by pebble/scifipony
Fandom: 6 Underground
Characters: Seven, One, Five (rest of team in background)
Words: 4,410
Tags: Found Family, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, Action
Warnings: Injuries, Canon-typical Swearing, Blood, Non-Graphic Violence
Author's Notes:
Originally posted to SquidgeWorld on Oct 31, 2024 for the Octoberfics challenge.
[Original Author's Note:] I'd seen a lot of bad reviews for this movie when it first came out, so didn't bother giving it a try. The other night, I finally sat down and watched it... and it's actually good?? Like, definitely not a work of art or anything, but it's just a pretty typical fun action flick. Why was everyone acting like it was the worst movie ever?
Anyway, the best parts of the movie by far were the character arc for One, and the development of the found family relationship among the team. Especially loved the fun dynamic between Seven and One. So, yeah, it was kind of inevitable that I was gonna end up writing a hurt/comfort fic for those two with a side helping of the team as found family.
One of the many things that had changed since Turgistan was that they no longer left anyone behind. Under any circumstances. If one of the ghosts was injured or captured or even just temporarily separated from the team, there were no lengths the others wouldn’t go through to save them.
It was just an accepted fact of their existence now. And the biggest force behind that shift was, surprisingly, One himself. Going back for Four on the yacht had only been the first in what would become a pattern of behavior for him. He would never risk the rest of the team in an impossible rescue attempt, but he also never hesitated to jump in and do it himself. Of course, since their leader no longer found it necessary to follow their prime directive, the rest of the ghosts quickly followed suit. No one got left behind anymore.
Seven was a bit smug about all of it at first — “Told you so, man” he’d said to One after a particularly harrowing rescue, only to receive a muttered “shut up” in return that definitely had less bite than usual. But it eventually became so commonplace for them that no one even thought twice about it anymore.
Which is why Seven currently wanted to slap One upside the head for being so stupid.
It was about eight months after Turgistan. They’d run some low level ops since then, small missions to get into better practice since they clearly needed to work on their planning and coordination. But this was the first really big mission since defeating Rovach.
And, of course, everything had gone sideways. It wasn’t their fault this time, though. Their intel had been good, the plan meticulously thought out, and every potential issue had been accounted for.
Well, all except for one, apparently.
Which is why they were currently running for their lives back to the getaway car. As planned ahead of time, they were each taking separate routes on foot, so they’d be harder to track and easier to blend into their surroundings.
Seven was pretty sure he wasn’t being followed, though he kept a careful eye out and paused every few minutes to listen for pursuers. He also kept a large part of his focus on listening to the comms. Four managed to get out fine, thankfully, and was making his own path to safety via the rooftops. Five and Three reported in that they’d made it to the car already and were keeping the engine running. There were repeated instances of gunshots coming over Two’s comm, but she seemed to be handling it just fine on her own, so they weren’t particularly concerned on that front.
That left One. He’d been on the comm lines early during their escape — mostly to yell at Three for clogging up the channel with his chattering — but had been checking in less and less often over the last few minutes.
Emerging from an alley, Seven crouched behind a retaining wall for cover. He did a quick scan of the area. Still no sign of trouble.
“Made it to the vehicle,” Two reported in.
“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” Four said. “I can see you guys just a couple streets over, be there in a moment.”
Seven glanced at a nearby street sign to get his bearings. “I’m almost there, too,” he said. “Couple more blocks to go.”
There was an expectant silence as everyone waited for One to chime in with his own location. The silence stretched.
Unease curling in his gut, Seven got back on the comm. “One, you good?”
A burst of noise hit their ears as One’s comm activated. Heavy commotion crackled over the line as the sounds of some kind of fight appeared. Unmistakable gunshots also rang out in the background.
“Ran into some trouble.” One’s voice was strained, and Seven could only hope it was from running rather than any injuries.
“Need some assistance?” he asked, fighting to keep his tone casual. “My escape route is closest to yours, I could double back.”
There was a long pause, and when One responded back there was a defeated flatness to his voice. “No. As soon as Four and Seven reach the car, get out of there.”
Everyone paused for several long seconds before Four broke the silence.
“Come again, mate?”
“Get to the car and get out,” One said, and none of them missed the absence of any of his usual irritation at having to repeat an order.
“One, where are you?” Five demanded.
A pain-filled grunt carried over the channel, spiking the panic in Seven’s mind. It took several agonizing moments for One to finally answer. “Just get back to the safe house. I’ll meet you there.”
The finality of his tone said otherwise. He wasn’t going to be meeting up with them and he knew it. There was something in that decision to lie to them that had Seven seeing red.
He clicked on his comm again.
“One, so help me, you’d better give me your position right now. What happened to no one gets left behind, huh?”
“That isn’t the rule and you know it.”
“Bullshit. It’s been the rule for the last eight months and you know that. Stop being an idiot. I’m turning around right now.”
“Seven, stop. There’s too many.” There was an urgency in his words now, the mask of detachment breaking as genuine worry crept through. “You won’t make it. Get to the car and get out of here now.”
“Oh, so you’re allowed to be worried about my safety, but not the other way around?” he shot back. Maybe he really did need to smack One upside the head. Maybe it would knock some sense into the stubborn asshole.
There was no response this time.
“One?” Four asked urgently. “Answer us.”
As much as Seven wanted to believe he’d simply turned off his comm, there were a few much uglier reasons which seemed more likely. None of them were acceptable options. They needed to do something. Now.
He pushed off the retaining wall and headed back the way he’d come.
“Four, are you at the car yet?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I made it.”
The kid sounded stunned and Seven didn’t blame him. The idea of losing any of the ghosts was unthinkable, but there was something about One’s carefully built emotional armor that made him seem more invincible at times — like he was too much of an asshole to actually die. He was the one who was going to outlive all of them, probably creating new ghosts to take their places after they were gone.
“Okay,” Seven said, and no one challenged him on stepping automatically into the leadership role. “Three, drive over to that alley behind the coffee shop we passed on our way in. Keep the engine running. I’ll pick up One and meet you there.”
“Will do. Be careful.”
The tension was unbearable as Seven retraced his previous route. Moving as quickly as he could while still keeping himself hidden, it was still not nearly fast enough. The comms remained silent, almost tauntingly. He had no way of knowing how bad One’s situation was — no way of knowing if he was even alive.
Since that first time in Hong Kong, Seven had witnessed more than a few occasions in which One had displayed a surprising amount of skill in close combat, so he knew the man must have some form of combat or survival training. But the fact still remained that he was a tech geek, not a soldier. He could handle himself well enough in a fight, but not to the point where Seven felt confident in his chances.
That’s why he was hit with an instant flood of relief when he finally located their team leader and saw that he was still alive and on his feet.
Creeping to the edge of the low rooftop he was standing on, Seven took a quick assessment of the situation. One was down in the narrow backstreet below, less than a dozen meters from his hiding spot. Four large men in black tactical gear had him backed against the wall of a building. Seven recognized the uniforms as belonging to the security detail for the compound they’d just (unsuccessfully) tried to break into. Two more of them were a little farther up the street, hunting for more of the ghosts. Another man was standing as lookout on a roof on the opposite side of the street. This wasn’t going to be easy.
One was at least making his attackers’ job as difficult as possible. Even backed into a corner and outnumbered four to one, he was putting up quite a fight. Still, he needed an immediate assist or things were going to get very ugly.
Using the roof’s ledge to brace his arm against, Seven took aim with his rifle. He deemed the man on the opposite rooftop the biggest threat to them escaping the area. Lining up with the scope, he let out a silent breath and squeezed the trigger.
The man went down with a clean headshot. Seven wasted no time swinging the rifle’s barrel into position and firing again. One of the men surrounding One dropped dead to the ground.
The other men scattered, ducking for cover wherever it was available. They returned fire vaguely in Seven’s direction, but must not have actually sighted him because their shots were missing by a wide margin.
The two security officers farther down the street came running, drawing their own weapons as they approached. This was going to fall apart fast if they didn’t get out now.
“One,” he called into their comms. “I’m covering you, get clear.”
One did manage to stumble a few steps away from his attackers. Then he abruptly slumped back against the wall of the building.
The general worry Seven had been feeling now ramped itself up into full-blown fear. One was hurt. Badly enough he wasn’t going to be running out of there on his own. And, considering that he was currently parked right in the middle of a firefight, that was very very bad.
Seven managed to pick off one more guard before deciding that waiting any longer was only putting One’s life more at risk. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew his sidearm. Running to the end of the building, where the shadows would help conceal his descent, he swung his body over the ledge and dropped to the street.
Bullets pinged off the wall behind him as he darted out of hiding. He zigzagged during his rush across the road, keeping low and sticking to cover as much as possible. Somehow, he made it without getting shot.
Dropping to a crouch beside One, he kept an eye on the enemy’s location while trying to assess his teammate’s condition.
One was fully slumped on the ground now, his back halfway propped against the wall and one arm wrapped tightly around his stomach. The closest streetlight was a ways down and not very bright, so Seven was having difficulty eyeballing the situation.
“How bad?”
One cracked his eyes open enough to glare at Seven, though there wasn’t much fire behind it. “Seriously,” he said, sounding breathless. “Would it kill you to obey one of my orders? Just once?”
Seven smiled grimly. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“The fun would be in actually living through your thirties,” One shot back, though the usual deadpan was ruined by the fact that he still sounded like he’d run a marathon.
“Are you having trouble breathing?” Seven asked.
One gave him a look, and Seven had a feeling he would have been on the receiving end of a scathingly sarcastic remark if One wasn’t struggling so hard to keep his lungs working.
“I need some help here, One,” Seven chided gently. “I can’t tell how bad you’re hurt if you don’t let me know. Do you think you can walk if I support you?”
There was a stuttered pause before One nodded resolutely. It was the hesitation that worried Seven. To say the man was stubborn was a massive understatement. The fact that he’d almost admitted to not being able to do something felt like a sign of how bad his condition must be.
The sounds of the guards were getting closer. They probably didn’t have much time left before their position would be compromised.
Seven placed a hand on One’s arm, with the intention of hauling it over his shoulders, but stopped immediately when his teammate sucked in a sharp breath at the touch.
“What’s wrong—”
He didn’t even need to finish the question. He became instantly aware of the warm liquid running over his fingers. Leaning to the left so more of the streetlight could hit One, he felt the blood drain from his face at what he could now see.
The arm One was holding across his stomach was coated in blood. His t-shirt was stained dark across almost the entire front of it. Aside from the rapidly forming bruise on his cheek, his face was deathly pale. It was a wonder he’d managed to keep on his feet as long as he had.
“Arm or stomach?” he asked, unable to tell where all the blood was coming from.
“Stomach,” One gasped out. “And chest. I couldn’t— he had a knife.”
Seven remembered the pained noise they’d heard over the comms earlier. One had been stabbed and he’d still pretended to be fine so the others ghosts would leave. When this was all over, he was going to have a very stern discussion with the billionaire on what being part of a family really meant. And then probably another lecture on not being such a self-sacrificing idiot.
He clicked on his comm. “I’ve got him, but it’s not great news. We might need some help here.”
“How bad is it?” Five jumped in immediately.
“Bad,” he responded grimly. “He’s been stabbed in at least two places and lost a lot of blood.”
The unmistakable sound of Three muttering curses in Spanish filled the channel for a moment. Then Five came back on.
“I need you to assess the injuries for me,” she said, voice admirably calm considering the circumstances. “We don’t want to move him if it’ll do more harm.”
“Okay, hold on a second.”
One glanced up at him in confusion. “Is that Five?”
Unsure what to make of the question, he simply nodded.
“Tell her it’s a stab wound to the stomach and another to the right upper ribs. Uh… four inch blade I think, but it didn’t go in the full way.”
“What happened to your comm?” Seven asked, suddenly realizing that One could only hear this side of the team’s conversation.
“Lost it in the fight. Big guy punched me in the ear.”
Well, that at least explained why he’d suddenly dropped out of contact with them.
He relayed the information to Five. With an apologetic wince, he then carefully maneuvered One’s arm out of the way and lifted his shirt. There really wasn’t enough light to see anything useful. Between the shadows and the terrifying amount of blood, he couldn’t even see the stomach wound at all. The gash in his chest looked a little better, thankfully, but still concerning.
The other ghosts remained silent as Seven and Five went back and forth, discussing the situation in short clipped sentences. From the tone their team medic was using, it seemed obvious that things weren’t great.
“Okay, put something over the stomach wound and tie it in place,” Five said. “Tie it as tight as you can. Then do you think you can get him on his feet?”
Seven shot One a skeptical look. The man seemed on the verge of passing out. Still, he asked, “Five wants to know if you can walk?”
One nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Ask me again and I’m leaving without you,” One grumbled.
It shouldn’t have been such a relief to hear some of his usual snarkiness return. Seven actually found himself smiling as his shoulders relaxed.
“We’re on our way,” he told the team. “We’ll be coming out between the deli and the lawyer’s office.”
“We’ll be ready,” Two said. “Keep your heads down, I’ll cover you to the car.”
Wasting no time, Seven set to work tying off the stomach wound. He had to pause several times to return fire to the security detail — he didn’t want any of them feeling confident enough to rush their location.
When they were ready, Seven grabbed One by the arm and hauled him to his feet. One made a noise that sounded far too much like an aborted scream, but Seven swallowed down his guilt and kept going. He pulled One’s arm across his shoulders and used his own arm to help hold the taller man against his side. One did his best to contribute, taking stumbling steps that were at least trying to match Seven’s pace.
They emerged into the street where the ghosts were supposed to be waiting. A quick scan revealed the getaway car parked by the opposite curb. Two was standing beside the open back door, gun pointed back the direction they’d come from in case anyone followed.
A wave of relief crashed over Seven as he dragged One the last little distance to safety. He pulled them both into the car’s middle seat and slammed the door behind them. Five was already sitting there with her medical bag open at her feet. Four, sitting in the very back seat, leaned over to get a better look, as if needing to see for himself that they were all still alive.
Two fired off a couple of shots at the security personnel who were now appearing from between the buildings. After forcing the men to duck for cover, she jumped into the passenger seat and shouted a quick, “Drive!” at Three.
Without hesitation, Three slammed the pedal to the floor and they were flying towards the city limits.
~~~~~
The ride home in the plane was tense. There was very little talking, with everyone either staring out the windows or pacing restlessly.
One had passed out shortly after arriving at the car and had yet to regain consciousness. Five told them this was to be expected, given the amount of blood he’d lost, but that wasn’t exactly reassuring to hear. She had them lay One on an exam table in the back section of the plane, then shooed them all out so she could work on stabilizing his condition.
With their usual pilot out of commission, Seven was the member of the team with the most flight training, so he flew the plane. This only made the journey more stressful. Being separated from the others meant not even having company in his worry.
They landed back at the Haunted House after an agonizing length of time.
Five promised that One’s situation “could have been a lot worse” but left that unhelpful statement as her only update. The others helped transport him to the Hawker 800 that had been repurposed as Five’s medical center. As soon as One was resting comfortably on the bed in the main treatment area, she promptly kicked them outside.
“You’re only going to get underfoot and I may need to operate,” she told them before retreating from sight.
Everyone tried to keep themselves occupied as they waited for any news. Seven kept finding himself drifting back to the doorway of the Hawker 800, as if pulled there by an invisible force. He noticed he wasn’t the only one.
After a painful stretch of time, Five finally emerged from her little homebase. Seven and Four were both hovering nearby when she appeared and they immediately dropped what they were doing to hear her report. Drying blood coated her arms and the front of her shirt, but the smile on her face seemed promising.
“He’s very lucky,” she said. “I have no idea how those idiots managed to miss hitting anything more serious, but good thing they were terrible at their jobs.”
“So, he’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Four asked, and neither of them faulted him for the nervousness clear in his voice.
Five nodded. “Yes, he’s fine. The real challenge now will be keeping him off his feet until he heals. He’s an even worse patient than Two.”
Seven laughed, relief flowing through his veins and making him lightheaded. He would never get used to the feeling of dread that always settled in when one of their team was hurt. No matter what their stupid rulebook might say, none of the ghosts truly considered each other expendable.
“Is he awake?” he asked, motioning towards the doorway in a silent request for permission.
“Go ahead,” Five said. “He was awake a few minutes ago, but I expect he’ll be in and out for a little while.”
Nodding his thanks, Seven stepped through the door. He pushed past a few tarps that had been hung to keep bugs out and found himself in the main treatment bay.
A hospital bed was situated at one end of the room, separated from the exam area by a row of metal cabinets. Through a doorway on the left, the surgical table was still wet from being recently scrubbed down. Seven resolutely ignored the bucket of bloody water beside it and marched through to the hospital bed where their fallen teammate was resting.
“There you are,” One said, voice rough but sounding closer to his usual self than he had last night. He tried to push himself up, but quickly gave up with a wince as his body protested the movement. “Remind me when I’m feeling alive enough to yell again that we need to have a serious discussion about obeying orders in the field.”
“I look forward to it,” Seven responded lightly. He grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it over to sit down. “And I have a lecture for you, too, while we’re on the topic.”
One’s eyebrows rose, his expression equal parts curious and challenging. “Oh?”
“Yeah. You were completely surrounded and outnumbered, but you didn’t do anything to let us know you needed help. That’s not how this team operates.”
“We don’t jeopardize the mission. That’s how this team operates.”
“Oh, really? So then explain to me why you aborted our mission in Naples last month when Five got hit. Or why you let Three sit out that kidnapping in Belize when his mother was sick.” Seven sat back, shaking his head. “Face it, that whole ‘the mission always comes first’ nonsense got thrown out the window a long time ago.”
One groaned and leaned back against the bed. “Have I mentioned lately how annoying you are?”
Seven grinned. “Only all the time. But that doesn’t answer the question. Why can’t you seem to get it through your thick skull that it’s okay to ask for help when you need it. I was nearby and could have helped. I probably could have gotten there fast enough to prevent things going as bad as they did if you’d actually said something. So why didn’t you?”
“The mission–”
“The mission was already a bust,” Seven said, shutting down that line of defense immediately.
The billionaire’s jaw clenched tightly and he didn’t offer a further rebuttal on that front. He didn’t admit anything either, but that was okay. Seven knew the chance of One actually admitting that he’d been scared the other ghosts would get hurt trying to rescue him was pretty much zero. It didn’t matter. As long as One understood that Seven knew the truth, and it didn’t make him weak for feeling that way.
“You know that feeling you had when you decided to go back for Four on the yacht? That feeling of listening to him being hurt and knowing you couldn’t just stand by and do nothing?”
One didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough.
“That’s how we felt tonight,” Seven said. He waited patiently as One’s facial expression shifted rapidly through surprise, denial, uncertainty, and finally a sort of reluctant acceptance. When the man seemed ready, he continued, “Any member of this team would go above and beyond to keep the rest safe. Deny it all you want, but we are a family. And that includes you, too. So, next time you’re in trouble, let us help. Deal?”
One nodded, still eyeing him uncertainly, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He ignored it. It seemed unlikely he would ever find out the real reason One had such a hang up about the concept of family, and Seven was learning to accept that fact. He supposed it didn’t really matter anyway. Whatever had happened in his past, One was gradually adapting to the idea of having a family; he was trying at least, and that was all anyone could really ask.
Clearing his throat and attempting to shrug off the awkwardness, One said, “Okay, good talk. Now, unless you had any more heart-to-hearts on the agenda for today, how about clearing out of here so Five can slip me the good drugs.”
Seven rolled his eyes. He patted him on the arm as he stood. “Glad you’re okay, man. See you in the morning.”
He stepped out of the medical center and wasn’t at all surprised to see the rest of the ghosts standing around waiting. They all perked up immediately, awaiting word on their team leader.
Seven smiled. “He’s awake and as disagreeable as ever.”
Three barked out a relieved laugh. Four’s shoulders visibly relaxed as the tension finally drained out of him; the poor kid had spent most of the day looking like he was on the verge of losing his mind with worry. Even Two looked pleased at the news.
“Alright,” Five said, clapping her hands at them like she was trying to herd a bunch of unruly animals. “Go, get out of here. My patient needs rest, and we all need sleep.”
The reluctance with which the team dispersed brought another smile to Seven’s face. Their instinctive need to look out for each other always seemed heightened when one of the ghosts was out of commission. They didn’t want to lose any of their weird little family. And, no matter how much One believed it, that definitely included their asshole leader.
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