The Deal (Commander Peepers x Reader)

The Escape Artist

Absurdly long chapter ahead. Just a less-than-subtle heads up, lol.

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Your stay at the infirmary was not quite as unpleasant as you imagined it would be.

For an undetermined amount of time, you were going to remain in the room until you were fully recovered, as instructed by the few watchdog medics assigned to oversee you and your safe rehabilitation. The prospect of staying in one place for what could only be assumed to be a long time was never exciting to hear, but it definitely could have been a lot worse.

Upon observation of more of your surroundings, you had the ability to conclude that the space around you was clean enough for your taste. Two plush chairs were placed against the wall facing the end of your bed, an exotic plant rested on a side table that stood between the chairs, and a large metal cabinet made its presence known beside a desk next to where you were resting. A computer monitor was also situated atop the desk, and if you were to stretch your neck a certain distance to the point where your aching bones debated on whether to file a legal claim about it, you were able to see it had a red and black Lord Hater insignia on the back, naturally.

The window parallel to your bed gave you a view of the many distant galaxies, and though you had the chance to see the outdoor world once again with your trip outside the Skullship, you still found yourself immersed in the majestic view of the vastness of the universe as if it really was your first time seeing it in a long time. The multicolored watercolor painting able to be seen from within the depths of space contained a iridescent glow that appeared as if it were trying to reach out toward your tangible form, arms wide open to whisper careless nothings in your ear as a way to replace the deafening silence surrounding the cold, icy entrapment where your heart longed to escape from.

The moments where your eyes remained locked on the lustrous artwork generously provided by nature allowed your convincing mask to slip off of your face for a short period of time, the emotions hidden behind it now able to crawl out as if they were creatures with dark intentions emerging from the shadowy depths of your being.

There were various instances you could remember before being taken by Lord Hater, even before applying for your job at SmaartLab where you would find yourself staring up at the endless sky, stars twinkling and moons luminescent, your gaze pooled with various sentiments depending upon the events playing out. Whether it be hope, a sense of longing, sadness, nostalgia, or terrible guilt, you never grew tired of looking up and allowing a million little lights to float downwards, detach themselves from their inky black backdrop they called home, and occupy themselves in your line of vision in order to give you their best wishes. At least, that was how you imagined the stars would present themselves to be.

Outer space, in your eyes, acted as a reminder of not only how beautiful life really was, but also how lonely it could be sometimes.

A moment like this took place a few days after your awakening, where the pair of watchdogs you came to know as "the medics who were obligated to care for you until further notice" had entered the room, approached the edge of your hospital bed, and cleared their throats in an effort to draw your prolonged gaze away from the window.

Once your awareness of the watchdogs' irritated presence set in, you reverted back to your usual, self-confident self almost instantly and smiled, sending the two a little wave as a greeting. You recalled how on the day following your return to the waking world, a generous gift of a cream-colored hospital gown with tiny lightning bolts adorning the entirety of it, along with fluffy, golden socks was bestowed upon your bed. You graciously received it from the stoic medics in favor of stripping yourself of the oil-stained, charred clothing in need of a good washing, and ever since you had hopes in a new friendship blossoming between you and the watchdogs.