❝ 𝘳.𝘦.𝘮. ❞ [ Pedro Pascal characters x reader ]

shot in the head | fluff

prompt: (Y/n) gets revived from a fatal shot, but there's a catch

warning: strong language, blood, near-death experiences, etc.

word count: 2010

pronouns: gender-neutral

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second-person point of view. . .

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It was a soft and slow pull, almost as if the hands of conciseness did not want to disturb your slumber too much. Your eyelids stuttered open and your eyes struggled to adjust to the suddenly bright lights. Finally, your awareness came back to you. There was a bed under you, but not the kind meant for sleeping. It was a hospital bed, but the sights surrounding you were none that belonged to a real hospital.

Panic instantly shot through you and you sprang up. The abrupt movement caused someone else in the room to jump. A young woman with glasses and a well-tailored suit. She was no doctor. Who was she? Your feet hit the floor and you force the numb limbs to stand.

"(Y/n)!" She looked relieved when she realized you were awake. "Sit down, you need to rest."

Your hands moved on their own, grabbing the scalpel sitting on the cart to your left. You lunged for the woman, latching onto her collar to hold the scalpel blade to her neck. She did not fight back but instead tried her best to stay calm.

"How do you know my name?" You asked, using the low and threatening tone you have trained for years. "And where the hell am I?"

"I know your name because I'm your friend. It's me, Ginger," she explained with a shaky breath. "We're Statesman--agents of an independent intelligence agency. You got shot in the head on a mission, so you're in the medical wing."

The cold metal was still pressing against her skin. Ginger held your stare, though her brown eyes were far less intense than yours. She could tell your memory had not returned to you quite yet. She had to think of another way to trigger that jog, but Ginger could not remember an experience of yours traumatic enough to bring them all back. Especially not while you were holding a knife to her neck. 

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You saw him out of the corner of your eye and quickly knew he would pose more of a threat than this Ginger judging by his stature.

"Shit," the man hissed. "(Y/n), calm down!"

He rushed for you, presumably to pry you off Ginger. While keeping on hand at her collar, you switched the scalpel's target. You kept the man back with the blade to his neck, forcing him to stay out of arm's reach. He held no fear in his doe eyes, not even a little.

"They don't remember who they are," Ginger said, directing her words to the man at the end of your knife. "It's one of the side-effects of the Alpha Gell. We have to get them to remember--"

"Shut up!" You seethed, still holding your ground. "People don't live after getting shot in the head."

Your gaze was constantly shifting from the woman you held by the tight collar and the man you kept at bay with the scalpel. They were lying, they had to be. The man inched closer after a moment of silence as if to test your commitment. The blade did not budge, it only came dangerously close to splitting his skin.