Chapter Text
3 Years Prior…
Jeongguk wakes slowly to pain, to exhaustion, to the terrible, hollow feeling of having lost something, everything.
Including his memories.
Including him.
His eyes open to a room he doesn’t recognize, not that he’d recognize anything aside from his own name, his own face. It’s a nice enough place, not run down or shabby, just lived in, comfortable. He takes in his surroundings, tries to parse together who he is, what he’s doing here, but the harder he tries the harder it becomes and then there is the pain. It starts out faint at first, a dull throb, a distant thunder, a storm that rolls ever closer the more he tries to recall what he lost.
Who he lost.
Him. Him. Him.
His name is on the tip of his tongue, he tries to form the syllables, tries to shape it with his lips, tries to hold on to the fleeting feeling that he knows… he knows…
Ji—
The pain becomes lightening, driving through him fierce and bright and blinding. He falls back onto the bed, gasping, groaning, not even hearing the sound of a door being opened. It takes awhile for the pain to lessen enough for him to breathe; sweat pours out of him, his whole body buzzing as if electrocuted, his thoughts hazy and distant to the point where he can’t even recall what he was trying to remember.
“Hey kid,” a low voice says, “how are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” he mutters, then, “who the hell are you?”
“The guy that dragged your heavy ass out of the desert and saved you from becoming carrion fodder,” Jeongguk’s eyes slowly open again and his vision blurs then focuses on a pale-skinned man with cat-like eyes, “Name’s Min Yoongi, what’s yours?”
“Jeongguk… Jeon Jeongguk,” he replies.
“Yeah? Okay, what’s your story then? How’d you end up like this?”
Jeongguk frowns, tries to gather his thoughts, his memories, then flinches at the pain, “I… I don’t remember,” he whispers.
He doesn’t remember anything.
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
Present Day…
“Five minutes 'till show time, ladies,'' Yoongi's voice came through the discreet little ear-piece Jeongguk has hidden beneath the dark waves of his hair. He and most of his team are currently milling around an upstairs room in a sprawling mansion, dressed in high-end suits, looking handsome and strait-laced, nothing about their appearance hinting at them being anything more than a group of wealthy, good looking men.
Which, to be fair, they are.
Well, not consistently wealthy, but that’s beside the point.
The point is that no one would guess what lay beneath their fine suits; no one would have suspected the skin-flush layer of high-end armor, the slender hilts of energy blades, the discreetly sized blasters, or the utter and complete chaos they are capable of causing should the need arise and the pay be high.
Security in this day and age is pricey.
But Jeongguk’s team has a reputation, they’re the best of the best, with a near flawless track record that stretches across several solar systems. They are known and respected (and occasionally loathed) for just how damn good they are, be it bounty hunting or protecting people, money, and property; you name it, if it involves weapons and violence (and getting paid), they can do it, and do it well.
Tonight they are “attending” a gala as “guests” of a wealthy intergalactic business mogul with more money than he’d be able to spend in five lifetimes. The house alone is worth more than most people will see in three generations of their families lives, it’s a sprawling, gilded, decadent monstrosity that looks as though it was built by someone who overheard a conversation about twentieth century architecture and thought, “Hey, I could do that, “ and they did, albeit with poor taste and an extravagant touch.
“Looking hot as well, babe,” Taehyung says as he walks past Jeongguk, slapping his ass for good measure. Jeongguk ignores him, like he always does, and the next second Tae has Namjoon pressed against the wall, paying the same compliments with the addition of kisses to his neck, while the other man pretends to be upset but everyone can tell from the breathy little gasps that occasionally fall from his lips that he’s enjoying it.
Somewhere in the room a clock chimes,
It’s time, it’s time, it’s time…
“Let’s go,” Jeongguk says tersely.
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
Cristoffer Moe Ditlevsen- Partners in Crime
The ballroom is opulent, or decadent, depending on your opinion of such things, all gold and crystal, floor to ceiling mirrors, tiled in indigo with patterns of crescent moons and stylized stars, Jeongguk registers it all, but isn’t impressed.
He’s scouted the place beforehand, he’s over it, he and his team know every possible entrance, every hidden vent, every latched window, every door. They’ve vetted the guest list, running data scans on every person on it, and while he can’t say he trusts them, the hosts were informed beforehand of every criminal tie and possible outcome of the night, if they want to play with fire that’s on them. Jeongguk’s only job is to make sure nothing gets stolen.
Possible loss of life doesn’t matter to the hosts, what matters is showing off their wealth.
Jeongguk would be disgusted, but he just doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care about much.
He leans against the bar and asks for a vodka tonic, the person working knows better than to give him alcohol though, so all he gets is a tonic with a shot of water added to it and a twist of lime. He sips it anyway, eyes dancing over the crowd, watching for anyone who might be trying to slip away.
The rest of his team are scattered throughout the mansion in strategic places, ready to pretend to be a lost guest or servant should anyone get curious as to why they aren’t in the ballroom. They check in on occasion, voices faint in Jeongguk’s ear.
“Could really use a drink right now.”
“Give it a rest, Yoongi, we’ll get wasted after the job.”
“At least you’ve got something to do other than watch a bunch of screens, Jin.”
“Ah yes, because standing in an empty hallway is so much more invigorating.”
“Children,” Jeongguk says softly, “if we could use the comms for work I wouldn’t age five years with every job we take.”
“He says that like he’s not the youngest out of all of us.”
“Zenith’s right—”
“Hello handsome, this seat taken?” Jeongguk’s attention is pulled away from the bickering in his ear piece by an elegant man with silver hair and silver eyes and a charming smile.
“Not interested,” Jeongguk mutters automatically, taking another sip of his tonic and wishing there was actual vodka in it and finding it annoyingly hard to look away from the stranger beside him.
He looks so oddly familiar.
“Give me five minutes and you will be,” the man promises.
“That is highly unlikely,” Jeongguk replies, despite how uncertain the man is making him feel, the comms device has gone silent, no doubt because the entire team is listening with rapt attention to their conversation.
“My name’s Park Jimin,” the stranger says, completely unphased by Jeongguk’s attitude, “And I’ve been looking for you.”
Jeongguk winces at the flash of pain that shoots through his skull, there and gone but sharp like knives, “I’m leaving,” Jeongguk replies, and goes to get up, but a hand on his wrist stops him. He looks from the hand, delicate and ring covered, and back up at the stranger, “If you like your hand attached you’ll let me go,” he says.
Park Jimin tsks like a disapproving school teacher, but to his credit he does let go, “Listen to me, Jeongguk, because I’m about to make you an offer.”
“Oh fuck,” Taehyung says in his ear.
“How the hell does he know your real name?” Jin hisses.
“In seven minutes time, all hell is going to break loose,” Jimin says quietly, “Hell that might have been avoided had our gracious host allowed you to check his guests for weapons upon arrival.”
Jeongguk is instantly on edge, because not only does Jimin know his name, but he also knows he tried and failed to convince his client that checking weapons at the door was the smart thing to do.
“Unfortunately for you, our host is rather invested in the outcome of said hell, as it will thin the ranks of two rival businessmen, thus leaving a vacuum of sorts for him to fill. Unfortunately for me , I am a person of interest to one of those parties, and several of their members in this rather lavish and opulent room already have me marked,” Jimin smiles as though the idea amuses him, “Unfortunately for them , I am about to hand you a large amount of money, far more than what our host paid you, to get me out of here alive, along with my promise that there will be more to come after.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small envelope that he hands to Jeongguk below the lip of the bar, “Don’t be shy, see for yourself,” he urges.
Jeongguk doesn’t need to look, the cybernetics in his hand are able to sense the slim, titanium card and the minuscule chip within that tells him in no uncertain terms that with it he will have access to a vast amount of credits, far more than what his host had paid him to be here tonight.
“Five minutes left,” Jimin says conversationally, “So… what’s your answer?”
Jeongguk fiddles with the envelope but doesn’t tuck it away, “Why do you need protection?” he asks against his better judgment.
“Because I’m a thief,” Jimin replies, “a very good thief who stole something incredibly important from the man who heads the group that is going to try to take me prisoner.”
“Prisoner?” Jeongguk says, “They aren’t interested in killing you outright?”
“I’m sure they’ll get there, after weeks of questioning and probably torture,” Jimin says with all the nonchalance of a man commenting on the weather. “Four minutes,” he adds softly.
“You’re asking me to betray a client's trust,” Jeongguk replies.
“Oh fuck, not to interrupt ‘Gguk, but you should fucking see the bounty on this guy,“ Yoongi’s voice cuts in, “I’m running a background check on him and he is wanted in several solar systems, all for theft, it’s crazy, we could fucking retire if we turn him in.”
“You could,” Jimin agrees, touching his own ear-piece with a smirk, “but I’m worth a lot more to you as a free man.”
“How the fuck—” Yoongi starts.
“Three minutes,” Jimin sings softly, “time is running out, Sunshine, what do you say?”
Sunshine , the nickname echoes within him, bringing with it another dagger of pain, he flinches looks away then back up and sees something unreadable in the other man's eyes, something that looks like sadness, “What do you—”
“Two minutes,” Jimin whispers, hooded gaze fixed on Jeongguk, “do we have a deal?”
Jeongguk glances around the room and sees nothing but the kind of people who have made his life a living hell these last three years, people who are greedy, people who are cruel, people who pretend to be better than they actually are. He’s under no illusion, he knows he’s not much better than them, but there’s a card in his hand that practically burns with how much money is on it, and there’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen staring at him with eyes as silver as his hair and hell, Jeongguk is only human.
All around them guests laugh and drink and dance, some of them won’t make it out of here alive, but that’s not Jeongguk’s problem, they aren’t why he’s here. He looks at the handsome stranger who calls himself Park Jimin and he makes a choice.
“Be ready to get out of here fast, gentlemen,” he says as he pockets the card and looks at Jimin, “stay close to me,” he commands.
“Oh, with pleasure,” Jimin practically purrs, he leans closer and whispers, “five seconds.”
A clock chimes nearby.
It’s time, it’s time, it’s time…
Then all hell breaks loose.
Celldweller- First Person Shooter
The first shot is silent.
The chandelier that comes crashing down from the ceiling because of it is not.
Jimin has a gun in his hand and a sparkle in his eye as he grins wolfishly at Jeongguk, “Let’s get it, hot stuff,” he says.
Then they start moving.
Jeongguk’s been forced to fight alongside a lot of people, none of them come close to his caliber, but Park Jimin of the silver hair and silver eyes and silver tongue comes damn close. They move as one, cutting through the chaos like a hot knife through soft fat, Jeongguk has his blaster in one hand, a knife in the other, Jimin takes a second pistol from a dead man on the floor at their feet, and they are making their way to the exit, Jeongguk shouting into the comms device, “Converge at exit point C! Panther, I want the ship ready and waiting at the extraction point, Gallant, you’re closest to the exit, I expect you to take point, Aether you’re covering our asses!”
“Your code names are so cool,” Jimin gushes from beside him, Jeongguk sees someone in his peripheral raise their blaster and take aim at his head, but Jimin shoots him with casual ease, not even blinking as the man falls to the floor, “Can I have one?”
Jeongguk’s about to respond when he sees someone take aim at Jimin, gun pointing low like he hopes to maim him and take him alive. Jeongguk raises his blaster and takes aim at the assailant, and he collapses with a grunt, “How about we discuss that later?” he replies, “Like when no one is trying to kill us?”
“I like Mercury,” Jimin says as though Jeongguk didn’t say anything, “Because the hair, and the eyes… oh, or maybe Diamond?”
“How about you shut the hell up and focus on getting out of here?” Jeongguk asks before slamming the butt of his gun into the nose of an assailant, the man wails and falls to the ground, blood gushing down his face.
“That’s a lot of syllables,” Jimin replies, “Way too many, I thought code names were supposed to be short,” he spins in place and roundhouse kicks someone trying to get to him, hard, so hard he goes flying into a refreshment table.
Everything around them is chaos, dozens of bodies litter the floor, and Jeongguk’s willing to bet most of them are collateral damage, “Panther, plot a course for the safe house, I think we’re gonna want to lay low after this,” he shouts, praying Yoongi hears him as he shoots another attacker in the shoulder, then the chest.
“Getting right on it, Orion,” Yoongi says.
“Orion? Like the constellation?” Jimin asks, “Is it because you have stars in your eyes, and they’re as vast and as beautiful as the night sky?”
“Save the flirting for when no one’s shooting at us,” Taehyung snaps through the comms, “heat’s starting to spread, Umbra and I are taking fire.”
“I’m at exit C, proceed or hold?” Hoseok says, “Contingency plan in place, you wanna rock and roll Orion?”
“Contingency plan? What’s that?” Jimin asks.
But before Jeongguk can answer, another chandelier falls from the ceiling, close enough that shattered crystal goes flying toward them, cutting a deep wound across Jeongguk’s cheek; the sudden pain is a momentary distraction, but it lasts long enough for someone to get the drop on him, because the next thing he knows someone is twisting his arm behind his back and into a painful position and a blaster is pressed to his temple.
“Where’d you get yourself a friend, Park?” Someone asks, he can’t see who has him, his shoulder screams in protest as the man yanks it back, and he can taste blood on his lips from the cut and Jimin is looking at him with an unreadable expression.
“I’d let him go if I were you,” Jimin says in a low, almost soft voice, it’s barely discernible over the chaos, but Jeongguk hears it loud and clear. Gone is the flirtatious man who was making jokes and quips a moment ago, and in his place is someone cold, calculating, and downright frightening.
“Did I hit a nerve, Park? Is he someone important? Because he looks like a piece of shit merc to me,” the man digs the barrel of the gun further into Jeongguk’s temple. “Maybe he’s someone you don’t want to see with his brains painted on the wall, maybe you should give yourself up, nice and easy, and he lives.”
Jeongguk looks back at Jimin, who hasn’t stopped staring at him since he was taken hostage.
“What the fuck is going on?” he hears Namjoon snap into the comms, “Orion do you copy? Fucking hell—”
With a movement too fast to track, Jimin raises the gun, Jeongguk flinches as the bright light of his blaster nearly blinds him, but the next thing he knows his assailant is slumping to the floor, a clear shot between the eyes killing him instantly. Jimin is immediately in his space, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him towards the exit. He’s silent now, killing with such rapid efficiency that Jeongguk can barely get a shot in on his own, and it occurs to him that Jimin was playing before, that up until the moment Jeongguk was at gunpoint it had all been a game to Jimin.
The game was over now, it would seem.
They make it out of the ballroom in record time, and everyone who gets in their way falls like wheat before the scythe that is Park Jimin.
“Boys, we’ve got a problem,” Yoongi’s voice carries through the chaos.
“Tell us something we don’t fucking know,” Tae snaps back, “Orion—you okay, do you copy?”
“I’m fine,” he grunts, “what’s the problem, Panther?”
“Looks like backup is on its way,” Tae replies.
“Contingency plan?” Hoseok asks again.
“No, no contingency plan,” Jeongguk spits blood out of his mouth, “I do not need an angry fucking business man with too much money and a vendetta out to get us, we have enough of those already.”
“What's the contingency plan?” Jimin asks.
“Umbra’s our explosives expert,” Jeongguk says shortly. The halls are a little less chaotic than the ballroom, almost everyone who is out here is trying to get away instead of trying to kill someone, but that doesn’t mean they’re safe. Jimin is shooting at someone at the far end of the hall when Jeongguk risks a glance in the opposite direction just in time to notice someone taking aim at them. Without thinking, he wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist and throws himself down behind an overturned table, landing with a grunt, barely quick enough to avoid several shots flying overhead.
“I didn’t think we’d get this far, this fast,” Jimin said from his place on top of him, he untangles his legs and wraps them around Jeongguk’s thighs, wiggling a little as he settles into place, “Won’t you take me out first, Jeongguk-ah?” He flutters his eyelashes coquettishly, “Am I not worth at least a dinner and a drink?”
“Is this really the time to flirt?” Jin snaps, “Maybe we could focus on getting out of here for oh… I don’t know? Ten fucking minutes!”
Jeongguk drops his arms from where they’re still wrapped around Jimin, who gives him a wink, props himself up on one hand, and shoots someone as they try to sneak down the hall, “All good things are worth waiting for,” he says, before clambering to his feet and pulling Jeongguk up along with him, “and I know you’re very good.”
Something blows up in the distance and Jeongguk curses, “Umbra, what the fuck–”
“Wasn’t me,” Hoseok answers immediately, “sounds like someone else decided to have some fun.”
Another explosion rings out, this one closer. Jeongguk sighs, “And here I was thinking this was going to be a boring night.”
“It’s only nine, still plenty of time for things to calm down,” Namjoon says.
Jeongguk glances at Jimin, at his sharp features and watchful eyes. Jimin catches him looking and puckers his lips in a little kiss before shooting another assailant, “Doubtful,” is all Jeongguk mutters as they keep going.
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
They’re the last to reach the exit, the other four members of Jeongguk’s team are crouched behind a makeshift barricade and offer covering fire as Jimin and Jeongguk sprint toward them, then it’s out into the gardens along the back of the property, racing across the lawn and weaving through ornamental plants until they reach a clearing.
“You assholes here?” Yoongi’s voice comes through the comms, “Because I’m ready to fly.”
“Yeah, we’re here,” Jeongguk replies, “Drop the shields and the ramp, we’re coming up.”
A moment later and a ship flickers into existence in front of them, the cloaking it was hidden by giving way to reveal gleaming metal and sleek curves, “All aboard the good ship Euphoria,” Seokjin quips as they file up the ramp, he pauses a moment to take aim with his rifle at someone who just ran from the house, guns blazing. They fall a moment later, and Jin continues like nothing happened.
“Strap in, boys,” Yoongi’s voice comes over the intercom. “If it’s all good with you, Orion, I’d like to be out of orbit before we attract any more attention.”
“Sounds like a plan, and we can drop code names, since our guest here seems to know mine already, and I’m willing to bet he knows yours too,” Jeongguk says as he falls into a seat and pulls the harness down over his chest. The rest of the team follow close behind, though Taehyung practically shoves Jimin away from the seat next to Jeongguk. Their new arrival just raises an amused eyebrow in response, and takes the seat across from him instead, throwing Jeongguk a victory sign once he’s got his own harness in place.
“Everyone ready?” Yoongi asks, not waiting for a response before he’s maneuvering Euphoria skyward, laughing as Namjoon curses at him and struggles to get himself secure. A minute later and he’s high enough to launch them out of the atmosphere and then out of the gravity of the planet.
Jeongguk rests a hand against the metal of his ships interior, running diagnostics like he does every time he’s back with his baby, the enhancements in his body communicating with the ship in a way that an unaugmented human wouldn’t understand; but to him Euphoria is as much a member of the crew as the other five are, and at times like these, just as important.
Then he frowns.
“Min Yoongi,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear, “you correct our course right now before I take navigational duties away from you.”
“Jeongguk–” Yoongi’s voice comes through his in-ear, on what he probably thinks is a secure line. He glances at Jimin and sees a silver gaze looking back, one eyebrow arched and an expectant expression on his face.
“I told you to make for the safe house, and I expect my orders to be listened to,” Jeongguk says, he knows the pilot can be stubborn, and often has his own ideas about how to best deal with the situations they get into, but Jeongguk is tired, the cut on his face is throbbing, and the last thing he wants is an argument.
“But the bounty–”
“I expect… my orders… to be listened to,” Jeongguk repeats. “This is not a debate, this is not a fucking discussion, this is a direct order from your captain, now correct course, because I know you hate it when I take remote control of the ship.”
There’s no response from the pilot, but Jeongguk keeps his connection to Euphoria active until he feels the ship’s coordinates change. He’ll check back in periodically, because while he trusts Yoongi with his life, he doesn’t trust him to listen when it comes to receiving credits for the turning in of a total stranger.
Once their course is set and they are comfortably hurtling through space, the crew unstraps themselves and filters further into the ship.
Jimin is at his side immediately, looking up at the cut on his cheek, “Shouldn’t you get that cleaned up?”
Jeongguk just nods, already on his way to the medbay, but Jimin tags along like he’s gotten a personal invite, the rest of the crew following, “Yoongi, meet up with us, we’ve got shit to discuss.”
“Yeah, like how we have a wanted criminal on the ship,” Taehyung grumbles.
Seokjin nudges him playfully, “Like we all aren’t wanted on several planets already,” he teases, but Tae just scowls and shoulders his way to the head of the group without a word.
“Ignore him,” Namjoon says, “he’s just upset he didn’t get to go to the ball, isn’t that right, princess?” He calls after the other man, who flips him off without turning around. Joon shakes his head and grins, completely unbothered by Taehyung’s sullen anger, “He had an outfit planned and everything.”
“I would have looked so good!” Tae snaps. “The suit was velvet !”
“What did I say? The truth will out,” Namjoon says, dimples on full display as he breaks into a jog in order to catch up to Tae. He throws an arm around the man's shoulders and presses a kiss to his temple, “Wear it for me later, baby?” He whispers.
“I hate it here,” Seokjin grumbles under his breath.
Jeongguk ignores it all, even the way Jimin walks so close that their shoulders and the back of their hands occasionally brush. The cut on his cheek is throbbing, and even with the tech on Euphoria he’s probably going to have a new scar to join the ranks of others that decorate his body. He doesn’t care, not really, it’s not like he needs to be pretty for his line of work, and the more battered he looks, the more imposing he becomes.
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
They get to the medbay and Namjoon gets to work, cleaning Jeongguk’s wound with a stinging antiseptic and then applying a thin layer of gel that contains enough nanotech to heal his wound, “Don’t touch,” he warns needlessly, because this isn’t the first time he’s had to patch one of them up, and it won’t be the last.
Once that’s taken care of, Jeongguk leans against a wall and jerks his chin in Jimin’s direction, “Okay, spill– what’s your story?”
“I told you my story,” Jimin says with a demure shrug, looking at Jeongguk from where he mirrors his pose from across the room, “what more is there to tell?”
“What did you steal that got you marked?” Hoseok asks, “How about we start there?”
Jimin frowns, “I’d rather not go into details.”
“And I’d rather not have someone I can’t trust on the ship with us,” Seokjin says with a glance at Jeongguk, who remains quiet, watchful, studying Jimin and his reactions. Now that they are no longer surrounded by gunfire he realizes that there’s something about the other man that doesn’t sit right, but he can’t for the life of him place what it is. It’s like an itch under his skin, or in a place he can’t quite reach. Physically there’s nothing odd about him, even the silver eyes don’t indicate more than perhaps a cosmetic enhancement, but still, there’s something more to Park Jimin than meets the eye, he’d bet all the credits he has on it.
Jimin sighs, “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, but…” he trails off and bites his lower lip, glancing at Jeongguk as if seeking reassurance, but he just stares back, impassive, and Jimin’s shoulders slump, “It wasn’t an object or money that I stole from Lee Seojun.”
The crew exchanges looks, because everyone here recognizes that name.
“Was he attending the gala?” Seokjin asks, “I don’t recall seeing his name on the guest list.”
“If he was there it was under a different name,” Jeongguk says.
“He wasn’t there,” Jimin replies, “it would have been too dangerous, not with the shoot out he had planned.”
“So if it wasn’t money or an object, what was it?” Taehyung asked.
Jimin tilts his head to the side, “What were some major headlines from four cycles ago?” he prompts, eyes once again falling on Jeongguk, it’s almost like he can’t help himself, his gaze always going back to him, taking in the sight of him.
The itch under Jeongguk’s skin grows in intensity.
The crew is silent for a moment as they all try to recall something noteworthy enough to make intergalactic news, but it’s Jeongguk who answers, “His son went missing.”
Jimin grins, almost proud looking as he nods, “That’s right, he did.”
“So you kidnapped his son—”
“Kidnapped is such a strong word,” Jimin shakes his head, “And it implies someone being taken by force, which I assure you he wasn’t, in fact the kid was more than willing to abandon dear old dad, that’s why I prefer to say I stole him.”
“So you helped some spoiled brat escape, I assume for a great deal of money, and now his old man wants you dead?”
“Something like that,” Jimin agrees, seeming unbothered by the fact that one of the galaxies most powerful businessmen was out for his blood, “But like I told Jeongguk, it would have been after weeks of torture wherein they tried to get his sons location out of me,” he smirks. “They would have failed, but that’s a moot point as of now.”
“Something’s not adding up,” Jeongguk says from his spot on the bed. Everyone turns to look at him, five expectant gazes and one unreadable one. “Why were you at the gala at all, if you knew Seojun’s goons were going to be there and would try and take you prisoner?” Jeongguk meet’s Jimin’s eyes, silver and impassive, recalling the way he’d fought when Jeongguk was injured. He had become a one man army, an unstoppable force, “You didn’t need our help getting out of there, hell, you didn’t even need me .”
A flash of pain in Jimin’s eyes, there and gone again the next second, so quick Jeongguk wasn’t sure he’d seen it all.
“That’s not true, Sunshine, I absolutely need you,” Jimin replies. “Did you think I broke in for fun? No, I did it so I could find you , figured I’d have your attention easily enough if I caught you bored and stuck in one place,” he smiles, but it’s shaky, “I told you I’d been looking for you, I just didn’t say for how long.”
“So much for security,” Namjoon mutters.
“Don’t take it personally,” Jimin says, “I’m very good at what I do.”
“Yeah, but I thought the same thing about us,” the other man grumbles.
“Can we please focus?” Taehyung says, waving both hands in the air, “Why were you intent on finding Jeongguk?”
“That is for his ears and his ears only,” Jimin says, his previous flirtatious attitude gone, replaced by the same sharp-eyed man that had appeared when Jeongguk was held at gunpoint. Those silver dagger eyes meet his and for half a second it feels like Jeongguk is doused in cold water, or that flames are eating him alive from the inside, one or the other, sharply contrasted but still tearing into him with a ferocity he has never felt before. They stare at each other, Jeongguk looking for something, anything that could hint at what secrets Park Jimin was keeping.
“Everyone out,” Jeongguk says.
“’Gguk—” Seokjin starts, but a sharp-eyed glare from him is enough to get the older man to bite his tongue, though he doesn’t look happy about it. They stare at each other for a few long, silent moments but Jeongguk doesn’t flinch, even when Jin’s eyes narrow; he might be the oldest member of the crew, but Jeongguk is still the leader, and on board Euphoria he is also the captain, and his commands are not to be ignored.
“We’ll be right outside,” Jin says finally, though he doesn’t look or sound happy about it. He shifts his glare to Jimin for a moment, and a weaker man might have cowered, but Jimin didn’t so much as flinch, just looked back with an impassive expression, lips pressed into a thin line.
The crew leaves, and the remaining two men stare at each other in the ensuing quiet, until finally Jimin breaks it.
“What do you remember of your youth?”
And though there is no sound, Jeongguk is shattered. Flashes of something, fragments as sharp as glass, laughter, safety, tears, terror, darkness…
Sunshine.
Loss.
“Nothing,” Jeongguk says, “I remember nothing.”
Jimin nods, and there it is again, that momentary flash of pain, of a sadness so deep and fierce it feels like it can cut.
“Your childhood?”
“Bits, pieces, my mother’s face, my father’s voice, our home,” Jimin’s nodding almost imperceptibly, “why are you asking me this, what does this have to do with you?”
Jimin smiles, though there was no joy in it, “Your mother’s name was Harin, your father’s was Mirue.”
A flash of pain, but not enough to stop Jeongguk, who narrows his eyes, “How do you know that?” he asks, “How do I even know you’re telling the truth, you could be just making up names– it’s not like I would know the difference.”
“I know because I was there, Jeongguk,” Jimin whispers, “living quarters number 359, right across from your family in living quarters 348.”
Jeongguk goes very still, because the door to his family’s home is one thing he does recall, the unadorned, gunmetal gray door with its numbers in bone white across the front.
“If there was a way to get your past back, would you take it?” Jimin asks.
Jeongguk frowns, there’s always been this hole, a void in his memory where his youth should have been, the things he recalls are small, superficial, what should be a whole image nothing more then tattered shreds and things he’s not certain are even real, or just an attempt by his brain to fill in the emptiness.
“What if I told you… that your memories are still there, locked away but that with the right key… attainable through a procedure?” Jimin takes a step closer, then another, and another, until barely any space at all separates them. He reaches up as though he intends to touch Jeongguk, but his hand only hovers midair, and Jeongguk can see the way it trembles, as though the other man is doing his best to hold himself back, “What if… I told you, I was in there, too?”
“I wouldn’t believe you,” Jeongguk says, but even as he does he knows it’s a lie, because just that question alone burns like fire in his veins, that strange feeling that’s been dogging him becoming suddenly sharper, more fierce, a knife between his ribs, angled up and toward his heart.
“Wouldn’t you?” Jimin whispers, he lets his outstretched hand fall, “You don’t have to answer now, but just think about it… why else would I seek you out? You said it yourself that I didn’t need help getting out of that place, hell, I didn’t even need to be there in the first place, so why was I there?”
He smiles, though there is no joy in it, “If you get your memories back, you’ll know why I came looking for you.” He takes a step back and a deep breath, not a sigh, but like he was holding it, and says, “Just think about it, I’ll accompany you to the safe house, or if you’d prefer, you can leave me somewhere close enough for us to communicate, and if you decide you want to do it, I’ll show you where to go.”
“Talk to your crew, let them know my offer, and when you're ready, let me know your decision,” his smile is gone, but there’s something softer in his eyes, “I’ll wait, I’m very good at waiting.”
Later, when Jimin has been given temporary quarters and the rest of the crew is resting, Jeongguk stalks through the halls of Euphoria, restless in body and mind. He can’t deny the temptation he feels about getting his memories back, though he’s gone so long without them that he rarely gives them any consideration.
He stops on the observation deck, looking out into the darkness of space and the looming source of light that is their destination. A different solar system than the one they were just in, and once they reach it, they’ll use the gate in it to jump to yet another solar system, putting thousands of miles between them and whatever fallout occurred in the aftermath of their last job. They haven’t heard anything from their former client, though their joint credit account had more in it then it had before the job, so Jeongguk’s willing to bet the man was happy with the outcome, regardless of how many dead bodies had to be cleared from the mansion.
His thoughts are a tangled mess, the logical, jaded part of him saying they should drop Jimin off at the next port and forget the entire encounter, the other part saying they should listen, that they should try. He rests a hand against the cool metal of Euphoria’s walls and lets his senses run through her, it’s calming, a way to ground himself when his thoughts are restless. He checks on each member of his crew, ensuring they are healthy, safe, content, though he can tell Jin is pacing in his room, back and forth, back and forth, no doubt making himself mad thinking about what Jimin said to Jeongguk.
And Jimin… he checks in on him too, more out of curiosity than concern, but what he sees has him frowning, because it’s nothing he could have suspected.
Jimin is curled up on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest and his face half-exposed, whole body shaking with sobs as he weeps, violent, anguished tears.
Jeongguk is halfway to his room before he comes to his senses, what is he doing, what could he do, what comfort could he offer, when he barely knows a thing about the enigmatic thief. He stops in his tracks, staring at nothing as he tries to reconcile the strange way his heart stutters and stops when he thinks about Jimin, versus the way his brain tells him that he doesn’t care, that he has no reason to.
The knife between his ribs presses a little harder, digs a little deeper, not piercing, not yet, but threatening to.
Jeongguk has so many scars already, does he really want to reopen the oldest of his wounds, even if he doesn’t know how it was made?
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
Planet Iloria XII sits near the heart of the solar system Haccinda, orbited by twin moons. With its white sand beaches and oceans the color of plums and red wine, it’s a popular destination for intergalactic tourism. Uninhabited before the first entrepreneur arrived almost a millennium ago, it was immediately put under protection by the Council of Planets, limiting how many settlements could be established and prohibiting most if not all harvesting of natural resources.
So aside from a scattering of glittering, elegant port towns it was largely uninhabited.
The safe house is tucked away in the dense forests that border the coasts, and is mostly underground. They don’t use it too often, since most (keyword, most) of their work doesn’t involve breaking the law, but every now and then a job goes south and it is best for the crew of Euphoria to lay low, flying below the proverbial radar until whatever chaos they might have caused had blown over.
They drop Jimin off at the nearest town, the thief goes with a smile, winking and joking about keeping himself busy while Jeongguk comes to a decision. He seems to be in good spirits, back to the flirtatious man he was when he first appeared at the gala, but Jeongguk can’t shake the image of him crying on his cot, the way his whole body had been shaking, how even though there’d been no audio, it looked as though he’d been wailing in grief.
“I’ll be waiting, Jeongguk,” he jerks his head down the road, “I did a little research and there’s a hotel down the street, I’ll be there when you’re ready to leave.”
They watch as he saunters away, looking as much at ease on the quiet boulevard as he did at the gala, or on board Euphoria. Evening is slipping toward dusk, the light is soft and tinted pink as the sun sinks toward the horizon line, just barely kissing the red ocean swells as it descends. And Jeongguk has a strange sense of deja vu, like he’s watched this happen before, watched Jimin turn his back and walk away.
Is it just his mind playing tricks on him, or is Jimin truly someone from his past?
“He’s still hiding something,” Namjoon says as they watch the thief disappear down the street, “Are you going to tell us what he told you?”
Jeongguk nods, “Once we’re in the safe house.”
The safe house itself is nothing fancy, they don’t spend enough time therefore it be anything except austere. But there’s six bedrooms (one of which goes unused ever since Tae and Namjoon started sleeping together), a kitchen, a sitting room, and a small but functional gym that doubles as a sparring room.
Taehyung is first to enter, followed closely by Jin, the two of them howling like banshees as they run down the hall, trying to get to the shower before the rest. Yoongi is next, and he makes a beeline right to his room. He’s been salty ever since Jeongguk threatened to take navigational duties from him on Euphoria, but Jeongguk knows he’ll get over it soon enough. Hoseok and Namjoon enter slowly, keeping pace with Jeongguk and throwing him what they probably think are subtle glances, but he feels everyone like stones on a window, tap-tap-tapping, trying to get his attention.
He ignores them for now, there will be time enough to talk once the crew gathers later, but at the moment all Jeongguk wants to do is not think. He heads straight for the gym, days of being confined to the interior of Euphoria, combined with what Jimin had told him left him feeling restless and on edge. So he works out until he’s dripping sweat and gasping for breath, trying to keep his mind blank as he moves from the punching bag in one corner to running drills with his sword in another, but all the while he can’t shake the image of silver eyes looking up at him.
He has no reason to trust the thief, but he finds himself wanting to. Though if it’s because he’s just desperate for answers or for some other reason he can’t say for sure. He flicks his hair from his eyes and glares at nothing, unable to shake the feeling that there’s more to what he’s been told so far.
Three hours later and he can practically feel the rest of the crew's restlessness through the walls. They know better than to bother him when he’s like this, but that won’t stop them from gossiping and speculating while they wait. He goes and gets himself cleaned up, still indecisive about whether he wants to trust Jimin or never see the other man again.
He ignores the strange feeling in his chest when he thinks of that choice.
And he certainly doesn’t think of Jimin sobbing in his room after their conversation.
The rest of the team is already in the kitchen when he enters. Yoongi and Seokjin are cooking, Tae is half sprawled across the counter, watching them work while he occasionally sneaks food from pans and cutting boards. Hoseok and Namjoon are bent over an e-pad, and from the sound of it, are currently looking for any news about them from the disastrous gala.
Jeongguk slumps down into a seat beside Hoseok, who nudges him gently and points to the screen in Namjoon’s hand, “Not a word about us,” he says with a content little smile. “Sounds like our client was more than happy to throw shade on the two attacking parties and didn’t even mention we were there,” he leans back and hooks his hands behind his head. “Our spotty reputation resists another stain for now.”
Jeongguk snorts, pleased, but generally unimpressed with the entire situation. As much as he wasn’t invested, a lot of innocent people had lost their lives that night, or as innocent as the richest people in the Civilized Sectors could be. He doesn’t feel guilty, none of it is his fault, but it was still a senseless act, one done for publicity more than anything.
But it’s not like he’s much better, a gun for hire is using other people's lives to get ahead, after all.
“Dinner’s ready, despite this cretin trying to eat it all,” Seokjin says, “plate up, then shut up, I want to hear what Jeongguk has to say… preferably with no interruption.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Jeongguk mutters, he knows his team well enough to expect at least a few sarcastic comments and questions. He waits for the rest of them to grab their food before getting his own together, and once everyone is settled he begins.
“Jimin claims to know me from my past,” he says without preamble, “and he also claims he knows a place that will let me get my memories back.”
The other five members stare at him, still eating, but otherwise silent. He looks back at them, nonplussed, and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth.
“That’s it?” Yoongi asks? “And you… believe him? Did he have any proof?”
“I don’t remember a lot of my childhood, you guys know that,” Jeongguk replies, “But one thing I do remember is the number for my family's living quarters… Jimin knew the number… and my parents' names.”
“Well, shit,” Namjoon mutters, “It’s not like the sort of info is easy to track down, either.”
Not too long after the crew had come together, Namjoon had found out about Jeongguk’s memory loss and offered to ask a friend to do some digging. The friend had come back empty handed and bewildered by it, “It’s like he doesn’t exist,” he’d said with a shrug, “I ran checks on every part of the Civilized sectors and they all came back blank.”
He had speculated that maybe Jeongguk had been born in one of the unsettled systems where humanity and the other allied races didn’t frequent, but what vague memories Jeongguk did have suggested he hadn’t been born in the Wilds, but in a regular city or star station like anyone else might have been.
“But you don’t remember your parents' names, how do you know he’s not making them up?” Taehyung asks, he reaches across the table to steal some food from Seokjin’s plate, but before he can, the other man bats his hand away.
“That’s just it, when he said them… it felt like they fit. I spent so long trying to guess but nothing I came up with ever seemed right, until now,” Jeongguk shoves the food around on his plate, he’s hungry, but something in him is coiled tight from excitement, from the possibility of finding out who he truly is, “I know you guys have a lot of questions—I do to, but I feel like I have to take this chance…” he looks around at the five other men, his friends, a rag-tag group of miscreants and criminals who have become the only family he has now.
“I’ll understand if you don’t agree, and I won’t ask any of you to come with me, that would be selfi—”
“Hold the fuck up,” Yoongi says, leaning forward and looking at Jeongguk intently, “you think we’re just going to let you do this on your own?” He shakes his head, “Absolutely not.”
“Yah!” Seokjin chimes in, “You might be our leader and captain but you’re still our baby!”
“Our big, evil baby,” Taehyung agrees, using Jin’s temporary distraction to finally swipe some of his food.
“I gave you the largest portion!” The other man snaps, “Stop taking mine when you haven’t even finished yours!” He reaches over and smacks the back of Tae’s head, but it doesn’t seem to phase him, he just smirks and chews away, eyes practically closing as he enjoys the bite.
“It tastes better because it’s stolen,” he says.
“Hmph, if the thief was here he’d probably agree.” Yoongi mutters, “So what, we’re just gonna pack up and head out to who the hell knows where, on nothing more than the words of a total stranger as our guide?”
Jeongguk leans back, “We’ll make it work, I figure we take some small jobs along the way, maybe some retrievals, turn in some bounties if the chance comes up, see where the wind takes us in between here and wherever we’re going,” he takes another look around the table. “Are you guys sure though? I’ll understand if you’d rather sit this one out.”
Namjoon shakes his head, “And what? Let you wander off to who knows where with a total stranger? Not likely, ‘Gguk,'' he pushes Jeongguk’s plate closer to him. “You’re stuck with us, now eat your goddamn food before Tae eats it for you.”
Jeongguk turns his attention to his meal, head bowed to hide the slight hint of a smile on his lips. They might be a bunch of annoying assholes, but he really does love his crew, no matter how much he gripes about them.
“So, when do you plan to tell Jimin?” Seokjin asks.
Jeongguk mulls over the question while taking a few bites of food, “I’ll find him tomorrow evening,” he decides after he swallows. “Find out where he intends to go for the procedure, we’ll iron out the details after we know how long and in what direction we’ll be traveling.”
Decision made, they finish their food in relative calm, though Seokjin has to continue defending his plate from Taehyung’s attacks. The entire time Jeongguk thinks about how lucky he is, how glad he is to have these men at his side. He wonders how they’ll get along with Jimin, how they’ll fare as they travel to whatever destination the thief has in mind. They’ve weathered some rough storms, put up with a lot in their time together, and have always come out stronger in the end. He doesn't know what’s in store for them with where they’re headed, but at least he knows they’ll have each other along the way.
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
The town they had dropped Jimin off in is small, picturesque— little cottages and long stretches of white sand beaches, wine red seas kissing the shores softly, gently. Planets like this are a reprieve from the chaos of ones where development is not restricted, the rest of the crew stays at the safe house, preparing for the journey ahead and enjoying what will likely be the last quiet night they have for a while.
It had rained earlier in the day, and the streets were still wet with it, shining under the city lights and catching the faint hint of stars as the clouds shredded in the face of the sea wind. It is warm and humid as Jeongguk walks down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into his pockets, the tranquility around him in stark contrast to the storm he holds inside.
Fear, anticipation, uncertainty, and hope—all vying for a place inside of him, pulling his thoughts this way and that, keeping him unfocused. He isn’t used to feeling this way, isn’t used to doubting himself. Not that his life has left much room for doubt, he keeps things simple on purpose; take a contract, complete the contract, move on to the next. No relationships outside of the friendships he forged with his crew and the occasional contact he didn’t feel the urge to shoot for being an annoying asshole.
He had the distinct feeling that Jimin is going to make things complicated as hell.
Still, he walks on, because as certain as he is about how the strange man is going to turn his life upside down, he also knows that if he turns back now, changes his mind and never accepts the thief’s offer, he’ll spend the rest of his life questioning that choice, and doubting himself for having made it at all.
The hotel is quiet, most of the patrons out enjoying the town and its beaches, even after sunset, and he wonders if Jimin will even be in his room, but then he catches sight of a swimming pool, the patio around it nearly empty except for a few lounge chairs and a silver-haired man with a cocktail and absolutely no shirt on.
Jimin raises his hand in greeting as Jeongguk approaches, takes another sip of his drink, and sets it aside, “Hey there, handsome, long time no see.”
Jeongguk sits sideways on one of the lounge chairs, long legs stretched out in front of him, “It’s been less than forty eight hours,” he points out.
“Any time away from you feels like an eternity,” Jimin says with a small shrug.
Jeongguk recalls the way Jimin sobbed, the way his whole body shook, the way his mouth fell open in a cry that Jeongguk couldn’t hear, but he could feel, “How much is hidden behind that mask you’re wearing?” He wonders.
Jimin goes very still, and for half a moment Jeongguk sees something vulnerable flash within his silver eyes, but it’s gone before he can truly process it, “I’m a simple man, Sunshine. What you see is what you get.”
“I somehow doubt that,” Jeongguk replies.
They sit in the quiet for a few minutes, Jimin sips his drink and Jeongguk stares up at the sky. It shouldn’t feel so easy, shouldn’t feel this calm, but it does, and that more than anything makes Jeongguk believe he and Jimin once knew each other, very long ago.
“So, did you think about my offer?” Jimin asks finally.
“Hard not to,” Jeongguk tears his gaze away from the sky to look at the other man, “I’ve taken a lot of chances in my life, but putting my trust in you might be the most foolish,” he replies.
“Is that a yes?” Jimin asks, eyes lighting up, all wide and hopeful, “That sounds like a yes.”
“It’s a yes, for better or for worse,” Jeongguk agrees. “But I want to know… what’s your endgame with all of this? Why did you come find me?”
“I’ve been searching for you for years, Jeongguk,” Jimin admits quietly. “This isn’t sudden for me, but there’s a lot of space to cover, and you’re an elusive man, which makes sense in your line of work. I had to get into the criminal world just to hear so much as a whisper of you, which is funny, considering most of what you do is completely legal. Still—you run in some circles most people do not, and you mingle with those that most would consider… morally gray, at best.” Jimin smiles, “Lucky for me I fit into said circles quite well, one might even say I thrived.”
He reaches for his drink and takes another long sip, “As for why I came looking for you, well… it honestly might be better to wait until you have your memories back, things will make sense then.”
“And they won’t now?”
Jimin studies him, “I think they’ll be easier to believe.”
“And how will I get them back, and how will I trust that they are real? I’ve heard of memory wipes before, but I’ve never heard of retrievals, where are we going—who is the person or people who can do this?”
Jimin smiles, though it’s bitter and tinged with sadness, “It’s the same woman who took them away in the first place, her name is Hwasa.”
A flash of something, too brief to be called a memory tears through him, black hair, faint smile, low voice, “I know, but that’s the terms of the deal… and I’m afraid you don’t have much choice,” it’s innocuous, brief, but sharp, another knife to the ribs, accompanied by sudden pain that lances through his skull and makes him lean forward, gasping for air as he clutches his head.
He doesn’t hear Jimin curse, doesn’t hear the way his drink shatters on the ground, doesn’t see the way he falls to his knees in front of him. Faintly he feels hands brushing over his hair, until the pain slowly leeches away and he hears Jimin whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Sunshine, I wasn’t thinking,” Jeongguk blinks passed the pain, looks up, and sees silver eyes shining green from the pool lights, bright with unfallen tears.
“What the fuck?” Jeongguk mutters as he struggles to sit up, senses still swimming, head pulsing with fading pain, “What the fuck just happened?” Jimin is kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with wide eyes, and it’s far too intimate, far too close to something Jeongguk doesn’t let himself dwell on.
“I’m sorry,” the other man whispers, “she told me this would happen, but I wanted to be honest, to share what I could, I guess I took it a step too far,” he runs his tongue over his dry lips and Jeongguk tracks the movement almost thoughtlessly, the pain fading, but the memory of it lingering like a promise. Jimin stays where he is, wind playing with his hair, features softened by the glow of the pool lights, “There are… safeguards in place, remembering or trying too hard to remember things on your own causes you pain, you’ve probably felt them in the past, were there times you tried recalling your past and ended up hurting?”
Jeongguk nods, he’d always chalked it up as trauma and stress when the headaches happened, but they were typically dull, throbbing things, not the sharp pain of what he’d just felt, as though someone was trying to crack his skull open and get to what was inside, “Why… Why is it like that?” He asks, voice hoarse.
“I’d tell you, but I think it might hurt you,” Jimin says sadly, he’s fidgeting with his fingers, tugging and pinching them like he needs to be doing something to keep his hands occupied. Jeongguk watches, still a bit dazed from the pain, “I get it, you know?” Jimin continues, “You have no reason to trust me, I just waltzed up to you and told you I’m part of a past you don’t even recall. I wouldn’t trust me either,” he looks up and meets Jeongguk’s eyes. “But I hope you give it a shot anyway, I hope you’re willing to believe… and I know it’s hard, this universe doesn’t give us any reason to believe in shit…” he laughs, though it sounds forced, broken.
“You’re nothing like that first impression, are you?” Jeongguk asks.
Jimin grimaces, dashes the remainder of the tears from his eyes, “You throw me off my game, Sunshine, always have. Give me a minute and I’ll be back to normal,” he turns and takes a deep breath at the sight of his shattered drink, “Fuck… I could really use that right now,” he mutters.
Jeongguk rises, “To be honest, I could use a drink myself.”
Jimin turns back around, a silver eyebrow arched in question, “Is that an invitation?”
“I guess,” Jeongguk shrugs, “But forget the hotel, I know some place better.”
Jimin grabs his shirt from where it’s been carelessly cast aside and follows him without a word. They leave the property and head to the boulevard that runs along the beachfront, walking until they’re at the edge of town, and through the trees they can discern lights flickering out on the sand.
The bar is little more than a stand with a few tables scattered around it, sitting lopsided in the sand, and the patrons are barefoot and clad in little besides their swimwear, “I’ll admit, this isn’t the kind of place I thought you’d prefer,” Jimin says, though his eyes are alight with amusement as he takes it all in.
“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises,” Jeongguk mutters.
“If you order Sex on the Beach I can’t promise I won’t die laughing,” Jimin says.
“Well, looks like you’ll live another night,” Jeongguk replies as they come up to the bar, “Whiskey, neat,” he orders.
“Not surprising,” Jimin shakes his head, “I’ll have a whiskey sour.”
They stay standing by the bar, eyes trained on anything except each other as they wait.
“I didn’t get a chance to say it back then, but thanks… for agreeing to listen to me– at the gala,” Jimin clarifies when Jeongguk throws him a questioning glance. The bartender hands them their drinks with a nod and they take them to a nearby table, “I know I came on strong—”
Jeongguk snorts, unable to keep himself from interrupting, “Bit of a fucking understatement.”
Jimin gives him a lopsided grin before he continues, “And you didn’t have to listen to me, let alone agree, but I’m glad you did.”
The night is soft around them, there’s music coming nearby, someone singing a song that sounds like heartbreak, and Jimin has the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen, they reflect whatever colors are before them, so right now they’re amber and gold with the firelight that illuminates the bar. They’re the kind of eyes he could get lost in, or at least they would be, if Jeongguk was that sort of man.
“Your eyes always that color?” Jeongguk asks, “Or did you get some cosmetic work done?” He’s not sure if he’s asking because he’s curious, or if he needs to fill the silence that rests so uneasily between them, either way he leans back and takes a sip of his whiskey, appreciating how strong it is, how it joins the warmth of the night and settles in his veins like honey.
Other people arrive, filtering in from the street or further down the beach to mingle at the bar, lost in quiet conversation, their murmurs blending with the sound of the sea as it kisses the shore.
Jimin mimics his pose and takes a long drink from his cocktail, “I had brown eyes once,” he says.
A dull throb of pain in his head, accompanied by the memory of honey-brown eyes.
He winces, and Jimin smiles sadly, “Ah, was that too much? I’m sorry.”
Jeongguk shakes his head, “If anything it’s reassuring, because it’s something… I never really thought I’d have a chance to remember shit, you know?” He takes another sip of whiskey and scowls out at the calm ocean waves.
Another patron comes up to the bar, leans forward to say something to the bartender, too low to catch, and slides some money across the bar. The newcomer’s back is to their own table, but Jeongguk catches sight of the glance the bar-back throws in their direction, watches the way his hand hesitates over the money, and watches as he takes it with a clipped nod before backing away and ducking out of sight.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk says.
“Hmm?” Jimin asks.
“Trouble at ten o’ clock,” Jeongguk replies.
“Are you fucking…” Jimin sighs, “will I ever get to finish a goddamn drink and flirt with you in peace?”
The man turns just as Jimin stands and pulls a gun from somewhere on his person, cocktail still clutched in his other. The man goes to pull out his own weapon, but doesn’t get the chance before Jimin’s own blaster fires.
The man falls, then every other person who’s arrived since they did begins to pull out weapons as well.
Cursing, Jeongguk overturns their table and ducks behind it. He’s unarmed, but he did take a comms device with him. He yanks it out of his pocket and pushes it into place, hearing the faint whine of it powering on and tuning into the crew’s own devices, he just hopes someone’s near enough to theirs to notice it come on.
Jimin is crouched at his side, firing rapidly between ducking down and checking in on Jeongguk, “You okay, Sunshine?” He asks, “Not hurt?”
“No, but I’m fucking pissed,” Jeongguk snaps, “And I want a gun.”
Jimin nods, peeks up over the edge of the table and Jeongguk hears the sound of a body hitting the sand nearby. Jimin leans around the edge of the table and flies back a second later as a shower of blasts hit the ground, super heating the sand and turning it into molten glass on impact, “Ask and you shall receive, baby,” he says as he passes over a weapon, “now, let’s get it.”
“One second,” Jeongguk says when he hears the crackle of someone else’s comms device coming in, “Orion, requesting immediate extraction.” He has no idea how many attackers there are, but he knows there’s only two of them, and their little table can only keep them safe for so long, “Assholes, do you copy?”
“What the fuck?” Namjoon’s tired voice comes through over the sound of Jimin firing rapidly, “Where are you?”
“The beach bar, under heavy fire, get the team onto Euphoria and come get us out of here,” Jeongguk snaps.
“Wait—is Jimin with you?” He can hear Namjoon moving, the clang of a door shutting, the sound of feet running.
“Of course Jimin is with me, I told you where I was going,” Jeongguk growls. “Stop asking questions and get your ass out here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon grumbles, like Jeongguk is complaining about taxes and not like he’s getting shot at, “be right there, princess.”
Jeongguk doesn’t gift him with a response, instead he joins Jimin in firing at their attackers, who seem to have multiplied since he last looked. There are plenty of bodies on the ground, but there are more still standing, and from the look of people running towards them from further down the beach, the party is about to get bigger.
“Cover me,” Jeongguk says, and without hesitation, starts sprinting toward the bar. He hears a string of curses fall from Jimin’s pretty lips as he keeps low and runs the short distance before sliding across the sand and coming to a stop beside a cowering bartender.
“Hey asshole,” Jeongguk says, spitting the sand out his mouth, “since you just sold us out, how about you give me your shirt?”
“What?” the man asks, clearly bewildered and probably in shock.
“Your shirt, now,” Jeongguk says, “before I shoot you and take it myself.”
Whimpering a little, the man strips out of his shirt as Jeongguk grabs a couple bottles from shelves below the bar top, going to the purest alcohol he can find. Jimin joins him a second later, breathless and looking between Jeongguk and the now shirtless bartender in confusion.
“Weird time for a threesome, but whatever,” he says, “I like men who live life on the edge.”
Jeongguk ignores him in favor of yanking the shirt from the bartender’s hands, dousing it in a splash of something that smells like rubbing alcohol but calls itself vodka, then shoves the majority of the shirt into the bottle. Jimin’s eyes light up as he watches, gunfire still raining around them as his mouth forms a little ‘o’ of excitement, “Is this foreplay, ‘cause it is hot,” he says with a delighted grin.
Jeongguk grabs a lighter from the shelves and holds the flickering flame to the shirt, it catches almost instantly, and all the while he’s running scans on the area in front of the bar. The attackers are clustered in the front, with a few breaking away to flank either side of the bar—he’ll worry about them in a second, because right now he’s got a gift for the group that’s sticking together.
He stands, letting his enhanced senses guide him as he throws the makeshift molotov in a perfect, graceful arc, the flames leaving streaks in his vision before it shatters on a table and bursts into a mini explosion of flame, glass, and fuel. Screams fill the night air, but he ignores them in favor of taking out a man trying to sneak at them from the left, while Jimin takes out two more on their right. It’s loud, chaotic, and it’s all muffled when Euphoria drops from the sky like an avenging angel, her turrets deployed and her lights blazing.
“You wanna stay here all night?” Yoongi’s voice comes through the intercom, “If not, ramp is dropping now, covering fire incoming.”
Jeongguk grabs Jimin by the hand, “You ready to go?”
“Not how I imagined our departure,” Jimin admits, “but sure, let’s go, babe.”
They run through the sand, blasters and fire lighting up the air, the sound of Euphoria’s guns joining the cacophony as they sprint towards the half-lowered ramp and leap up onto it before it’s fully deployed, “We’re fucking in,” Jeongguk yells, “get us out of here!”
“On it!” Yoongi yells through the comms, the ramp already rising along with the ship.
Jimin and Jeongguk lay side by side on the cold metal of the entry, chests heaving. Then Jeongguk hears what sounds like ice in a glass, he glances over to see Jimin sit up and take a casual sip of his drink. He looks back at Jeongguk, “What, you didn’t think I was going to leave it, do you?” He asks, eyebrows arched as though he’s offended, “Now I’ve got a pretty souvenir from our first date,” he adds with a wink as he shakes the glass a little.
“That wasn’t a date,” Jeongguk replies.
“In my reality it was,” Jimin replies, “though typically I like it when my men wine and dine me a bit before they set everything on fire, good date otherwise though, nice ambiance and all.”
“Not a date,” Jeongguk replies as he snatches the drink from Jimin and gulps down a mouthful of it.
“Sure, baby,” Jimin replies as he takes the drink back, “let’s go tell your crew you're uninjured, yeah?”
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
The crew, it turned out, were less concerned about Jeongguk being injured and more about how they had to abandon their safe house in the middle of the night without getting a chance to enjoy the local hospitality. It was all accusatory glares and things muttered under their breath as they sit at the big kitchen table and Jeongguk catches them up with what had happened while at the bar.
“So the gang or whatever it was that attacked you at the gala followed us here?” Taehyung asks, “But how is that even possible? ‘Gguk always knows immediately when someone has attached a tracker to the ship.”
Seokjin nods, “Yeah, I feel like I should warn you Jimin, if you plan to pursue Jeongguk then you’ll be in competition for his heart with his ship, and Euphoria's been his only love for years.”
Jimin smirks, though it appears more fond than smug, “I’m certain I can offer him things that a ship, no matter how gorgeous, can’t offer.”
“Wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Jin replies, “just wait until you hear how he talks about it— sorry, her.”
Jeongguk sighs from where he’s sitting, and wishes he had had the foresight to keep his drink like Jimin had. The thief catches him eyeing it and hands it over without a word. Jeongguk hesitates, feeling the eyes of the crew on them, and considers how much teasing he’ll receive if he accepts in front of them. Then he considers how much teasing he’ll receive if he doesn’t accept, and decides he would prefer the former over the latter and takes Jimin’s offer. It’s a little watered down at this point, and there seems to be a few pieces of sand floating near the bottom, but Jeongguk takes a long drink regardless before passing it back to Jimin.
“So you’re sharing drinks now, does that mean you—” Seokjin begins.
“Can we please focus?” Namjoon interrupts, “Just for a little, a handful of minutes, barely any time at all, on the problem at hand?”
“Sounds boring,” Jin says, “I’d much rather—”
“So! Jeongguk! Jimin! Was it really the attackers from the gala who came after you?” Namjoon barrels onward, talking loudly over his crew mate, who falls back against his seat and crosses his arms over his chest petulantly, lips pushed out in a pout.
“While it’s possible, dare I say likely, I don’t think that’s the case,” Hoseok says, he points at the blaster that Jimin had taken for Jeongguk, which is emblazoned with a distinct insignia on the side, a stylized hawk with its wings extended upward to form a circle, with a tiny solar system illustrated in the empty space it’s wings formed, “Does that look familiar to anyone?”
Jeongguk had barely even noticed the insignia, but now as he looks at it, he feels a dull pain growing between his brows and the uncomfortable urge to look somewhere else and forget what he was looking at. He glances up from the gun and sees Jimin looking at him with a sad smile, they lock eyes and Jimin nods, just barely.
“I know who they are,” Jimin says, “It’s the group that’s been chasing me for the last three years,” he holds out his hand for his drink and Jeongguk passes it back without a word, willfully ignoring the warmth of Jimin’s fingers brushing over his own and the little shot of electricity it sends racing down his spine. The thief takes a long drink, nearly emptying the glass, and passes it back, “You can finish that if you want.”
It strikes a chord in Jeongguk, and makes the pain in his head return momentarily before he takes the last of the cocktail and downs it, sand and all.
“I can tell you guys more… but I don’t know if Jeongguk should be in the room to hear it,” Jimin says carefully.
“Why the hell not?” Yoongi asks, “He’s our captain and our leader, if anyone should be present for it, it’s him.”
“I completely agree,” Jimin says, “But…” he looks at Jeongguk, “have you mentioned what happens when you try to recall your past?” he asks.
“They know,” Jeongguk grunts as he leans forward and sets the glass carefully aside, “they know as much as me, which is practically nothing.”
Jimin nods and takes a deep breath, “So they know about the pain…” he trails off and bites his lower lip in thought, “I don’t want to keep you in the dark, Jeongguk, but I really don’t think it’s wise for you to listen… especially after what happened at the pool.”
“Pool?” Seokjin asks, “When was there a pool? What did you two do there?”
“Focusing,” Namjoon reminds him sternly.
“I’ll be fine,” Jeongguk grunts, “I’ve been in worse pain than that.”
“Why were you in pain?” Taehyung says, “What happened?”
“The reason Jeongguk doesn’t have memories from his youth, and why his childhood is so muddled, is because of a mind wipe,” Jimin glances around the room, sees he has everyone’s attention, and continues, “It happened when he was twenty—”
Pain, dull and distant, tolerable.
“I was there when it happened, well, not in the room, we were… friends at the time,” Jimin continues.
The pain draws closer, sharper.
“The reasons behind it are complicated, and something I’m not willing to talk about… yet.”
The pain fades.
“We lost touch and some time later they told me… they told me he had died,” Jimin sounds sad, voice heavy with remembered grief.
The pain is gone, these aren’t his memories, whatever hurt they cause is Jimin’s and Jimin’s alone.
“Who are they, exactly?” Hoseok asks.
Jeongguk feels silver eyes on him, knows Jimin is watching him carefully, he doesn’t want to look up and meet those eyes, and doesn't want to feel the weight of their concern. He’s fine, he’s tough, he’s dealt with so many injuries over the years, so much pain, surely knowing, surely just hearing the name of the group who did this to him won’t be that bad.
“Jeongguk…” Jimin whispers, as if he can hear his racing thoughts, “you shouldn’t be in the room to hear this.”
Jeongguk glares, “Why not?”
“After what happened at the pool?” Jimin reminds him, and his tone is so gentle, so soft, like Jeongguk is fragile, and that bothers him even more. He’s not some delicate, easily shattered thing, never mind his past, never mind the times he’s passed out and can’t remember what triggered it.
“What happened?” Namjoon asks, brows knit with concern, “Did you pass out again?”
Jimin sits up a little straighter, “Again?”
“No,” Jeongguk replies, choosing to ignore Jimin’s question, “I didn’t.” He doesn’t delve into further details, and doesn't want them to all look at him with the same worry that both Joon and Jimin do now. He’s made it this far, right? Does yet another moment of pain even matter?
“I’m not answering that question unless you’re out of earshot,” Jimin replies stubbornly, “I’m not willing to risk anything happening to you.”
Jeongguk wants to ask why it matters, why Jimin even cares, except he knows that will just get him nowhere except, “I can’t say,” so he holds his tongue and sighs instead, “Fine, whatever, I’ll go.”
And he does, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to listen. Everyone else seems too caught up in what Jimin is sharing for it to occur to them that Jeongguk is able to listen in to the parts of the ship that aren’t private quarters. So he heads down the hall until he’s out of earshot and says, “Euphoria, give me all the audio from the mess.”
It happens instantly.
He catches just the tail end of what Jimin is saying, but it’s enough, more than enough really, “They call themselves the Order of Ash and Ember.”
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
Sharp agony washes over him, it’s all he can feel, all he knows, his vision goes dark with it, bile rises in his throat. He bites his lip until it bleeds, tries to fight pain with pain. He underestimated things, he thinks dully, as the shadows on the edge of his vision grow. He can hear the others speaking, but they sound distant, muffled, he can’t understand a word they say. Jeongguk gasps for air, feels something wet slide down his lips, has the presence of mind to touch the cupid's bow of them and when he looks at his hand, his fingertips are painted scarlet with blood.
He collapses, his vision filled with eyes that flicker from cool silver to warm, honey brown.
Then everything goes black.
༄˖°.🪐.࿔*:･
Somewhere else…
He sits in his quarters and stares at the wall.
He’s been doing that a lot lately.
Three years have passed since Jimin and a handful of others left the Order. The higher ups keep him busy, but there’s still downtime, hours in the night where he can sit with himself and his fury. He hates Jimin, he loves Jimin.
But he hates himself more.
And he doesn’t love himself at all.
Hates what he was born to be, hates that he will never fully be himself, hates that he was brought into this world a man grown without the tools he needs to navigate it. At first it hadn’t mattered, at first he didn’t know, but now he realizes that the only thing he is good for is battle.
But what can he do? The Order is his entire world, his life, it’s all he’s ever known and he doesn’t have the knowledge it would take to navigate the galaxies. He’s learned some things over the years, but not enough, and it’s not as though he’s a real person anyway. He glances at the clock on his bedside table, sees it’s late, and is willing to bet that almost everyone else is asleep by now, or at least that the labs are empty.
He heaves himself to his feet and walks down the corridors towards one room in particular, through doors that need retina scans and high levels of clearance to open, until he’s in front of the tank.
He finds himself here more and more often now, though always late at night when no one else is around. He has come to find he’s not a huge fan of those who work here, those that created him.
Not that it matters, it’s not like he has anywhere else to go anyway.
So he sits in front of the tank and he looks up at what floats within it’s cool, blue interior and he lets himself feel regret and rage and the knowledge that he has lost something that was never actually his to begin with.