Is it normal to be completely nervous about your first crossover?

Since I wanted to do both a new Lab Rats thing and a new Mighty Med thing, I decided to combine both of my desires for a new story into one big three-shot, which I hope will only take a couple of weeks to complete.

I haven't figured out yet if I want to put pairings in here or not yet. I know for sure that if I do, there will be no Brase and most of the ships will probably be for MM, though it's mainly picking between Skoliver or Koliver...

I'm not good at ending beginning A/Ns, so...

Bree

tor - ren - tial

adjective

abundant, overwhelming, or irrepressible

Bree's never been shot before.

Throughout the entirety of the two years they spent going on missions, the thought of harm was constant, but it actually happening still shocks her to her core.

She wasn't looking, didn't see the bulge of a weapon tucked into his waistband, but it's out and the trigger's being pulled with lightning speed; her fear sets in too fast for her to run away from it - the fear, the gun, the line of fire.

With a loud bang, her ears pop and her stomach belts with pain. Her screams raise into the smoke-filled air, over her name leaving her brothers' lips, the frantic static of Leo and Davenport in her com set.

Everything fades for a moment. Her head swims, her knees buckle, black spots parade across her vision.

But soon reality hits her like a freight train, and her gloved hands are sticky with dark stuff that coats her punctured abdomen. She screams again, because the thick air and breathing make the wound crack open and everything is abuzz with pain.

"Bree!"

The voices are closer, but full of static. Big arms swoop her up - she stares at the ceiling lit in the glow of the small flames. The glow makes her acutely aware of how hot the room is, all the sweat collecting at her brow, but she's never felt more cold.

Adam looks down at her while he runs; she is the only thing in his arms. This is confusing, because weren't they supposed to grab something? His arms should be full of chemical samples for Davenport - Bree should speeding around and making sure all the gas sources are secure. But she isn't and her limp, bloodied, body is the only thing in his arms.

That would mean they failed their mission.

"Ada..." His name falls from her lips in a foreign fashion, the effort to speak full of hurt. Does he realize this phenomenon, too?

He looks down again; the air above his head is clear but the sky looks gray and ominous, as if it's about to swallow the entire world.

"Try not to speak." His voice cracks in odd places, and his eyes are mysteriously wet.

Bree wants to, though, because she knows talking will keep the sleepiness at bay.

:

Darkness swallows her whole. She floats, trapped in an inky ocean full of humming voices and undefinable shadows. Bree closes her eyes but they're already shut; when she tries to force them open, the weight of them feels to heavy, like they've been stapled to her cheeks.

In a momentary clarity, voices ring out like the bangs of a fired gun.

Do something. I can't get the blood to stop!

I can't do anything here; the bullet's irregular and if I try anything, it could kill her faster.

What do we do?

There's...we have to go...Adam, gentle with her.

The tones and separate desperate cries fade back together again, and she's sinking, the ocean digesting her with its own gravitational pull.

Bree tries to kick out, but she's frozen and when she opens her mouth to scream, the ink floods in and stains her lungs.

:

Chase doesn't want to look, but he can't pull away.

Never has it not occurred to him that there would be risks. Missions would get worse, more serious, more dangerous. People would become sicker, more twisted. They would have guns, weapons, things to defend themselves.

In all his worries, all his consuming thoughts, Adam, Bree, and him were invincible. They would carry their own weapons, walk with their own confident, defying stride, save the day, save the people.

Their heroism would be insatiable.

Now, all those thoughts are long gone, crumbled to dust as he stares at his sister's body.

He's never seen her look this way. Her face an ashen gray, her eyes suffocating under the stillness of her eyelids, her body so unimaginably motionless. Blood clings to her mission suit like an unfortunate stain. It coats his bare hands and Adam's gloves like a sick war paint.

"She's gonna make it." Adam's voice hangs between them, draped over their sister's body like prayer.

The positivism that's meant for the words leaks at the force of his cracking voice. When Chase looks into his brother's eyes, their glassy with fear and hopelessness, red with big tears of emotion.

If he were to spin and look at Leo and Davenport, still and silent in the front of the helicopter, he bets the same look would be mirrored on their faces.

Ever since they left the lab, Davenport has said nothing about this so-called friend of his. Chase can piece enough together to realize that he must be a doctor, or some kind of health scientist with the answers to fix his sister, to make her come alive again.

He can still picture the moment, because it's been all he sees. Chemical samples in her hand, her foot stepped forward, like she's about to run, and suddenly there's white noise and blood coating her middle and spreading like a virus. He can see her tense frame as for, a second of timeless space, she freezes, before she begins to drop and fall to the floor.

Now, Chase snaps back to the present, locking eyes with Adam.

"I know she will," he responds, and takes Bree's limp hand in his left, and Adam's shaking one in his right, and for a moment, he can almost hallucinate her squeezing back.

:

Just like he thought, it's a hospital. Like a hive, everyone is moving, rushing around to next thing, files in hands and covered in lab coats. Gurneys wheeled this way and that, doctors shouting orders and nurses pressing buttons. But this isn't what assures him

What assures him is the girl with flames in her hands, and the guy with lizard skin and a tail slapping against the floor.

This was a place for people like us, he thinks as Adam runs in, Bree still blank and pale in his arms, and Davenport follows shouting demands that he speaks to Horace immediately.

A gurney materializes in front of them, a doctor and nurse is dark scrubs gently lowering Bree's body and whisking her away as a man in a stark white lab coat with graying hair runs up.

"Donald!" His surprise colors his voice as he takes in the man and his frazzled group of kids, staring in the direction their sister disappeared to. "What are you -?"

"Horace, listen to me very carefully." Davenport leads the man off to the side, and Chase watches as he begins to explain the urgency. If he were to step a few more inches to the right, he could catch the conversation, but he doesn't think he could stomach hearing about his sister's condition again, so he stays rooted to his spot as Leo slides up beside him.

"I know the people here," Leo mutters, his voice quiet under the daily chaos of the hospital.

Chase turns, his interest piqued. "What?"

"These people, the ones on the beds and hooked up and everything?" Leo gestures all around them, indicating the web of patients. "There all from my comic books. All the superheroes I read about. They're all real."

Chase doesn't let the awe in his brother's voice go unnoticed, but he doesn't say anything because it must be nice to meet real heroes instead of three teenagers that spent their lives living in a rich guy's basement.

He recognizes some of the superheroes himself: Tecton, Solarflare, Timeline.

Although any other time he would be completely gobsmacked, there's no energy left for him to be surprised.

:

It's the hum of machinery in her ears. She could recognize it anywhere.

Bree floats, feeling airy and light as the buzz of heart monitors, doctor voices, and tiny tools erupt in a dull sound around her. No longer does she see darkness, but a gray haze that feels like a blur in her eyes. She wants to reach up, wipe the blur away, see clearly and gather her bearings, but she's stuck - frozen in a pit of panic.

Something beeps. It grows louder and faster with each second of panic that passes in the grayness.

Oh my god, I've never seen such a thing!

Holy hell, Horace, we need to slow her heart rate down; bionic or not it's reaching explosive levels here.

I got it! I got it! Everyone just stay calm.

Things calm down. Too much. Bree feels a prick in her arm, and the world becomes liquid around her, thick and fluid.

Sedative, she thinks. She's never had one before; Chase always freaked about what they could do to their bionics. Davenport's never outright mentioned it, but it's been clear over the years on his negative opinion on any of them getting one of any kind.

Her last thought is how mad he's going to be when he realizes what's she been given before the world vanishes again.

:

"Kaz! Oliver! I need a favor from you two."

It's not often Horace approaches them. Never, really, does he do it - it's more of them begging him for an assignment and him handing them one out of pity.

This logic is poised on the tip of Oliver's tongue, then he sees the man's worrisome face and it fades.

"There's a family case here I need you to cover," Horace explains, holding out a clipboard. "Tell the Davenports room 213 in the east wing should be ready in about three to four hours."

"Wait, wait, wait," Kaz interrupts, holding up a finger. "Family case? Isn't treating normos a big no-no here?"

"There a special case," is all Horace will concede before walking away, muttering to himself.

"I hate when he does that," Kaz complains.

Oliver looks at the board. "I don't get it," he says, completely ignoring his friend's whining. "If she's a normo, her health stats should be much lower in the apparent condition in. And judging from the operational protocol that's reported for her surgery, she should already be dead."

This seems to have grabbed Kaz's interest, because he's looking over Oliver's shoulder, taking in the what the clipboard says. "The injury itself seems impossible to survive."

"Exactly," Oliver agreed. "But if she's stable enough to undergo surgery, then what is she?"