#d.phoenix

"I worry about you. A lot. In the wake of Halloween I saw you in a way I hadn't seen you since the news about Bradley. This town's got a thing for putting too much on your shoulders and I know I'm just as guilty as they are, for assuming you've got it all figured out, that you're not just good at what I'm good at, and staring the devil in the eye and laughing, while your heart's trying to find it's first escape route through your ribcage. I see it, uncertainty."

"But it's fucked up for this place to put what it did on us the same way mom did. I wanted to be an artist- you wanted to get away and now both of us are back here, levying weight of a town that treated us like pariahs for the simple fact that we were the 'rough' founding family. I wish you'd tell them to go fuck themselves. I wish you could be selfish for a few fucking minutes, long enough to get your head right- long enough to get some well deserved rest."

Their first impression: "This stupid tinier person than me is taking my fucking blocks. I'm going to hit him with a wooden train. Why the fuck is it crying like that. bitch."

Their current impression: "He's always been one of the best of all of us. For all my misgivings about politics, and this town, I know he could do some good here, if people, if Huntsville itself, will let him. I just hope he knows what he's doing. God knows I don't enough to warn him one way or the other."

What they like the most about your muse: Phoenix broke his family curse, in Duck's eyes- managed to come out of their upbringing somewhat well-adjusted. He knows a good part of that is Bradley, and in turn, Jay, but doesn't discount his brother's hard work at growing past the life that raised them. He's happy to see him softer than they were told to be- wishes sometimes he'd been able to come out the same.

What they dislike the most about your muse: Duck better than most knows stretching yourself too thin for the sake of others will kill you. his least favorite thing about Phoenix is the same as himself: Not knowing when to stop, breathe, and take time for yourself, instead of everyone else. and maybe, just maybe, he's jealous that his brother seemed to come out of life in better shape than he did- despite Mal's desperate clamoring for any sort of love and respect.

What your muse is for them ( Friend, lover, rival ecc.): His brother- one he owes several apologies he's struggling to word correctly.

A general opinion of their relationship: Mal's upset Phoenix is home- but if he has to be anywhere, he'd rather it be somewhere he can look after him- he loves his brother, and wishes maybe he was better as a younger man- maybe they'd have been closer- Duck knows the distance didn't help.

If anybody asked him, this was exactly what it was- a trip to check in on his brother- on his niece, more than anything, with leftovers from his own busy home for the duo and Dodger. If he was honest with himself, it was an effort to get away from home. He needed air, space, some kind of breakaway from being doted on and treated like he might break if someone bumped him too hard. It's not hard to adapt to the cane, the brace. It's just a pain to need them at all. He lifts the end of it to knock on the door gently, rapping at the base of the door with polished wood. "Nicky! You in? The station told me they made ya stay your ass home today, figured I'd bring somethin' to eat by, check in on you and squirt!"

In the further back part of his head, something else nags, it's got the voice of a gossiping church lady. It's the voice of his first wife and their mother and it's his own all at the same time, hissing that he's only here to try and measure up, because somebody said in a miserable rag that he was second choice. Because some part of him believes it. He shuts it down as capably as he can, knocking again. "Phoenix! Yer gonna freeze yer poor injured brother to death on your porch! And worse than that, yer gonna waste chili an' these leftover biscuits!"

@firecaptainphoenix

Nicky.

So this is a hell of a letter to receive- and if my timing's right, I'm not gonna be alive to answer for it. Maybe that's the best thing for me, to go out the same way I lived. Like a coward who won't face his family. Robin's been talking. And normally, you know, I don't listen to his talk, kid has more imagination than sense. But… I don't know. I think part of me believes him, this time. Maybe I'm finally just crazy enough to go for it. Maybe I always have been and I've spent most of my life running from it- in any case. You've got this letter.

And I'm dead.

I don't think I ever told you, really, why I joined the Marines quick as I did. I didn't feel like I needed to- that you and Falco and Cass and Robbie had already borne the cross of my mistakes- I was the 'freak' the 'crazy older brother' that they held you four up to- Hawk was a brute, of course, he'd sooner knock somebody's block off than have a conversation, but I was crazy. Spent all my time in the woods, got in fight after fight after fight, and where Hawk solved things with his fists I worked them out by biting. Can't imagine the shit you all got when I got suspended for nearly taking off Turk Murphy's cheek in the lunchroom. But at the end of the day? Me getting the hell out of Huntsville laid entirely with that. It's stupid to say it now. That I signed up to get shot at in the desert time and again because I thought that my being home would have done more harm than good? That instead of answering for the way my childhood impacted yours, I packed up and left. Modeled myself a war hero instead of the black sheep. I joined up because 'my brother's a marine' sounds better than 'my brother's a violent freak just like our mom.'

I left because I couldn't handle the thought that everything I'd done for our family was a blight. That I was this black spot on everyone's reputation and childhood. 'Oh, you're Duck Romero's brother. you hear he pulled a gun on a guy outside the gas station when he was your age?' 'Yeah your brother was crazy, I remember he beat the brakes off my cousin- he had to get his jaw wired shut, what a freak' my actions were my own but it's a name that connects us like blood, trauma that spit me out all wrong- and the military didn't exactly help me with that. And then to see you… Okay, after you left- after I left… Proved me right.

You and Bradley always seemed like you got each other- me and Geanie were having screaming matches while Wren slept a room away. We'd put on a smile and bear it- because reputation mattered more than anything back then. I spent… way too long. Caring about the way other people saw me. So I cleaned up- settled down, had a baby, climbed the ranks. and every time I saw you- you just looked happier for getting out of here. I never did, no matter how much I talked about it when we were kids- I always came back to a town that needed us but would have sooner eaten us alive if it served the means to their ends, crawled back to it like a dog beaten bloody still loyally finds his place at the foot of a cruel master… But Robin's been talking.

And I think I believe him this time.

So I'll be a curse on the family name one more time. And I don't want you to forgive me. I'll say hello to the folk we left on other side. Whichever one I happen to find tonight- I'll see you again, somewhere. Give Jay my love. Give our brothers my apologies, look after the kids- and tell our mom I always thought she was a bitch and I'm glad I didn't turn out just like her.

Under a different sky, or burning underfoot.

Duck doesn't make a lot of trips to the fire station- it's not really something he tends to focus on- He's not exactly the sort to ask for any sort of emergency service even when he needs it- but, in the wake of so many deaths, and his newfound ability to get around a little better without having to numb out the ache in his knee with moonshine, he figures he should at least check in with his little brother- only crossing paths at their mom's place tended to end in one of them getting roped into doing something around the house, after all. But it's not Duck who heralds his arrival, no, that's Robin, the little boy still wearing his backpack from school as he charges into the firehouse, inhales, and bellows an: "UNCLE NICKY!" to state his arrival.

"Robbie, buddy, inside voice, Christ." His brother had been kind enough to watch him for Duck's birthday, which had, inevitably, meant that Duck got to listen to Robin go on and on about honking the fire truck horn for days after. "Hey, Nicky. Sorry about him, told him I was swinging by after I got him from school to check in and thank you for watching him the other night and he uh. Well, demanded I let him come and when I said 'i won't be there long and it'll be boring grown up talk' he started asking me horribly invasive questions about why I keep having strangers over- so we're here together, yaaaay!" He looks... happier despite the ever-present sarcasm. Has for a minute- and the once-constant smell of liquor and weed is gone- replaced with his usual cologne. "Figured I'd swing by without ma hanging around, actually manage a conversation without 'er trying t' talk one of us into cleanin' her gutters or somethin."

@firecaptainphoenix