in the quiet loop. (solid snake x reader)

10 - don't die on me.

You lay motionless atop a cold, steel bed. The room around you was silent but alive with hums. Thick cables snaked from the base of your skull, your temples, the curves of your spine, into machines that pulsed with slow blue light. You were sedated heavily, but your mind was being mined... and projected.

Suddenly, the looped footage on the monitors froze. An AI's voice filtered through the speakers. "Unauthorized entry. Companion subject compromised. Synthesis halted. Commencing purge."

Snake immediately ran to your side as the alarms flared. "Stay with me," he whispered, pulling the cables off your arms up until the back of your neck. Your face was pale, but your lips moved barely.

Otacon scrambled behind a console. "They were projecting her memories. Jesus, Snake... she was thinking about you."

Snake didn't respond right away. He leaned closer to your face. His hand gently cupped your cheek. "I'm here now," he said, barely above a whisper. "It's over."

The red emergency lights pulsed like a dying heartbeat overhead, throwing long shadows over the sterile floors and walls as the facility's systems began to collapse. Electric static clung to the air as the digital screams of a dying AI echoed the room, too late to stop what had already begun: you being taken back.

Snake didn't hesitate. With one last tug, he ripped the final wire from your collarbone, flinching as you flinched. Your body shuddered, your skin pale and cold as metal, yet alive.

"You're okay," Snake muttered, almost to himself.

His hands were careful and gentle as he slipped one arm under your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you into his arms like you were something both fragile and vital. You didn't stir. Your head lolled against his chest.

"Hold on," he whispered against your temple, his breath warm as it caught in your hair. "You hear me? Hold on."

He took off down the corridor, every step calculated yet urgent. He turned down a narrow shaft door already wedged open from Raiden's earlier infiltration. Halfway through the shaft, he saw Raiden, cloaked in grit and sweat, his blonde hair falling in loose strands over his face. In his arms: a sleeping child wrapped in a gray thermal cloak. Olga's daughter.

Raiden looked up as Snake emerged, the two locking eyes in a second of silent understanding.

"She's safe," Raiden said hoarsely, nodding down at the girl.

Snake's grip on you tightened. "So is she. Let's move."

A utility door blasted open as the sound of screeching halt of tires echoes. Otacon, wide-eyed behind the wheel of a beat-up white van, began to shout. "Come on! They're deploying aerials!"

Snake rushed forward. Raiden followed. The two leapt into the back of the van, ducking just as the blast door began to whine back down, locking out the Patriot facility behind them.

The interior was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of Otacon's mobile terminal. The desert wind howled outside. Raiden gently placed Olga's child in the backseat cradle they'd jerry-rigged for the operation. While Snake didn't let you go.

You lay cradled on his lap, your body slack from sedation, your head resting against his chest. The rise and fall of his breath was the only anchor in your drifting world. He stared at you, a deep furrow in his brow. His gloved hand brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, lingering there.

"I should've found you sooner," he said, barely audible over the engine hum. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, as if willing you to speak.

He bent forward, his forehead resting lightly against yours, your skin still cool but warming.