Dark Writings

'Bryce' looks like a bigger bad than Archer has ever personally met before. To a degree, all criminals have similar tics and habits— the way this guy looked at Archer initially definitely felt like he was sizing him up. In Archer's own wary analysis, he's pretty sure that shape under the man's jacket looks alarmingly like a gun. Anyone can carry a gun or size someone up, though. This guy gives the distinct impression that he is a very real threat.

"Bryce, this is... this is my brother, Archer," Roman says, sounding like it's a struggle to get the words out. "Archer, this is Bryce. I— he— I'm living... with him right now." And his brother's voice shakes a little bit with... anxiety? Why?

Archer doesn't bother to hide his concern and confusion at the rapidly developing situation. "Why? Who is he?" Is he the reason you're in a wheelchair?

"I'm working for him. On a farm," Roman says, and his voice stabilises into a tone Archer is all too familiar with. "Well— I mean obviously not really at the moment."

He's lying. Archer has heard his brother lie a million times before. He's a damn good liar, too— able to convince their mom that they had been there all night when they were nearly caught for sneaking out, provide reasonable explanations for how 'contraband' got into the house, and gloss over missing food from the pantry. He was always good at persuading others that nothing was happening at home, too... although perhaps things would have been better for them if he hadn't.

Through all of that, Roman had never lied to Archer, though. Not about anything that had ever mattered. His eyes narrow now reflexively. "Alright, how'd you end up in a wheelchair and a cast?"

Maybe he'll back out of the lie. Roman had never been known to back out of a lie before, but he'd also never been known to lie to Archer before. Except there's that same, unfortunately familiar quality in Roman's voice as he speaks again, just to tell another lie.

"There was an accident with some equipment not long after I started."

Well shit. How is Archer supposed to address this? It has to be because of this guy who just came in with Roman, right? What's his name? Bruce or Bryce or something? Bryce. It was Bryce, he's fairly certain.

He's gotta say something. Just... call him out for lying? Would that be dangerous? If he lets this guy—Bryce—know that he knows his brother is lying, will that cause an altercation? Archer doesn't know what else he could possibly say, though. "... Why are you lying to me?"

Maybe it's his imagination, but Archer swears he sees Roman pale just a shade.

"What? I am not!" Roman protests with a healthy measure each of incredulity and indignation. Has he ever even been called out so explicitly? Archer can't think of a time. "There was an accident with the equipment when I started, and I'm in recovery right now. Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know," Archer says, looking from Roman to Bryce, and back again, voice slow as he tries to think of an explanation— anything other than the obvious, very, very bad explanation for Roman's lying. "I don't know why you're lying about that, and that's what scares me."

Well, if Roman won't tell the truth of it, there's only one other person here who might know it. Maybe Bryce isn't so good a liar. Even if he is, maybe he'll reveal at least something true. "How did you meet my brother?"

"That… That's a long story." Bryce glances down at Roman for a moment before meeting Archer's eyes again. He sounds calm, and that irks Archer more than a little. "And it's not all mine to tell." At that, Bryce looks back down to Roman, like he's trying to communicate something through the look.

What does he want Roman to say? The truth? Archer would appreciate the truth, but he doubts that's what's being communicated. A secondary lie then? Something Bryce hopes will be more convincing than a farm accident? God, Archer would already be fucked if he wasn't so familiar with what Roman sounds like when he's lying. He doubts there's any lie Roman could tell that would change that subtle alteration of tone in his voice when he lies. At least Archer will know if it's another lie, no matter what bullshit is said next.

"You left me behind!" Roman turns on Archer, tone suddenly all but hostile. There's... tears glistening in Roman's eyes, unshed. Even before Archer left... when was the last time he had seen Roman cry, and it wasn't part of a facade? Not for years, he was sure. "You left me behind, so I had to figure things out for myself. Sorry if you don't like the way that ended up!"

Archer doesn't need to read the tone of Roman's voice to know that's the truth. The accusation burns in his chest and makes his stomach twist. After a second, he becomes aware of the wide-eyed, half-stricken expression on his face and fixes it, setting his jaw.

"Okay. That's the truth." He takes a small step closer to Roman again, crouching down to be on Roman's level again. "Will you continue that and tell me what that means?"

They don't need to dwell on what happened in the past right now. Archer doesn't want to relive that regret again right now. He wants to know what happened to put his brother in a wheelchair.

"Why do you even care? God, you never let anything go! Maybe I just don't want to talk to you about it!" Roman is shaking now, like he did when he first realised it was Archer behind the counter. There's something that doesn't feel right in his words, though— not so much a flat-out lie that's clearly being told as it is a sense of falseness.

"Roman, you're in a goddamn wheelchair!" Archer throws his hands up in frustrated exasperation. "Last time I saw you, you were fine! Look, I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind— I really am— but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you." And he does— he really does care about Roman. "Please, for the love of god, don't try to sell me that story about working on a farm. Who the hell is this guy, and how do you know him? Did he do this to you? Does he know how this happened?"

So what if the guy knows Archer thinks he did this to Roman? They're in a public place— the walls are glass for fucks' sake— and there are cameras. He doesn't care anymore that he's being horribly obvious. Why won't Roman just tell him what the hell is going on?

"No, he didn't do this to me!" Roman insists, and it sounds like the truth. "And of course he knows how it happened. I told you there was an accident!"

Archer can't tell if Bryce actually knows how it happened or not— not when Roman keeps trying to reinforce the lie that Archer already blatantly doesn't buy. "Oh my god, stop it with the accident shit! Okay, he didn't do this to you, but you were fine when I left you. Someone caused... all of this. Tell me what really happened!" If Roman would just cut it out with the lie he's already failed at telling, maybe there would be new information to glean.

"Physically," a heavy voice interrupts. Both Archer and Roman turn to look at Bryce, Archer in a state of mild confusion. "Physically, he was fine."

Archer's mouth hangs half open for a moment as a dozen different iterations of 'excuse me?' and 'what the fuck did you just say to me?' ping in his thoughts, knocking into each other before any of them can actually make it to his mouth to say.

Bryce takes a quick breath and, when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, urgent, and sincere. "Archer, Roman's trying to protect you."

Some of the incredulity evaporates, replaced by confusion and an increase in concern that Archer tries to conceal. "Protect me? From what? He's my little brother. He doesn't have to protect me." He stops there, a little spike in his chest warning him not to go further; he would be admitting that it was his job to protect Roman. Something he completely failed at, obviously. He finds... he can't say it.

"Can we sit down, please? And then we can talk about what happened." Bryce is still calm. Too calm. The contrast with the frustration and concern bordering on outright fear rolling in Archer's own chest is a potent irritant. Why is he calm?

Archer glances down at Roman again, his gaze lingering longer than he meant for it to. Roman is pale. So, so pale. He's shaking still, too. Archer glances back at Bryce, then at Roman one more time.

Bryce is calm because Roman is clearly panicking.

Archer isn't sure what conclusions that should lead him to draw. That maybe Bryce cares at least somewhat about Roman? That he sees this as a risk and is trying to bring the energy down so that Roman can calm down and maintain the lies he's been spewing since they came in?

In the end, it doesn't matter. Archer takes a breath, forcing himself to calm down despite his impulse to continue yelling. He isn't helping Roman at all by freaking out— and that's what he wants, really. He wants to know what happened to Roman and how he can help him.

"Yeah, okay. Let's sit down."

They sit together at one of the little wooden tables, and Bryce speaks again, calm cracking into concern, despite an obvious attempt to maintain it. "Roman, do you want to tell Archer what happened?"

Roman takes a slow, deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, before answering with reluctance. "... Yeah... Yeah, I... I don't think there's really any other option."

Seeing the two of them interact suddenly feels... strange. They've both been talking to Archer, so far, not each other, and there's far too much familiarity and comfortability in the way they speak to one another. Like they're friends, almost. At the very least, they are far too relaxed with each other

Bryce takes a deep breath and nods. "Do you want to start?"

"Yeah... I... I guess I probably should..." Roman takes another deep breath and directs his eyes down to a spot on the table, rather than looking at either of the people sitting with him. Archer is determined to watch him, though.

"After you left home," Roman starts, "things... ah... I don't think it's right to say they got worse, because I think there were just... less people for mom to take her anger out on..." He seems to think for a moment as guilt begins to settle into Archer's chest. He didn't realise they would be starting this far back. "No, they did get worse when you left. Mom... I don't think she ever really believed that I didn't know where you had gone... She was particularly angry that I wouldn't tell her where you were— especially for the first few months and then... I think again, right before I turned 18."

And Archer's resolve to keep his eyes on Roman crumbles. Faced with the overwhelming fullness of the guilt he's carried for nearly seven years, he finds himself suddenly seeing what Roman finds so interesting about the wood grain of the table.

It's not that Archer wanted to leave Roman behind or didn't want to take him along. It's not that he didn't want Roman to know where he was going, either. If he was going to leave— which he had to do— he already knew their mother would look for him. It was hard enough to erase himself. He could only imagine how impossible it would have been to erase Roman, too. Kidnapping his kid brother would have done little but put him on a wanted list, which would only help his mother find them both. It's one thing to erase yourself from civilian view— a completely other thing to erase yourself from law enforcement. He couldn't tell Roman where he was going, either. Not when he knew the pressure he would be under from their mother to tell.

"She, uh, started locking a lot more things," Roman continues. "All the windows got locks on them after you left. I wasn't ever planning to run off without saying anything, but... I think she thought I was at one point. Eventually, she started locking my door from the outside so I couldn't disappear overnight. I learned how to pick the locks on the windows and the cabinets myself after you left, since you weren't there to open them for us anymore."

God, Archer should have at least taught Roman that before he left. Roman shouldn't have had to learn that on his own... And she was locking him into his room at night..? What the hell was wrong with that woman... How do you hate your own kids so damn much...

"I uh... I ended up staying with mom and dad until I was 20. I-I could have left sooner, but..." Roman clears his throat a little and switches gears from whatever he had almost said. "After I finally did leave, I cut off contact with them and everyone else from our town. None of them were really my friends, and they all still had ties to mom and dad, and... I just didn't want to deal with that anymore. I got an apartment, and for a couple of months, it was good."

But... then it wasn't? That was around the time Archer had lost track of him. He had been able to keep at least some sort of eye on him while Roman was still living at home. After he left, though, it was like he dropped off the map completely. Archer raises his eyes to see Roman's face again, a little bit of the guilt receding behind the walls he's so carefully built. Whatever happened to him next, it wasn't Archer's fault.

Well... it likely wouldn't have happened if Archer had stayed, which makes it his fault in a way, but it's a danger he couldn't possibly have realised, so the guilt about whatever may have transpired next doesn't quite eat him alive.

Roman's voice trembles, and Archer can tell he's trying to repress it. "I... met this person who told me their name was J, while I was living by myself and trying to make friends. W-we... we just kind of clicked really well at first, I guess, and I didn't really think it was weird when they invited me over to their house." Roman's hands slide off the table and disappear into his lap. "Except, I didn't end up leaving their house again. Not for a long, long time."

Roman glances up as Archer feels the color drain out of his face. Roman... was kidnapped? Roman was kidnapped. Roman was kidnapped. It doesn't matter how many times the sentence repeats in Archer's head; it's like he can't form any thoughts past it about the following implications. There are too many. It's too much to think about, and his mind won't let him wander to any place it doesn't have to— any place Roman doesn't take it directly.

Roman looks back down at the table. "They... th-they made tea, and we watched a movie or something, I think, but... ah... they put something in mine. I-I fell asleep in the middle of whatever it was we were doing, and when I woke up, I was in their basement, chained to a w-wall."

Roman is stuttering. He never used to do that before. Did he ever used to do that before?

"I-I kept... k-kept telling myself that I couldn't have po-possibly been down there for that long— th-that, because there were no windows or cl-clocks, my mind was p-playing tricks on me and stretching out the time..."

God, how long was he down there? This... this random guy tied him up in a basement for... weeks? Months? How the fuck did he get out? Archer is glad he got out, but how?

Roman shakes his head. "Th-they did a lot of things, while I was stuck down there... U-used a lot of di-different drugs to fuck with my head..."

Drugged. No clock. No windows. Roman is only 22 now— only 20 when he left home and when... when this happened. He couldn't have been there for more than two years at the absolute longest. ... He could have been stuck there for two entire years.

"As... as time passed, they got less careful... I don't know how long it was or how long I was still down there after, but... they left a needle where I could reach it one day and then, not too long after that, a flathead screwdriver... I-I picked the lock for the chain that was keeping me there and tri-tried to get out, but... i-it didn't... didn't go very well... I didn't know they were home still, at the time... Um... They dr-dragged me back down to the basement... and they broke my leg so I cou-couldn't try to run again..."

Archer feels ill. And dizzy. All of the blood that left his face earlier seems determined to remain wherever it went and never come back. That's why Roman is in a wheelchair with a cast? But... he didn't escape, so then how is there a cast? Archer shakes his head just a little to try and get his thoughts loose.

Roman didn't escape, but he isn't there anymore. He got out somehow, and the cast must have come after.

"E-everything just kind of... continued like it had been so far for... for I don't know how much longer, but... they pissed somebody off. Bryce and... a-another person... they showed up at the house while J was out one day, and Bryce got me out of the basement and took me with him."

So... Roman never escaped. Never got real help. He's still stuck. Whoever this... this J person is, they did something to piss off a group. Organised crime? And that's where Bryce is from?

As Roman looks up again, Bryce touches his shoulder, and Roman turns his way.

Again, the way the two of them interact seems entirely too comfortable— almost familial. Archer doesn't believe that Bryce hasn't hurt his brother, but he can easily imagine that whatever he's done has been less than whatever this J did to him. And clearly, Roman has since received medical attention of some kind. Somehow, a deluded sort of trust has obviously developed.

Archer should be angry. In the back of his mind, maybe he is, but all he can really feel at the moment is sick.

Forget any absolution of guilt he felt earlier. This is too big— too much for Archer to absolve himself from in any way. This is his fault. If he had stayed, none of this would have happened. If he had looked harder for Roman instead of assuming he disappeared intentionally, this would have ended sooner— ended at all! Because this hasn't even ended for Roman. His situation has just changed. Instead of being tortured in a basement, he's being kept as... as what? Just a captive? A pet? Archer's mouth tastes sour at the thought.

"Do you want to take a breath and keep going, or do you want me to take over?" Bryce asks Roman, interrupting Archer's racing thoughts.

Roman nods. "Yeah... yeah will you..?" Archer hears him try, and fail, to steady his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Bryce takes a deep breath and looks at Archer.

Archer's eyes turn almost unwillingly to watch Bryce as he continues the story. "Roman… came back to stay with me for a bit," Bryce stops. Shakes his head. "No. I took him with me. I— He'd already seen too much, and he wasn't in shape to— Anyway. He didn't trust me at all, of course."

But he certainly does now, Archer can see. Anyone with eyes can see! Why? What in hell could possibly have Roman trusting this guy?

"And… One day, while I was out, Roman tried to escape."

And failed, clearly, again. Fuck... that had to have been awful. To try twice to get out and to fail both times. To think you have a chance only to find out, brutally, that you never did.

"I wasn't there. I didn't get there in time to stop them. Just in time to get a medic involved."

Roman shrinks, and Archer feels his stomach twist with a fresh wave of nausea.

"That was in July. There— A lot has happened since then, but I think that's what you were asking about."

It does explain why his brother is in a wheelchair. It explains how he ended up with Bryce. Still, it doesn't feel complete. It doesn't feel like enough.

Bryce takes a breath. "We trust each other now, and—"

"I'm sorry, you trust each other?" Archer interrupts, incredulous at the audacity. Clearly, Roman appears to trust Bryce for some fucked up reason, but each other? "From where I'm sitting, it looks like my brother doesn't have any choice except to 'trust' you, and you have no reason to need to trust him!" Archer still feels ill, but he absolutely refuses to let his voice waver.

"Archer, just stop." Roman raises a hand from his lap and presses it to his face. "I understand how you're getting there, but you're wrong. I do trust him, and not because I don't have another choice. If I didn't trust him, I still don't believe that he'd be a danger to me."

Archer finds himself all speechless for a moment. It doesn't sound like Roman is lying, so that means that he really believes that what he's saying is true. Is this Stockholm syndrome? How the hell is he supposed to fix this?

"He's the first person in the last two years— no. In the last seven— to treat me like he actually cares what happens to me."

Archer becomes suddenly and painfully aware that Roman is watching him. He takes a slow breath, trying to put his thoughts in order as he forces his face to remain neutral. "... That... isn't right."

It's wrong. It's wrong— it's so wrong. It shouldn't be that way. Roman shouldn't feel like that because there's no way in hell that Bryce actually cares. And Archer has cared. If he had even an inkling of an idea of what Roman had been going through, Archer would have torn the entire goddamn city apart looking for him.

But he didn't know, and he didn't look hard enough. He didn't know...

"You don't have any reason to believe me," Bryce says, and Archer realises they've all been silent for several moments. "But I do trust Roman. He has enough information, and the tools to use it, to ruin me, even get me killed."

Yeah right... The voice in Archer's head scoffs. Even if Roman has been led to believe that, there's no way it's true. ... Right?

Bryce's gentles as he turns to Roman. "Would a drink help the headache? Or food?"

Oh, right. What did they even come here for, anyway? For... coffee..? Archer has never really known Roman to be a coffee drinker, but that might have changed. He was only 15 before, after all. Did they come here to eat?

"I think... if I try to eat anything, I'm going to be sick. W-water might help, though..."

Archer is halfway up from the table before Roman can even finish talking. He's failed so many times in the past— neglected things he should have done. Even now, there seems to be little he can do to help, but he can at least do this. "Hang on." Archer steps over to the front doors of the cafe and locks them. No one needs to come in and interrupt them right now. He ducks behind the counter and returns a moment later with a glass of water.

"Thank you..." Roman accepts the cup with a shaking hand and takes a small drink before setting it back down on the table. It doesn't look like it helps much.

For another several moments, it seems that none of the three of them knows what to say.

Archer can't take the silence after a while. "What can I do to help you?" And there has to be something. There has to be, because Archer simply cannot sit and do nothing. He'll implode.

Roman looks to Bryce at the question. Archer doesn't want Bryce's answer; he wants Roman's, damn it. Still, his attention snaps to Bryce as he responds.

"We…" Bryce seems to be thinking as he glances at Roman. "For now, you need to stay safe. After… When I've stopped…the problem in the organisation….Then it will be safe to— To do…Whatever."

That is completely absurd. "You want me to just pretend like none of this happened?" Archer asks, incredulous, then turns to Roman. "You want me to just pretend I still have no idea where you are? That I don't know that you're in active danger?"

"Yes." Roman sounds like the word is a struggle. Archer can't tell if it's because that isn't really what he wants or because it is what he wants and he knows Archer won't listen.

"I can't do that! I can't just act like everything is fine— Roman, that's insane!" Even if it's dangerous to get involved, it barely matters. There has to be something Archer can do to even begin to make up for everything he walked away from— everything he let happen to his little brother.

"It can't possibly be harder for you than the last two years have been for me!" Roman snaps.

Archer freezes up a little at that. Roman... Roman actually wants him to walk away and pretend he doesn't know. Unfortunately, if he thinks about it, Archer is pretty sure the only thing harder to do than endure what Roman has been forced to go through would be to willingly choose to endure it. Choosing to ignore it feels shockingly similar. It's impossible.

"He really is trying to keep you safe," Bryce tries, like that's going to make anything better. "There's— Some of the people I'm up against are kidnappers. Human traffickers."

"What the fuck??" There are more? Are they all being treated like Roman has and is? Worse? "The chances of any of this happening to a person have to be astronomically low! You're telling me there's multiple people this is happening to? Recently? In this area? Are the police not doing anything? Haven't they noticed?? I mean, fuck the police, but you'd think they'd at least notice multiple people going missing!"

"No," Bryce says firmly and, for a moment, Archer feels just an ounce of relief. "Not around here. The point isn't that they might grab you accidentally, the point is that if they knew about you, you'd be a target."

Ah... Archer takes a breath and a moment to try to calm himself back down. Maybe he's being irrational. He's probably being irrational. Maybe the implication is still that getting involved would put anyone at risk, but something about the way Bryce said it just now makes it sound almost like Archer specifically would be in danger because of his relation to Roman...

Still...

"Okay, look, I understand. I understand that being involved puts me in danger, but I also understand that my brother is sitting in front of me in a wheelchair." Archer takes another breath, recognising the distressed pitch starting to creep back into his tone and making himself lower his voice again.

"Roman..." Archer rests a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder and tries not to let the way Roman flinches get to him. He didn't seem to do that when Bryce put a hand on his shoulder... "I am so, so sorry, but I can't just let this go. I will not let this go."

"What does that mean?" Bryce asks, and to Archer, he sounds accusing. "You won't let this go, you'll get yourself hurt, maybe killed, and how will that help Roman?"

It doesn't matter. He is being irrational, but it doesn't matter. There isn't an acceptable, rational way to handle this. "If there is a less dangerous way that I can help, then please, tell me. I would very much like not to die, but I've... I've already made too many mistakes. I'm not walking away again. And I'm not an idiot. I can take care of myself pretty damn well."

"The hell you can," Bryce snaps. "Look—"

"You don't know me." Archer interrupts with a sharp glare. "I don't have a gun on me today, but you can bet I sure as hell will after this." Maybe Bryce thinks he can judge Archer based on what he thinks he knows of Roman, but he couldn't be more wrong. "Even if you think you know Roman, we are very different people."

And even if Roman has Bryce convinced that he knows him, Archer knows better. Roman is a survivor, and he always has been. The way he survives is by lying; it always has been. If Archer could lie half as well, maybe their lives would have been easier, but that's just not who Archer is. Roman, though... Archer doesn't doubt that Bryce thinks he knows a lot about Roman. He also doesn't doubt that most of it is wrong.

"I know he can use a gun," Bryce says, and Archer hides his surprise that Roman told him that. "And I know that carrying one will put you in more danger."

"I disagree with you." Arches counters, voice calm.

"You—" Bryce clenches the fist of his free hand. "If they come for you and you're not a threat, they will take you. If you're armed, they will take you out. If you get shots off, they will take their time."

Unfortunately, that makes sense. Fine, no gun, then. It would look suspicious for him to start carrying regularly again anyway.

Bryce takes a breath, and his voice is calmer as he continues. "Look, I understand that you want to help. I understand that you're worried we'll walk out this door and you'll never see him again. You could stay in contact, just not…Not in person. Not yet," he offers.

That's not what Archer wants, but the longer this conversation goes on, the more certain he is that he isn't going to get what he wants.

"How?" Archer asks, voice still the same careful calm.

"Phone. Email, although that will be harder to cover up." Bryce throws out the name of a secure messaging app Archer has never heard of, too. "If we get your info, there are ways we can contact you that won't be traceable to anyone who's spying on me."

If they get his info. So he won't really have any way to contact them, only a hope that they might contact him. That is far, far from what Archer wants.

Still, it looks like that might be all he can get.

If he never hears from them, he'll just have to fall back on his worst option— investigate things on his own.

Archer digs a small notepad out of his pocket after weighing his options and finding all of them terrible. He scribbles down his number and passes the sheet across the table to Bryce.

"This is my number. Is that app you mentioned something I can sign up with my own number, or should I download it now so I can give you whatever the number it picks is?"

"I can show you how to set it up," Bryce offers, putting the folded paper with Archer's number in his pocket.

Setting up the app is irritating, but Archer can't be certain if it's because he's still pissed about things going so badly or because the process is actually terrible.

"This will alert that you have a message, but won't show it to you until you open the app, and enter the passcode you set up," Bryce tells Archer once everything is set up. "If you enter 0000 instead, it shows a spam message. Either way, it will be deleted five minutes after you read it."

That’s good. The last thing Archer needs is anyone else getting involved with this shit-show. Or anyone on Bryce and Roman’s end of things finding out that he’s involved.

Bryce turns to Roman, his voice becoming unreasonably gentle, radiating what sounds like almost genuine concern. "K— Roman? Can you handle a little more water?"

Roman picks his head up. He looks so pale as he takes another drink before putting his head back down...

"... Roman?" Archer's voice is careful as he pushes his chair back and crouches next to Roman, moving his hand to his brother's back. "I..." He pauses, Unsure how to put his thoughts into words that will maybe provide some sort of comfort instead of just sounding like excuses...

Roman turns his head to look at Archer, and he looks like hell... The last time they saw each other, Roman had worn a similarly desperately sad look to the one that's in his eyes now, but that was never typical... Archer had hoped he would never have to see it again on his brother's face. As it is, the look is punctuated badly by the deep bags under Roman's eyes and the harsh scar across the side of his mouth.

"Roman, I did look for you." Archer finally says. "I... you know Luke didn't leave with the rest of us that took off. He kept me in the loop about... about things he could see. That you were still with mom and dad. That you... well... that things didn't look on the outside like they had changed much."

Not that Archer had expected things to visibly change. If they had, he wouldn't have known what to do. It wasn't that he thought everything stayed the same, just that... Roman has always been a survivor. Archer had convinced himself when he left that, so long as things didn't get so bad that they were visible to the outside world, Roman could handle it. It was an ill-advised conclusion, but hindsight is 20/20, and he was an idiot 18-year-old...

"He told me when you left, and I tried to track you down after that, but I couldn't find you, and I just... I thought maybe you hated me. Maybe you didn't want me to find you." It would have been understandable. Reasonable. God, with everything that ended up happening to Roman, he has every right to hate Archer.

"I didn't hate you. I don't hate you." Roman blurts out.

"Yeah, well... you probably should... None of this would have happened if..." Archer shakes his head. It would make more sense for Roman to hate him than not. Hell, it would probably be healthier...

Archer makes himself continue. "I love you, and I know you aren't safe, but are you at least okay? Do you really trust this guy?" He nods a vague acknowledgement in Bryce's direction. "He hasn't hurt you?"

"I do trust him. And no, he hasn't hurt me." Roman manages, voice still weak.

It doesn't sound like Roman is lying… Archer isn't happy, but that's at least closer to okay than he had initially thought when Bryce came in. "Okay... as long as that's at least true..." Archer looks back in Bryce's direction again. "If there is anything I can do to actually help, I want to know." Even if Roman wants him unequivocally uninvolved, maybe Bryce would let him help at risk to his own safety if it meant making things easier for him.

Bryce nods. "We'll be in touch."

Archer doesn't have any other choice but to hope that's true...

"Roman?" Bryce turns his attention.

"What?" Roman sounds so drained...

"Do you want me to step away to a different table for a bit? Or do you want to…head out? Eat?"

"No— don't leave me here—" Roman answers quickly, picking his head up from the table in alarm.

Archer feels a little sick at the sudden, alarming display of attachment. Don't leave me here? At a table alone with his brother..?

It sounds like Roman is forcing his voice to be calmer as he continues. "I-I just want to go. I want to leave."

Maybe Archer has severely misjudged the situation... He isn't sure how or in what way he may have been wrong, but this doesn't feel right at all.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, we can go." Bryce soothes.

A tugging realisation finally pulls to the front of Archer's mind at the thought of the two of them leaving. Something Roman needs to know. Something Archer should have thought of sooner, damn it. "Ah, actually, there's one more thing you should probably know." Because if Archer gets involved, he isn't going to be putting just himself in harm's way...

Roman turns his head to look at Archer again as his brother stands up.

"You remember Finley, yeah?" Finley, who also works at this damn coffee shop now. Finley, who will probably be here in the next half hour.

Roman gives a little nod, and Archer continues. "She's in the area, too. She actually works here, too. Just... in case you run into her somehow. So you don't... have to go through the shock of it all again..."

He should tell Roman that he and Finley are engaged... Would like to invite Roman to the wedding, even though there isn't really a date set yet. He can't do that, though. It's not the time. It's not appropriate in the context of everything that's just happened.

It is by no means a time to celebrate that, but... it still feels wrong not to tell him. Like he's keeping a secret...

"That's... o-okay... Thanks for the heads up..."

It doesn't sound like it's okay, but there isn't really anything Archer can do to change the fact...

Archer walks with them to the door and unlocks it, holding it for them.

When Roman and Bryce have gotten into the truck in the parking lot and pulled out into the street, Archer releases a heavy breath, sitting back down at a table and putting his face in his hands.

'Bryce' looks like a bigger bad than Archer has ever personally met before. To a degree, all criminals have similar tics and habits— the way this guy looked at Archer initially definitely felt like he was sizing him up. In Archer's own wary analysis, he's pretty sure that shape under the man's jacket looks alarmingly like a gun. Anyone can carry a gun or size someone up, though. This guy gives the distinct impression that he is a very real threat.

"Bryce, this is... this is my brother, Archer," Roman says, sounding like it's a struggle to get the words out. "Archer, this is Bryce. I— he— I'm living... with him right now." And his brother's voice shakes a little bit with... anxiety? Why?

Archer doesn't bother to hide his concern and confusion at the rapidly developing situation. "Why? Who is he?" Is he the reason you're in a wheelchair?

"I'm working for him. On a farm," Roman says, and his voice stabilises into a tone Archer is all too familiar with. "Well— I mean obviously not really at the moment."

He's lying. Archer has heard his brother lie a million times before. He's a damn good liar, too— able to convince their mom that they had been there all night when they were nearly caught for sneaking out, provide reasonable explanations for how 'contraband' got into the house, and gloss over missing food from the pantry. He was always good at persuading others that nothing was happening at home, too... although perhaps things would have been better for them if he hadn't.

Through all of that, Roman had never lied to Archer, though. Not about anything that had ever mattered. His eyes narrow now reflexively. "Alright, how'd you end up in a wheelchair and a cast?"

Maybe he'll back out of the lie. Roman had never been known to back out of a lie before, but he'd also never been known to lie to Archer before. Except there's that same, unfortunately familiar quality in Roman's voice as he speaks again, just to tell another lie.

"There was an accident with some equipment not long after I started."

Well shit. How is Archer supposed to address this? It has to be because of this guy who just came in with Roman, right? What's his name? Bruce or Bryce or something? Bryce. It was Bryce, he's fairly certain.

He's gotta say something. Just... call him out for lying? Would that be dangerous? If he lets this guy—Bryce—know that he knows his brother is lying, will that cause an altercation? Archer doesn't know what else he could possibly say, though. "... Why are you lying to me?"

Maybe it's his imagination, but Archer swears he sees Roman pale just a shade.

"What? I am not!" Roman protests with a healthy measure each of incredulity and indignation. Has he ever even been called out so explicitly? Archer can't think of a time. "There was an accident with the equipment when I started, and I'm in recovery right now. Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know," Archer says, looking from Roman to Bryce, and back again, voice slow as he tries to think of an explanation— anything other than the obvious, very, very bad explanation for Roman's lying. "I don't know why you're lying about that, and that's what scares me."

Well, if Roman won't tell the truth of it, there's only one other person here who might know it. Maybe Bryce isn't so good a liar. Even if he is, maybe he'll reveal at least something true. "How did you meet my brother?"

"That… That's a long story." Bryce glances down at Roman for a moment before meeting Archer's eyes again. He sounds calm, and that irks Archer more than a little. "And it's not all mine to tell." At that, Bryce looks back down to Roman, like he's trying to communicate something through the look.

What does he want Roman to say? The truth? Archer would appreciate the truth, but he doubts that's what's being communicated. A secondary lie then? Something Bryce hopes will be more convincing than a farm accident? God, Archer would already be fucked if he wasn't so familiar with what Roman sounds like when he's lying. He doubts there's any lie Roman could tell that would change that subtle alteration of tone in his voice when he lies. At least Archer will know if it's another lie, no matter what bullshit is said next.

"You left me behind!" Roman turns on Archer, tone suddenly all but hostile. There's... tears glistening in Roman's eyes, unshed. Even before Archer left... when was the last time he had seen Roman cry, and it wasn't part of a facade? Not for years, he was sure. "You left me behind, so I had to figure things out for myself. Sorry if you don't like the way that ended up!"

Archer doesn't need to read the tone of Roman's voice to know that's the truth. The accusation burns in his chest and makes his stomach twist. After a second, he becomes aware of the wide-eyed, half-stricken expression on his face and fixes it, setting his jaw.

"Okay. That's the truth." He takes a small step closer to Roman again, crouching down to be on Roman's level again. "Will you continue that and tell me what that means?"

They don't need to dwell on what happened in the past right now. Archer doesn't want to relive that regret again right now. He wants to know what happened to put his brother in a wheelchair.

"Why do you even care? God, you never let anything go! Maybe I just don't want to talk to you about it!" Roman is shaking now, like he did when he first realised it was Archer behind the counter. There's something that doesn't feel right in his words, though— not so much a flat-out lie that's clearly being told as it is a sense of falseness.

"Roman, you're in a goddamn wheelchair!" Archer throws his hands up in frustrated exasperation. "Last time I saw you, you were fine! Look, I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind— I really am— but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you." And he does— he really does care about Roman. "Please, for the love of god, don't try to sell me that story about working on a farm. Who the hell is this guy, and how do you know him? Did he do this to you? Does he know how this happened?"

So what if the guy knows Archer thinks he did this to Roman? They're in a public place— the walls are glass for fucks' sake— and there are cameras. He doesn't care anymore that he's being horribly obvious. Why won't Roman just tell him what the hell is going on?

"No, he didn't do this to me!" Roman insists, and it sounds like the truth. "And of course he knows how it happened. I told you there was an accident!"

Archer can't tell if Bryce actually knows how it happened or not— not when Roman keeps trying to reinforce the lie that Archer already blatantly doesn't buy. "Oh my god, stop it with the accident shit! Okay, he didn't do this to you, but you were fine when I left you. Someone caused... all of this. Tell me what really happened!" If Roman would just cut it out with the lie he's already failed at telling, maybe there would be new information to glean.

"Physically," a heavy voice interrupts. Both Archer and Roman turn to look at Bryce, Archer in a state of mild confusion. "Physically, he was fine."

Archer's mouth hangs half open for a moment as a dozen different iterations of 'excuse me?' and 'what the fuck did you just say to me?' ping in his thoughts, knocking into each other before any of them can actually make it to his mouth to say.

Bryce takes a quick breath and, when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, urgent, and sincere. "Archer, Roman's trying to protect you."

Some of the incredulity evaporates, replaced by confusion and an increase in concern that Archer tries to conceal. "Protect me? From what? He's my little brother. He doesn't have to protect me." He stops there, a little spike in his chest warning him not to go further; he would be admitting that it was his job to protect Roman. Something he completely failed at, obviously. He finds... he can't say it.

"Can we sit down, please? And then we can talk about what happened." Bryce is still calm. Too calm. The contrast with the frustration and concern bordering on outright fear rolling in Archer's own chest is a potent irritant. Why is he calm?

Archer glances down at Roman again, his gaze lingering longer than he meant for it to. Roman is pale. So, so pale. He's shaking still, too. Archer glances back at Bryce, then at Roman one more time.

Bryce is calm because Roman is clearly panicking.

Archer isn't sure what conclusions that should lead him to draw. That maybe Bryce cares at least somewhat about Roman? That he sees this as a risk and is trying to bring the energy down so that Roman can calm down and maintain the lies he's been spewing since they came in?

In the end, it doesn't matter. Archer takes a breath, forcing himself to calm down despite his impulse to continue yelling. He isn't helping Roman at all by freaking out— and that's what he wants, really. He wants to know what happened to Roman and how he can help him.

"Yeah, okay. Let's sit down."

They sit together at one of the little wooden tables, and Bryce speaks again, calm cracking into concern, despite an obvious attempt to maintain it. "Roman, do you want to tell Archer what happened?"

Roman takes a slow, deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, before answering with reluctance. "... Yeah... Yeah, I... I don't think there's really any other option."

Seeing the two of them interact suddenly feels... strange. They've both been talking to Archer, so far, not each other, and there's far too much familiarity and comfortability in the way they speak to one another. Like they're friends, almost. At the very least, they are far too relaxed with each other

Bryce takes a deep breath and nods. "Do you want to start?"

"Yeah... I... I guess I probably should..." Roman takes another deep breath and directs his eyes down to a spot on the table, rather than looking at either of the people sitting with him. Archer is determined to watch him, though.

"After you left home," Roman starts, "things... ah... I don't think it's right to say they got worse, because I think there were just... less people for mom to take her anger out on..." He seems to think for a moment as guilt begins to settle into Archer's chest. He didn't realise they would be starting this far back. "No, they did get worse when you left. Mom... I don't think she ever really believed that I didn't know where you had gone... She was particularly angry that I wouldn't tell her where you were— especially for the first few months and then... I think again, right before I turned 18."

And Archer's resolve to keep his eyes on Roman crumbles. Faced with the overwhelming fullness of the guilt he's carried for nearly seven years, he finds himself suddenly seeing what Roman finds so interesting about the wood grain of the table.

It's not that Archer wanted to leave Roman behind or didn't want to take him along. It's not that he didn't want Roman to know where he was going, either. If he was going to leave— which he had to do— he already knew their mother would look for him. It was hard enough to erase himself. He could only imagine how impossible it would have been to erase Roman, too. Kidnapping his kid brother would have done little but put him on a wanted list, which would only help his mother find them both. It's one thing to erase yourself from civilian view— a completely other thing to erase yourself from law enforcement. He couldn't tell Roman where he was going, either. Not when he knew the pressure he would be under from their mother to tell.

"She, uh, started locking a lot more things," Roman continues. "All the windows got locks on them after you left. I wasn't ever planning to run off without saying anything, but... I think she thought I was at one point. Eventually, she started locking my door from the outside so I couldn't disappear overnight. I learned how to pick the locks on the windows and the cabinets myself after you left, since you weren't there to open them for us anymore."

God, Archer should have at least taught Roman that before he left. Roman shouldn't have had to learn that on his own... And she was locking him into his room at night..? What the hell was wrong with that woman... How do you hate your own kids so damn much...

"I uh... I ended up staying with mom and dad until I was 20. I-I could have left sooner, but..." Roman clears his throat a little and switches gears from whatever he had almost said. "After I finally did leave, I cut off contact with them and everyone else from our town. None of them were really my friends, and they all still had ties to mom and dad, and... I just didn't want to deal with that anymore. I got an apartment, and for a couple of months, it was good."

But... then it wasn't? That was around the time Archer had lost track of him. He had been able to keep at least some sort of eye on him while Roman was still living at home. After he left, though, it was like he dropped off the map completely. Archer raises his eyes to see Roman's face again, a little bit of the guilt receding behind the walls he's so carefully built. Whatever happened to him next, it wasn't Archer's fault.

Well... it likely wouldn't have happened if Archer had stayed, which makes it his fault in a way, but it's a danger he couldn't possibly have realised, so the guilt about whatever may have transpired next doesn't quite eat him alive.

Roman's voice trembles, and Archer can tell he's trying to repress it. "I... met this person who told me their name was J, while I was living by myself and trying to make friends. W-we... we just kind of clicked really well at first, I guess, and I didn't really think it was weird when they invited me over to their house." Roman's hands slide off the table and disappear into his lap. "Except, I didn't end up leaving their house again. Not for a long, long time."

Roman glances up as Archer feels the color drain out of his face. Roman... was kidnapped? Roman was kidnapped. Roman was kidnapped. It doesn't matter how many times the sentence repeats in Archer's head; it's like he can't form any thoughts past it about the following implications. There are too many. It's too much to think about, and his mind won't let him wander to any place it doesn't have to— any place Roman doesn't take it directly.

Roman looks back down at the table. "They... th-they made tea, and we watched a movie or something, I think, but... ah... they put something in mine. I-I fell asleep in the middle of whatever it was we were doing, and when I woke up, I was in their basement, chained to a w-wall."

Roman is stuttering. He never used to do that before. Did he ever used to do that before?

"I-I kept... k-kept telling myself that I couldn't have po-possibly been down there for that long— th-that, because there were no windows or cl-clocks, my mind was p-playing tricks on me and stretching out the time..."

God, how long was he down there? This... this random guy tied him up in a basement for... weeks? Months? How the fuck did he get out? Archer is glad he got out, but how?

Roman shakes his head. "Th-they did a lot of things, while I was stuck down there... U-used a lot of di-different drugs to fuck with my head..."

Drugged. No clock. No windows. Roman is only 22 now— only 20 when he left home and when... when this happened. He couldn't have been there for more than two years at the absolute longest. ... He could have been stuck there for two entire years.

"As... as time passed, they got less careful... I don't know how long it was or how long I was still down there after, but... they left a needle where I could reach it one day and then, not too long after that, a flathead screwdriver... I-I picked the lock for the chain that was keeping me there and tri-tried to get out, but... i-it didn't... didn't go very well... I didn't know they were home still, at the time... Um... They dr-dragged me back down to the basement... and they broke my leg so I cou-couldn't try to run again..."

Archer feels ill. And dizzy. All of the blood that left his face earlier seems determined to remain wherever it went and never come back. That's why Roman is in a wheelchair with a cast? But... he didn't escape, so then how is there a cast? Archer shakes his head just a little to try and get his thoughts loose.

Roman didn't escape, but he isn't there anymore. He got out somehow, and the cast must have come after.

"E-everything just kind of... continued like it had been so far for... for I don't know how much longer, but... they pissed somebody off. Bryce and... a-another person... they showed up at the house while J was out one day, and Bryce got me out of the basement and took me with him."

So... Roman never escaped. Never got real help. He's still stuck. Whoever this... this J person is, they did something to piss off a group. Organised crime? And that's where Bryce is from?

As Roman looks up again, Bryce touches his shoulder, and Roman turns his way.

Again, the way the two of them interact seems entirely too comfortable— almost familial. Archer doesn't believe that Bryce hasn't hurt his brother, but he can easily imagine that whatever he's done has been less than whatever this J did to him. And clearly, Roman has since received medical attention of some kind. Somehow, a deluded sort of trust has obviously developed.

Archer should be angry. In the back of his mind, maybe he is, but all he can really feel at the moment is sick.

Forget any absolution of guilt he felt earlier. This is too big— too much for Archer to absolve himself from in any way. This is his fault. If he had stayed, none of this would have happened. If he had looked harder for Roman instead of assuming he disappeared intentionally, this would have ended sooner— ended at all! Because this hasn't even ended for Roman. His situation has just changed. Instead of being tortured in a basement, he's being kept as... as what? Just a captive? A pet? Archer's mouth tastes sour at the thought.

"Do you want to take a breath and keep going, or do you want me to take over?" Bryce asks Roman, interrupting Archer's racing thoughts.

Roman nods. "Yeah... yeah will you..?" Archer hears him try, and fail, to steady his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Bryce takes a deep breath and looks at Archer.

Archer's eyes turn almost unwillingly to watch Bryce as he continues the story. "Roman… came back to stay with me for a bit," Bryce stops. Shakes his head. "No. I took him with me. I— He'd already seen too much, and he wasn't in shape to— Anyway. He didn't trust me at all, of course."

But he certainly does now, Archer can see. Anyone with eyes can see! Why? What in hell could possibly have Roman trusting this guy?

"And… One day, while I was out, Roman tried to escape."

And failed, clearly, again. Fuck... that had to have been awful. To try twice to get out and to fail both times. To think you have a chance only to find out, brutally, that you never did.

"I wasn't there. I didn't get there in time to stop them. Just in time to get a medic involved."

Roman shrinks, and Archer feels his stomach twist with a fresh wave of nausea.

"That was in July. There— A lot has happened since then, but I think that's what you were asking about."

It does explain why his brother is in a wheelchair. It explains how he ended up with Bryce. Still, it doesn't feel complete. It doesn't feel like enough.

Bryce takes a breath. "We trust each other now, and—"

"I'm sorry, you trust each other?" Archer interrupts, incredulous at the audacity. Clearly, Roman appears to trust Bryce for some fucked up reason, but each other? "From where I'm sitting, it looks like my brother doesn't have any choice except to 'trust' you, and you have no reason to need to trust him!" Archer still feels ill, but he absolutely refuses to let his voice waver.

"Archer, just stop." Roman raises a hand from his lap and presses it to his face. "I understand how you're getting there, but you're wrong. I do trust him, and not because I don't have another choice. If I didn't trust him, I still don't believe that he'd be a danger to me."

Archer finds himself all speechless for a moment. It doesn't sound like Roman is lying, so that means that he really believes that what he's saying is true. Is this Stockholm syndrome? How the hell is he supposed to fix this?

"He's the first person in the last two years— no. In the last seven— to treat me like he actually cares what happens to me."

Archer becomes suddenly and painfully aware that Roman is watching him. He takes a slow breath, trying to put his thoughts in order as he forces his face to remain neutral. "... That... isn't right."

It's wrong. It's wrong— it's so wrong. It shouldn't be that way. Roman shouldn't feel like that because there's no way in hell that Bryce actually cares. And Archer has cared. If he had even an inkling of an idea of what Roman had been going through, Archer would have torn the entire goddamn city apart looking for him.

But he didn't know, and he didn't look hard enough. He didn't know...

"You don't have any reason to believe me," Bryce says, and Archer realises they've all been silent for several moments. "But I do trust Roman. He has enough information, and the tools to use it, to ruin me, even get me killed."

Yeah right... The voice in Archer's head scoffs. Even if Roman has been led to believe that, there's no way it's true. ... Right?

Bryce's gentles as he turns to Roman. "Would a drink help the headache? Or food?"

Oh, right. What did they even come here for, anyway? For... coffee..? Archer has never really known Roman to be a coffee drinker, but that might have changed. He was only 15 before, after all. Did they come here to eat?

"I think... if I try to eat anything, I'm going to be sick. W-water might help, though..."

Archer is halfway up from the table before Roman can even finish talking. He's failed so many times in the past— neglected things he should have done. Even now, there seems to be little he can do to help, but he can at least do this. "Hang on." Archer steps over to the front doors of the cafe and locks them. No one needs to come in and interrupt them right now. He ducks behind the counter and returns a moment later with a glass of water.

"Thank you..." Roman accepts the cup with a shaking hand and takes a small drink before setting it back down on the table. It doesn't look like it helps much.

For another several moments, it seems that none of the three of them knows what to say.

Archer can't take the silence after a while. "What can I do to help you?" And there has to be something. There has to be, because Archer simply cannot sit and do nothing. He'll implode.

Roman looks to Bryce at the question. Archer doesn't want Bryce's answer; he wants Roman's, damn it. Still, his attention snaps to Bryce as he responds.

"We…" Bryce seems to be thinking as he glances at Roman. "For now, you need to stay safe. After… When I've stopped…the problem in the organisation….Then it will be safe to— To do…Whatever."

That is completely absurd. "You want me to just pretend like none of this happened?" Archer asks, incredulous, then turns to Roman. "You want me to just pretend I still have no idea where you are? That I don't know that you're in active danger?"

"Yes." Roman sounds like the word is a struggle. Archer can't tell if it's because that isn't really what he wants or because it is what he wants and he knows Archer won't listen.

"I can't do that! I can't just act like everything is fine— Roman, that's insane!" Even if it's dangerous to get involved, it barely matters. There has to be something Archer can do to even begin to make up for everything he walked away from— everything he let happen to his little brother.

"It can't possibly be harder for you than the last two years have been for me!" Roman snaps.

Archer freezes up a little at that. Roman... Roman actually wants him to walk away and pretend he doesn't know. Unfortunately, if he thinks about it, Archer is pretty sure the only thing harder to do than endure what Roman has been forced to go through would be to willingly choose to endure it. Choosing to ignore it feels shockingly similar. It's impossible.

"He really is trying to keep you safe," Bryce tries, like that's going to make anything better. "There's— Some of the people I'm up against are kidnappers. Human traffickers."

"What the fuck??" There are more? Are they all being treated like Roman has and is? Worse? "The chances of any of this happening to a person have to be astronomically low! You're telling me there's multiple people this is happening to? Recently? In this area? Are the police not doing anything? Haven't they noticed?? I mean, fuck the police, but you'd think they'd at least notice multiple people going missing!"

"No," Bryce says firmly and, for a moment, Archer feels just an ounce of relief. "Not around here. The point isn't that they might grab you accidentally, the point is that if they knew about you, you'd be a target."

Ah... Archer takes a breath and a moment to try to calm himself back down. Maybe he's being irrational. He's probably being irrational. Maybe the implication is still that getting involved would put anyone at risk, but something about the way Bryce said it just now makes it sound almost like Archer specifically would be in danger because of his relation to Roman...

Still...

"Okay, look, I understand. I understand that being involved puts me in danger, but I also understand that my brother is sitting in front of me in a wheelchair." Archer takes another breath, recognising the distressed pitch starting to creep back into his tone and making himself lower his voice again.

"Roman..." Archer rests a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder and tries not to let the way Roman flinches get to him. He didn't seem to do that when Bryce put a hand on his shoulder... "I am so, so sorry, but I can't just let this go. I will not let this go."

"What does that mean?" Bryce asks, and to Archer, he sounds accusing. "You won't let this go, you'll get yourself hurt, maybe killed, and how will that help Roman?"

It doesn't matter. He is being irrational, but it doesn't matter. There isn't an acceptable, rational way to handle this. "If there is a less dangerous way that I can help, then please, tell me. I would very much like not to die, but I've... I've already made too many mistakes. I'm not walking away again. And I'm not an idiot. I can take care of myself pretty damn well."

"The hell you can," Bryce snaps. "Look—"

"You don't know me." Archer interrupts with a sharp glare. "I don't have a gun on me today, but you can bet I sure as hell will after this." Maybe Bryce thinks he can judge Archer based on what he thinks he knows of Roman, but he couldn't be more wrong. "Even if you think you know Roman, we are very different people."

And even if Roman has Bryce convinced that he knows him, Archer knows better. Roman is a survivor, and he always has been. The way he survives is by lying; it always has been. If Archer could lie half as well, maybe their lives would have been easier, but that's just not who Archer is. Roman, though... Archer doesn't doubt that Bryce thinks he knows a lot about Roman. He also doesn't doubt that most of it is wrong.

"I know he can use a gun," Bryce says, and Archer hides his surprise that Roman told him that. "And I know that carrying one will put you in more danger."

"I disagree with you." Arches counters, voice calm.

"You—" Bryce clenches the fist of his free hand. "If they come for you and you're not a threat, they will take you. If you're armed, they will take you out. If you get shots off, they will take their time."

Unfortunately, that makes sense. Fine, no gun, then. It would look suspicious for him to start carrying regularly again anyway.

Bryce takes a breath, and his voice is calmer as he continues. "Look, I understand that you want to help. I understand that you're worried we'll walk out this door and you'll never see him again. You could stay in contact, just not…Not in person. Not yet," he offers.

That's not what Archer wants, but the longer this conversation goes on, the more certain he is that he isn't going to get what he wants.

"How?" Archer asks, voice still the same careful calm.

"Phone. Email, although that will be harder to cover up." Bryce throws out the name of a secure messaging app Archer has never heard of, too. "If we get your info, there are ways we can contact you that won't be traceable to anyone who's spying on me."

If they get his info. So he won't really have any way to contact them, only a hope that they might contact him. That is far, far from what Archer wants.

Still, it looks like that might be all he can get.

If he never hears from them, he'll just have to fall back on his worst option— investigate things on his own.

Archer digs a small notepad out of his pocket after weighing his options and finding all of them terrible. He scribbles down his number and passes the sheet across the table to Bryce.

"This is my number. Is that app you mentioned something I can sign up with my own number, or should I download it now so I can give you whatever the number it picks is?"

"I can show you how to set it up," Bryce offers, putting the folded paper with Archer's number in his pocket.

Setting up the app is irritating, but Archer can't be certain if it's because he's still pissed about things going so badly or because the process is actually terrible.

"This will alert that you have a message, but won't show it to you until you open the app, and enter the passcode you set up," Bryce tells Archer once everything is set up. "If you enter 0000 instead, it shows a spam message. Either way, it will be deleted five minutes after you read it."

That’s good. The last thing Archer needs is anyone else getting involved with this shit-show. Or anyone on Bryce and Roman’s end of things finding out that he’s involved.

Bryce turns to Roman, his voice becoming unreasonably gentle, radiating what sounds like almost genuine concern. "K— Roman? Can you handle a little more water?"

Roman picks his head up. He looks so pale as he takes another drink before putting his head back down...

"... Roman?" Archer's voice is careful as he pushes his chair back and crouches next to Roman, moving his hand to his brother's back. "I..." He pauses, Unsure how to put his thoughts into words that will maybe provide some sort of comfort instead of just sounding like excuses...

Roman turns his head to look at Archer, and he looks like hell... The last time they saw each other, Roman had worn a similarly desperately sad look to the one that's in his eyes now, but that was never typical... Archer had hoped he would never have to see it again on his brother's face. As it is, the look is punctuated badly by the deep bags under Roman's eyes and the harsh scar across the side of his mouth.

"Roman, I did look for you." Archer finally says. "I... you know Luke didn't leave with the rest of us that took off. He kept me in the loop about... about things he could see. That you were still with mom and dad. That you... well... that things didn't look on the outside like they had changed much."

Not that Archer had expected things to visibly change. If they had, he wouldn't have known what to do. It wasn't that he thought everything stayed the same, just that... Roman has always been a survivor. Archer had convinced himself when he left that, so long as things didn't get so bad that they were visible to the outside world, Roman could handle it. It was an ill-advised conclusion, but hindsight is 20/20, and he was an idiot 18-year-old...

"He told me when you left, and I tried to track you down after that, but I couldn't find you, and I just... I thought maybe you hated me. Maybe you didn't want me to find you." It would have been understandable. Reasonable. God, with everything that ended up happening to Roman, he has every right to hate Archer.

"I didn't hate you. I don't hate you." Roman blurts out.

"Yeah, well... you probably should... None of this would have happened if..." Archer shakes his head. It would make more sense for Roman to hate him than not. Hell, it would probably be healthier...

Archer makes himself continue. "I love you, and I know you aren't safe, but are you at least okay? Do you really trust this guy?" He nods a vague acknowledgement in Bryce's direction. "He hasn't hurt you?"

"I do trust him. And no, he hasn't hurt me." Roman manages, voice still weak.

It doesn't sound like Roman is lying… Archer isn't happy, but that's at least closer to okay than he had initially thought when Bryce came in. "Okay... as long as that's at least true..." Archer looks back in Bryce's direction again. "If there is anything I can do to actually help, I want to know." Even if Roman wants him unequivocally uninvolved, maybe Bryce would let him help at risk to his own safety if it meant making things easier for him.

Bryce nods. "We'll be in touch."

Archer doesn't have any other choice but to hope that's true...

"Roman?" Bryce turns his attention.

"What?" Roman sounds so drained...

"Do you want me to step away to a different table for a bit? Or do you want to…head out? Eat?"

"No— don't leave me here—" Roman answers quickly, picking his head up from the table in alarm.

Archer feels a little sick at the sudden, alarming display of attachment. Don't leave me here? At a table alone with his brother..?

It sounds like Roman is forcing his voice to be calmer as he continues. "I-I just want to go. I want to leave."

Maybe Archer has severely misjudged the situation... He isn't sure how or in what way he may have been wrong, but this doesn't feel right at all.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, we can go." Bryce soothes.

A tugging realisation finally pulls to the front of Archer's mind at the thought of the two of them leaving. Something Roman needs to know. Something Archer should have thought of sooner, damn it. "Ah, actually, there's one more thing you should probably know." Because if Archer gets involved, he isn't going to be putting just himself in harm's way...

Roman turns his head to look at Archer again as his brother stands up.

"You remember Finley, yeah?" Finley, who also works at this damn coffee shop now. Finley, who will probably be here in the next half hour.

Roman gives a little nod, and Archer continues. "She's in the area, too. She actually works here, too. Just... in case you run into her somehow. So you don't... have to go through the shock of it all again..."

He should tell Roman that he and Finley are engaged... Would like to invite Roman to the wedding, even though there isn't really a date set yet. He can't do that, though. It's not the time. It's not appropriate in the context of everything that's just happened.

It is by no means a time to celebrate that, but... it still feels wrong not to tell him. Like he's keeping a secret...

"That's... o-okay... Thanks for the heads up..."

It doesn't sound like it's okay, but there isn't really anything Archer can do to change the fact...

Archer walks with them to the door and unlocks it, holding it for them.

When Roman and Bryce have gotten into the truck in the parking lot and pulled out into the street, Archer releases a heavy breath, sitting back down at a table and putting his face in his hands.