A/N: Yet another oneshot in the Chasing Fate verse! I don't have anything specific in mind for what Harley's doing following the events of Requiem, so this is as close as it gets.
"Got a new place I'd like ya to take a look at," said the Drifter, holding up a holopad.
Harley made a face, but held out a hand, catching the holopad when the Drifter tossed it to him. As the Hunter scanned over the contents, the Drifter surveyed him with a slight frown. Something had been bothering him since Harley had returned from his expedition yesterday. His posture seemed stiffer, his movements less expressive.
It wasn't anything blatant, but the Drifter hadn't survived the Dark Age without knowing a thing or two about reading people. He and Harley might not be the closest of pals, but given that the kid had been practically living out of the Derelict for the past month, the Drifter liked to think that he had a decent read on him.
Harley's less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the new errand bothered him too. The Hunter usually couldn't wait for a chance to get out into the wilds. Hell, half the time, he was the one asking Drifter for new locations to scout. But not today. Today, something was off. And the Drifter decided he was going to make it his personal mission to find out what.
"Y'know what? It can wait till tomorrow." He held out his hand for the holopad.
Harley frowned at him. "What do you mean? You just asked me-"
The Drifter waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. I know what I said. But I changed my mind." He beckoned for the Hunter to give him the holopad. "Here, you can take the day off. Get some rest or somethin'. You look half dead, brother."
Harley's frown grew more pronounced, his eyebrows drawing together. "It's fine," he said shortly, "I have no problem dealing with it today." He rose to his feet.
As the Hunter stood, the Drifter's sense grew more pronounced. Harley was carrying himself slightly differently, holding more tension in his abdomen than usual. He knew it would probably sound creepy if he said it aloud but the Hunter's posture was usually relaxed, ready for action.
Tension meant slowness and Hunters weren't the type to stand for that, especially in the field.
"Gimme that holopad," he said, reaching out.
Harley pulled it towards his chest. "No." His tone was almost petulant, but there was a hint of something else beneath it. Fear.
He was hiding something for sure, and the Drifter wasn't about to let it skate by.
He held up his hands, letting Harley think he'd won. "Alright, fine. Makes no difference to me… You can leave now, for all I care."
He was careful to portray nothing but nonchalance in his tone and body language, but all the while his eyes were scanning the Hunter, taking note of any inconsistencies in his behavior. He didn't miss the way that Harley's shoulders relaxed once the Drifter stopped pressuring him.
Harley made to head past the Drifter to the door, but the Drifter was waiting for that. He stepped deliberately into the Hunter's path, making it seem accidental as he jostled Harley, eliciting a choked hiss from him when he made contact. The holopad clattered to the floor, but the Drifter paid it no mind. His attention was purely focused on the Hunter's reaction, which sounded exactly like the type of noise someone would make if they were in pain.
"You're injured," said the Drifter smugly.
Harley glared at him. "No, I'm not."
"Sure." The Drifter's tone was amiable. "Then you can pick up the holopad."
The Hunter's eyes flicked to the holopad that lay on the floor, then back to the Drifter. " You're the one who ran into me," he pointed out, "What's stopping you from getting it?"
"What's stopping you ?" the Drifter parroted. The fact that Harley was dragging his heels over bending down to pick up an insignificant holopad betrayed an injury more than anything he'd done or said so far.
Evidently, the Hunter came to the same conclusion, because he scoffed, "Fine," and leaned over to grab the device.
The Drifter noted the microexpressions of pain on Harley's face as he moved. Seizing the opportunity, he reached out and prodded the Hunter in the side.
The results were instantaneous. Harley flinched away from him with a half-strangled yelp, pressing a hand to his side. He seemed to realize his slip-up even as it happened, appearing torn between continuing the charade and protecting his obviously injured side.
In the end, he opted to hiss, "What the hell was that for?!"
The Drifter shrugged. "Just provin' a point." In one smooth action, he leaned over and swept the holopad off of the floor, setting it down atop a nearby table. Harley glared at him the whole time.
"Hey, I wouldn't have had to do it if you were tellin' the truth," he said simply, "Still gonna tell me you're not injured, brother?"
Harley's expression was pinched. He clearly was not happy about the corner the Drifter had backed him into. "It's nothing," he said tightly.
The Drifter snorted. "Yeah right. Sit down." The Hunter remained standing, causing the Drifter to sigh exasperatedly. "Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, kid. And lemme tell ya, one of those ways is gonna hurt a lot more."
Harley held his stare for several more seconds before giving in, sitting down on a chair. The Drifter breathed a small sigh of relief. He probably wouldn't have forced Harley to deal with the injury if the Hunter had refused, but Harley didn't need to know that.
He gestured to Harley's side. "Let's see the damage."
The Hunter sighed but reached up to unclasp his cloak, draping over the back of the chair. His pauldrons and gauntlets came off with relative ease. However, his chestplate was another matter, as he had to twist to reach the clasps. The Drifter winced as Harley's face contorted in pain, but he didn't offer his help, knowing that the Hunter would refuse it.
Once the armor on Harley's torso was removed, he unzipped his jumpsuit to the waist and extracted one arm. Then he pulled the suit down, revealing the injury.
The Drifter gave a hiss of sympathy when he saw it.
A large section of Harley's side was mottled with purple bruising — the kind that betrayed a deep internal injury.
"Son of a Dredgen… what the hell happened?"
Harley lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Got slammed by a Phalanx's shield yesterday," he replied, "It looks worse than it feels."
The Drifter didn't believe that for a second. He moved closer, surveying the injury critically. "Your Ghost know about this?"
"She knows."
He was unable to stop a flicker of surprise from crossing his face. He'd thought Harley's Ghost had been one of the caring types. Harley had mentioned some sort of falling out, but he hadn't mentioned that it had been bad enough that his Ghost no longer healed him.
The Drifter didn't really have a relationship with his own Ghost. It healed him and revived him if he needed it and that was all he needed it to do. But he knew that tended to be the exception as opposed to the rule.
Either way, Harley's Ghost was in a place where she was no longer repairing the damage caused to her Guardian, and that was more worrying than the injury itself. She had the power to stop the pain yet chose not to. Who's to say it wouldn't get worse from there? What happened if she decided not to revive him the next time he died? The Drifter had seen Ghosts do much worse back in the Dark Age. It was worth remembering that no matter how closely intertwined they were with the Light, they were just as susceptible to emotion as any human.
Harley seemed to catch wind of the Drifter's thoughts. "It's not like that," he said, "A bit of bruising won't kill me."
The Drifter raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Even if your ribs ain't busted, which they might be, an injury still slows you down. Maybe next time you're in some Fallen's crosshairs, you can't get out of the way fast enough and you die. Ever think about that?" He sighed. "I don't know what's goin' on between you and your Ghost, brother, but if you can't patch things up, you need to start lookin' out for number one. And that means dealin' with your own injuries. Not dealin' with it is reckless and stupid. It's a short way to a shallow grave."
Harley's shoulders were slumped. "I hear you…" He sounded defeated. "I just… I have no idea how things got so bad between me and Prism. We've had fights before, but we've always managed to come back from it. But this time… I guess I just let it all sit for too long. Let it brew into resentment."
"It happens," said the Drifter, "You ain't the first and I doubt you'll be the last. One of the hard lessons of life, brother. Eventually, the people you count on aren't there anymore. When that happens, you've gotta keep yourself afloat." He paused, letting the words sink in. Then he clapped his hands.
"Anyway! No use dwellin' on it any longer. I've got some bandages around here somewhere…"
A/N: Guardian and Ghost dynamics are so interesting to play with. Would a Ghost ever decide to stop healing their Guardian? To stop reviving them?