#sitdsnips

hi it's be sad about daniel hours. you're welcome.

Sometimes there is a mourning for things not had.

The back side of an I love you that begs to grow old together.

They won’t. Him and Jesse.

That’s okay.

Sometimes Daniel thinks without Jesse he wouldn’t be here. It’s true. However much he denies it every time the other two try to press that he does not take well enough care of himself, that he does not value his own life for anything, that he is too quick to offer up a sacrifice unasked for. Maybe he would still be in that little apartment, too bright, but close to the water. Maybe Amalthea would have found him sooner.

He knows what would have happened in one case.

If he’d gone through with it.

Made good on his promise and killed Jesse like he’d asked.

But the truth is that was never going to happen, not even from the start.

So he hadn’t been in love then. It was still impossible to shake Jesse off, to deny him anything but that. The closest thing to standing in sunlight that Daniel could get. The closest thing to being selfish he would allow at the time.

That either of them would.

They are both vastly different people than they were in 1989.

And Daniel cannot wish for a world where they would have been normal. Happy. Short lived.

Because Jesse would have died young.

And a part of Daniel would have died with him.

But sometimes, possibly when he’s in a mood to regret, he wonders what it would have been like to grow old together. Whenever Sarah is around, and he sees lines on her face that would paint Jesse’s the same. When Jesse throws out that he is—technically—nearing sixty. When Daniel remembers he’ll be eighty in a years time.

Most of the time though, he is beyond content with the fact that he will have Jesse for as long as either of them wants. As long as they both feel like continuing to exist. There will be arms to fall asleep in. There will be hands that touch him more gently than he deserves. There will be a smile so bright it puts the stars to shame.

It would be nice to grow old together.

But sometimes, it is nicer still, not to.

“I never got to thank you.” Katie says softly, still off-color, still wide eyed.

“Don’t.” Alex shakes their head, letting their hands drop over their chest. “Don’t, I don’t deserve that—”

Sci-fi 🧪: What future do you want for you and your wip/s?

Honestly? I just want them to be had. I want people to get out of them the experiences that I do. I want my characters to be beloved, to be despised, I want them to be known. I don't care if they go far, or do well, I just want other people to be able to see them, entirely, for the work I put in.

Poetry 🖋️: give us a taste of your writing with a literary technique (rhyme, descriptive language, alliteration etc).

(I like the way this section of scene flows, have this)

“Can I… go back to bed now?” They mumble once Jesse is gone. It’s the last thing their body wants, it’s buzzing and alive like they’ve got too much energy. They stretch to try and curb it, to try and urge their limbs to remember that they are exhausted. It doesn’t do much.

“Not yet, sorry.” Daniel does sound truly apologetic. Alex recognizes the look he’s giving them and tries to coax the sudden distress out of their expression, to no success.

“Now?”

“Now,” Daniel echoes, “I know it’s been a long night, but tell me where you’re at.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out.

They think about how little Isaac’s blood had helped last night, about how their memory was fading in and out when the hunger was at its worst. How they hadn’t really been conscious until Daniel had pulled them off Isaac, how that had been like waking up from a nightmare—

“It’s not great.”

“An understatement. What about right now?”

So much energy they feel like bursting, heart racing but vision clear and sharp. Still red at the edges but less like haze and more like tinted glass. The empty thermos just making their body chime more, more, more. “Sick.” Alex replies, “Like I’ve got too much energy and nowhere to send it, like the pain is behind a wall but it’s still there, like the wall is made of wet paper and it’s just—” Their voice dies and Daniel takes their hand again.

“You know you’re running low on time.”

“I know,” Alex whispers, “I know, I know, just— just a couple days, okay?”

It takes a minute for Jesse’s eyes to adjust, until he can see Daniel sprawled out across the whole of the bed. He looks softer in sleep, hair over his eyes and one arm hanging off the edge towards the floor.

Weeks of having Alex over for training had gradually eased his anxieties about something going wrong. They got on well with Carrie and Tom, and while both his friends still peppered him with questions, the actual interrogating had died down after the first few days.

Fighting Alex was still different, maybe just because of the secret they were both keeping, maybe because both of them knew how easy it would be to blow the whole charade. One step a little too far, like when the others had gone and they stopped holding back. It would just take one slip into that mindset. Just one touch too far into Alex’s skin, eyes flashing red, teeth suddenly too sharp and too long.

Then...

Then there was the other problem.

When this started, it was about giving Alex time to make their decision, it was about keeping them alive. Nobody said he had to be their friend, or even tolerate being around them, but he didn’t mind. He was a second opinion, not an unbiased one, but Alex didn’t have much in the way of other options. So he poured out everything he knew, gave his blood as often as he could, and after a while Alex just felt like part of life.

Tom and Carrie were his friends.

Alex was that one friend who had maybe almost killed him a few times...

Now that the groups had melted together, the reality was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Alex was his friend.

And he wanted there to be more than that.

And wanting that was going to be the death of him.

So, he ignored it.

Ignored it, and ignored it, and-

“Would you just kiss them already?” Tom’s voice pulls Isaac out of his thoughts and back to his bedroom. They’d been curled up having a movie night while Carrie was doing double shifts and—for once— while Isaac’s uncle had taken over the shop for the evening.

“What?”

“Alex, would you please stop pining and go out?” Tom insisted “Just, maybe don’t punch them in the face, I know I didn’t appreciate it.”

Isaac smiles at the memory, even if it’s a little sour. High school had been, at least up until this past few months, the height of his anxiety. Finding out he was bi hadn’t helped. It didn’t matter that he’d wanted Tom to kiss him, he’d been—for lack of a better word—scared. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” Tom asked “You didn’t deny it, so you obviously like them, you’re both adults so what could possibly be stopping you.” He paused for a second and added “Unless it’s me, stopping you, I promise there’s no hurt feelings or anything, I won’t be mad if you-”

“Tom,” Isaac cut over him, resting his head on Tom’s shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t. It’s just... complicated. Alex has had a really rough year, I don’t think they’ve really settled yet, and I don’t want to make things any harder.”

“Oh, yeah, because dating you is so difficult.” Tom rolled his eyes, and Isaac almost laughed. They’d been together up until senior year, when Tom had left for culinary school and they decided friendship was better for both of them. Not that it had changed much, when they saw each other there was still a lot of hugging and holding and I missed you so much.

“Carrie agrees with me,” Tom said “you’re lucky it’s me saying all this and not her-”

Isaac groaned, batting Tom on the head “-Stop it!” There’s a smile on his face despite being serious. “You tell Carrie to lay off it too.”

“Tell her yourself,” Tom shot back “not my job to call her off.”

Ooops It’s been too long since I put Jesse in an uncomfortable situation, let’s go! This time featuring my hatred of having to be the bigger person when you’re the child, but suffering through it anyways bc you’re the ‘good kid’.

“Sarah? What’s wrong?” She’s been silent on the other end of the line since he picked up, just an occasional shaking breath. Jesse was going to just wait until she seemed able to speak but it’s starting to worry him.

“I- look I know you hated dad and you had good reason to- and it’s all complicated and-”

“-He’s dead, isn’t he.”

It’s not a question.

It doesn’t have to be.

Her voice breaks in her response “Yeah, yeah um, he had a fall and- can you- would you-”

“When’s the funeral, Sarah?” He’s struggling to keep his voice low and calm, he can process once he’s off the phone, once it won’t affect her.

“Saturday.”

“I’ll be there Friday night.” He assures her “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He drops the phone as soon as he’s hung up.

He shouldn’t, he hears the back pop off and the battery go flying when it hits the ground. Probably to vanish somewhere under the bed, under his dresser, it doesn’t really matter. Jesse sits back on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, not sure what he’s supposed to be feeling. What do you feel for the death of someone you’re supposed to love but you don’t? For someone who treated you like the scum of the earth until you were finally enough of a problem to get thrown out?

Bill Addison is dead.

He’s not sure if there’s any real feeling behind it.

Bitterness for not having ever really confronted him?

Relief that he never had to?

“Jesse?”

“Dad’s dead,” Jesse mumbled “funeral Saturday, don’t wanna talk about it.” After a moment he opens his arms and adds “Can you just come here?”

Daniel obliges him without another word. It’s been a very long time since they’ve spent a whole night in bed together, but Jesse can’t bring himself to move. He stays wrapped around Daniel, waiting for something to change, waiting for some revelation he can’t see coming. Something to tell him what he’s meant to do now.

When restlessness takes over for lethargy he says something about needing Moira’s help and finally gets up.

This was true.

He needed to her dye his hair back to blond.

It felt like something he could manage. Just not something he could manage alone.

“You still awake?”

“Mmmm,” Moira doesn’t look around the canvas obscuring her from view, her back to the window that will spill sunrise soon. “what do you need?”

“I need your help dying my hair blond.” Even the word itself makes his mouth want to curl. He remembers dying it the first time, honey and sunshine going black-

“You hate when your hair is blond.” She doesn’t miss a beat, she does actually look around now, brush in hand, paint coating her arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Funeral.”

Her eyes go wide and Jesse stops her before her thoughts go anywhere tragic:

“My father. I told Sarah I’d go.”

“Oh-”

He doesn’t mean to cut her off again, but he can’t talk about it. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel like he can. “Please, Moira- I just want to get this over with.”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

There’s usually something therapeutic about dying his hair, something about having control over even a small aspect of himself that brings him some calm. Usually. Seeing himself blond again has much the opposite effect. It leaves him feeling vulnerable and small in ways he hasn’t felt in decades. It also calls up the fact that he’s supposed to be... God, fifty-two? Sarah looks older than he does now.

It’s the least he can do, he reminds himself.

It’s something.

~*~

“Let me know if you change your mind.” Daniel tells him “I’ll come if you need me.”

He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to leave the safety of the home he’s made for himself. He doesn’t want to set foot back in that monster of a house and pretend he’s fine being there. But he smiles, though he can tell it will look forced, and replies: “I will. It’ll be alright. I’m just there for Sarah anyway.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” He presses a last kiss to Daniel’s forehead and closes his eyes.

His father’s study is the one room he can think of that is unlikely to have changed since his last time there. Smelling faintly of tobacco and cinnamon, all dark wood and smooth glass-

He opens his eyes to find he was right, it looks nearly identical. Books have probably changed, a lamp has been replaced, but the main things are the same. There’s a new picture of Sarah and her kids on the desk from last Christmas, and next to it-

Next to it is his graduation picture from Berkeley.

It’s such a shock to see that he’s taken by the immediate need to check if it’s real.

He’s reached out to touch it when someone screams.

Turning to see his mother, “Who are-” she stops as she’s able to look at him properly. It occurs to him then that she hasn’t actually seen him blond since he was first kicked out, when he was fifteen.

“Hello, mother.” It’s a little stiff, Jesse can’t help it though, all his energy is going to keeping a handle on his emotions right now. Everything is just trying not to let this house affect him the way he knows it’s going to if he’s here for very long.

There isn’t a whole lot of time to try and find more to say, regardless of if he wants to or not, because almost as soon as he speaks, she’s crying.

Jesse doesn’t want to comfort her.

He doesn’t want to have to.

He takes a breath and pulls her into a hug. While it just seems to make her cry harder at first, whole body shaking with the effort of it, she does hug him back. This isn’t what he’s here for, this is in fact exactly what he’s not here for. He doesn’t want to make things better. It’s not his responsibility.

As wrapped up in his own thoughts and not wanting to be here as he is, it takes some time to notice the steady stream of apologies making their way out between tears. Pulling back, he looks at his mother’s shaking form and- despite how fragile she looks- has to overcome the urge to shove her away. “Mother, stop.”

“I- but I-”

“I mean it, stop.” He’s never tried to do that before, it feels like all the air gets pulled out of him with the words, but she does stop talking long enough to collect herself and still the shaking. “I’m fine.”

“You’re doing okay?” She asks finally, a little of her normal voice returning.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” It feels somewhat backhanded, considering the last time they saw each other, but Jesse can’t really bring himself to care.

The silence is too heavy here.

He hates it.

Everything feels so much the same.

Miranda looks ready to cry again, but instead she just shakes her head a little and motions for Jesse to follow her out of the office. He notices his pictures have returned to the walls. It still doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t have mattered before. It’s been too long for a gesture like that to be worth much. His room still looks much the same as last time, plain and empty and-

He can’t help but think of the last night he’d spent here. When he still thought he was going to die. When everything still felt like it was falling apart.

His mother seems to gather herself before speaking again, and it comes out like the words feel strange on her tongue. “Will Daniel be joining you, tomorrow?”

The question takes Jesse so off guard he doesn’t respond at first. He’s not sure if that feeling bubbling up is going to end in laughing in her face or starting to cry. “Would you care?” It’s harsher than it needs to be, colder, but he tells himself it’s deserved. Like everything else it doesn’t matter. He can’t let it matter if he wants to keep going.

Everything is spinning.

He’s gone.

All the air seemed to leave the room as Amalthea appeared, less put together now, with the holes in her dress and her flesh, eyes still bright but lacking the control of before, wide and wild and full of rage.

“As touching as this little display is, my patience is out.” Time may very well have stopped, everything faded out around Daniel until it was only the two of them.  The calm in her voice so obviously faked, he could feel the anger beneath it practically shaking his bones. “Do not make me set another example, little soldier.”

Carter’s head in her grasp like a mirror of the Medusa myth, Elice and her own in pieces, Eric coated head to toe in the blood of children.  He knew that voice.  It was so easy to see what would follow if he refused her now.

“You know better.”

She would take him either way.

Willing, or with his family dead by her hands.

Even that was just a lie to keep him sane, she knew him, if they ended up dead it would be his own skin dyed red.  That was crystal clear.

Daniel released Jesse’s hand and pushed himself back to his feet.  

He nodded once.

Amalthea was right.

He knew better.

Knew better than to tempt the note in her voice that promised destruction.  Not here, not again.

“A minute?” The request was all he could hope for, even then it was barely a shred of possibility.

The silence was a deafening refusal.  Unsurprising, and yet-

“Take care of each other.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look back.  If he saw them he would fight it, if he fought, he would damn them all.  But he hears movement, a chorus of whispers as Eden, Gus and the humans do their best to keep the other three from interfering.

Looking back would make him fight. Looking back would damn them all.

"Don’t-”

Jesse’s voice halts before the words are out.  The desperation is there, the silent plea of not again.

Daniel took a breath, digging for that place where his emotions are gone, grief, love, anger, joy.  Weakness.  Control, he was in control, obedience and fear were the ruling factors now.

No explanation to his family would make it easier

There was red in his vision that wasn’t yet real, but that would change.

It would keep them safe, this would keep all of them safe.

That was worth it.

Amalthea was the only thing in view, pure white in the shape of someone he once loved.

Leading him away from everything he loved now.