Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.
Characters: Mechanic, Brains. Rating: K+. Warnings: None
Prompt from Anonymous: shuffle playlist and write a drabble for the song that comes up with Brains/Mechanic. (Song: Heavy by Linkin Park).
I keep dragging around what's bringing me down
If I just let go, I'd be set free
Holding on
Why is everything so heavy?
You say that I'm paranoid
But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me
It's not like I make the choice
To let my mind stay so fucking messy
Freedom didn't come easily. It wasn't quite as simple as hacking the Hood out of his head and cutting him out of his life for good. Eight years, he'd been trapped. Eight years, he'd been dragged through life like a puppet on a string, and while the sheer relief when he was cut loose was so strong it was almost overpowering, it wasn't enough.
Eight years of nightmare fuel. Eight years of watching everything crash and burn because of things his hands - the Hood's instructions but his hands - had created. Eight years of believing he'd killed not just an innocent man but a hero. The hero.
Except Jeff Tracy might be the world's hero, but he wasn't his. Not back then, and definitely not now. Jeff Tracy hadn't been his inspiration, his drive, and Jeff Tracy hadn't been the one to free him.
That was all one Hiram K. Hackenbacker, "c-call me Brains", first met at a conference ten years ago, before the world knew the man as the mastermind behind the Thunderbirds. Before theworld even knew of the name 'Thunderbird'. One brilliant mind, burning brightly and drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
After the Zero-X, he'd never thought he'd see the man again. Never wanted to, not with failure tarring his hands, and then the Hood had pounced and he was gone. Trapped, for eight long, torturous years, with blood pooling to join the tar.
Brains didn't remember him. That was okay; he wouldn't remember him, either. He'd gained the tattoos, the modifications, later. He'd managed not to be too disappointed about that one. All Brains knew was the monster, the victim, the man tethered to another man's will for far too long.
There was nothing special about him now. Not even good, although he tried to right the wrongs the Hood had made him do. Just a broken man, with a dark past and a bleak future.
Except… Brains thought he was special. Stuttered words of praise, as though he wasn't sure how to give it - wasn't used to giving compliments and considering others an intellectual equal - but convinced he was deserving of such high honour nonetheless. Reassurances, when the darkness of the past eight years tried to swallow him, or the bleakness of his future began to overwhelm him.
Acceptance. Companionship.
Partnership.
He didn't think he was special - broken, perhaps, but not special - but Brains did. And it took time. It took so, so much time, but he got there in the end.
They got there.
I don't ship this, but I was willing to give writing it a go anyway (although whether this reads as romantic or just platonic I'll leave to your interpretation). Heavy is also actually a song I associate very strongly with Scott, so it was quite a challenge to get away from him and over to these two instead.
Thanks for reading!
Tsari