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Poetry List
O Brother Where Art Thou- It has been four years since the attack on Seattle. Four years since Augustine was taken into custody. Four years since... Reggie. Delsin has tried to move forward, make the world a better place for conduits. With the help of Fetch and Eugene, he had emptied Curdun Cay and was helping conduits reintegrate into society. But trouble is brewing on the horizon. When it is revealed that over a hundred conduits disappeared from the facility before it closed, and more still have been kidnapped, the trio finds themselves in France, dealing with a brutal scientist who claims conduits are only useful as weapons.
Between assassination plots and brainwashing, Delsin has his hands full. But he's in for an even darker surprise. One that will require the help of his friends and his tribe to get through. In the end, will he be able to keep his head above water?
NOTE: O Brother is very M-rated. While it doesn't contain any sexual content, it does have other strong content and violence. If you choose to read it, please heed the tags.
Dim Ignition- When Sammie's caravan is nabbed by Gatherers, only he and his brother Dakota manage to escape. With few options and the clock ticking, they seek out aid in the form of Alessia Jay Donovan. The problem is that this journey will take them into direct contact with the one person they don't want to meet: Delsin Rowe.
Fire and Smoke Extra Content- From the world of my AU Fire and Smoke, this will include pieces that I haven't posted on AO3!
Ocean Eyes Extras- Content for my snow OC Jack Dixon. Most of this will be from the Ocean Eyes universe/timeline, but not all of it.
Bathe the World Extras- From my Fallout AU! Delsin and Co get stuck in the apocalypse.
Misc. Content- Content for my other OCs or anything that isn't part of the major stories listed.
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Delsin watches Reggie out of the corner of his eye, pretending to be fully involved in his newest art project. It’s Tuesday, which means it’s also baking day. When their parents had first passed, money had been tight, so Reggie had done everything he could to cut costs, including making bread at home every week. After he’d started making better money at the Sheriff’s department, he’d initially gone back to buying it at the store. It was only after Delsin had admitted he much preferred what Reggie made that he’d gone back to doing so once a week.
It’s been a couple months since they defeated Augustine, and Reggie’s gradually getting back to his normal routine, including making meals and their weekly bread supply. Delsin will readily admit that he missed his big brother’s cooking after spending the last several weeks living on takeout and microwave dinners. Eugene had proven to be a decent cook when he’d moved in, but his skills are mostly limited to making spaghetti and mac and cheese. Fetch is no longer allowed in the kitchen after the poptart incident (who knew those things are flammable?).
Delsin’s thoughts are interrupted by a quiet hiss. Reggie stops kneading dough for a moment and rolls his shoulder, pain flickering across his face. That’s the second time in five minutes that Delsin noticed him do so. Lounging back on the couch, Delsin schools his expression into something nonchalant. “Pitching arm giving you trouble again?”
Reggie glares at him, but it lacks much of its usual heat, and Delsin notes how tired he looks, despite having been cleared by the doctor. “No, it’s fine. Just moved it funny.”
Wow, his brother is a terrible lair. When Reggie stops yet again not a minute later, Delsin hops off the couch and joins him in the kitchen. “‘Just moved it funny’, huh? Bet you’re wishing you had some super awesome fast healing right now.”
Ah, there’s the scowl. “Are you asking me to test said ‘super awesome fast healing’? Because that’s what it sounds like and I have access to a firearm.”
Delsin holds up his hands. “Kinky, but no thanks. Besides, you’re my brother.”
The flour-covered hand smacking him over the head is definitely deserved. Ugh, that’s going to be fun getting out of his hair. “Delsin, I do not have the patience for your bull right now.”
Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, Delsin sighs. “I’m sorry.” It’s far too easy to slip back into their usual dynamic, to meet every comment with an attitude, to match his brother’s anger and frustration with a sharp tongue and words that cut too deep.
Reggie scoffs. “That’s a first.”
Pausing to take a deep inhale through his nose, Delsin presses on. “I’m serious.”
“...Okay.” Reggie reaches for the other bowl of dough, lifting it with his bad arm and almost immediately dropping it. “Shit!”
Delsin manages to catch it before it hits the ground and sets it back on the counter, fixing his brother with a frown, hand set on his hip. For a long moment, the two stare at each other. Reggie is the first to look away, shoulders drooping. “Okay, maybe it’s been giving me a little trouble. But I can’t let all of these ingredients go to waste.”
Delsin chews his lip thoughtfully. Reggie’s obviously in pain, but Delsin agrees that they don’t want all of the ingredients to go to waste. “Why don’t you let me try?”
Reggie stares at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No?” Delsin rolls sleeves up and washes his hands. “I mean how hard can it be?”
Twenty minutes later, the loaves are rising and he has a new appreciation for bakers everywhere. He finishes cleaning up while Reggie drops onto the couch with a groan, rubbing his sore shoulder. A thought pops into Delsin’s head while he washes his hands.
“Hey Reg, can I try something?”
“Depends on what it is.”
Taking a seat next to his brother, Delsin taps his arm. “Take your shirt off.”
Reggie stares at him. “...Why?”
“Oh my God will you please just trust me?” Delsin asks, exasperated. In his defense, the vast majority of the pranks he’s pulled over the years on his brother have only involved property damage or vandalism. There have only been two incidents where he actually did something to Reggie directly, once on purpose and the second by complete accident. Both times he’d felt absolutely awful afterwards.
“I do trust you.”
“Then will you please take your shirt off?”
Sighing, Reggie strips his t-shirt off, wincing when he stretches his shoulder out. “There, it's off.”
“Thank you.” Setting both hands against the bare skin of his brother's shoulder, Delsin focuses, slowly heating up his hands with his powers.
Reggie goes rigid at first when he notices the growing warmth, voice unsure when he speaks. “Uh, Delsin..?”
“Don't worry, I'm not going to burn you.” He wouldn't even have tried this in the first place if he thought there was a chance he couldn't control his powers. Bringing his hands to a temperature that's just hot enough to be comfortable, he carefully presses his fingers deeper. Reggie flinches when he hits one particular spot and Delsin stops. “You good?”
“Yea. Sorry.”
Delsin waits a beat before moving his fingers again, little by little working the tension from Reggie’s shoulder.
“...Feels nice,” Reggie mumbles after a while. His eyes are closed, and if Delsin didn't know better he'd say his big brother looked half a step from dozing off.
Either way, the compliment makes Delsin smile. “See? My powers are good for something after all!”
Reggie huffs out an amused breath, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smile. “Your powers are good for a lot of things, when you're not purposely using them to cause trouble.”
“I would never,” Delsin sniffs, feigning offense. His brother gives him a flat look and Delsin doesn't hold back his laugh. “Seriously though, I'm glad this worked. And in the future, maybe don't be the stubborn Sheriff and just ask me for help? Surprise surprise, but I do give a shit about you, you know.”
Reggie doesn't respond. Working over his shoulder one more time, Delsin moves to work on the tension lining his brother's spine, shaking his head in amazement. “How did you come out of a two month break from work and still have all these knots? How do you sleep?”
Reggie gives a half-hearted shrug. “Not well. But hey, imagine how much worse it was before!”
His attempt at humor falls flat and Delsin glares at him. “You're really not helping your case, man. You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Why the sudden interest in my well-being?”
“I dunno, maybe because you almost died two months ago?” Delsin bites back, digging his thumb a little deeper than he'd intended and making Reggie swear. “Sorry. It's just… I spent three days thinking I would never get to see you again. That scared the ever-loving crap out of me, man. Like sure, I have the tribe, but they're not you. You're the only brother I've got.”
“You'd manage without me. I'm just the dick who pays the bills, remember?”
It's Delsin’s turn to wince. “You heard that?”
“Yep, loud and clear.”
Shit. “I'm sorry, Reggie. I didn't mean it.”
After a moment, Reggie sighs. “I owe you an apology too. A lot of them, honestly.”
“I think we're neck and neck,” Delsin jokes. “Why don't we start over? Clean slate for both of us, and we agree to make an effort to not piss each other off.”
“Clean slate, huh?” Reggie mulls the idea over for a bit before nodding in agreement. “Yea, that works.”
“Good.” Finally withdrawing his hands, Delsin cracks his knuckles. “Feel better?”
“Mhm. Only problem is that now I don't want to get up,” Reggie says, stifling a yawn.
Delsin pokes him. “So take a nap.”
“I have things that need done, Del, like the laundry, the trash, the-”
Heating his hands up once more, Delsin places them squarely on his brother's back, causing Reggie to stop mid-sentence.
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(2,997 words)
(CW: Violence towards a child, blood and gore, violent death)
Delsin doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until there’s a large hand shaking him. He snaps awake, relaxing when he sees it’s just Captain Clark. “Walker said you wanted to talk,” the soldier whispers, being considerate of the room’s sleeping occupants.
“Yea, I wanted to tell you-” he cuts himself off midsentence when he glances at the bed and notices it’s empty. He scrambles to his feet “Shit!” Before he can panic too much though, Clark grabs his shoulder and puts a finger to his lips, pointing to the other side of the bed. Delsin gives the man a puzzled look but walks to the other side of the bed. What he finds makes his shoulders droop with relief.
Reggie and Nessy are curled up on the floor, the little sound conduit having dragged a couple blankets down with her while she uses the older conduit as a pillow. It can’t be comfortable for either of them, but it’s more like what they’re used to. It still makes Delsin’s heart ache. He turns to look at Clark, who motions towards the door. They step out together and Eugene, who is still awake on the bench outside, looks up at them. The older man sighs. “Its been like that for all of them. One of the doctor’s said that it’s because the hard floor feels more familiar, and they’re all afraid that the bed is actually a test.”
He runs a hand over his buzzed hair “It’s a goddamn mess. One of the critical cases is already gone, and of the six remaining, two aren’t expected to make it.”
Sorrow wells up in Delsin’s chest, threatening to choke him. They were too late to save them. The smoke conduit knows he should be grateful for the ones they did manage to save, and he is, but it was too late for far too many. A small, very selfish part of him will always be thankful that he wasn’t too late for his brother.
“That reminds me, I’m not sure if you’d already thought of it, but try exposing everyone to their elements if you can. I noticed it was helping Reg a lot earlier,” Delsin says, trying to ignore his own emotions for right now. Clark nods, signaling to one of his soldiers and relaying instructions before sending the man scurrying off.
“I just thought I’d alert you as well, the other four more volatile conduits have been taken off sedation. They’ve been put on something that keeps them calm but awake, and are being kept restrained for now. If they get out, I’ll probably need you to step in if I can’t.” Delsin can tell he’s tired, though he doesn’t show it on his face. The chromium conduit looks ever the stalwart soldier, eyes clear and shoulders strong. Memories of when Reggie would pull long shifts as Sheriff, wearing the exact same expression, float to the surface of his mind unbidden. Delsin forces them back. He’s too worn out to cry again right now.
“How are things going with your brother?” Clark asks gently.
Delsin considers how to answer “I’m still deciding. There are times where things seem okay, and other times where I’m reminded that he’s been through hell and won’t be the same for a long time, or possibly ever. But I’m not giving up on him.”
Clark leans against the wall “I don’t doubt you’ll try your hardest. We do have one obstacle ahead of us though that we need to consider.”
Delsin tilts his head “Which is?”
“The girl. Separating them is going to be hard, and the longer we wait the harder it will get,” he explains. “I get that he’s protective of her, and that’s probably what has helped them both survive, but he’s going to have to let her go eventually so she can go home.”
“I think if we tried it right now, we’d end up hurting them more than helping them,” Eugene pipes up for the first time, startling both of them. “I was talking to both of their doctors. If Nessy stays with Reggie, she feels safe and cooperates with the doctors. If she were to be taken, neither of them would feel secure, and Reggie would probably tear this place apart to find her. Until they are more stable, we have to deal with it.”
Clark frowns, his hands clenched into fists. “She’s so young. She should never have had to be here in the first place.” It’s the first time the captain has voiced anything about his feelings on the matter, though Delsin knows with daughters of his own at home, it must be hard for the man to witness.
“If only the world cared about what should have been.” Eugene’s voice is quiet and so very tired.
The silence that follows is broke by a heavy sigh from Captain Clark, who pushes off the wall. “I’m going to get a sit-rep from Martin back at the facility, see what I can find out.”
Delsin nods “Try and get some sleep man, okay?”
The older conduit smirks at him “Don’t ya know, Delsin? I might not be steel, but I’m still Superman.”
000000
The next morning, Delsin is woken up by the sound of a knock. He looks over to see Dr. Thomas and Dr. Cartier coming in. Fetch is already awake, putting down her manga when the two enter the room.
“Morning docs,” Delsin greets them, stretching his back out and getting to his feet.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Rowe,” Dr. Cartier greets him back, eyeing the two sleeping conduits on the floor. “I hate to wake them, but could you possibly do so? Violent reactions are not outside of the realm of possibility.”
“Right, sure,” Delsin agrees. Yea, waking up an overprotective conduit, powers or no, is probably akin to waking up a grizzly bear with a cub nearby. He crouches nearby and gently shakes Reggie’s shoulder “Hey guys, time to wake up. Docs got meds for you.”
While the reaction isn’t quite as violent as he’d expected, he’s still glad that he was the one to do it, dodging a swipe from a bony fist and watching as Reggie scampers back into the corner, Nessy pulled close to his chest. Delsin puts his hands up but doesn’t push any further into his brother’s space. “It’s okay, it’s just me. You’re safe. Remember?”
Reggie looks him up and down for a second, and slowly the water conduit relaxes. Nessy burrows into his hold, still fast asleep. “Can we move you two back onto the bed? Doctor Thomas and Doctor Cartier need to give you both of you some meds, and some breakfast, okay?”
His brother frowns up at the two doctors “Give what.”
It’s a demand, not a question, one that Delsin knows he’ll need to answer if he has any hope of getting the other to accept.
Dr. Cartier steps forward “If you will permit me, I can read them to you and tell you what each one does. For you as well as little Vanessa.”
The doctor gets a critical stare in return, yet eventually Reggie nods. He climbs back into the bed, sound conduit in tow. She stirs as he gets resettled, looking around curiously and perking up at the sight of Dr. Thomas, though she doesn’t leave Reggie’s hold. Dr. Thomas joins the older doctor, both showing the two conduits what exactly they have for them and what it does. Delsin sighs silently, relieved that it didn’t turn into a fight and thanking the spirits for good doctors.
Reggie still tests Vanessa’s drink before handing it to her. Delsin lets it go, questioning it would only make his brother more volatile and less willing to trust them. His stomach growls and he realizes he hasn’t eaten in at least two days; he’s been too busy. Luckily, it’s Eugene to the rescue, stepping in the room with a paper bag and two cups.
“Brought you guys some breakfast,” the video conduit says with a small smile, handing the bag to Fetch and the cups to Delsin. It smells heavenly.
Vanessa perks up excitedly “Is that tea?”
Delsin tries not to laugh at her expression while Fetch hands him a pastry “No honey, it’s coffee.”
The girl pouts “Damn. Haven’t had a proper cuppa in forever. My mum makes it the best!”
Dr. Thomas stifles a snort. “Some tea probably wouldn’t hurt if you’d like me to make you some, Vanessa. How do you take it?”
“I like London Fog, with lots of milk and a spoonful of honey!” She explains eagerly. The woman smiles at her “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
There’s another knock, and Captain Clark sticks his head in. “Rowe, can I speak to you for a moment?” His expression is grave. Delsin sets down his food but takes the coffee with him into the hallway. “What is it?”
Clark moves them down the hall a little, dropping his voice to a murmur “I talked to Captain Martin. They’ve started work on emptying the disposal pit.”
Bile rises in his throat as the horror resurfaces in his mind. He takes a gulp of coffee to push it down, burning his tongue in the process. “Okay?”
“They’ve been cataloging bodies and body parts, and they estimate there are over 300 bodies in there, way past what we expected to find. The techs searched her files again, and found out that the pit was also used to dispose of what they referred to as ‘bait’.”
Once the initial horror wears off a little, Delsin frowns. “What the hell is bait?”
“Ever heard of a bait dog in dogfighting? Similar concept. She was kidnapping people for the conduits to practice on. Homeless people, drug addicts, runaways, people who wouldn’t be missed or their absence would take a long time to notice,” he explains, shaking his head.
Delsin swears, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t even want to consider how horrible their deaths must have been. Or how terrible it is for the conduits still alive to have to live with killing them. If they could even feel remorse.
“Thank you for telling me,” he sighs. “I think I’m gonna need some time to take this in.”
Clark nods “I understand. I’m going to go catch a nap while it’s quiet. And remember, you’re not alone here.”
He sits out in the hallway for some time, sipping his coffee. He pulls the SD card out of his pocket, staring at it. “Fuck it,” he finally mutters to himself, pulling his phone out and sliding the SD card into place. A file pops up onto his phone and he taps it. It pops open, containing several PDFs and a few hundred of videos. He holds off on the videos for now and starts reading.
Subject: Nix
Age: 32
Conduit Power: Water
Designation: Guard Dog, Black Dog
Guard Dog subject match: Vanessa (see video files RR1290-425 through RR1290-430)
Delsin’s curiosity wins out and he opens 425. It looks like a security feed from the Kennels, located close to Reggie and Vanessa’s cages. Vanessa is sitting in her cage, right at the front, looking terrified, while Reggie isn’t visible from this angle. Delsin slips his earbuds in and turns up the volume.
“I wanna go home, please! Please, someone!” She’s sobbing, but no one answers. A few seconds later, Delsin hears footsteps on the metal floor, and a DUP agent comes into view.
He kicks the cage “Shut up!” he barks, which just makes Vanessa cry more. Delsin can feel his blood boiling. The man crouches down and swipes his badge, yanking the door open and grabbing the girl’s ankle. He hauls her out out, kicking and screaming. “You don’t wanna shut up, little girl, I’ll make you.”
Delsin watches in horror as the man goes to undo his belt. An arm is suddenly thrust from the cage above, grabbing the man’s elbow and yanking his arm into the cage. Delsin had completely forgotten that Reggie was there, so focused was he on what was happening to Vanessa.
The DUP agent thrashes and yells, trying to remove his arm from Reggie’s grip, but the water conduit doesn’t give him a moment, sinking his teeth into the man’s neck. There’s a sickening squelch as Reggie jerks his head back, ripping a chunk out, and Delsin has to clamp a hand over his mouth to hold himself back from vomiting. The man bleeds out in seconds, his body slumping to the floor when Reggie lets go. Vanessa scrambles back into her cage, shaking.
“Little one… okay?” His brother’s voice is raspy, quiet. Vanessa’s head snaps up, and though her eyes are still wide with fear, she nods shakily “Um, y-yea. Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
Delsin lowers the phone once the video finishes. He knows, in the abstract sort of way, that his brother probably had killed people aside from just his assassinations while stuck under Doctor Dubois. Seeing it first hand though, was another thing entirely. He swallows and pulls the phone back up, going to the first video and hitting play. He recognizes the training arena from the facility. Reggie’s standing in it, stark-naked, looking like he did four years ago, though his face shows confusion, alarm.
“Where the hell am I?”
“You are at my facility.” The walls draw back to reveal Doctor Dubois. “Welcome.”
Reggie frowns up at her “Who are you?”
She smiles “I am Doctor Dubois. In this facility, I take conduits and shape them into the creatures they were meant to be.”
His frown deepens “What the hell am I here for then? I’m not a conduit.”
“Non? Do you not remember the accident?” Her voice is smug, and Reggie looks uneasy.
“I… I don’t...” Horror begins to dawn on his face, and his head whips around as he looks for a door, panicked “Wait! What the hell did you do with my brother?!”
Her smile thins “Sadly, your brother remains in Seattle. Though I wished to acquire both of you, he is far too public a figure now for me to catch him without arousing suspicion.”
She picks up her tablet and smirks “Let us begin.”
The video ends there, and Delsin can feel his skin crawling. The bitch was watching him. She was waiting to bring him here too. And Reggie… Reggie’s first fear was not for himself, or where he was, but for Delsin. The smoke conduit wants to cry all over again, but he forces himself to continue. He skips through the videos, watching his brother struggle to stay alive against other conduits, relying more on wit and brute strength than his powers at first, struggling to get a good hold on them. He watches him begin to succeed, watches his refusal to kill a single opponent, despite the pain it causes him, the threats he earns, watches the conditioning they start putting him through, the procedures, the torture. Tears trickle down his cheeks, but he ignores them, his focus on his phone.
Eventually he comes to a video that seems… different from the others. It’s still in the arena, but there’s a woman there, laying on the floor. From the lack of clothing and the collar, Delsin knows she must be another conduit. A DUP agent enters the arena, shoving Reggie inside. He glares at the agent, then notices the woman on the floor. Pain flashes across his face and he runs over, dropping to his knees next to her and picking her up.
“Mary! Shit, hey, Mary come on!” The wall draws back, and Doctor Dubois looks down on them with disinterest. “Such a disappointment. I expected better from her.”
Reggie looks up at the Frenchwoman, and Delsin is certain he has never seen such a hateful expression on his brother’s face until now. “You bitch! She’s not a disappointment, she’s a fucking human being! You did this to her!”
Doctor Dubois frowns at him and touches something on her tablet. There’s a crackle and both conduits spasm, the woman named Mary scraping at her neck for the collar. It stops and Reggie hisses in pain, shivering.
“You have a choice, Nix.”
“That’s not my fucking name!” Another crackle, this time accompanied with a pained cry.
Dubois seems unmoved by it, her expression remaining calm. “As I said, Nix, you have a choice.”
He glares at her “And what choice is that?”
“You may put her down yourself, or I will. Slowly.”
Reggie’s eyes widen. “No. No! She can do better; you just have to give her time!”
“I am done wasting time and resources on a useless mutt. Now, make your choice.”
“I’m not murdering anyone for you!”
Doctor Dubois studies him a moment, then sighs. “Return Nix back to his kennel.” Two DUP agents appear, dragging Reggie away from the woman on the floor. Meanwhile, Doctor Dubois touches the button on her tablet one last time and sets it on the desk. Mary screams, spasming and thrashing on the floor, clawing at the collar fused to her neck.
“Stop it! Goddamit stop!” Reggie’s screaming too, kicking and fighting the two DUP. The doctor regards him calmly, unmoved. “The only one who can stop this is death.”
She smiles “Or you.” Reggie doesn’t answer, expression torn. Dubois shakes her head and turns to leave. The conduit on the floor looks at Reggie, sobbing through the pain “Reggie please!”
“Wait!”
She holds up a hand and the two agents stop. She turns and raises an eyebrow at Reggie “What was that?”
“…I’ll do it.” His voice is a whisper, hard and devoid of emotion. She smiles brightly “See? Now was that so hard?”
The DUP agents step back and Reggie steps forward. He raises his hand, water swirling up from the edges of the arena, his eyes fixed on the woman on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
"Just give me a call when it’s over and we’ll head back to Salmon Bay. And Delsin, watch out for Hank. I don’t trust him."
The whole thing is a trap, it has to be, and despite Reggie's prior declaration, there's no way he's about to let Delsin do this alone. As soon as he's done with his cigarette, he'll head to the docks.
Or as soon as the teenager perched on the railing next to him stops spouting cryptic bullshit.
*A prequel to O Brother that takes place during the mission Quid Pro Quo. This one-shot is also a parallel/mirror to the scene in O Brother Chapter 21 with Kronos and Delsin. Can be read as a standalone.*
TW: Brief mentions of violence, smoking, canon character death, hurt no comfort
Just give me a call when it’s over and we’ll head back to Salmon Bay. And Delsin, watch out for Hank. I don’t trust him.
The flick of his lighter is comforting, as is the taste of tobacco. Reggie lets the smoke linger a moment, filling his lungs. He exhales through his nose in a sigh, gaze fixed on some point far on the cloud-covered horizon, hair already soaked through from the drizzling rain. Delsin would probably tease him if he were here, call him melancholy or pouty.
Instead, Delsin is God only knows where about to go up against one of the most dangerous bioterrorists in the country. The head of the DUP is no one to be trifled with, and all they’ve managed to do since their arrival is piss her off. Not to mention Delsin is teaming up with the crazy redneck with a record even longer than his.
Something about the whole setup sounds too convenient. It has to be a trap. Delsin’s smart though, he would see it coming, wouldn’t he?
“Shit,” Reggie hisses, blowing out smoke. There’s no way he can let Delsin do this alone.
“They say smoking kills.”
The hair on the back of his neck stands up and he turns to find a boy, probably fourteen or fifteen, sitting on the motel railing a few feet away. His eyes are a uniquely unsettling shade of gold and seem to pierce right through Reggie. Maybe the stress and lack of sleep are finally getting to him. He didn’t even hear the kid walk up.
“Keep trying to quit, but it’s hard to make it stick,” Reggie says with a half-shrug, bringing the cigarette up to his lips again. He’ll finish his cigarette and head to the docks. Do some recon and meet up with his brother.
“That explains a lot.”
Reggie blinks and gives the kid an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”
The teen smiles an uncanny smile. “You can't kick your smoking habit. Appropriate then that Delsin's first power is smoke.”
His meaning isn't lost on Reggie then. “Okay, who are you, kid? What do you want?”
The kid rests his chin on his fist, fluffy blond hair falling in front of his face. “Oh, just a casual observer here to give you a friendly warning.”
“...What kind of warning?”
“Don’t go after your brother.”
Reggie balks at the abrupt declaration. “How did you-?!”
“I know how this ends,” the teen interrupts, voice deathly serious, “and I think you do too.”
“Oh yea? How?” Reggie challenges, ignoring the trickle of fear in his mind.
“If you go to help Delsin, Reggie Rowe will die.”
And there it is, out in the open, the nagging feeling itching at his skull and growing louder since they stepped foot in Seattle. A terrifying understanding that the moment he saw the Longhouse in the rearview mirror, it would be the last time. His throat is too tight all of a sudden, the faintest tremor in his hands. The next pull on his cigarette calms him enough to steady them, and he glares at the kid.
“I still have no idea who you are, or what you want, and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t know why you’re trying to scare me off, but it won’t work. And even if you’re right, I’m not going to let my brother walk right into a trap.”
“Figured that out, did you?” the kid snorts. “But so what if he does? Delsin Rowe is a bioterrorist, after all.”
Reggie scowl deepens even as his conscience pricks with guilt. “He’s my brother.”
“Why should that make any difference?”
“It just does!”
“You know, Brent Walker said the same thing. Fetch was no bioterrorist, she was simply his baby sister. And now he’s dead. Talk about a cautionary tale, am I right? If she’d been in a cage already, maybe he would have lived.” The teen’s eyes flash. “And if Delsin goes in one, so will you.”
Ghostly images begin to appear in the air, one after the other, each more horrible than the last: Delsin sitting in the back of a DUP transport with bulky yellow cuffs around his hands, stuck in a cell in Curdun Cay, wearing a set of that damned yellow and black armor with no warmth left in his eyes, dead on the ground with concrete speared through his chest.
“Stop… Stop!” Reggie snaps, bile rising in his throat and heat pressing at the backs of his eyes. “Tell me who you are!”
The boy’s face is so young, cheeks still rounded with babyfat, yet his eyes are old, the weight of centuries he hasn’t lived staring back. His smile holds too much grief. “Everyone, and no one. I exist only in this single instant. I have enough power left to finish this conversation, and then you will be the only person alive who remembers me. I was Caleb Fische, a time conduit. I came from a completely different timeline, but the Caleb from this timeline destroyed it. I was dragged here, the last gasp of a dying universe.”
A time conduit? Is that even possible? “How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you’re not just stalling me so I can’t save my brother?”
Caleb peers over his shoulder. “All you need to do is take a look around.”
Puzzled, Reggie follows his gaze. At first he doesn’t see anything but the usual sights of the city, people milling about with umbrellas, seagulls stealing spilled fries from the food truck on the other side of the street, the occasional car going by. Then it hits him.
Nothing is moving.
Everyone is frozen, as though the world took a giant screenshot of Seattle, or pressed pause on some universal remote. Even the raindrops are affected, suspended in midair. Hesitantly, Reggie reaches out to touch one. The moment it makes contact with his skin, the droplet rolls down the back of his hand as though nothing had happened.
“You and I are the only things still moving. You know those moments where you wake up, see that you have a few minutes before your alarm goes off, and you go back to sleep? And the dream you have seems to go on forever, but when you wake up, only another minute has passed?” Caleb shakes his head tiredly. “That is one of my powers. I could make you live an entire lifetime in the span of mere milliseconds. Forced to face a world where time is meaningless, and yet means everything.”
“Why?” Reggie presses desperately, “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I owe you a debt, for a crime that has not yet been committed. I am here to try and save your life. And like I said-” Caleb leans in close “-he’s just a bioterrorist. Let him get caught. You warned him, over and over again, that this was not your fight, that coming here was dangerous. He must face his own consequences. Let him learn that big brother is not always going to be there to bail him out. It's what he wanted, right?”
Another image of Delsin appears, though this one is far more familiar. “No, no, no, no. This is not the point where ‘Reggie swoops in and makes everything alright’. This is not your problem to fix. It is mine.”
Looking back on that night, Reggie is equal parts proud and devastated. In some ways, his little brother is all grown up, taking on the world one dupe at a time. But in others…
“No.”
Caleb raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“I don't care how many mistakes he's made, how many times he stumbles, I'm always going to be there to catch him. He's my brother. An amazing, talented, selfless little punk.” Reggie lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “So yes, I'm going to be there for him. And Eugene, and Fetch, because they need help. I don’t care if I die so long as Delsin gets to go home.”
“I didn’t say you will die. I said Reggie Rowe will.”
The way Caleb says it makes Reggie pause, a chill sending goosebumps down his arms. “I don’t- I am Reggie Rowe.”
“For now. ”
Like a sucker punch to the chest, all the air is knocked from his lungs, hands hanging limply at his sides. “What… what happens?”
Caleb’s eyes flash again, and out of the corner of his vision Reggie catches sight of golden threads twisting and curling through the air as though swept up in a light breeze. “I see Seattle lost in a sea of red and blue, and with your brother stands a haunting figure of a man. A man who has left a trail of bodies behind him. I see love lost, hope snuffed out, and a bitter betrayal. I see your final stand, and his final breath. I see the man who makes it back home-”
A final mirage appears.
“-but it’s no longer you.”
It’s like looking in a twisted, tortured mirror. The face is his, but everything about it is wrong. What did they do to him? Stumbling back, Reggie grips the railing tight and forces himself to speak. “There’s no way to avoid this?”
“No.” Such a simple answer, two little letters, yet the weight of them crushes him. “Reggie Rowe will die, but you will suffer a worse fate.”
The chipped paint of the railing bites into his hands and he almost wishes it were still raining so he could excuse the cold numbness in his limbs as something other than fear. Closing his eyes briefly, Reggie breathes in, counts to three, and lets it out. Tucking every fear, every regret, every despairing thought deep into the recesses of his mind, he turns back to Caleb. “But Delsin will be okay?”
“...Yes.”
“Then so be it.”
Caleb nods in agreement. “So be it.”
He fades like the images and the world starts moving again, leaving Reggie to wonder if he imagined the whole thing. The last of his cigarette smolders on the concrete by the toe of his boot. Grinding it out, Reggie makes his way towards the docks. Hopefully he has enough time to scope things out before Delsin gets there.
000000
The water closes over his head, drowning out the sound of Delsin screaming. Reggie watches the rapidly fading smudge that is his baby brother for as long as he can. When Delsin disappears fully from view, he closes his eyes.
I will choose you every time. My only hope is that whoever I am next…
“Oh my God, I can’t wait to shower,” Delsin groans, making a face and pulling a mud-covered weed out of his hair.
“Need I remind you that this entire endeavor was your idea?” Fetch points out helpfully. Her boots and knees are caked in dirt, and she can feel more of it beneath her fingernails even though she’d scrubbed her hands.
“I thought it was kinda nice,” Eugene mumbles quietly, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He’s sans hoodie for once, the day far too humid and warm for anything beyond a light t-shirt. Even with a healthy coating of sunscreen, his cheeks are noticeably red. “And Betty seemed pretty happy.”
“She did,” Delsin agrees, plucking at his sweat-soaked and soil-streaked tank-top. “Knowing her, she would’ve done those flowerbeds whether we’d been there to help or not.”
“I hope when I get to her age I have that kind of energy. She puts conduits to shame,” Fetch teases as they walk up the gravel drive toward the Rowe house.
“If it weren’t for her leg, she probably could’ve pushed the DUP out of Seattle in two days. A week, tops.”
“I believe it.”
“Hey, how come Reggie didn’t come help?” Eugene asks as they pass the older Rowe’s truck. There’s no accusation in his tone, merely curiosity.
“Yea, Copman’s normally the one voluntelling us, not you, D.” Not that Fetch minds helping out, especially with how welcoming the community has been, but she did find it odd that Reggie was absent from their planting adventure.
Delsin hums. “We have a couple dairy farmers in the northeast part of the county. He goes and helps out with the new calves every year. That was one of our major sources of income after Mom and Dad died, and nowadays he just does it because he’s good at it and they need the help.”
Eugene opens the screen door and Fetch steps inside the cool, dim living room with a relieved sigh. “I mean, that sounds like a pretty great gig. If I could cuddle baby cows instead of pulling up weeds, I’d do it in a heartbe– Mmph!”
She’s cut off by Delsin’s hand clamping down over her mouth, accompanied by a harsh “Shh!”
Fetch frowns behind his hand and manages to yank it down. “What?”
“Be quiet!” Delsin hisses, eyes darting to her for a split second and then back to the other side of the living room. Fetch follows his gaze to find Reggie sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. Huh. Come to think of it, she’s not sure she’s ever actually seen the older of the Rowe brothers sleep before. He’s always awake by the time she gets up, and she has no idea when he goes to bed.
“Figured with all the coffee he’d never need a nap,” Fetch snickers, earning a panicked glare from Delsin.
“Fetch, I love you, but if you value your life as much as I do, zip it until we get upstairs.”
The neon conduit’s eyebrow darts up towards her hairline (she really needs to redye it). “D, seriously? It’s Reggie.”
“I don’t think you get it, the man is an absolute bear if you wake him up from a nap.”
“Fetch, maybe we should listen to Delsin-”
“Oh come on, what’s he gonna do? And bear? Yea right, like a freaking teddy bear-”
“The bear is about to get real fucking creative if yall don’t shut the hell up.”
Today is a day of firsts, apparently, because she has also never heard Reggie growl like that before. It sends a cold chill up her spine and the three conduits turn in unison to find the older Rowe glowering at them from the couch, propped up on his elbow.
Delsin herds them towards the stairs while talking at lightning speed, a nervous smile on his face. “Eh heh heh, we’re just um, just came back from helping Betty with the gardens. We’re going upstairs now and you won’t hear a peep from us the rest of the day okay? Okay cool love you big brother go back to sleep now BYE!”
Fetch doesn’t expect to be grabbed around the waist and carried up the stairs in a blaze of neon, Eugene letting out a surprised squeak. They’re deposited in Delsin’s room, the door shut tight behind them. Spinning to face them, Delsin blows out a breath. “So! That went well. Who wants to shower first?”
000000
Reggie watches Delsin zip upstairs with the other two and shakes his head. “Sometimes I miss when he was who-knows-where doing God-knows-what at all hours of the day so I could take a nap in peace.”
He’s lying, of course, but Delsin doesn’t need to know that. Rolling over, Reggie tugs the blanket off the back of the couch and closes his eyes. He’s got a little more time before they’ll come down looking for dinner, so he can sleep a bit longer.
Life is always exciting when you share a house with three idiots conduits.
TW: mild burns, brief mention of non-sexual nudity (it's just a shower)
“Reggie!”
The older Rowe groans silently at the sound of his little brother yelling. Maybe if he ignores him, Delsin will go away.
The bathroom door bursts open. “Reggie, hey, I need to ask you something.”
Heaving an irritated sigh, Reggie draws the shower curtain back enough to glare at the blurry shape of his brother. The intimidation factor is unfortunately lessened by his hair plastered to his forehead and the need to squint, having taken his contacts out right before he jumped in. “I literally just jumped in the shower. Can this not wait ten minutes?”
“It'll be super quick, I promise.”
Another sigh and Reggie pinches the bridge of his nose. He'll waste more hot water and precious seconds to himself if he doesn't just answer whatever question Delsin has. “What?”
“K grade fire extinguishers are used for grease and oil fires, yea?”
Reggie stares at him, blinking, the question catching him off guard. “Yes, K for Kitchen, ABC is for general purpose and D is for special metal fires.”
“Okay, okay cool. Follow up question, do we have one?”
“Do we have what?”
“A K grade fire extinguisher.”
“What?! WHY?!”
“The kitchen’s on fire.”
“You couldn't have led with that?” By some miracle, Reggie manages to not slip and crack his head while scrambling out of the shower (though granted, maybe that would’ve been a blessing). Snagging a towel, he swipes his glasses off the sink and sprints out the door, Delsin running after him.
Eugene and Fetch are standing in the kitchen, both staring in panic at the angry pot on the stove spewing fire and oil. Grabbing the nearest lid, Reggie slams it down on the pot and makes sure the stove is turned off. Searching hurriedly through the spice cabinet, he manages to find the salt and open it one-handed, dumping it on the few smaller flames around the pot.
For a moment, no one moves.
“Well, that could've gone better.”
Reggie tosses Fetch a withering look.
“Shit, Reggie.” Delsin's suddenly next to him, face awash with concern, fingers carefully lifting his elbow.
His arm and side are peppered with oil splatters, his hand having taken the brunt of it. He'd been so focused on the fire he hadn't really felt it. And it's on his glasses, which is going to be a bitch to clean off. At least it didn’t hit anything lower, considering the tenuous hold he has on the towel wrapped around his hips.
“Well, I guess I'm taking a cold shower,” Reggie sighs, withdrawing his arm from Delsin's hold and running the faucet over his hand. “Can one of you grab the aloe? I think it's in your bathroom.”
“You don't think we need to go to the ER?”
“Doesn't look bad enough to warrant that at the moment. I'll tell you if it does. In the meantime, leave the oil to cool off while you clean everything else. And the next time you get the bright idea to fry something, please, for the love of God, warn me first. You have no idea how embarrassing it'd be for the Sheriff to have to call the Fire Department.” Davis would never let me live it down.”
Delsin and Eugene get to work cleaning while Fetch runs upstairs to find the aloe. There’s water on the floor from Reggie’s rush to get downstairs, and he really hopes they’ll get it before it soaks into the hardwood.
“I’m sorry for the mess, Reggie,” Eugene speaks up after a minute, scrubbing oil off one of the cabinets.
“The kitchen is still standing, and no one got severely hurt, so all in all it could’ve been a lot worse.” The older Rowe tilts his head curiously. “What were you trying to make?”
“Fried ice cream.”
Scanning the counter, Reggie frowns. “What batter did you use?”
Eugene glances briefly at Delsin, who looks just as puzzled. “Batter?”
“Yea, you’re supposed to dip the ice cream in batter. Did- did you just dump ice cream in hot oil?!”
“And a popsicle,” Fetch adds helpfully when she returns to the kitchen.
“...I love you guys, but is there a single braincell amongst the three of you?”
“Nope.”
“Nada.”
“Um…”
“Right….” Shaking his head, Reggie turns off the sink. “I’m going upstairs to finish my shower. You can try the ice cream again tomorrow, okay? With supervision.”
The three make various noises of agreement and he heads back upstairs with aloe in hand.
“Thank you, Reggie!”
Delsin’s voice follows him up to his room, cheeky in a way that has Reggie very tempted to return to the kitchen just to smack him. Closing the door, he sighs. He’s definitely going to be hurting tomorrow. Maybe he should consider putting a K extinguisher in the kitchen if his three housemates are going to insist on cooking. And make them all go through a fire safety course.
…The prospect of fried chocolate ice cream is hard to resist though.
So.. there is this one picture near Betty’s bed that did attrack my attention a few days ago. I never saw it before but photomode gives you something to play around with.
I’m sure there are more people who noticed this.
I guess the two are supposed to Reggie and Delsin - the right one does wear a beanie. Throughout the game it seemed that Betty knows them since a long time. Given that their parents are dead and we don’t know a thing about it, Betty might have raised them after their parents death. She seemed like the worried grandma type whenever she called. :)
From now on I just pretend those kids are indeed Reggie and Delsin in younger years and I will simply gush over how cute they were back then.
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I will find you, and I will love you, in every lifetime.
I have never done a soulmate AU but we're giving it a try.
Word Count: 2,211
TW/Tags: forbidden love, aftermath of battle/war, character death, mild blood/gore
The first time the god of ice saw the god of night, he was certain that the wind god must have been playing a cruel trick. Nothing else could have possibly stolen the breath from his lungs that swiftly. Yet there he was, frozen in place with flurries in his belly.
“Are you alright?”
Concern lingered in eyes that shone every shade of brown the night god’s mother had to offer, and somehow the ice god found his tongue.
“I am, my apologies. I do not recall seeing you in this part of the realm before.”
While he saw the earth goddess on a frequent basis, given that this was her domain, her husband and sons rarely left the sky. He had heard rumor that her younger son, the day god, had snuck down to visit one of the light goddesses, but none dared to breathe a word of it in polite company.
The night god smiled wryly. “Father doesn’t like me coming down here, but I needed a change of scenery. My brother shirks his duties on a regular basis to come and see his lovers, a simple walk shouldn't be a problem.”
Lovers? Plural? The ice god files away that tasty tidbit for later and bows. “I will not keep you then. I hope you enjoy your walk.”
He's only just begun to walk away when a voice stops him in his tracks.
“Wait!”
The ice god glances over his shoulder, pale brow raised. The night god hesitates, chewing his lip.
“Yes?”
“You don't have to leave immediately, if you do not wish to. I would not mind the company, or a guide.”
Flourishing a grand bow, the ice god grins. “Then I would be delighted to act as such.”
In truth, he had expected the other god to be more intimidating. As the god of night, one of his duties included bringing to light the crimes of gods and demons alike, and his broad build and commanding presence only added to that image. But as they spoke, the ice god discovered something else.
Loneliness.
They met again the next night, and the night after that. By the fourth night, they had relaxed into an easy sort of companionship, enough to loose the other god’s tongue.
“Most of the other gods sleep while I work, so there are few I can speak to. My brother is often accompanying my mother, and my father is… strict.”
His face twisted when he said it, and the ice god knew he should not ask. The affairs of the elder gods were none of his concern, and meddling in them was dangerous.
He asked anyway. “Strict? In what way?”
“...It is better you do not know.”
The other god looked so forlorn that the ice god simply could not bear it another moment. Smiling, he led the night god to a nearby pond. “Have you perchance danced on ice before?”
“I cannot say that I have.”
“Give me your hand.”
They started out slow, and a little wobbly, and the ice god had to constantly remind himself to focus on his task instead of the way the other god’s hand felt in his. Soon, they were skating in circles around the pond, and the little smile on the night god’s face made his icy heart skip a beat.
And for the first time in his life, his element betrayed him.
His foot hit a crack and they both went down, the ice god landing squarely on top of the night god’s chest. Their faces were a hair's breadth apart, and the ice god’s eyes flickered down to lips he would love to taste. Cheeks burning, he sat up quickly and cursed. Normally he wasn't one to care for propriety, but this was a son of the sky god! “Forgive me, I was not watching my footing.”
The night god sat up slowly, expression strangely disappointed. “I did not mind. It takes quite a lot to hurt me.”
“Ah.”
The awkward silence stretched for a time, and to the ice god's surprise, the other spoke first. “If you wanted to kiss me, I would not stop you.” Their eyes locked, and the ice god was left breathless once more. “In fact, I would welcome it.”
The ice god needed little further prompting. After all, who was he to refuse the request of an elder god? Many more such nights followed, stolen moments of passion and quiet conversation. When the sky god became suspicious, they dared to meet in the day, when the night god's duties would not interfere.
They were discovered all too soon by the clever day god, who thankfully was all too eager to keep his brother's secret. Meeting his lovers, both light deities, had been interesting to say the least. For a time, they were happy, and all was right with the world.
But all good things must end.
The ice god knew their relationship could have been discovered at any moment, but he had held onto some small glimmer of hope that the sky god would be understanding. The elder god’s fury rang throughout the realms, and the ice god had been surprised to find his lover standing in his forest, dressed for war.
“I came to say goodbye.”
The ice god’s eyes narrowed, thin lips pressed together. “You are dressed for battle.”
“I am. My brother and I aim to stand together against my father.”
“I will join you then.”
“No. Stay here, where it is safe.”
The ice god barked out a laugh. “You think me safe here? I will put myself in an early grave fearing for your life, and should you fail, your father will execute me. What’s more, my place will always be at your side.”
“I cannot ask that of you.”
“You need not ask. It is my choice.” He had not summoned his blade in an age, but its weight was a comfort in his hands. He held it out to the night god and bowed his head, speaking a tongue he had not spoken since his own mother’s passing. “I swear fealty to you, and none other. Where you go, so will I follow. In this life…”
…and the next.
The ice god stared at the dark sky, blinking slowly. He did not feel the flakes of ash alighting upon his pale cheeks, the glow of dying flames visible out of the corner of his eye. As well as a familiar figure. With the last of his strength, he rolled onto his front, crawling the last few feet to where his love lay far too still. Gripping his hand, the ice god kissed his cheek with trembling lips, frost painting trails down his cheeks.
“Why?” he whispered. “I swore to protect you, why would you not let me?”
A ghost of a smile, the last spark of life gleaming in the eyes that proved to be his undoing. “Did you not think I would do everything to protect you too?”
The war had raged on for what felt like an eternity, and maybe it was. They had discovered far too late the hand the stone goddess had had in poisoning the sky god’s mind, turning him against all he knew and loved. She lay amongst the dead, and the ice god felt no grief for her, only bitterness.
She had died too quickly.
“I will not fail you again,” he promised, though he could feel his own tether to this life, this realm, fading fast.
“You did not fail me now. But I look forward to the chance to fall in love with you all over again.” A shaky brush of fingers against his temple, and the night god was gone. Closing his eyes, the ice god lay his head down to wait.
I will search for you in every lifetime until I find you again.
“Oof!”
Jack hits the ground, notebook and textbook going one way, his backpack going another.
“Crap, I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s okay, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was-” he looks up into warm brown eyes “-going…”
The other teen smiles sheepishly. “I wasn’t either.” They finish picking up their stuff and sorting out what goes to who and the other teen holds out his hand. “I’m Reggie.”
Jack shakes it, returning the smile. “Jacob, but you can call me Jack.”
Even if I cannot love you the same way, my life and loyalty will remain yours.
Jack manages to drive back the rest of the rogue dupes and breathes a sigh of relief, rounding the corner of the alley to find two heads peeking out from behind a dumpster, watching him with owlish eyes. “You boys okay?”
They nod in unison. “Thanks for helping us,” the braver boy pipes up.
“You’re welcome. Are your parents around? Do you know their phone number?”
“Sammie! Kody!”
“DAD!” The two streak past him, crashing into the tall figure running to meet them.
“Are you two okay? What happened? Where’s Mac?”
“We got separated from them cause of the dupes! But he helped us!”
The boy points at Jack, who gives a tiny wave. The man gets to his feet warily, expression guarded. “Guess I owe you a thank-you, stranger. Not a lot of people rushing to intervene where the DUP are concerned.”
Jack’s smile is a touch bitter at the edges. “I’ve had run-ins with them before. Besides, us freaks need to stick together.” He wiggles his fingers, creating a small cloud of snow, the boys’ eyes widening in awe.
The tension in their dad’s shoulders loosens, the display enough to set him at ease. “True enough. Would you like to join us for dinner? It’s nothing fancy, just hamburger helper and rolls.”
One of the twins waves his hand. “Oh! And apples!”
“Sounds delicious, I’d love to.”
After dinner, he refuses the leftovers Dahlia offers. He knows the family doesn’t have much, and he can find food if he needs to. Actually, maybe he can breeze through the grocery store and grab some things for them.
Rowan walks him to his bike. “Thank you again for helping the boys.”
“I was happy to.” He holds out a piece of paper. “Here. If you all ever run into trouble with those assholes again, call me. I don’t have much going on these days, just kind of drifting.”
Rowan accepts the paper, fiddling with it for a second. “Weird question, but have we met? I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
Pulling his helmet on, Jack fixes his gloves and straddles the bike. “Think I just have one of those faces. But hey, it was good to meet you, Rowan.”
“You too.”
And if I am too late, I will avenge you.
Director Augustine’s cell is almost pitifully easy to break into. Jack strides inside, twirling a razor sharp icicle around his fingers.
“Hello, Director, I hope you don't mind a housecall.”
Augustine is seated on her bed, bulky yellow cuffs around her wrists. She eyes him suspiciously. “Jacob Dixon, I didn't expect to have the pleasure of your company today.”
She's the picture of calm, but the sweat beading on her forehead betrays her fear. Jack chuckles, leaning against the wall casually. “Oh, I happened to be in the neighborhood and wanted to pay you a visit. See, I heard you happened to be involved in the death of a very close friend of mine. More than friends, really. Love of my life, soulmate, take your pick of the words. Point is-” he leans forward and the temperature in the room drops about thirty degrees fahrenheit “-you killed him.”
“If you mean Sheriff Rowe, that was hardly my fault. He should never have gotten involved in my affairs. Maybe if he'd done the right thing and turned Delsin over to me, all of this unpleasantness would've been avoided.”
“Unpleasantness, huh?” Jack laughs softly, balancing the point of the icicle on the tip of his finger. “Tell me, Director. You ever read any good horror novels?”
Augustine blinks, taken off guard by the sudden change in topics. “I… cannot say that I have. I was too busy to have much free time.”
“Hm. There's this great phrase that horror authors love to use: ‘blood turned to ice in their veins’. Means the character’s terrified. Always made me wonder exactly how that feels though. I mean, ice is sharp, it's like glass, ya know? And humans have some very tiny, very fragile veins that would hurt like a motherfucker to have ice tearing through. Or imagine slushy, icy blood trying to pump through your heart. It'd feel like it's being shredded from the inside out.” Glacial blue pins her in place. “That still wouldn't come anywhere close to how I felt when I realized that the man I loved had died at your hands.”
“It wasn't my fault!” A note of desperation edges into Augustine’s voice.
Jack smiles, a feral, wild thing, and raises his hand, the icicle shattering into tiny shards as the temperature in the room continues to drop. “You keep saying that, but I don't believe you. There's fear in your eyes, Director. Is there ice in your veins yet? No? Then let's put some there!”
In honor of 4/20, I'm bringing back this goofy little gem that I posted on AO3 ages ago
TW: Weed, Clowns, Furbies
Delsin leans back against the wall and stretches his legs out in front of him, watching white smoke curl towards the ceiling, the faint breeze from the open window making it twist and dance.
Eugene plucks the blunt from between his fingers. “So how pissed is Reggie gonna be in the morning that we’re smoking this inside?”
Giving a half-shrug, Delsin closes his eyes, letting the soft drizzle of rain and the croon of his speakers wash over him. Once he hit legal age, Reggie hadn’t cared what he did quite as much, so long as he wasn’t being stupid. The older Rowe had simply asked him not to smoke inside, something that normally Delsin didn’t have a problem with. He isn’t huge on the house smelling like weed or cigarettes either, but the last few days have been stressful and he really didn’t feel like going to sit on the porch to avoid the rain. “Eh, we kept the window open at least. I’ll offer to pick up groceries or something to make up for it.”
He’s been trying to do better about contributing around the house, and an offer to do chores is usually a surefire way to get back on his big brother’s good side. Popping a pretzel into his mouth, he unsteadily gets to his feet and walks to his closet, flicking the light on.
“What are you doing?” Eugene asks, puzzled.
“Looking for an old sketchbook.” He’d been struck by the sudden desire to find it again, wanting to redraw some of the contents now that he has good supplies. A couple boxes fall, but he ignores them. He can deal with them tomorrow.
Ah! There it is. He scoops up the sketchbook and turns to go back to his bed, but ends up tripping over one of the boxes, hitting the floor with a yelp. The sound of footsteps a moment later makes him wince. Shit.
The door opens and Reggie stands in the doorway, still half-asleep and dressed in just his boxers. “Del? You good?”
“Fine Reg,” Delsin reassures him with a sheepish grin, sitting up. “Conduit, remember? It’ll take more than tripping over a box to hurt me.”
Reggie glances over at Eugene, who drops his hand behind his leg in a futile attempt to hide their blunt. Rolling his eyes, the sheriff heads back to bed. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he tosses over his shoulder before closing his bedroom door.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Delsin scoops everything up that spilled out of the boxes and sets it all back inside. The sight of a patch of charred fake fur causes him to pause, and he lifts the burnt furby out of the box. “Holy shit, I totally forgot about this thing.”
“Is.. Is that a furby?” Eugene asks, a laugh bubbling up. “Why is it burnt?”
“It was a birthday present when I was like nine? Ten? It turned on by itself one night and scared the shit outta me and Reggie, so we tried setting it on fire. Got in so much trouble.” He sits down on the bed and tosses it in the air, catching it when it comes back down. “God, these things are so fucking creepy.”
“No shit, dude.” Eugene leans over and sticks the blunt in its beak. “Poor guy’s seen some shit, he needs to relax.” They both dissolve into a fit of giggles, leaning into each other to stay upright, wheezing for air.
“A new definition of blazed,” Delsin snickers, setting them off again. “Dude, dude we should totally prank someone with this!”
“With what, a burnt furby?”
“Yes! You can control him with your phone! And you can make an army of little construct furbies to go with it!” He glances at Reggie’s door, an evil grin spreading across his face. “Duuuuuude!”
“Yea, but Fetch actually can, so I can’t do it to her.”
“Good point.” Eugene taps his chin. “Yea okay.”
“Sweet! Oh! Oh and you can put one of your cameras in the eyes! Keep it for posterity,” Delsin says with a wink.
“....this is going to end so badly.”
“Worth.”
000000
An hour later (he thinks, Delsin has no grasp of time when he’s high), he’s smoke-dashing into his brother’s room, altered furby in hand. Reggie’s fast asleep, sprawled across the bed with the blanket half-off. Biting back a grin, Delsin carefully sets the furby on the edge of the bed and leaves the same way he came in. Sitting on the bed next to Eugene, he peers over the video conduit’s shoulder at his laptop, the screen showing the camera feed from their evil burnt fuzzball’s eyes. Even high, Eugene can work his magic like a pro, and several little glowing furby constructs appear next to the regular one.
“You ready?” Eugene asks Delsin.
“Fuck yea, do it.”
Smirking, the video conduit presses a button, and the real furby starts to waddle slowly forward. “Reeeeeggie. Reggiiiiiie.”
Its voice is grated, stuttering, and Delsin has to stifle a snicker when his brother picks his head up, blinking groggily. “What the- Shit!” Reggie spots the animatronic and scrambles back with a scream, falling off the bed and out of view of the camera with a Thud! that Delsin can hear from his room. Reggie reappears in view, a metal bat in hand, and the feed cuts out when he swings, accompanied by the sound of various banging and crashing.
Delsin squeals, kicking his feet, sporting a shit-eating grin. “Oh my God, did you see his face?!”
Fetch appears in a blaze of neon, hair a wild mess, and bursts through Reggie’s door. “Reg! Holy shit, you okay?!”
Meanwhile, Eugene and Delsin are howling like a pair of hyenas, practically falling off the bed as Reggie stalks out of his room, a scowl on his face and bat held tightly in his grip. He points it straight at Delsin. “You motherfucker.”
Delsin’s face hurts from grinning so much, and he wiggles his eyebrows at his brother. “Whatsa matter, Reg? Can’t stand a little blast from the past?”
“I’m about to blast your ass into the next county. C’mere!”
Reggie lunges for him, and Delsin yelps as he skitters off the bed, smoke-dashing around his brother and vaulting down the stairs, Eugene’s cackling following him downstairs.
Fetch takes a look around, sighs, and heads back to her room. “I need new roommates.”
000000
TeenAngel: Hey, I’m sorry about last night
TeenAngel: I shouldn’t have let Delsin talk me into it
RoweYourBoat: Help me get back at him and I’ll forgive you
TeenAngel: Deal
TeenAngel: What do you have in mind?
RoweYourBoat: 🤡
000000
Delsin wakes to the sound of movement in his room. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he squints into the dark, able to make out a large shape a few feet away. “Reg?”
The shape doesn't answer, and he reaches for his lamp.
Click.
Nothing happens. Huh, weird, he just put a new bulb in. He's reaching for his phone when the sound of giggling reaches his ears. Odd, distorted giggling.
Very familiar giggling that haunts his nightmares.
Neon swirls around his hand, illuminating the giant alien clowns standing in the middle of his room.
If anyone asks, the scream he lets out was not girly in any way whatsoever. He runs for the door, wildly firing bolts of neon as he goes, and throws it open. Reggie’s standing in the doorway to his room, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, an evil smile on his face. Behind him, the clowns disappear in a shower of pixels.
Straightening, Delsin heaves a sigh, hanging his head. “You motherfuckers.”
“I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the sweet sound of revenge.”
“Okay, okay, you got me.” Delsin throws his hands up. “That was clever. Can we call a truce? Stop dragging poor Eugene and Fetch into our shit?”
Reggie nods, holding out a hand. “Truce.” He leans toward the stairs. “Thanks, Gene!”
“Anytime!”
000000
Delsin lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. He's tired, but he can't sleep. The creepy giggle hasn't left his head yet, and even though it's been almost 20 years, he still wishes he'd never snuck downstairs to watch that stupid movie.
Something scrapes against his window and he sits bolt upright, heart hammering in his chest. It's just a branch, probably cause of the storm. He glances at his door, chewing on his lip. “Fuck it.”
Smoke dashing across the hall, he lightly shakes his brother. “Hey, you awake Reg?”
“No,” comes the irritated grumble. “What do you want?”
“Um… could I… maybe sleep in here tonight?” Delsin asks quietly, cheeks heating with embarrassment. He used to crawl into Reggie’s bed all the time when he got scared as a kid, but he's almost twenty-five now, he’s too big to be running to big brother every time he has a bad dream. Fuck, this was a stupid idea. Shaking his head, he takes a few shuffling steps backwards towards the door. “Sorry, nevermind, I shouldn't have-”
“Delsin.”
The smoke conduit stops as Reggie props himself up on his elbow and pulls back the comforter. Relieved, Delsin dives under the covers and snuggles up to his big brother, his worries vanishing like smoke. A strong arm wraps around him, a soft chuckle reverberating against his chest. “I dunno why you're wanting to sleep with me when you get scared when you're the one with powers. You can protect yourself a lot better than I can.”
And yet somehow, he's always coming to Delsin's rescue. Has been since they were little kids, and Delsin has no idea what he’d do without him. “Nah, you’ve got the whole ‘I am Batman’ grouchy vibe thing going on, you can scare people with a look. Not as well as Betty, of course.”
Reggie snorts out a laugh. “Go to sleep, dingus.”
“Dork.”
“Dipshit.”
“Dumbass.”
“I will kick you out, Delsin.”
“No need to get hostile,” the younger Rowe jokes, closing his eyes. His brother’s heartbeat is right next to his ear, strong and steady as always, and Delsin feels tendrils of sleep weaving over his mind like a dark blanket. “Reg?” he murmurs, so quiet that’s he’s certain the older Rowe feels it more than he hears it.
“Hm?”
“Love you.”
The arm around his torso pulls him just a little closer. “Love you too, Delsin. Now sleep.”
