violent gasp, his breath stumbling out in frantic waves. Before his mind even caught up, his hand flew to his throat, clutching at the skin as if terrified he would find cold metal where warm flesh should be. His fingers dragged across the taut surface, searching, confirming, desperate.
Only when he felt nothing binding him did a trembling breath slip out of him.
“Fuck…” His hand dropped, and he slammed it against the wall, the sharp crack echoing through the quiet store.
“GOD DAMN IT!”
Nightmares again. Nightmares of that bastard. Nightmares that left him shaking and furious and feeling far too vulnerable for his own liking.
His hands tangled in his hair, his body trembling with something far more volatile than fear. He was done being afraid. The trembling came from rage, from loathing so deep it scraped against his ribs. He hated the way that man still haunted him, hated the way sleep betrayed him, hated the way his body reacted before he could stop it.
He felt a presence in front of him and moved his hands away. A long strip of wool hung in his vision. He blinked, confused, and lifted his head.
Rick stood over him, holding the fabric gently in his mechanical fingers.
“A scarf?” William muttered as he accepted it, startled by the softness as it pooled in his palms. Rick lifted his hands and mimed wrapping something around his neck.
William looked down at the scarf again. It was soft and warm. Nothing like the cold chain that had once dug into his skin. His hand drifted to his throat, remembering the phantom weight of metal, then returned to the scarf with a small, almost fragile smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and the gratitude in his voice made Rick’s cheeks lift in a small, proud smile of his own.
William moved to wrap the scarf around his neck. The soft wool brushed his skin, comforting in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and glanced toward the boarded window.
“Good…it's still night. We can travel.” He pushed himself away from the wall but nearly collapsed. His knees buckled under the strain.
Rick caught him before he could hit the floor, arms strong and steady, metal servos humming quietly as they adjusted to hold him upright.
“Thanks,” William murmured again, leaning into him. He tried to bite down the pain that rippled through his body. “We need to go now. We still have a lot of distance to put between us and them.” His expression twisted at the thought.
“Knowing them…they could already be looking.”
Rick gave a low mechanical creak, a familiar gesture of agreement.
“Good,” William whispered, forcing himself to stand straighter. He nudged closer to Rick, letting the machine-enhanced body support his weight. Rick guided his arm around his shoulder, balanced and protective.
William breathed out and nodded.
“Let's go.”
They had barely taken three steps out of the ruined storefront when the sound cut through the night.
It was distant, muffled by broken buildings and empty streets, but unmistakable. A voice carried across the darkness like a blade scraping along metal, warped with fury and something far worse.
William froze. His blood ran cold. His breath caught in his chest.
That voice.
He knew that voice too well.
“WILL-I-AM!”
The name shattered the quiet like a gunshot, drawn out and bellowed with a twisted, gleeful rage that made the hairs on William’s arms stand up. It echoed between abandoned alleys, growing and fading with the wind, but never losing its venom.
Rick stepped in front of William on instinct, body stiffening, metal plates shifting as his sensors sharpened. William pressed his hand against Rick’s back, gripping tightly.
Another scream rolled through the night.
“WILL-I-AM!”
This time, it sounded almost delighted.
Fucking sick bastard...
William’s heart pounded hard against his ribs.
“We have to move,” he said, voice cracking.
“Right now.”
Brown eyes swept across the ruined landscape from high in the sky, darting frantically over toppled buildings and shattered streets. He searched every direction, but the chaos below made it impossible to find what he wanted.
There was too much ruin. Too much destruction.
Too much of a mess.
Messy, messy, messy.
His lips curled in irritation as his shoulders trembled with growing frustration. He hovered in the night air for a moment, fists clenching at his sides, breathing sharply through his teeth.
Then he let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling with annoyance. Without another second wasted, the figure shot upward, streaking through the sky with sudden, violent speed.
“D!”
A thin, lanky man with inky black hair didn’t pause his work. His gloved fingers continued to fuse metal into raw flesh with a slow, practiced precision. His voice rose just enough for the other to hear.
“Not so loud, M. I need to concentrate.”
He heard the soft padding of footsteps and then felt familiar arms loop around his shoulders from behind, clinging with dramatic desperation.
“I can't find him, D.” A whine pressed against his ear. “I think I overdid it while looking for him. Everything looks the same now. It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
The one named D said nothing. He continued threading metal beneath blistered skin, the sizzle of cauterization filling the silence. The man behind him, M, frowned but stayed where he was, leaning his chin near D’s shoulder as minutes passed.
The room stank of burnt flesh and scorched oil, but neither man reacted. D finally lifted his mechanical mask, revealing a bored expression. A complete contrast to his frantic partner.
“It appears they've decided to use the darkness to their advantage.”
“Tell me something I don't already know, D.”
“Perhaps you should offer only an inch before giving away the entire rope. If you had, they wouldn't have escaped.”
“Stop with the nerd talk. It's so boring.” M pulled back with an irritated noise and covered his ears. “Just tell me you know how to find him already.”
“Patience, M. You must keep a calm mind, or you may end up destroying the entire planet looking for them.”
M dropped his hands, lips forming a deep frown.
“You do know I'm only looking for William, right? I don't give a shit about your little tin man.”
“I'm well aware. But your recklessness is the reason he's gone. It's only fair that you bring him back as well. You know I would do the same for you if our positions were reversed.”
D’s mouth curled into a subtle smirk.
“That is what best friends are for, correct?”
M’s scowl slowly melted into a bright, eager grin. He bounced on the balls of his feet with childlike enthusiasm.
“Yes! Best! Friend~”
D let out an amused laugh and pulled off his sterile gloves, tossing them aside with a snap.
“Don’t worry. The moment they escaped, I began preparing to retrieve them.”
“How?” M grabbed D’s face between his hands, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.
D pulled away and turned toward the operating table behind him. One of his mechanical men lay there, motionless and incomplete. It was only one of the hundreds he had been crafting over the past few months.
“While your abilities are impressive, M, it would benefit us to have more eyes. Don't you agree?”
M let out an excited cheer that echoed against the walls of the once well-renowned Pentagon.