Work Text:
Water rinses down as Subspace washes his face, he looks into the broken mirror in front of him with the look of melancholy with utmost uncertainty. A few years had passed ever since Medkit left Blackrock's Research…., a few years since Medkit left their research project….., a few years since Medkit… left him.
His hand unconsciously touches the scarred parts of his face, hideous, he thought to himself. He thinks back to what happened then, the incident.
"Subspace…. don't make me do this." Subspace remembers the look Medkit had on his face, pale, shaken, drained…. almost like he's on the brink of death.
And then the gun goes off. Medkit was gone.
And Subspace? Subspace was here reminscing over what would be considered a workplace incident, but to him, it was more than just that. Workplace incident? It was a betrayal. A betrayal to Blackrock, a betrayal to their work, a betrayal to him!
And yet. It was like Medkit haunted Blackrock, no matter where Subspace goes, he sees him, like he was still here, like he didnt even leave. He could only laugh.
And he laughs.
Laughs so hard his only response to his own delusion is another punch to the mirror, and he stops laughing, as he pants his breath, heaving in and out, he breathes in, stares at his injured, rotten, hand.
Pathetic.
His hand clenches in frustration because how dare that traitor think he deserves to haunt his mind, haunt his home, haunt his place, haunt his heart! Because how dare Medkit still be here, haunting.
It's daunting how much space Medkit left when he decided he even had the privilege to leave Blackrock, how could he? How could Medkit just leave?
Subspace leaves the pristine bathroom as he steps forward into the daunting halls, busy with technology, yet so little people crowding it. Subspace walks slowly towards the lab, the same lab where everything happened, yet nothing all the same. Countless days of innovating the newest Biograft, tinkering with the resources the sullen environment Blackrock bestowed.
His hand caressed the dusty white table, countless blueprints and data scattered, multiple scratched, ripped into pieces. He stares coldly at one of them, with a still clear image of crystals, the same type of crystal that hooligan from Playground stole, the same crystal that rested on top of both Subspace and Medkit's heads.
Yet Blackrock authority does not care to think to investigate Medkit's traces, almost like he had died to the scourns of winter, confident that the blizzard claimed him. But he knows… ,Subspace knows that he is still alive and breathing out there, because geniuses don't die.Not without making an impact.
Scarring him with rot is not enough of impact, finding the crystals and doing in-depth research on it is not enough impact, leaving Blackrock is NOT ENOUGH OF AN IMPACT!
His nails left scratches on the table in anger, he seethes in it.
He felt the ghost of a hand reach his shoulder as a sign of some sort of reassurance. He turns his head, the illusion of Medkit was there, with the look of empathy, his smile was flat but tender.
"You're not real! You're not even here." He gruffs, voice cracked.
"And yet here I am." It says with certainty, before disappearing.
Subspace stays silent, astounded by the ghost of what once was. He ponders in his head, how could Medkit leave such an influence on his mental? Why can't he leave his mind. Why was he so attatched to the idea of him being here, and not at all at once?
Subspace can feels his eyebags growing, countless nights of sleep interrupted by the ghost of whatever relationship he and Medkit had. Was there ever a relationship or did Subspace assume he had the privilege of being significant enough for Medkit to acknowledge as something, as someone.
It's been years, and maybe, just maybe he was still hoping Medkit was having the same gruling experience he was having. He sighs in exhaustion, all this thinking was tiring him out, and he had work to do.
He surrenders himself to the mountful of projects Blackrock demands, and the countless works that he and Medkit never finished, none that came to fruition, all because…., he couldn't bare to finish that sentence.
Yet he can remember when Medkit would make a sarcastic quip about how this one instruction that Blackrock would give them was stupid, how Medkit would tirelessly look at papers while on coffee break, how Medkit would compliment him for finding loopholes.
"Subspace, this looks good, how'd you do it?"
Then Subspace would look at Medkit's pale face, his cold dead eyes… almost like he's seen a ghost, and reality hits him.
Because that's all Medkit is now, just a ghost, a haunting face. One that never leaves, Subspace doesn't think it ever will. If Medkit is a ghost of the past, his past, then so be it, but until he sees that face, that pale face that used to stare at him for endearment, now now. Then Subspace just cannot let Medkit's ghost go.
Because the privilege of freedom, the privilege of being unshackled by his consequences, is what Medkit would want.
And Subspace? Subspace shall not grant him that freedom, Blackrock didn't give Medkit that freedom and Subspace hopes to Spawn that wherever Medkit resides does not grant him freedom, because it'd be too good to be true.
And nothing above all else is true, not when you're an Inphernal who ran away like a deer that tucked behind its tail.
If Medkit can haunt, all Subspace can do is haunt him back.
Just like a ghost.