#spilled musing

---

New Years Day? He didn’t take the day off. He probably should’ve.

There were several huge orders to fulfill during ass o’clock at the Wendy’s. Cheap last-minute “catering” for various small parties in town. A lot of angry customers getting mad about delays. He was just a cashier. He was too damn tired to walk them through peoples’ creative grasp of arithmetic. And little things like cook times being a thing that mattered.

“Can I, uh, get eleven Triple Combos, yeah, eleven. Large fries for everyone. Two Root beers, six Cokes, I think four Diet Cokes? Wait, do you guys have Mountain Dew? Can you like make five of those Mountain Dew? Oh, and...”

“Did you mean twelve of those Triples? And no, we don’t have Mountain Dew.”

He didn’t sign up to be a punching bag, just for asking for clarification.

“I know what I said! I said ten Triples!”

As he kept starting over totaling things up, the thought of decking the guy in front of him sounded really appealing.

“Earth to dumb ass, you still listening to me?”

“Yes, sir. Looks like your total is…”

“That doesn’t sound right, look I got these coupons!”

Half of them had expired half a decade ago, a bunch couldn’t be redeemed together, and several more were for a hardware store. It took every ounce of effort not to bury his face in his hands and wish the gods to smite him where he stood.

Smite who, exactly? This customer? Or Virgil? The answer was yes.

This was going to be a long morning.

---

Wednesday seemed to have mercy on Virgil. Until it didn’t.

Nothing too disastrous happened at the Hot Topic. But the last few days did a number on how much energy he had to work with. Juggling everything the way he’d been doing royally fucked him over on getting consistent amounts of sleep. Not that his work schedule even allowed that (even though he liked this job’s flexibility).

He might’ve talked to a customer or two that didn’t actually exist, in his delirium. He wasn’t too proud of that. His coworker wasn’t paying attention nor did he care. On the one hand, it was less mortifying.

… on the other, he might’ve wanted to hear something like, “Dude, you doing alright?”

Never mind, he wasn’t that special. It was just a paycheck.

Just as he was about to clock out, he found out he'd missed a call. It was a private number, but they did leave a message.

It was his dad.

“Hey, uh. Virgil? I’m in the hospital, you know, that VA one? I don’t have a lot of energy to talk right now. But please call me back when you can...”

After being given the phone and room number to contact, “Love you.”

He felt his stomach drop and his grip on his phone got shaky.

His coworker said something, but it was muffled.

All Virgil had in him was to get out of there.

He wasn’t sure if he was snippy or rude about it, and he didn’t exactly care.

-

Virgil could’ve returned the call as soon as he was back in his apartment – it was somewhere more private. He kept staring at the call history and the button to do just that, unable to act.

What could possibly have taken down someone as tough as his dad? Guy used to be a gods damned Navy SEAL, for fucks sake!

Heart attack? Car accident? Cancer?

Virgil might as well be having a coronary himself, finding it suddenly very hard to take full breaths. He was already thinking about the absolute worst case scenarios. He wasn’t ready for any of that.

Not when he already felt like he was gonna snap like a twig. Not when he barely recovered from December’s sum total of holiday bullshit on the job.

The frustration made it far far too tempting to take it out on the nearest wall. But then he’d have to worry about a noise complaint, saying goodbye to his security deposit, and maybe even getting evicted. If his dad wasn’t... around, he didn’t exactly have a back-up plan.

He’d only been there for barely a year. Making and keeping friends were kind of hard when you moved a lot, growing up. So couch surfing would not be an option, if-

Even worse thoughts bubbled up, but-

Virgil thought about the fun he had when he sparred with his dad. His father always tried to make the most of his time when he was back home. It was a better experience than some of the other military brats he grew up around. Even if he wanted him around more. Especially when he was still little.

Maybe, getting back into it was going to be his resolution for the year.

Not that he was ever particularly good at sticking to them.

Coming down from the adrenaline spike, finally, left him too tired to chase anymore depressing thoughts. Crashing on the nearest piece of furniture sounded like a great idea.

At least, the gym might get him out of his head, if he lived to face tomorrow.

Okay, that thought was a little melodramatic, even for him.

---

Thursday, he felt kind of bad about calling in sick. But he just couldn’t bring himself to get into his Walmart uniform. He was pretty bad at using up his sick days, because what if he was really sick and really needed them?

He might just lose it the MOMENT he had to clean up another kid’s puke. He was this close to committing a felony with the next bossy parent he’d see. He imagined his dad’s disappointment with dread, if it came to that.

Maybe after this, he could work up the nerve to call the hospital. Maybe.

Virgil walked into the gym and made his way to the main bulletin board. He looked for any interesting classes, like pretty much anything martial arts. When he realized how many of these fliers had scheduling conflicts, it just added to his frustrations.

What if he called only to find out his dad was-?

With a heavy sigh, he looked around the building to see what kinds of gear the place had on offer. It was kind of overwhelming, but then again. He was already at that point and he didn’t just want to leave without doing something. He’d look like a jackass!

What if-?

Virgil’s thoughts tied his stomach in knots. He ran for the bathroom, thinking about his cleaning job really wasn’t helping matters. As he sat in a stall, his chest started to hurt and he started seeing some spots.

What if he was dying? (Virgil? His dad? Didn’t matter.)

The thought of calling for help was too embarrassing to seriously consider. His dad would probably think he was being ridiculous, honestly.

It had taken what felt like forever for the nausea to subside and for his breathing to even out again. As he was washing up, a few cold splashes to the face helped.

He left to find the room that stored the bags and dummies, according to the board. Some place tucked away into a corner of the building and near the break room. He hoped it would be open, but it wasn’t.

He was tempted to just leave, go home, and pretend the world didn’t exist anymore. But then he noticed some bulky guy in a tie-dye shirt was looking at him. “What?”

“Do you think one of the music shops around here sells tuning forks?”

Virgil blinked. “Huh?”

“I don’t know, I just pegged you as looking a bit high-strung.”

Virgil fought down a little twitch in the corner of his mouth, “… Really?”

“Ah, I probably should’ve rehearsed that one a little more.”

Despite himself, Virgil snorted a bit at that.

That was enough for the other guy’s smile to somehow get bigger, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name? I’m Patton!”

“Virgil. Uh, I looked that bad, huh?”

“You could say I saw it from the nosebleeds. Well, the treadmills, technically. Want to join me?”

Virgil wasn’t sure what to make of him, but still felt like he needed to make this visit worth a damn, “Beats brooding at home, I guess? Sure.”

Virgil wasn’t feeling super chatty once they got going, but this Patton guy didn’t seem to mind.

It was… nice.

---

Friday.

Virgil didn’t exactly get much sleep before needing show up at the Wendy’s again. Graveyard shift and all that. Things were going better than last time. Boring. But better.

During an all too short lunch break, he found himself wondering about Patton. He kind of needed the laugh. He wondered if he was going to see him again. This place was too much of a rotating door to really try to make friends with his coworkers. Bad idea to get too attached.

He stared at his phone’s inbox.

He wanted someone to talk to.

Not exactly great icebreaker material.

He was too tired after clocking out to do more than marathon a bunch of horror movies.

Calling back was going to be a Future Virgil Problem.

---

Saturday.

An actual day off from everything and the gym was open.

He wondered if that room was going to be available, this time around. It wasn’t.

He looked around for any reason not to just leave. But then he saw Patton on one of the stationary bikes, next to the treadmills.

He walked up to the guy, cleared his throat and took the machine next to him. In case Patton wasn’t in the mood to talk or forgot who he was or whatever. He barely even got on the bike when Patton glanced over at him, “Oh, Virgil! Didn’t expect to see you again so soon! Feeling any better?”

Virgil went at a very slow pace to start, “I wish.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s- it’s some personal stuff.”

A thoughtful nod and a few spins later, Patton changed the topic, “I’m still kinda new in town.”

Virgil was glad he wasn’t being pressed right off the bat, “Oh?”

Patton smiled, “I started training a few months ago, teaching job. Assisted a music class for some kiddos, last week.”

Virgil snorted, “Kiddos?”

“Affirmative!”

“Sounds... eventful. I just take whatever entry level job I can get. Nothing to write home about.”

Patton didn’t pry and the two of them pedaled a bit more.

Virgil sighed, “I’m worried about… my dad.”

“What happened?”

“...I’m just being so fucking stupid.”

Patton stopped pedaling and faced him, “Hey now. Why would you think that?”

“He left this vague voicemail from the hospital and I’ve been too scared to-”

Virgil stopped, crossed his arms over the terminal and buried his face in them. He didn’t want to look Patton in the eyes, feeling his own starting to water. He knew he was being a coward. A gods damned baby. A dumb ass. And-

“Is there any way I can help?”

“I don’t know, what if it’s Bad News? I kinda just want to wait it out.”

“How long has it been since he called?”

“Wednesday.”

“How has the waiting thing been working out?”

Virgil groaned, “It’s not.”

Virgil half-expected Pat to go into advice mode or reaffirm that he was being ridiculous. And yet- “Seems like you care a lot about him.”

“Y-yeah. Guy was in the Navy and he recently retired… decent guy, if eccentric. I guess. He definitely handles pressure better than me. Clearly.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Virgil looked at the pretty gnarly scar on his own arm and talked about it, “Well…”

-

It happened back in high school, he lived in a different city at the time. He dabbled in skateboarding, he’d thought it’d make him seem cool. He mostly practiced when no one was looking. Just as he started to feel ready to show-off to his friends from his first high school, he got news he was going to have to move.

He got used to it, he’d since lost contact with them over the next few years, anyways.

They moved into the current city in the middle of summer break. He thought he’d use the skateboarding thing to impress some kids in the next high school. There was a skate park nearby and everything.

On lunch break, barely into his junior year, his board got snagged in a massive crack in the pavement. He badly wrenched his arm, from the fall. It took forever to register that his arm was broken. And when he did, the pain and panic set in.

His dad swept in and, despite the guilt and shame of the whole mess, made sure he was okay. He needed surgery to fix things and he hated making his dad worry – no matter how composed the guy seemed to be. It was an embarrassing way to start the year in a cast and needing to do some physio afterwards, too.

-

“… It just sucked a lot, but it was one of those times he really stepped up for me. Uh. Sorry about the random unload there.”

“No need to apologize! I’m happy you felt like sharing any of that.”

“You know what?… maybe I should just rip the band-aid off. I’ll try to give him a call when I get home.”

Patton gave him a big smile, “It might be scary, but at least you’ll have something to go on there. Rooting for both of you!”

-

Virgil did try to get in contact with his Dad, emboldened by Patton’s encouragement. No one answered the phone the first try. Second try, he was tempted to leave a message. Third try, someone finally answered, “Nurse’s station, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh, hi. My name is Virgil – Virgil Baskoro. I’d like to speak to my dad? I think his room number was…?”

“What’s his name and birthday?”

“Malik Baskoro. September 26, 1969.”

“Hmmm... Okay, please hold.”

“Thank you.”

He was on hold for nearly an entire hour, before the nurse talked again, “There’s a different patient in that room. Are you sure you have the right-? Huh?”

It sounded like the nurse got pulled away from the phone by someone, too muffled to make out the conversation. A different nurse spoke, “Mr. Baskoro was moved to another unit. I’m afraid we’re short on staff right now and I can’t access all his details. You might have better luck calling on Monday. Sorry.”

“But-! Oh, alright. Thank you for your time.”

“Hope you have a good evening, ma’am.”

Virgil didn’t feel like correcting that, “Y-yeah, you too.”

After hanging up, Virgil gave an angry sigh. That took away whatever motivation he had to get anything else done that day and decided to go to bed early.

Not that sleep was all that easy to get.

---

Sunday.

Virgil had some time before work over at the Hot Topic, later. The gym was open and he hoped to see Patton again.

He wondered if he’d still get the runaround on Monday. The notion set his nerves alight and he’d rather not deal with that again.

Patton wasn’t there when he first arrived.

He had packed a lunch and put it in the break room fridge, hoping no one would take it.

The room with the combat equipment was open for use, though. So he did some of the old drills his dad had taught him on the bags. He might have lost track of time, thinking about all the things he wanted to say to that nurse. Among other people. He knew it was a distraction from his dad’s current situation, one that only barely worked.

Eventually his arms and legs ran out of juice. In all his frustration, he even briefly thought of practicing headbutting the training bag. But he reconsidered it, he already knew he was going to be sore as hell later, adding a concussion to the mix was going to help no one. File all that under "Future Virgil Problems"… Again.

He'd worked up an appetite, and went to heat and eat his lunch. He was happy it was still there and hopefully untouched. It was a pretty big portion of fried rice with tofu, bird’s eye chili, and fried eggs. His dad’s recipe, actually. He was glad this city was spoiled for choice in the Asian food department – shrimp paste, sweet soy sauce, and more. Nasi goreng wasn’t nasi goreng without it.

Not that he knew very many recipes from the Indonesian side of his family.

He ate slowly, his mind kept going back to his dad. He’d rather think of something else for a little while. As if the world heard his thoughts, he noticed Patton walk by and called his attention, “Hey, Pat! You busy?”

Virgil's mouth may’ve been kinda full, but he still got a response, “Oh, hey, Virgil! Not really, I was just at church. Was gonna take it easy, today. What’s going on with you?”

Virgil properly swallowed his food and told Patton what happened, earning a sympathetic frown from the guy, “Hopefully, the answers you’re looking for come soon…”

After a pause, Patton asked, “What outfit was he in, your dad, that is?”

“SEALs? Why?”

“Oh, before this teaching thing, I was in the Army for awhile, as a medic, actually.”

“Really? What was it like?”

“Even though there were some highlights. Let’s just say, I had my fill once my first contract was up.”

So much for avoiding reminders, “Sometimes, I swear you sound like my dad.”

Patton laughed, “Really?”

Strong, clearly been through some shit, and seemingly unflappable. He felt kind of pathetic. He didn’t realize he’d starting crying, until he saw some tears drip into his half-eaten meal. It was a little hard to see but he was pretty sure Patton had a concerned look, “Oh, apologies! Um, would you like me to talk about the kiddos or something?”

Virgil mumbled something unintelligible and embarrassing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, what did you just say?”

Virgil took a deep breath, “N-never mind.”

“Now, Virgil…”

He barely contained the desire to full-on scream, “I don’t want to just hope things are okay! I just want things to actually be okay! I-I…”

With a big sigh, Virgil continued, “I know I just met you. But can I ask you favor?”

With no hesitation to speak of, “Sure thing!”

Virgil’s voice got small, but at least it was actual words this time, “I think… a hug… sounds nice.”

Patton made a slow, careful approach and answered with just that. Despite looking like he could get absolutely crushed, he was gentle and warm, it pulled him back down from some of that fearful spiral. Patton seemed to know exactly how long he had before it could get anymore awkward.

“Thanks, Pat.”

“No problem!”

Eventually, Virgil looked at his watch and realized, “Shit.”

“Hm?”

“My shift is about to start. Almost lost track of time. Um, maybe we can catch up tomorrow? After I – uh – do the thing.”

Patton shook his head, “I’m going to be swamped, but my thoughts are with you!”

Gods, Virgil was feeling so needy. “Oh. I-I understand.”

“Want to debrief at the coffee shop on Tuesday? I’ll have an opening in the morning, if you’re interested?”

“Sure?”

“Awesome! If you need anything you can always give me a call, I’ll answer when I can.”

Digits were exchanged and Virgil made his way to work.

-

It was pretty uneventful over at the mall.

That hug certainly helped him get through it, kept the morale up. As his shift winded down, his thoughts became a mantra for tomorrow, “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”

---

Monday.

He didn’t have to work until the evening. He probably only managed a few hours of sleep, tossing and turning about the worst case scenarios. He could barely function with the amount of sleep debt he was racking up.

He kept almost dialing the number and backing out at least a few times. Before yelling at himself again, “C’mon! It’s like a band-aid!”

Never mind the disappointment of last time he said that.

“Nurses’ station?”

After the preamble that took way too long for Virgil to get through, apparently his dad screwed up some of the numbers and forgot to give him the right code for clearance. Virgil had to bring up a lot more info to verify himself, this time. Apparently his emergency contact info was out of date, too. It was becoming a giant headache.

“Oh! It looks like Mr. Baskoro was moved from the trauma ward to the ICU. He’s not available at the moment, I can relay a message to him, if you’d like?”

His nerves spiked, “Wait-wait-wait- what happened?”

“He took a fall, it looks like the injuries weren’t serious. However, he is being treated for pneumonia, currently.”

Shit, he’s heard how deadly that could be- “I-Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s stable. But it’s going to depend on some more test results to clear him for discharge.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll be sure to contact you when things change. If he doesn’t do so, first.”

Virgil kind of hated the hedged language, but at least he had more to go on, “Thanks.”

-

He stole a few risky hours of sleep after that before going to work.

Thankfully, by Walmart’s standards, his shift went by without too much drama. Somehow.

Catching up on sleep was a little bit easier.

---

Tuesday.

Once Virgil got to the cafe, he noticed Patton was already there with some breakfast offerings and a newspaper.

Before Virgil joined him, he went up to order something too. Just a blended mocha, no frills. Barista was a bit dramatic for his liking and briefly attempted to up-sell him. He was funny about it, though.

Didn’t change Virgil’s standard policy of dropping a generous tip before taking a seat.

Patton smiled at him as he sat down to wait on his order. “Good morning!”

“… ’Morning, Pat.”

“So. Status report with the family?”

Virgil snorted, “Uh, well. I finally have an idea of what’s going on. I guess.”

“Oh?”

Virgil lowered his voice, “Pneumonia. Apparently. You were a doctor, sort of?… I-is that as bad as I think it is?”

“Well. It depends. What else did they say?”

Virgil quietly relayed what he knew, hoping he didn’t get any of the details wrong.

Patton looked contemplative a moment, before answering, “Sounds like some green flags to me, kiddo.”

“Really?”

“If they said anything else about his condition or said nothing and asked you drop everything to make a trip there in person? It’d be a different story. It doesn’t sound like a situation about to go pear-shaped in a snap, if you know what I mean? I think he’ll be okay.”

Virgil’s pause to digest that was interrupted by the barista yelling his name, wrong, again.

When he settled back in and took a sip of his drink, Virgil slumped with a little relief, “Y-you might be right.”

“I think you’ll be okay, too.”

“Thanks, Pat.”

They spent a bit of time after that just discussing other things, afterwards. Virgil was happy just listening to Pat talk about some of the kids he was getting along with during training. About the connections he was making with other staff and so forth.

-

When Virgil got back home, he was debating on whether playing catch-up with his sleep was more appealing than vegging out on the couch before it was time to get back to the grind.

He stalled on the choice by making himself a plate of pizza rolls. He would be glad that he did.

Just as the microwave started to beep, his phone rang.

Private number again, this time he answered it in time.

“Hello?”

“Virgil?”

He sounded a bit ragged, but it was his dad’s voice on the other side. It took Virgil a second to collect his thoughts and respond, “Y-yeah, it’s me. A-are you doing okay?”

“I’ve had better days. But I’m glad I caught you this time.”

“So, um. Did the doctors say anything-?”

“Yeah. They had to pump me full of antibiotics and all, but... I’m looking to be out of the woods. They just moved me to the step-down unit. Oh, one of the RTs here was a catch, really took my breath away! Good thing your old man’s still got it!”

Virgil audibly groaned and he heard his dad cough-laugh back.

“… do I even want to know about what landed you in there in the first place?”

“It might be more fun to catch up in person, after I get that clean bill of health, of course.”

“Fun? Or embarrassing?”

More laughing, “In all seriousness, ‘the new place is treating you well?”

“Yeah, uh. I think I actually made a new friend, recently?”

“Oh?”

Another day at Apollo Voice Headquarters. Another day selling upgrades and loyalty packages for a dizzying list of products and services to strangers through a headset and holed up in a cubicle.

Far from glamorous work, Roman didn’t want to be here. Still, someone had to keep food on the table. And his brother… well, was his brother.

So, he put on his best performance during the interview and being bilingual was an asset on the resume. When he landed the job, he squeezed as much enthusiasm out of himself as he could to get started. It made him feel useful, at least.

That’s what he told himself, each time he clocked in. Each time he psyched himself up for another call. Each time he got the third degree from potential customers. That was worse than having people just hang up on him outright, but it still looked better to his supervisors. It reminded him of things he’d rather not think about. In between calls, he stared at the clock and looked forward to the end of his shift.

(Not that he particularly enjoyed trying to decipher the thing on the wall.)

He almost didn’t get the position, if not for Remus helping him get to speed with some of the systems he needed to work with on the job. He may or may not have been bluffing about his skills there. Look, the bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

Also, Remus's jokes about taking up prostitution made him willing to say anything to prevent that. At least Roman hoped they were jokes… Remus did sometimes come home with money they had desperately needed to cover some bill or other.

Still, he did better keeping people on the line to hear out his pitch to future customers than a lot of the newbies. In fact, he was really good at that. That and keeping his head down and staying on script, when he otherwise needed to. It made up for some pretty mystifying and spectacular computer malfunctions, here and there.

A few months into the job, while zoning out in the break room, he heard some coworkers have a conversation. They usually talked about things that Roman had trouble caring about, more often than not. The pair wore name tags, some guy named Chris was chatting up some chick named Rosa.

“Heeey, you gonna make it to the gym on Friday?”

She seemed nervous, “Sorry, I think my sister wants me to do some babysitting. Ha, that’s a workout in of itself, if you ask me!”

“Bummer. Kevin had a family thing to deal with too, hey!”

Chris turned to Roman, “You interested in being my workout buddy this weekend?”

Chris had quite the figure, if Roman was honest. But they barely knew each other and he didn’t know if he swung that way. He shook his head at the direction his thoughts threatened to wander to, “Uh, maybe? I didn’t have anything planned. But I don’t have a membership or anything...”

“Don’t worry about it, that place has a free trial and everything.”

Roman rubbed one of his shoulders, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to get back in shape.”

“Awesome!”

-

Admittedly, one of the first reasons Roman agreed to things was to see if he had any chance with Chris. That man had beautiful, deep blue eyes and an ass that never skipped leg day. It reminded him that he had some room for a lot of self-improvement.

That was kind of always the case, but he wasn’t about to unpack any of that.

What he didn’t expect was Chris spending so much breath talking about quotas and promotions and himself whenever he wasn’t counting reps out there. Kevin was a lot like him too, when he joined in on their sessions – and he would not shut up about the Packers. Roman didn’t want to constantly be thinking of his job out there. And while he did have a stint trying out for the football team back in high school, he wasn’t that invested in the NFL.

He only bothered because his uncle said so. He probably should’ve tried harder.

But what really made Chris rapidly lose his luster was all his offhand, snide comments about a cousin of his wanting to go to an art school and make cartoons. “He’s going to get a rude awakening from the real world, man. Wish his mom was able to talk some sense into him, or else she’s going to be stuck with a freeloader in mountains of debt. I aint paying taxes for that shit.”

Roman felt a frog in his throat and pit of ice settle in his chest, “R-right. Of course.”

With that, Roman pulled away from their group slowly over the next several weeks. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to care. Chris usually had a lot of luck getting a workout group going without him, anyways. He was just a fluke invite.

-

Roman often felt all wound up by the time he got back to the apartment from his shift – too much time sitting in one place and bored out of his mind.

It was hard to sleep, sometimes. He’d often pace around and yammer on at his practically nocturnal brother about whatever, if not muttering curses into a pillow, or passing out at work. It took a lot of willpower to avoid that last one.

The gym helped, all told.

And, well, he hoped it would get him more luck in the love department. His thoughts flitted to some Disney-like scenarios of some hunk sweeping him off his feet and paying for everything. Or something fanciful and exciting like that.

He was a grown man, and Chris’s comments still stung. Too sensitive. Too childish. Too- he shook his head as he went into his next set of rows and focused on his burning lats.

He sometimes looked around the place and noted some regulars.

There was this cute guy that often visited the place’s manager. Nico, was it? The way Mr. Sanders looked at him, told him everything he needed to know what was going on between them.

He groaned thinking about it. Maybe if he was in better shape, he’d be someone else’s Prince Charming. Or whatever.

Another rep. Another swig of water. Another. Another. Another.

-

There was another regular that went there, a guy in glasses and older than him but he wasn’t sure by how much. He was built like a (shit) brick house. The way he stacked his sets and loads, the way he was so locked into it, it was like a machine. Serious. More than a little intimidating, if he had to be honest.

He tried keeping a wide berth, not wanting to bother the guy.

Yet, whenever the guy was chatting up the manager or other regulars or most of the time on his phone, he was all smiles. Totally different and Roman wasn’t sure what to make of it. It made him think of the song and dance he needed to put on for work.

Despite his best efforts, Roman eventually collided with the guy.

Between sections of his routine, Roman walked over to the drinking fountains to fill up his bottle. He wasn’t sure how long it was empty until he noticed. He may’ve started feeling a little dizzy, but it was nothing serious, he thought.

He was just focused on making a beeline for those fountains and wasn’t paying attention to who else was milling about the place. There was plenty room for that, so he didn’t know how he managed to halfway body check some guy talking on their phone along the way.

It knocked a bit of wind out of him and left him stumbling.

Big hands on his shoulders steadied him before he could faceplant into nearby equipment, “Whoa there! Are you alright?”

When he realized who it was, he got nervous, “Was just gonna do a refill. Sorry to bother you. I-I’ll be on my way now…”

It was THAT guy. He quickly wrapped up the call and addressed him with a smile on his face, “Hakuna Matata. Er, it’s alright. I’ll-”

Roman blinked at the guy, “What did you just say?”

“Hakuna Matata?”

That song started to play in Roman’s head. He had to resist the impulse to start humming along, or worse, break out in song making a complete fool of himself. “Yeah, that. Do you- do you like that movie?”

“Well, yes? Why else would I say that?”

Roman looked aside, “You just looked… I don’t know.”

The guy gave a hearty chuckle, “Seriously, don’t sweat it. Or do, heat stroke aint no joke. Anyways, name’s Patton.”

“Uh. I’m Roman. Nice to meet you, but, uh-”, Roman pulled up his water bottle, “I-I gotta go, do the stuff and the things.”

“Of course! ‘Til next time.”

-

Eventually, Roman started to deliberately find opportunities for a chat. When he saw Patton again in the gym break room, it made him curious.

“So, uh, Pat- Patton? What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“I suppose I’m partial to Winnie The Pooh, the younger kiddos really shine to it.”

“Kiddos?”

Patton grinned, “Oh, I teach a bunch of elementary schoolers!”

“Do you- do you have any kids too?”

“Uh, let’s just say I’m not ready for that.”

Roman felt awkward, “Oh.”

Patton chuckled, “I only started working around last summer or so? It’s hectic enough with the classroom and occasional visits from my nephews.”

“What’s that like? Teaching?”

“Oh-ho, you better hold onto your ears!”

“Huh?”

Patton snorted, “’cause I’m gonna talk them them off!”

Patton didn’t wait for a response before launching into story after story of his adventures with his students. Many mishaps with craft supplies and sweet one-on-one memories he was already having with them.

Roman kind of wished he had a teacher like Patton, growing up.

The guy loved talking about his favorite movies and other things that Roman thought he should’ve outgrown by now. He recently hit twenty! He was an adult and he needed to act like it. Yet… Roman couldn’t complain.

“… you can also call me Pat, by the way. Hey, you interested for a chat and coffee later?”

“Uh? Sure.”

-

At the cafe, Roman had brought along a sketchbook. He got there perhaps way earlier than he needed to be, but it was another day off and drawing was always a helpful distraction. Often times it was scenarios with his favorite characters in the movies he cherished growing up despite how childish. Other times, he’d just people watch and draw what was happening around him.

Either way, he’d sometimes get a little lost in what he was doing.

He was partially snapped out of it when Patton arrived, “Looks like someone was being an early bird today.”

Roman was busy finishing a drawing of one of the more attractive baristas that worked there. Some guy that always wore sunglasses for some reason. “Oh. Hi, Pat.”

“You’re really good at that, huh?”

“It’s just some silly drawings-”

“I may not be an art buff, but I DO know when someone’s selling themselves a lil short. When did you start drawing?”

Roman paused to think, “I dunno. As long as I can remember? Which is honestly pretty spotty.”

Patton pointed at the sketchbook, “Is it okay if I look through that?”

Roman hesitated, but he kind of wanted to know what Pat would think, “Sure.”

Patton leafed through it carefully, “Gosh, have you considered doing this kind of thing for a living?”

“Alas, it’s not what you’d call practical or whatever. Not like getting a long term patronage gig from nobles or The Church are really A Thing anymore. Michelangelo had a sweet gig going, if you asked me. A-anyways, no. I just work at a call center to keep the lights on, and food in the fridge for me and my brother… We're out of peanut butter.”

“You have a brother?”

“He’s- he’s smart. But, he’s an absolute, god forsaken- menace! I don’t get him sometimes. Well. A LOT of the time. But…”

Patton seemed to find that funny.

Roman didn’t expect to well up a little as he continued, “He’s all I got, you know?”

Roman chose not to talk about a lot of why things were the way they were for the two of them.

He didn’t want to kill the mood anymore than he probably already had.

-

Roman wasn’t actually sure if he wanted to be more than just friends with Pat. He was just really nice company, after dealing with a bunch of people from work. Let alone other people at the apartment complex, or his brother.

Speaking of which, that didn’t stop Remus from insinuating otherwise about these outings. Roman may’ve regretted shutting down one of these annoyance fests with asking how his brother’s job hunt was going.

Remus may’ve gotten snippy, “What if he’s luring you into a trap, huh? He could totally be a human trafficker!”

“No, he’s cool! Really. You should see the guy for yourself.”

“Fine! Maybe. I. WILL- go to the stupid gym to see what the big deal is over there, too.”

“Just… don’t bother my coworkers, if you see them? Please?”

“Oh, come ON. You KNOW I can’t make promises like that!”

Roman groaned and tried to underplay his own worries, “Just- I don’t want to lose my job!”

Remus sobered, “Yeah. I get it. I guess I'll try… for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Whatever.”

---

Even though Roman didn’t bring it up that often, Remus was searching for work.

Janus’s stipend was generous enough to pay off the security deposit and also helped Roman pay the down payment on their car. It helped with other expenses, for a time. Even though Jan said there were no strings attached, Remus felt bad about mooching on his friend enough.

He did put in a few applications, taking the bus when his brother had the car.

The local Greek diner offered him an interview. He went to it, he managed to barely get there in time, he wasn’t sure what he did wrong but he got a, “We don’t think you’d be a good fit.”

Did he spend too much time on tangents? Did he make the manager uncomfortable? Was it how he sneezed without covering his face? Probably. He was too out of it to be entirely sure.

He missed the other couple interviews he landed entirely, because he was passed out. Probably from not enough Zs. Or his semi-monthly home invader. Or just completely forgetting food was a thing that exists.

He was just about ready to give up.

He tried to occupy himself with some haphazard chores around the apartment while Roman was out. Sometimes that even helped.

Other times, he’d stare at the dishes in the sink, or the full laundry bin, or the overflowing trashcans. And the less said about the toilet, the better. It did bother him, really. But, he’d get sucked into a video game or something, and nothing was accomplished.

At that point, it was up to Roman to pick up his slack. If he even had the energy by the time he got home. When Roman didn’t, he’d just get wearily reminded to, “please, do something about any of this.”

“I know.”

-

When Roman wound up going to that gym pretty regularly, Remus could tell he had an easier time getting sleep.

The notion annoyed him for some reason. How dare he suffer the insomnia alone!

Roman did seem to be happier too, when it came to that Patton guy. Suspiciously so. What with the macabre and lonesome places Remus’s mind went, he wanted to be sure that the guy wasn’t up to something. None of it helped by going down some increasingly horrific rabbit holes online.

After an age and a half of going back and forth on it, Remus asked to meet him in that place.

“Really? Now you want to see Pat?”

“What? Got a problem with that?”

“W-well. I think he wanted to meet you after I mentioned you, actually. So, no? Maybe?”

“Wait. What did you tell him!?”

Roman laughed, “Why don’t you ask him and find out?”

“… Was this part of your plan?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The way Roman grinned back at him, pissed him off too much not to commit to making arrangements.

-

Remus rummaged around for whatever he had for the gym.

He brought along clothes from high school PE class that barely fit anymore. He’d vandalized that old Trojans T-shirt ages ago. He ripped its sleeves off and badly scrawled the condom brand’s tagline along the thing’s bottom hem with permanent marker. It also had a few holes singed into it from some projects he had to leave behind on incredibly short notice.

He grimaced thinking about that whole mess, again.

The shorts were crusty from a bad paint job because he hated the school’s colors – they were more Roman’s thing. Roman said something about him using the wrong kind of paint for that, it obviously didn’t stop him. It took several washes to be not entirely too itchy to wear, though.

He didn’t make high marks in PE, but it was all worth it for the reactions.

As he followed his brother into the place, he wondered what Pat would think.

The guy was on one of the treadmills with some earbuds in. Roman did mention he was a big guy, but Remus didn’t expect this asshole to be THAT big. Patton noticed them right away. He wore a smile that Remus didn’t know what to make of as he greeted the two of them, “Hey there, Roman! Oh, is that who I think it is?”

Roman dramatically threw a hand to his forehead, “Alas! The menace himself insisted-”

Remus reached out for a handshake, “Name’s Remus!”

When Pat obliged, Remus pulled him in and tried to be intimidating, “I know some people, if ya try anything funny.”

Patton snorted.

Did he think he was bluffing? Okay, he might’ve been bluffing. He wasn’t sure just how much Jannie would humor him, here. But give him the right tools, and he bet he could make this guy’s life hell if he absolutely had to. He wasn’t above playing dirty. He just needed a new toolbox, a soldering kit, a bunch of scavenged chips...

His scheming was interrupted by Roman abandoning him, the traitor. “Well, I gotta do my reps. Why don’t you two make nice?”

Patton gave him a relaxed salute, “Roger Wilco, young man!”

Remus wanted to poke at that, “You work with kids, huh? You better not be lying to my brother.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“What about before the teaching gig?”

“That’s not casual conversation material for any ole Tom, Dick, and Harry.”

“You can’t just say that and expect me to not want to know!”

“I’d like to know you a little more before I can authorize that kind of clearance.”

The weird smirk in his Pat guy’s face just annoyed him all the more. It made him wonder all kinds of things about him. He really didn’t like where his mind went, when he wondered how he really treated his students? Overly nice people are often the most capable of the most heinous shit.

“Fine. Pick my brain, not sure if you’ll like what you’ll find rattling around in there, though.”

“I got an idea of the sorts of things your brother likes to do – he’s really good at it, too! What about you?”

Remus didn’t want to admit that him still being nice about his brother might’ve lowered his guard a little bit. Only a little bit.

“Tinker with shit, fuck around and find out, that sort of thing. Like to keep my hands busy. There's a real short list of people who appreciate my genius.”

“Oh?”

Remus decided to prattle on about the body spray incident he pulled in high school – something he was still extroadinarily proud of.

Patton laughed, “I think I see what Roman was talking about now.”

“Wait. What’d he tell you?!”

Patton walked onto one of the treadmills, waving him over as he did so, “How about a stroll, Sparky?”

“Hey!”

Patton smiled back at him, as he started a slow walk.

Remus wound up taking the neighboring one, watching this man warily. He might’ve tried asking more questions, if not for the unfortunate reminder of how out of shape he was with the settings he saw on his machine. Or for the chaffing his thighs were experiencing from the gym shorts.

He could’ve eased off, but the look Patton was giving him continued to bug him.

He tried not to show how winded he was getting, nor how much his crotch hurt, and that it was actually starting to distract him from some of those thoughts that flitted around about that guy. Or a lot of the other shit his brain would not shut up about.

Did they have any peanut butter left?

Never mind that, this Patton fellow was still on thin ice.

-

Remus had more time to kill than his brother, so he wound up sometimes hitching a ride on the bus to the gym more often.

It wasn’t what you’d call consistent. He’d often wing it most of the time, deciding based on how much fun he’d thought it would be to try some the stuff other members were doing. He was swiftly finding some favorites at that rate. Especially after Janus got him new gym shorts. Which he personalized, properly this time.

Whenever he did try hitting up most of the regulars, he sometimes wondered how far he could push it before getting kicked out of there. Especially given how saucy some of those exercises could look and feel.

He’d laugh about such thoughts, to no one in particular. But then it’d left him increasingly feeling like something snagged in his chest, for some reason. Annoying.

Sometimes among them, he would see Patton there. All smiles, talking about his students and bits and pieces about how he was getting on with Roman. That man did not let up with the cheerfulness, all the talks of Dr. Seuss and the Kidz Bop junk made Remus roll his eyes.

But then, he’d hear Patton talk to somebody on that phone of his differently than usual again, “… sounds like a real soup sandwich, brother. Need to debrief after group?...”

After Patton closed that call, Remus lost what patience he had and blurted out, “How many people have you Ka-Bar'd?”

“P-pardon?”

There was that snagging sensation again, kind of like a fish hook down the windpipe, “What kinda action did you see out there?!”

Patton took a very deep breath, placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder, staring him down, “Kiddo, you sure you want to keep going down that road with me?”

Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that look, it kinda made him want to squirm, the image of slowly dying bait flit across his mind. He was unable to move, expecting… expecting…

Expecting to get hit.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, not saying anything, when another hand gently rested on his shoulder and Patton lowered himself more to his level. His tone never rising, “Look. If you have to know, before the teaching thing? I served in the Army, as a medic.”

Remus blinked, not quite believing Patton’s sudden candor, “Whoah, really?”

“You were giving me a look I’ve seen far too many times in my career. How about we chat somewhere quieter?”, Patton gestured for the gym break room.

As they went into the room, Remus was suddenly aware of the ambient noise of the gym, again. His head conjured an old radio struggling to get a good signal.

Once they were seated, Patton piped up, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What? Oh, uh… HEY.”

Patton chuckled.

“Is this to get out of telling me about those classified, top secret, juicy details of your past?”

“Juicy is… a choice. But I don’t need new glasses to see how on edge you’ve been around me regarding Roman.”

“So?”

“Would it help if I spilled some guts?”

Figures of speech be damned, Remus perked up at that choice of words and nodded.

“Pretty early into training, I had the displeasure of meeting one of the sick-call ninjas from the rear-detachment. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was pretty notorious with my superiors.”

“Sick-call ninja? Like. Anime stuff?”

Patton laughed, “Nah. A kid that clearly didn’t want to be out there, barely military drinking age, he was. Only there because his parents threatened to cut him off if he didn’t shape up. Join the military and FITFO. I didn’t really get it, at the time.”

Patton leaned back, continued, “Was real bright-eyed and bushy-tailed over at the Battalion Aid Station. A lot of pretty ordinary sick calls – bad stomach bug here, mild concussion there. But this kid? He got creative about it. It was pretty obvious when he’d just mess with some rations and grease paint to make himself look bad off. Probably should’ve been one of those special effects guys in the movies. Anyways. There was one day that’d stick with me, where it wasn’t fake.”

Remus thought of his brother and his hobbies,“What happened?”

“He was carried into the tent unconscious by some of his squad mates, one day. They left without a word and were obviously cagey. But, they all reeked of gas.”

Patton took a drink from his water bottle and continued, “Closer inspection made me worried. No obvious injuries, but his vitals were slipping and his lips were going blue. Had to put him on ventilation and get him ready for transport to the nearest hospital. Thankfully he was stabilizing by the time of hand-off. But I knew he wasn’t out of the woods.”

“Did he- did he make it?”

“Unlike a lot of the smaller cases I had before, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kid and asked the hospital how he was doing. I missed shooting the shit with him.”

Remus tried not to be taken surprise by the language, but it was increasingly obvious that Patton was definitely carrying himself way different at that point. “Well-?”

“It was obvious that the other unit members felt like he wasn’t dedicated enough, manly enough, as he’d tell me. He’d whisper to me about wanting to get them off his back and other grim thoughts. I didn’t expect a letter from him, but I did get one explaining things, a couple weeks later. You see... alcohol wasn’t the only poison to pick out there. Sometimes, there were competitions to see who could last the longest huffing the diesel, especially among the younger privates with limited permissions.”

“Ever see him again after that?”

“No. Heard he got discharged. No more word to his status after that letter. Praying that kid’s alright, these days. I suppose I could try looking him up on Facebook, but I'm afraid of what I'd find.”

Remus wasn’t sure how he was feeling other than uncomfortable. He was remembering the shit Esteban told him and Roman constantly and- the words just spilled out of him.

“That- that kind of reminds me of some shit that happened, basically yesterday. Roman and I—our Uncle, he-”, Remus hated the way his voice started trembling.

Patton started looking less rigid? Remus’s brain was sucked further into the moment everything broke, not entirely in control. His cheek remembered the burn from getting slapped after trying to get Esteban off Roman’s back.

How the slurs came rushing out as Esteban whipped his brother by the arm like a rag doll. How Roman stifled a scream when he was hit in the face. And all the blood that came with it.

No matter how hard they tried at points to appease Esteban, there was no patience left. Rage. And contempt, yeah, those were the words for it. At the time, it happened so fast he couldn’t process it.

Neither could be what Esteban wanted them to be.

If Jan didn’t step in when they did, his mind drifted to being homeless and in constant danger.

Remus was increasingly vaguely aware that things got quiet with Patton.

Remus started seeing spots, oh right, he wasn’t breathing normally anymore. Everything felt suddenly far away from reach. This was worse than before he was corralled into this room.

Patton was staring at him with another weird look, his tone so soft, “Hey, hey, hey… can you take some deep breathes for me? In for 4… 3… 2… 1…”

Remus complied, because he couldn’t really think anymore.

“Hold for 4… 3… 2… 1...”

He remembered the stink of alcohol on Esteban’s breath that day.

“Out for 4… 3… 2… 1…”

The way Roman just. Looked.

“Pause for 4… 3… 2… 1...”

They went on like this for a sluggish eternity but it was feeling less like he was tumbling about in space, about to decompress into chunky marinara-

“How are you doing, kiddo?”

“Better. I-I think.”

“That was something I picked up from my support groups over with the VA. Box breathing. A lot of the vets there, well. I think you get the picture. There’s a reason I generally keep a lid on it.”

“Y-yeah. I-I’m sorry if-”

Patton took a deep breath, looking very serious before smiling wide, “Hakuna matata!”

If the breathing stuff didn’t reel him in all the way, that certainly did. Remus couldn’t help but splutter uselessly and shouted, “What the hell was that!?”

He thankfully didn't feel energetic enough to break into the song and dance. Not that he was particularly great at that, to begin with. That was definitively Roman's schtick.

Patton laughed, “Just something I also like saying to my students, no worries.”

“Hey!”

“I may’ve said that to your brother, too. Don’t tell him I told you, though.”

Remus was feeling the sudden energy drain of the entire episode crash into him like particles in the Hadron super collidor. He couldn’t muster much of a response, this time.

“Would you like a hug?”

“Huh?”

“Does a hug sound good to you, right now?”

Remus wound up nodding, feeling his eyes leak for some reason. So much for any threatening pretense he tried to have with this guy.

Patton was so, gentle? He thought of the vague memories of his parents – and the phantom of their embraces. Back when things were good. Well, as good as they could’ve been. Roman remembered them even less than he did.

He held onto the bear of a guy a little while longer before they both sat back down at the table.

After some quiet moments just sitting there and trying to sort himself, Remus eventually looked at the clock. They had been doing all of this for like an hour and a half.

And then, he heard Roman’s sing-song voice, “Knock knock. Your chauffeur is here.”

When he turned around to look, Roman seemed a little shaken, “Whoah. Remus, you look like an absolute train wreck! Are you okay?”

Remus sighed, wondering to himself how many times that was going to be said to him in one day. But he just said, “Uh. Pat just reminded me of some things. Wait.”

Remus looked at Patton, “What if I-we started calling you… Padre?”

Patton smiled big again, “It would be an honor.”

Roman asked, “Padre honestly does have a certain ring to it… But seriously. What just happened here?”

Time/place skips are indicated with a “-” section break. The alternating POVs by a “---” break.

---

Janus just finished their physical therapy training and found a position at Radiant Orthopedics back in their old haunt.

They wondered how their gremlin buddy was doing, while they were gone. For the past couple years or so, Remus called them about a bunch of things, quite frankly far too many things. He sounded overjoyed when he landed the perfect job. Excited about a new friend he made there. Over the moon when he met someone named Virgil.

It was almost a coin flip’s chance that he’d bring up Virgil and it was so overwhelmingly mushy. Jan would tune out that kind of talk if it were anyone else, but Remus sounded a lot happier than… before. So, Janus didn’t mind it as much, as long as Virgil treated the imp right. Otherwise, they would make sure that Remus’s lucky boyfriend was going to regret it.

Janus had barely settled in, when Remus gave them another call, “Hey! J-Anus! I was gonna take Virgie out to the mall on the weekend. Wanna cooome?”

The almost sensual way Remus dragged that last word made Janus snort, “Sure. It wasn’t like I was busy or wanted to meet the boyfriend.”

“About that…”

“Hm?”

“Scare-amore’s been uh. Exploring some… things.”

“What, pray tell, do you mean?”

“Uh, I think it would be funnier if I could surprise you both!”

“How foreboding .”

Remus cackled, “Thanks a lot, Jannie! I gotta fuck, and then unfuck another cooling system, byyye!”

The line went dead before Janus could say anything. They shook their head, preparing for whatever Remus had in store for the three of them.

-

Janus wasn’t sure if Remus properly disclosed that she was really quite fluid about things. Not that she cared so much – if someone fell for Remus, they’d probably Get It on some level.

Birds of a feather and all that.

She was feeling some deep red lipstick and faux-snakeskin stilettos. She felt like going a little ham with a flowing black silk skirt and a frilly straw yellow blouse. Golden pendant earrings, a purse that matched the shoes, the works.

She didn’t care about overdressing – she damn well knew it was just an ordinary mall, not some kind of fancy gala. If anything, she was holding back a little bit.

The psoriasis was manageable, some dull aching in her knees and fingers, some semi-angry rashes. It was only a fairly recent, pleasant development that it started to affect her joints. Bringing along one of her canes was probably a good idea, in case it got worse. Or this Virgil guy(?) pulls anything on Remus or herself. Any combination, really.

Janus was not above going a little bit feral about things. She had quite a selection of elegant sword canes of a variety of materials and detailing. She brought along one with a handle wrapping matching her bag and shoes.

She was perhaps a little too eager to find out if brandishing the weapon was necessary.

Virgil was lucky her past week went pretty well with her clients and energy levels.

-

They all met in the food court, on the ground floor. Remus and Virgil were more than halfway done with their Panda Express, by the time Janus arrived. 

Janus ate at home, to give the lovebirds some time to mingle beforehand.

It looked like Remus put in more effort in his look, too. The tutu he wore was made of tattered, neon green tulle. She swore the guy wore that thing back in high school sometimes, it looked like it earned a few new scorch marks since. Such an eye-searing, garish get-up with plenty of his favorite color on black. He was looking at his partner from across the table with obvious admiration and amusement.

Virgil looked like they wanted to merge into the wall behind them, as Janus approached. Remus described Virgil like a walking Hot Topic mannequin, over the phone. She chuckled before approaching and clearing her throat. “Evening. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

Remus hopped up and gave Janus a tight squeeze, enthusiastically yelling, “JANNY!”

Janus tried not to wheeze too noticeably, “Oh, I definitely didn’t miss feeling like a boa constrictor’s meal-to-be.”

Janus also looked at Virgil, who just looked completely uncomfortable about what was happening here. Janus noticed that Virgil wore some lip gloss that had a delightful shade of plum to it. It suited them, still not sure what Remus meant about the term “boyfriend” being in question.

Once Remus released Janus, she reached out to shake Virgil’s hand, “Virgil, was it? I’d like to get to know you a little better. I am Janus, I’m sure he’s told you plenty about me, yes?”

Virgil mumbled, hesitantly returning the handshake, “Sort of. It was kind of confusing. Sounded like he was talking about different people named Jan sometimes. At first, anyways.”

Janus couldn’t help but laugh about that, before quieting down, and taking a seat. “Oh, sweetie. I don’t really make it much of a secret, at least among friends.”

Virgil grumbled, “What the fuck are you getting at?”

“Today, I was feeling a bit more like a woman. Tomorrow, I might not. Hell, maybe not by the time I retire for the night! Kind of the whole genderfluid bag.”

Virgil’s stiff posturing relaxed for a microsecond before they tensed up again, only saying, “Oh.”

Remus nudged Virgil, “Scare-amore, is it okay if Janny knows?”

Janus was impressed with how cautious Remus was being, more evidence about how much the guy cared about this emo.

Virgil twiddled with their food, it looked like kung pao tofu, “Uh. I’m… questioning things. And the gushy eldritch horror over there felt like we could- uh. Do some shopping? I guess? It was kind of short notice.”

The way Virgil blushed amused Janus, “Sure thing. Any preferences I need to know about?”

“Uh. I don’t care all that much, I don’t really mind being called a guy. But she/her feels kind of nice? Doesn’t sound exactly like what your deal is, but- I don’t know.”

Janus found this intriguing and took it in for what to suggest later. Given the three of them’s current choices in wardrobe, she had a few ideas. She was willing to pitch in, depending on how things went.

While they strolled the place, Janus thought to probe Virgil a bit more. One of the stories Remus loved to repeat was how the two first met. It was kind of hard to imagine someone so withdrawn and fidgety having the honor of punching her BFF like that. Janus supposed she shouldn’t be all that surprised about how Remus approached the matter.

She did wonder more about Virgil’s side of it.

---

Whenever Remus brought up a Jan in conversation, it was somewhat confusing to Virgil.

That BFF of his seemed pretty cool, whenever Remus talked about their high school antics every now and then. Jan was brought up a lot more frequently, after Virgil started to talk about the whole gender thing with.

Remus was lovably weird about his sensibilities and it helped Virgil feel more comfortable pulling on that thread more.

Virgil was taken by surprise when Remus sprung another spontaneous mall date on her. She low-key never wanted to get used to it, despite sarcastically griping about it. It was always a confusing blend of nerve-wracking and exciting.

They were chilling out in the food court and enjoying each other’s company. That was until someone he never met approached their table. Someone who clearly put a lot of effort in their look. Her look? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to think.

Well, he did think this person looked pretty and walked with an enviable amount of poise.

Virgil was confused and uneasy, until Remus basically yelled Janus’s name and entangled them.

But then Jan mentioned the whole genderfluid thing and that made her feel a little more jealous. Janus, like Remus and Logan, seemed to have their shit together on the subject. It made her feel like she should have figured this out years ago.

Never mind what Logan said about it.

Janus asked him something as they left the food court, “Remus told me so much about you. There was an incident at the gym, yes?”

Remus just snorted about that, taking the lead out into the rest of the building. Questionably.

Virgil hated the way this lady smiled at him, and hated the way his cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “Y-yeah. What’s it to you?”

She was a little bit sing-song and smug, “Oh. Nothing. Not like I’ll see you more often.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m a physical therapist – I’ll be working with some clients over there. I heard from a little vulture that you had quite the mean left hook.”

Virgil already wanted to scream and it took all the willpower she had not to as they approached the first stop. Spencers. The restrained scream turned into an audible groan as Remus giggled his way into the store. “I plead the fifth.”

Janus chortled as the three of them entered.

It came to no surprise that Remus went straight for the sex toy section. He was already ogling some of the rainbow vomit Creature Cocks and strap-ons all starry-eyed. Remus pointed to all the alt girl stuff in a different spot of the store, transfixed by all the squishy swirly silicone dildos, “You girlies can go do your thing over there.”

Admittedly, there was a lot of shit here that Virgil saw similar products over where she worked at. She chewed into her cheek, staring at the plaid skirts on the racks in front of her. They looked nice. Not really the colors she wanted, though. 

Virgil didn’t know what to think of the way Janus was looking at him during that, either.

Remus eventually got three different lava lamps, way too many Monstropus Tentacles, and a “Thou May Sucketh Deez Nuts” Tee shirt. Janus settled on a “Fuck Around and Find Out” beanie hat. Virgil just grabbed a couple leather cuff bracelets and a studded belt.

Before they properly left, Remus ran back in and out with something else tossed into his shopping bag that he refused to show Virgil what it was until they got home later. Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be scared.

A couple shoe places on the same floor were their next stops.

Janus grabbed a pair of fancy black and gold pumps. Remus got a new pair of boots and the MOST eye-searing green shoelaces. Virgil swore those things were well over a couple hundred bucks, each.

Virgil’s casual wear was seeing better days. The foxing was peeling off and there was a pretty deep crack underneath both of her shoes. She went for a couple pairs of high tops – one solid black and the other with white accents. It was steal for a multi-pack bundle of purple, black, and white variant laces.

Virgil also stared at a pretty glossy pair of boots and tried not to get too overwhelmed by the sticker shock already. Janus seemed to notice him staring at the price tags, “Don’t worry your pretty little head, it’s all on me.”

Virgil still wasn't sure what Janus’s game was, but Remus smiled, “Me too, Scare-amore!”

Virgil’s cheeks heated up, “Geez. It’s not like it’s a special occasion…”

Remus then grabbed Virgil by the shoulders, staring him in the eyes way too intensely, “For you? It can be!”

Virgil threw his head back and sighed, “Fiiine.”

So far, most of the items were still somewhat “neutral”. But she couldn’t stop thinking about those skirts, while the three of them rode up the escalator. Janus was carefully holding up her fancy cane away from the moving parts.

Virgil zoned back in on Remus idly rambling, “What if it snags on somebody, tearing off all their clothes in front of everyone? What if it catches fire with all of us on it, trapped on all sides? What if the motor malfunctions and flings everyone off it like a horrifying human ballista?”

That did get a few very unnerved strangers nearby to hasten their ascent (and descent), a little bit anyways. Honestly? Virgil wanted to join them. Janus laughed, “Buddy. How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None at all! Far too excited about today!”

It wasn’t long after their climb that Remus grabbed Virgil’s wrist and started tugging him toward the Hot Topic a few yards away. Remus looked like he wanted to go full tilt with him in tow, but slowed up to let Janus keep pace.

Virgil was worried about whose shift they were all going to walk in on. She did not want to deal with explaining things with them or making a scene with them. She found herself imagining wearing a really cute skirt again and felt her cheeks heat up.

Janus noticed and smiled at her, “You really need to stop overthinking things. Indulge!”

Virgil grumbled, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Janus laughed again, Virgil swore it was at his expense.

Virgil was the last of the three of them setting foot in the store. It looked like Roxie was manning the register. He wasn’t really chatty with his coworkers, partly due to getting the third degree from some of those customers who thought he was some kind of slacker. They were usually a hard-ass, exhausted parent bringing along their spawn in there.

He went over to the racks with the skirts and other clothes. 

She wasn’t sure if she liked that they got there at a less busy time. On the one hand, less customers meant less people staring at them. On the other, more opportunities for Roxie to start an awkward conversation. It would be a huge mess. He wished they shopped online or some shit. But nooo, the gremlin HAD to pout and whine at him like a dog begging for a treat.

Remus was off somewhere else in the store, but Janus just kept hovering around him. He hated feeling- knowing he was getting sized up by anyone. “Look. I don’t want to start shit. But can you give me some space?”

Janus frowned slightly before going, “… I don’t suppose you know what your size is?”

“Of course I do!”

At least Janus was being discretionary, “Oh, honey. There’s a reason why women have to go try everything on. Even when they do know that.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Let’s just say… in the women’s section, standardization may as well be Santa Claus.”

Virgil wanted to facepalm, he worked there for at least a whole year and he didn’t know that. Suddenly his nerves lit up, he did not want to be here forever.

As if to mortify him further, Roxie wandered over to him, “Virgil? What are you doing over here, this fine evening?”

Virgil tried and failed to not appear embarrassed. When she wasn’t really actively thinking about this gender shit, she’d be better at pulling his usual aloofness. But this was all still new and scary. “Uh…”

As if on cue, both Remus and Janus looked at Roxie in a weird, vaguely threatening way. Roxie wasn’t oblivious, first looking at his boyfriend, “Oh. Is this a daaate?”

Remus grinned on a dime and tightly side-hugged Virgil, “Hi, Roxie!”

Virgil did NOT want to think about how Roxie met Remus, their first time. It was up there with the Gym Incident. Despite that, she quickly got used to his antics. Virgil admitted to herself there were worse shifts they could’ve walked in on. Virgil mumbled, “M-maybe…”

Roxie snorted and looked at Janus, “And who’s this?”

Remus smiled and side-hugged Janus with the other arm. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh a little bit from the startled “oof” out of Janus. The mildly affronted look Janus gave Remus made it even funnier. Remus gleefully introduced her, “This is Janus. We go waaay back!”

Virgil snarked, truthfully, about Janus to his coworker, “Sorry, I don’t know this person.”

Janus looked at Virgil with SUCH insult, “Hey!”

Roxie seemed pretty amused about Remus’s antics, but still looked at Virgil again, “So, what’s got your interest today, Vi?”

Virgil gulped and stared at a rack full of pleated plaid skirts of different colorways. Some were purple and black, he didn’t see that in the Spencer’s earlier. Those were perfect and… cute. She took a deep breath, projecting her voice a little more than she intended, but deflating towards the end. “I want to try this skirt, okay?!”

He thought to himself, right after that, “It's like a band-aid. You just gotta rip it off.”

Roxie blinked at the outburst, “Did you need any help with that? Or-?”

Virgil sighed, “I, uh. I just need to figure out what’s going to fit, y’know?”

“Well, you know where the fitting room is, Vi.”

---

When Roxie left to attend to other customers, Remus grabbed a few things for himself. Him and Virgil took a few trips back and forth from the product and the fitting room. Remus was cackling a lot, and loud enough to be heard throughout the entire store.

The tiny room was an eye-searing red and black, covered with various band posters inside.

Remus grew more and more jovial the more trips they took in there – it made Janus a little bit curious. When it looked like they were holding a completed look or few, she decided to knock, “Are you deliberately leaving this girl in suspense, Little Raccoon?”

Remus erupted into a cackle at that from the other side. Virgil was clearly flustered, the door still not open, “W-what? Fuck you, Jan!”

Janus couldn’t help but snicker, she couldn’t help but play flirtatious, “Oh, you’re fun .”

The door opened just enough for a hand with black nail polish and a new black and white striped shirt sleeve to poke outside. Said hand immediately flipped her the bird.

Janus rolled her eyes, “Oh, how mature.”

The arm was retracted. The door opened a tiny bit more. Before Janus could get a good look, the door was very nearly slammed shut. The last minute restraint there just amused Jan more.

Virgil grumbled, “I’m pretty sure I’m taller than you anyways…”

Remus chimed in, “Awww, Surly Temple. You’re too CUTE not to be flaunting this look. C’mooon , let Janny see ya! For me?”

Virgil huffed, “HEY. Who’s side are you on!?”

Janus felt the ache in her knees getting harder to ignore, it was building up as they rode the escalator. She leaned into Remus’s pleas, losing some of her patience, “You can totally hog that dressing room. Closing hours are just a suggestion.”

Janus heard some whining, followed by groaning – presumably Remus, then Virgil. There was barely audible muttering too. The door was finally opened fully, for Janus to see what Virgil was going to look like.

Virgil wore that purple and black plaid skirt she was staring at like it was the Hope Diamond or something. Lovely match to the lip gloss. It was a mini and had a little chain attached on her right. There was a loosely placed black stud belt, sagging over her left. She wore matching striped leggings with the sleeves Janus glimpsed earlier. It was a twofer shirt with black, cropped tee with an elaborate chest piece print. It was decorated with skulls, bones, and flowers.

Janus couldn’t help but nod approvingly. This wasn’t AS disastrous as she’d expected from her gremlin buddy.

Remus grinned, “We kiiinda grabbed more than one look, but the second one’s gonna have to be a surprise!”

The way Virgil blushed even more made Janus more curious, “Spill.”

Remus just pointed at the seat behind them. On it was a white collared shirt, a necktie that matched the skirt, and stockings. Remus was beaming, “What do you think?”

Janus visualized Virgil walking around like a Catholic school girl with immense amusement. “Surprisingly.. tasteful.”

Virgil stood there squirming before yelling, “OKAY. Okay. You saw. Now I gotta get this shit off and go ring it up.”

Virgil shoved her away from the room and speedily closed the door again. Janus was glad her cane was there to steady her, otherwise that affair would have been far more undignified. Oh, she knew exactly what their last stop for the day was. As a little bit of revenge for that.

Before long, the stuff was bought and bagged. Janus will give Roxie one thing, she was pretty cool about all of this. Janus thought, amused, “Once you get to know Remus, not a lot is going to phase you.”

As they left the store, Janus spoke up, “You two had your fun. I have one last stop in me before this lady needs her beauty rest. Follow me, if you will.”

Virgil hesitated, back in her old outfit, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Janus started walking. Remus tugged Virgil along a bit before he followed of his own accord.

They started slowing down nearby the jewelry store. Virgil stared a moment, “I feel like my bank account is crying over there.”

Remus prodded him, “Hey now. We’re covering most of this for ya!”

Janus kept walking, “Don’t worry, it’s just little ways more.”

Virgil was confused, good. After they turned a corner and passed by another store, they arrived. The vibrant pink exterior and the glossy, bold granite flooring were unmistakable.

Virgil clipped, “Janus, no…”

Janus and Remus answered in unison… totally on purpose, “Janus, yes!”

It was Victoria's Secret. And Janus needed the excuse to get some things for herself there, anyways. Janus just went ahead of them, very smug. She was very curious to see what the Emo would gravitate towards as she made a bee-line toward a rack of lacy rompers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Janus had just started off with another fling and she wanted to look irresistible. It was always kind of amusing how torn Remus was over hearing about her mostly exciting escapades. Guy listened with fascination but would occasionally look uncomfortable and confused, “Putting yourself in things again?”

He’d usually snap out of it, snicker, and quip, “It’s so HARD not to!”

Back in the moment, in her peripheral, she noticed Remus running off for the corsets. Jan knew that thing will never look the same again once he took it home. Virgil awkwardly followed behind, Janus wondered, “Has Virgil EVER entered a Victoria’s Secret, before?”

Janus draped a couple pieces for herself before walking up to Vi, “Lost?”

He grumbled, “Kinda in the Deep End, what the fuck did you expect?”

“I saw some really cute cami sets over here. I want you to check them out.”

Virgil sighed before agreeing, “Fine.”

There was so much red, pink, and black in the place. Janus mentally figured that the two lovebirds couldn’t go wrong with the latter. It was a treat to find more adventurous colorways there. And it didn’t take much longer to hear a stifled gasp from Vi, “What is it?”

What Virgil pulled up to Janus surprised her a little bit. It was a pastel floral piece with violets all over it, there was nothing about the design that made Jan think that broody shadowling she’d been acquainted with. A faintly purple-white solid background, bold flowers and petals scattered about the print, lace trimmings matching them. Not a speck of black on the entire thing.

The way Virgil looked at that thing, Janus couldn’t bring herself to rib her about, “Like it?”

“I-I think so?”

“You know where the fitting room is, here?”

Virgil’s expression darkened, “Can both of you stay nearby for that?”

“Sure thing.”

Thankfully, it was a little more discreet and straightforward than back at the Hot Topic. Virgil wanted to keep it a surprise to Remus, because the gremlin had similar intentions. The fact he felt enough trust there may or may not have warmed Jan’s heart. A little bit.

The three of them also spent time buying other things before calling it.

Also, Janus wanted to finish things up quickly so they could get some beauty rest after this affair.

Janus may yet find more entertainment from Remus’s partner going forward.

---

It felt like a blur.

Once they had brought everything into Virgil’s apartment, Virgil was really starting to process everything that happened at the mall.

He thought they were going to be done in the Hot Topic. But nooo, that Janus person just had to drag him into one of the most ritzy feminine stores in the entire building!

Jan’s entire demeanor pissed her off a bit too. She had some trouble reading her – and Remus? The betrayal! Then again...

She was kind of glad that both of them were there with her though this. She wouldn’t have the nerve for half of it all. Scratch that, just, at all.

Remus snapped her out of reverie, “So. Who's gonna reveal their surprise, first?”

Virgil suddenly felt bashful about the last thing he had grabbed, “You first. Please?”

Remus grinned wildly and pulled out something from the Spencers' haul. It was a mesh crop top with skeleton hands groping the boobs part of the chest. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh, “Whose wearing that!?”

“You, silly!”

“Is it even going to fit?”

“I dunno! Try it on! If it doesn’t, we can just return it.”

Virgil puffed her bangs and went to work in the bathroom. Virgil wasn’t sure yet how much he wanted to fill out, but slapped it on over a plain black bra. It was a little tight for his comfort, but he had to admit – it was pretty funny. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be seen wearing it out in the open… yet.

Remus was mirthful about it, clapping gleefully, “Perfect! Oh! What about what you got?”

Virgil felt her cheeks flush again, grabbing the camisole set from their haul. She just dangled the set on the clothes hangers it came with, in front of her. “I, uh… is it too much?”

Remus absolutely squealed in delight, “I can’t WAIT to see you in that!”

“Yeah, yeah… maybe after we run everything through the wash first.”

Remus pouted, “Fiiine.”

“You have my word that I’ll try it on tonight.”

Remus answered that with a bone-crushing, lung collapsing hug. She barely set aside the clothes in time.

-

Prologue: Nothing Lasts...

[Chapter Warnings: flooding, murder, body horror, gore, horror hunger, cannibalism]

---

A few decades ago, there once was a man from a no-name town somewhere in rural America. 

He was the perpetual fair-weather friend to those around him. He did like getting people to do a few small embarrassing things with equally paltry bribes. Most would laugh it off and go about their days. He went to church occasionally, but wasn’t a very committed man of faith. He was a couple years shy of thirty and nothing else really stood out about him.

The property was cheaper thanks to it being on a floodplain, despite the need for additional insurance coverage. Thankfully, the place didn’t need much in the way of renovation, for however long it was on the market.

One day, he was hungry. He did have the finances to eat healthier, but he always would come back to an old guilty pleasure, combo pizza rolls drowning in Buffalo sauce. After finishing a plate in the microwave, his stomach still felt empty.

-

As the dust settled around Steve’s grisly demise, the Espinozas had chosen to keep their immediate family close throughout the passing holidays – Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and more. Each time, the extended family would show concern for the fact they weren’t joining them for the festivities. It was evident in the strain in Carrie and Vic’s pleas and lying about how everything was fine or otherwise finding excuses to bow out.

Given what the twins caught of that, their family sounded suspicious and impatient. Roman didn’t blame how that stressed his mom out.

Around the turn of the year, Janus showed the Espinozas the way to their estate in Newport Beach. They welcomed the family to stay whenever they liked.

Some time before Saint Patrick’s Day, the Espinozas finally took Janus’s offer. The deceit and isolation had begun to wear on them too much.

A few members of their brood were there to greet them right away. A child ran up to them first, staring up at them with shiny eyes and a sunny smile. “Hi! I’m ten!”

Everything about him was bouncing up and down; a handful of vibrant friendship bracelets, his slightly oversized pastel shirt, his partially untied shoelaces, and all those mini-twists in his hair. This earned a warm chuckle from Carrie and Vic. Vic crouched down, “Hi, Ten! I'm Vic! And you remind me of my kids when they were your namesake!”

Patton giggled about that, it made Roman blush furiously, “H-hey, I’d like to NOT be embarrassed in front of… wait, you’re Patton right?”

The child eagerly nodded, his glasses threatening to tumble off his face. The Espinoza parents shared a look of full-on endearment, at the scene. Carrie had to resist the impulse to pinch this kid’s cheeks. Patton’s smile only got bigger and brighter.

Patton looked at Carrie and was about to approach her, when someone else cleared their throat and tapped Patton’s shoulder. Patton huddled against them, without another word. This person looked around the twins’ age, dressed up like one of those emo kids they stumbled into in high school. He snarled lowly, “I’m Vee, Pat’s older brother. I will tear ALL of you to pieces if you so much as look at him funny.”

Vee’s gaze darted among all of them, but lingered on Carrie, as he said that. He hunched over, letting his locs dangle more in his face, barely covering a scowl. Remus did think the vibrant purple tips were a neat touch, even if he didn’t mention it.

Patton and Vee didn’t have much of a family resemblance, but no one was about to question that detail. Both were Black, Vee’s complexion being the more ashen looking of the two. Both also had phantoms of some Southern Louisiana accent, and Vee’s was a lot stronger.

Roman gulped, Remus smiled, “Oh, I think we’re gonna get along swimmingly.”

Vic busted a gut at that remark, Carrie and Roman groaned. Patton giggled about it too, maybe he was just laughing because of their reactions. Only then did Vee slightly soften his body language.

Janus was the last to join their company that day, “Hello, esteemed guests. Come in, get comfortable.”

Roman did a headcount, “Um, d-didn’t you say there was someone else in your group?”

“Yes. Ellis is a busy man in between his work and studies. He’ll make himself known when he wishes to.”

-

So, he decided to bake an entire sheet of the things. He turned on the weather broadcast while he waited on the oven to preheat.

It was raining outside. Despite all the recent Flood Watches in effect, he was sure the drainage creeks around him would handle whatever was thrown at him. He lived alone in this house for half a decade, without issue or complaint.

He couldn’t really focus on the TV, waiting for the ding to put the rolls in. It felt like someone was wringing his stomach out like a waterlogged towel. After what felt like an eternity, they were baking proper.

He was getting nauseous from the hunger pangs and barely caught a message he feared “Flood Warning, be sure to prepare by…”

-

No matter how much of an overwhelming ball of sunshine Patton was, an elephant in the room couldn’t be danced around. Carrie was a Hero.

Janus was reserved, as usual. They had a healthy distrust for such beings – but seeing how her affection to the twins didn’t seem to waver, made them more willing to tolerate her. It didn’t stop Carrie from seeing the occasional shadowy snake with vibrant yellow eyes slither around in her periphery, blinking in and out of her vicinity. Carrie knew the creature held Janus’s essence, more horrorspawn.

They were much smaller than Jude, too. The first few times they appeared around her, she had to fight down the violent startle reflex.

The way Vee tensed up around her, made her think of what Steve put her family through. It twisted her up inside, but she knew to give him time and breathing space whenever possible. She knew these people may be able to help her protect her family. This was for her sons’ well being – to mingle with those like them and to find more support than she could possibly give. That was the hope.

Patton, mostly, and Janus, sometimes, were the only people keeping Vee from starting something. Often only marginally.

-

After the oven timer went off, he saw a brilliant flash of lightning and a far too close thunderclap following it. He was getting nervous but his hunger was driving him up a wall – tearing open the oven and forgetting to put on some oven mitts.

He winced, eventually grabbing the food properly and started to eat it immediately from the sheet. It badly hurt to scald his mouth, but he was too hungry to care. It had only been a few minutes until it all disappeared.

He drank some cool water and ran it over his hands to soothe his burns.

He was still hungry. He wished he had enough to fill all the racks with the junk food. 

There was another string of lightning bolts and roaring thunder that engulfed him. The rain erupted into a burst. The wind howled. The power went out.

He let out a quick curse before he fumbled around for a flashlight.

-

A few days after meeting the rest, Ellis showed up to greet everyone. Appearing as a young man that couldn’t be more than a few years older than the twins. He wore a black polo shirt, and his arms had a lot of strange symbols and geometric shapes tattooed onto them.

“Hello. Janus has told me a little about each of you. I hope we can have an amenable time together, as I would enjoy learning more about you all.”

He held himself somewhat stiffly, adjusting his glasses as he spoke, but Carrie respected the professional air to him. He would continue, looking at her, “As you have no doubt noticed, they have certain reservations about you. Personally, I await more evidence before drawing any conclusions.”

Carrie wasn’t fond of being singled out so often, but she understood. She wished only to protect her family, despite everything The Bright Dream kept pushing into her mind. Since her Calling, she had far, far too many close calls in her occasional Beast encounters. She’s had to change grocery stores so many times.

Vic didn’t get as much attention, a fact he didn’t mind much. That was excepting Ellis, who looked upon him with more curiosity than anyone else. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but he did find the kid’s ink work cool to look at.

-

Something was wrong. He suddenly started to feel disoriented. Time seemed to move rapidly and the very house started to warp around him. He grew ravenous.

The scene collapsed into an endless, lifeless ocean around him. The only sound filling his mind was an out of place drone that grew steadily louder.

He tread water that smelled like a foul mixture of ammonia and ozone. The water took on an alien rosy hue and it stung like a chemical burn – all over his skin and deep in his lungs. The waters seeped deeply into him, or perhaps he was being dissolved by it. He lost where he ended and it began.

The scene eventually melted and flickered back into his house. The water around him was silty and brown and up to his waist. He stood there as something started to shift within him. No. Them? It?

It dropped everything to wade out of its house, into the surrounding treacherous flood waters.

It soon realized what it was craving, a horrifying and forbidden impulse to most. It found something, terrified and helpless… whatever it used to be. They were alone and stuck on shrinking dry land. They plead for its help. They worried it was going to fall ill in these waters, the longer it tread the flood.

It paid them no mind as it wrenched them underwater, just as the horror dawned in their face. It held them fast, until they stopped flailing against it. They were torn apart and gorged upon, by its newfound unnatural strength. In its wake, stray blood and other matter were hidden and swept off in the murky currents. 

It never returned to the house.

It only craved more.

-

@milktea531 @r0sethrills

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-

---

Illinois, 1997. Enter Virgil (and Janus).

Virgil wasn’t the youngest of the throng, that designation would be for the Wretched One in their ranks. It would be an easy mistake to make, as he appeared to be in his twenties.

Like many Created, at best, they can get a blurry outline of the corpse they were “born” into. This was the case for Virgil, the only vaguest clue he had was the leather belt tattooed onto his ankle, various scars that riddled his form, and the heavy callusing on his palms and fingers.

He didn’t want to think of the rough, short life this young man had to have lived through. Whoever he was, however, was someone who had some muscle to them. All pointing toward a career of hard labor. Educated guesses, and ones he didn’t want to chase down. He didn’t have the mercurial inclinations of Logan, and that wasn’t about to change.

His existence as an abomination was scary enough.

When he first clawed himself out of the ground, he was directionless and confused. He may have agreed too quickly to the first person that offered him work to do. But it was something he could busy himself with and not think about how he just knew he wasn’t like his employer, or pretty much any of his coworkers. Or many others, the humans.

After that disaster, he was back out to wander.

He always took to the subcultures hued by the same melancholia that he constantly overflowed with. It would still have the churning, anxious black bile within, when it got out of control. It would other times break his lows dramatically like an earthquake. He felt the resonance for the first time since he’d heard Louis Armstrong perform live.

He would eventually meet the other throng members and learn their stories.

In his journeys, he took advantage of his appearance to mingle with the bleeding edge throughout the decades. He’d wind up leaving Logan in the dust with all the vernacular he would pick up. He found it pretty entertaining, in all honesty. The Wretched One, too would erupt into a cackling fit about it quite often.

Virgil wouldn’t admit it, but that just emboldened him. Sometimes it was a breath for air, buried by his very nature.

-

In his early years of existence, most of the work he’d done to sustain himself was a lot of the hard labor kind. He worked in countless warehouses and factories. It was easy work, he did like being able to use his abnormal physique to be of service. It gave him a sort of confidence in the body he existed in – it wasn’t as picturesque as the Muses, but could they do a forklift’s job in a pinch? No.

It was fun to rub that in Roman’s face, not long after they had the initial displeasure of meeting each other. The only real contender there was Remus. Stories for another time.

There was just a drive that compelled him, ever since he rose up the first time.

He didn’t understand at first why he kept getting mixed signals from the humans around him. He learned pretty quickly to keep his mouth shut, most of the time.

He eventually explored different lines of work after that. Logan had given him the idea of pursuing higher education, for more opportunities. It took many shed roles and identities, since it really wasn’t his wheelhouse for the longest time. He wasn’t as natural in this realm as L was. But you do pick up a few things over the years.

Virgil dabbled in a few different areas, but kind of liked medicine. Social interactions were always eventually a crap shoot. Before the turn of the millennium, he was working at a hospital as a lab tech. One of the better fits for him in that industry.

The ailments humans could succumb to thanks to all manner of invisible attackers terrified Virgil a little bit. He didn't need to worry about that, being what he was. He often forgot he had sick leave he could dip into and got a few strange looks from coworkers there. Especially whenever he had those bouts so full of restless, anxious energy that he had to work out of himself.

He was keenly aware that he really needed to decide on ending that Saturnine Night thing that Patton talked about so often with them. He’d worried he’d mess everything up, worried if he’d regret it, worried it was already too late. Everyone in the throng knew they’d been stalling on finishing their pilgrimages for one reason or another. Did he even want to-?

He shook his head as he carefully prepared some slides.

He attempted to tune everything else out.

It never really worked, not for very long. Often happening whenever one of his turns starts to rear their ugly head.

-

One of the many musicians Virgil had his ears open for were those Weezer guys. That “Pinkerton” album of theirs just stirred something in him. It just had a certain edge that reminded him a little of the “emotional hardcore” people back in DC., a decade or so prior. He often wanted to see how things would shift in those kinds of scenes.

He happened to be in the Chicagoland area, so he grabbed a ticket to watch them at Tinley Park. No Doubt was performing there too. He had the time and the money to go for both shows.

While at the New World Music Theater, he mostly kept to himself. He was just there to soak in the atmosphere and feel the music shake him up a little. It was a nice reprieve from his other obligations at the time.

It helped whenever he wondered why he even bothered dealing with people.

The taxi driver taking him back to the tiny studio he had back in the Windy City, made an attempt at conversation, “So, how was the show?”

He shrugged, not wanting to talk much, which was most of the time, “Pretty crunk setlists. A lot to like. Y’know?”

Most people heard “The Sweater Song” and “Buddy Holly” at that point, Virgil wasn’t gonna small talk about that. He could’ve snarked with a “Why Bother?”

But he didn’t want to start shit. It was getting late and he’d spent most of his reserves tempering some of his aggravating effects on humans, while crammed in close with the crowd. That part was another reason why he didn’t want to deal with people more than necessary.

Unlike much of the throng. Virgil had learned to control his Disquieting effects to some degree. He had enough time soaking in the emotional pain of being what he was to learn how. It only bought him time, and it was still costly to keep up. He had to maintain focus on that, especially when it came to increasing the potency of the effect. Vigilance that he may need to address more immediate threats or demands.

He didn’t want to work hard.

-

Virgil had been living in a reasonably ordinary apartment, since early January and the year of that Weezer concert.

He had a unit at the end of the hall, with only one next door neighbor. He would have contented himself to be a shut-in whenever he wasn’t clocked in or going to a gig. Sometimes having conversations with the others in the throng through the phone. Sometimes, he’d have to talk in coded speech with them, if it was anything to do with their true natures. Or if Remus was in hot water again . Mostly for Virgil’s peace of mind.

Only about half of them kept up with what the internet was doing with any amount of interest, at the time. Virgil had a bit of time playing around with that ICQ thing with Logan, but the guy still preferred the phone too. It was probably for the best to not tie up the line, anyways.

After a couple months since moving in, he heard a quiet knock on his door. If he had on his headphones, he’d probably missed it.

His next door neighbor, a woman who looked well into her seventies clutching a walker. She had super fine, white hair, her skin was splotchy and had lost elasticity over the years. He’d seen her occasionally, usually at the mailboxes or dozing off in the laundry room. He’d seen her pause to rub her hands every so often, but he chalked that up to the winter chill. They mostly just smiled at each other and went on with their business.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this, “Yes? Was there something you needed, ma’am?”

Her smile was very warm, as she spoke, “Oh, let’s not be strangers! You can just call me Miss Rosie! An anniversary was coming up and there’s some things I can’t really reach for as well anymore. I recently made up some treats, if you’re interested?”

He wasn’t really doing anything important and wasn’t in the mood to start shit for no reason, “Uh, sure? Name’s Virgil, by the way.”

“What a lovely name! Oh, and thank you.”

It didn’t take long to lock up and follow her into her unit.

Virgil sort of expected to see vintage furnishings and personal effects. But she didn’t have many pictures around the place, especially given the reason she gave him. He did catch a whiff of something freshly baked permeating the whole place, “So, where am I needed?”

Rosie led him to her walk-in closet and pointed at a rather large, dusty box shoved in the high shelving above her clothes. The closet smelled of mothballs, it reminded him of Roman. Virgil snorted about how much that comparison would always upset the guy.

It wasn’t hard at all for Virgil to get the box down and gently place it on the woman’s coffee table in the common area. He didn’t want to be nosy about her, but she stared at the box for quite awhile before snapping out of it. She smiled again at him, “Thank you, young man. I’ll go get those tarts and some coffee, or are you a tea fellow?”

“Coffee’s fine, no preferences.”

Before she left for the kitchen she walked over to a pristine gramophone and had it play whatever record was already on it. Virgil found himself humming along to the songstress, waiting on Rosie:

Little white flowers Will never awaken you Not where the black coach Of sorrow has taken you

He was amused about the music choice, even though he wasn’t in a particularly dour mood. He did worry a bit about Rosie for it though. She returned after a couple songs played in the record with a tray full of her hospitality. She smiled, “Made the jam myself, I hope you like them!”

They sat together and quietly ate and drank. Virgil widened his eyes in delight about the tarts, “These are delicious!”

Her cheeks brightened, tone bashful, “Oh, stop! It’s just a mix of cranberries and blueberries. I don’t get many visitors and I know it’s a lil sour for most people’s liking…”

After a sip of coffee, Virgil shook his head, “Seriously, these are wonderful!”

She laughed and went back to looking wistfully at the box. Virgil didn’t want to pry and felt a little awkward. She eventually opened the thing up and pulled out a photo album. He glanced over as she leafed through it. There were black and white baby photos of a young boy and his parents she glossed by without comment.

There were pictures of young couples partying and celebrating the end of the second World War. Many girls were excited to see their boys back home again. So many name plates were covered by a delicately taped down slip of paper. She lingered at one such couple, Virgil wasn’t great with mentally aging people so he just assumed the girl was Rosie when she was younger.

She looked like she wanted to explain something, but choked up, giving a strangely rehearsed response. Though her smile remained genuine, “O-oh. That’s me and my husband Oliver. We tied the knot today, after the War. It would have been our 50th together.”

Virgil could only really say, “My condolences.”

She didn’t really say much else for a while. Virgil felt like he should stay a little while longer, in case she wanted him to help her put the box back. So he simply stayed quiet, eating another tart and taking in the sounds of Lady Day floating around the place.

“Never a day goes by that I don’t feel lucky to have met Oliv-er when I did. Thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil wasn’t sure at the time what to make of how she said that man’s name, but didn’t comment on it. He eventually asked, “Would you like me to put the box up before I go?”

“I think I’d like to keep it here for now. Is it alright if I ask you later, though?”

“Uh. Sure?”

That was the start of Virgil’s friendship with his neighbor.

-

Things were peaceful with Rosie.

Over the next month or so, she looked to be somewhat frustrated over the name of her husband, as she reminisced about some challenging times in her past. She never discussed what Oliver went through, but that wasn’t unheard of to Virgil.

Virgil narrowly avoided the draft when it happened. But he’d heard enough firsthand accounts to know why many remained silent. She was, however, so glad her husband made it home. When she had better control of her hands, she talked about taking up woodworking around that time. She pointed at a nearby basket of canes, the carved elements beautifully intricate.

He wondered how much of her work was in the furnishings around the unit, actually, including the coffee table.

If Virgil was sure he even had a soul, he’d have found a kindred sense in her. She was warm and kind to him, but also had similar sensibilities. He was initially surprised when she showed him a collection of horror novels and recorded radio plays she’d built up over the years. At least a couple of those canes had roses wrapped around skulls. The contrasts amused him.

During the evening of one of these visits, she was about to open up another album to share with Virgil, one she smiled so much more about. One she called the next greatest chapter in her life.

There was a knock on the door. Virgil asked, “Would you like me to get that?”

She shook her head and answered the door instead. Virgil looked around the corner to see another young man. The stranger did have a resemblance to Rosie, but appeared closer to Virgil’s “age”. When Rosie let the man in, he just stared at Virgil a little too long for comfort. He brought along something in a grocery bag. Virgil wasn’t sure of what to make of it.

Rosie made the introductions, “Virgil, this is one of my grandsons, Scott. Scott, this young gentleman is my neighbor.”

Scott gave a smile that didn’t reach the eyes, and reached a hand out for a shake, “Pleasure to meet you Mister-?”

Virgil obliged, not sure what to make of the grandson, “Adams. You can just call me Virgil, seriously.”

Scott really didn’t seem all that interested in him whatsoever, “Suuure, Mr. Adams.”

Virgil bit his tongue as he watched Scott look at Rosie with more enthusiasm, “I just dropped by to give you something, Gram! I know it’s a big day and-”

Virgil would bite his tongue harder if he could afford it. Rosie was polite and didn’t comment on it, “Thanks, dear. How have things been with you?”

Virgil stayed quiet, eating some of Rosie’s lemon sugar cookies and drinking more coffee. He knew better than to open his mouth when it came to other people’s affairs. He sat there listening to a conversation that was more like Scott talking over Rosie. He didn’t know enough about Scott yet to have anything useful to say.

Scott yammered on about how hard he was having it, from Virgil’s standpoint, it sounded like he was awful to work with. Scott made a lot of passive-aggressive remarks and backhanded compliments about various coworkers and how he had to do everything . It would all go back to him wanting so badly to impress a regular at their shop, that he was clearly enamored with. Rosie seemed like she was trying very hard not to snap at the guy, it was honestly the only entertaining part of all of this.

Eventually having had enough of it, yet still tempered and sweet, “Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“I would, but I’m barely making rent this month!”

She sighed, fishing a few bucks out of her purse, “That’s a shame, really. Would this help?”

Virgil noticed it was a pretty generous allowance, definitely enough for a nice dinner for two somewhere in the area. Scott smiled widely at Rosie, taking the money before giving her a tight squeeze and a, “Thanks, Gram! I should probably go now, my shift is coming up. I hope you like the gift I brought you!”

And just like that, he was out of the unit, giving Rosie barely the chance to even say “goodbye.”

Virgil took a deep breath before speaking up, “Okay. What was that about?”

She slumped a bit, “Scott is just- I’m just tired of arguing with him.”

Virgil grunted, deciding not to prod that further, “What’s in the bag, anyways?”

She shrugged and pulled out a tin of really fancy coffee, already opened. There was a note that simply read:

Happy Anniversary, Gram! I hope you didn’t mind that I gave this a taste test first, just to see if that kopi luwak stuff really was as good as I heard. It is, if I said so myself!

~ S.C.

Virgil warily looked at the tin, but didn’t think he should go straight to character assassinations in the first meeting of the guy. If even he, who never took the Gold Path seriously, could pick up on Scott’s energy?

He knew he’d need to keep an eye on that guy.

-

Rosie wasn’t in the best health, Virgil saw how many medications she was on. So he couldn’t blame her for picking her battles with the grandson. As much as he grew more and more frustrated with his antics, he wanted to trust her approach with Scott.

The guy would occasionally drop in with more “premium” ingredients for Rosie to cook and bake with. Scott knew as well as Virgil did, that the woman loved that sort of thing. She had always wanted to share some of her creations with him, real labors of love that Virgil appreciated a lot. But Scott would always cut things short and never wanted to sit down and talk – especially whenever Virgil was there.

She did know the guy better. She would talk about her daughter and son-in-law, Scott’s parents, with respect and grief. Car accident, not long after he had graduated high school. She cited what happened to them for a big reason for why Scott was like this.

Virgil didn’t survive this long by being completely naive, though.

A couple months after the concert, Virgil noticed Scott swung by more and more often. At least half the time asking the woman for a stipend. Rosie was looking more and more unwell. It was pretty non-specific, she’d blame it on the diabetes and getting old. She had fewer days where she felt sure enough in her footing to use those canes of hers. 

She seemed to get lost in thought a little more, too.

Despite this, she continued to happily serve as hostess for Virgil – with coffee, snacks, and reminiscing. The album she considered her “next chapter”? It had a lot of pictures of two women. No more Oliver, except the other woman looked somewhat familiar in a way he couldn’t place. The way these two posed and interacted, Virgil knew it was a “more than just friends” sort of thing. It was sweet.

He wasn’t sure if he should question what happened to Oliver. Rosie kind of glossed over that fact, but she looked so much happier looking at these snapshots. She held back, but still teared up over all these parties and celebrations with her peers. After wiping some of the waterworks, she winced and rubbed her hands again.

When she collected herself, she moved to share some of her recipes with him, too. He did want to try making that jam again.

Virgil was keenly aware that when humans got toward the twilight years, things can go from zero to sixty when it came to health issues. That part of aging unnerved Virgil more than the appearances part. He was worried about her, even though she would kindly tell him he didn’t need to. A tall ask from anyone.

-

It might be because of how much time Virgil had spent honing his body and refining its capabilities. But one thing that amused him in the past is the ability to drink pretty much anyone under a table. He was good at making sure most things didn’t addle him very much – as soon as he noticed anything wrong.

Roman mused with him, “Are you sure you weren’t pretending to be that Iron Mike fellow, back in the day?”

Virgil only snorted, simply saying, “Nah.”

He wasn’t invulnerable , he had his fair share of close calls since Creation. Far too often thanks to Remus, but the guy was several states away, at this point.

As fall began proper, he felt vaguely ill after one of his visits to Rosie. She had told him Scott had visited the day before, while Virgil was at the lab. It put him on high alert. His guts felt like they were squirming uncomfortably. Something was wrong. Very. Wrong.

He ended up calling off work that day and went to check on Rosie.

He found her, collapsed halfway into her bathroom in a massive pool of blood-streaked sick and barely breathing. She wasn’t acknowledging him, he put her in the recovery position and was about to call 911 when someone else entered the unit.

He heard Scott cheerfully calling, “Gram, it’s me! I picked up something for your little stomach bug! Gram? Are you-?”

It wasn’t more than a couple yards from entrance, through the common area, and where Rosie and Virgil were at. Virgil froze standing and facing Scott. Scott looked at Rosie lying there, dropping whatever he held in his bag, and gasped. Virgil took a breath, “She’s barely hanging on. Watch her, I’ll call for help.”

Virgil took a step toward the phone, but was stopped by Scott. Scott went from shocked to glaring daggers at him, “As if! What did you do to her!?”

“I just got here! She. Needs. Help. Now.”

“What? I can’t be a little concerned about the timing , here?” 

Virgil shook his head and went for the phone, “You know what? We don’t have time for this. ROSIE doesn't have time for this.”

Scott shoved him back to where he stood, “I’m not about to let a MURDERER go free.”

“She’s not-”, Virgil turned around to see that the woman had stopped breathing.

Virgil growled and pushed aside Scott, with significantly less restraint. It would have been amusing to see the brat’s confused stumbling, if not for the fate of his new friend. He didn’t care if he was going to need to flee the scene toot suite, after reporting what happened. Ambulance or coroner, it didn’t matter anymore.

Virgil made it to the phone in her kitchen. Before he could start dialing, something hit him hard . He turned around to see Scott wielding one of Rosie’s canes. It smarted, but Virgil had it so much worse before, “If you had any sense, you will let me make this call.”

Scott stepped back, still holding the weapon, still seething, “I saw how much you schmoozed to my dear sweet Gram! She talked about you CONSTANTLY. You HAD to’ve wanted something from her! What was it? MONEY?”

“First of all, companionship . Second of all, what makes you think she had that kind of money?”

“I just KNOW. Look around you! Antiques, everywhere! She-she has to have something set aside, too!”

Virgil snarled, ripped the cane from Scott’s hand, and threw toward the nearest sofa. Like a javelin, it pierced through the cushions and held fast. Virgil was briefly glad that the cane didn’t break from the impact. 

Scott was shocked at just how easily Virgil managed to do that, “What the fuck are you!?”

Virgil gave a wry chuckle, “You know what? I really hate that I didn't pick up on it sooner .”

Scott gulped, his eyes darting to the knife block in the kitchen.  Virgil shook off his hoodie and threw it aside, almost daring Scott to move.

The brat only managed a step before Virgil was swiftly in the way, “I know what you did. Turn yourself in, or else things will get… Messy.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

It was then that Virgil’s human guise crumbled away. His complexion looked like unevenly drying out clay, deep fissures littered everywhere. Some of the cracks tracing down from his darkening eyes like tear tracks.

The color in Scott's face drained, “S-stay away!”

Virgil’s voice had a layer of rumbling to it, grabbing one of the guy’s wrists, “Can’t do that, son.”

With a smirk, Virgil stood still as the man flailed to free himself. The grip was inescapable, even though Virgil’s fingers appeared to be melting into each other and around the guy’s arm.

Virgil’s grip steadily tightened as Scott pleaded, “Wh-what do you want from me? P-please don’t h-!”

In the dark voids of his eye, intense pinpoints of violet light stared him down, “Too late for that.”

Scott was crying at that point, “O-Oh god please-!”

Virgil gripped so hard that the hand suddenly only remained attached by skin and sinew. Scott stared at it in shocked disbelief, like a scream was trapped in his throat.

“You poisoned your own grandmother. I’m pretty sure you were hoping I’d die with her generosity, too. Weren’t you?”

Virgil yanked the man closer when he shook his head, “Wrong. Answer.”

Virgil started pouring energy into a wind-up with the arm not holding the murderer in place. Before Scott could change his tune or vainly shield himself, Virgil’s fist landed into his face with the force of an old-timey battering ram.

The fist smashed right through one of his eyes and shattered his skull like it was glass. Blood and mess gushed around Virgil’s hand as Scott rapidly fell limp. Virgil let go of the new corpse in front of him with a grimace.

Virgil shifted back and slowly washed his hands. He dried himself off and wrote a short note in Rosie’s handwriting:

To whomever is going to read this,

I think I don’t have much time left. Test everything in here. Investigate my grandson, Scott, for foul play. I suspect he is responsible.

~ Rosie

Virgil then dialed a burner number for Janus on Rosie’s phone. One that he knew the walking skeleton would answer immediately, and he went to the point, “This is a private number. State your business.”

“Sup, J.”

“Oh. Whatever could you want?”

“You know that favor you owe me? Need to cash that in. Now.”

Janus gave an exaggerated yawn, “Please, do go on.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “You know where I’m at. Get over here.”

“Leave me dying of suspense, why don’t you? Alright. I’ll be over in like, a month or two.”

Virgil groaned, “Whatever. See you later.”

Janus snorted, “Surely.”

Virgil hung up first, sighed heavily, muttering, “Obtuse, wretched fucker…”

Virgil spent the time waiting making a plan to get out of there as soon as Scott was dealt with.

-

Janus only took a few hours to arrive.

Janus was good at asking no questions as he and Virgil bagged up Scott and cleaned the scene well enough to buy Virgil time.

“Can I crash at one of your places?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

Virgil snorted. He did wish he could give the lab his two weeks’ notice, but he didn’t need the extra heat.

He wondered again, about his Saturnine Night.

Future Virgil problem. He just didn’t have energy or motivation for it, at that point.

Chapter 1: “it's cold like the ocean, cold like the rain"

It was near the end of graveyard hours, a couple days after Independence Day, and just on the outskirts of urban Seattle. It was still pitch dark out, if not for all the ambient light pollution coming from the city proper.

Roman didn’t really care about anything else at his post, beyond a funeral home that never seemed to have closing hours. He could even ignore the fact the car reeked of a boozy ashtray, it was Steve’s idea to let him borrow his car instead of Roman’s own garish motorcycle.

He didn’t want to admit it, but places like this always gave Roman the heebie jeebies.

It made him think about being forced to attend his grandpa’s funeral, as a child. A man he only really knew as an overly done up corpse. His brother would gleefully remind him of that movie with the wax figures and got full body shudders around that open casket. His brother had no sense of decorum about any of it.

He just had to get over himself, his duty here was far too important.

---

Steve tended to gravitate around Roman, as one of the veteran Dead Enders that showed him the ropes. Roman remembered the sting of Steve over-enthusiastically smacking him on the back, “Boy’s first solo mission! Aren’t you excited!?”

“Y-yeah.”

Steve’s tone cooled so much that Roman was immediately uncomfortable, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Roman cleared his throat, stood up straighter, and barked out, “I’m ready to eliminate the zombie menace!”

“THAT’S more like it. I got a good feeling about you, kid.”

Steve wasn’t more than a few years older than Roman, but he was too busy wanting to show what he was made of to voice that source of awkwardness. He respected the guy a little too much not to, he held more trophies than most.

He clearly knew what he was doing, here.

---

-

This was simply a stake out, a recon mission.

It was a challenging one, since there didn’t seem to be anything too amiss about the personnel going in and out of the building. With some binoculars, he did wonder about some guy in a patchwork purple and black hoodie. Roman was also struck by how pasty the guy looked.

Roman shook his head and muttered to himself, “Could be just another one of those emo or goth kids. I mean, this IS a house of dead people. They’re practically allergic to the sun, anyways...”

Roman chuckled to himself, but his gut was telling him to keep an eye on that one.

Just because they had black hair, didn’t make it natural.

It didn’t necessarily mean Roman was looking at a human.

Roman needed more time to study this character, but he was definitely going to make a preliminary report on it. See what his compatriots thought of it.

---

Roman had done so many patrols watching and waiting in the company of the Dead Enders.

He had been stuck shadowing intelligence operations for the better part of a month. It made Roman restless for some of the action the more experienced members gloated about. For some of the praise and recognition, in working for something so much bigger than himself.

For a lot of the downtime among them, he would spend so much time practicing on the range. He wanted to prove himself ready to do some eliminations, shredding target after target. He needed to improve his shot, and those efforts earned some annoyance from the guy manning their cobbled together armory, Jim.

He was admonished for chewing up so much of their munitions – by both Jim and the Captain.

The Captain’s disappointment filled Roman with so much shame that he felt like he had to open his wallet to the group. It was only fair. He had too much in the trust fund his parents made for him to conceive of how he could spend it all, anyways.

When DW smiled at him for it, she finally complimented him on something, “You just might surpass me on the range, at this rate.”

For some reason, he was reminded of his own mom. A headstrong woman that only commended you when you deserved it. It made things that much sweeter. He felt he was on the right track, with her.

---

-

Occasionally, this funeral home took in a suspicious influx of bodies. Didn’t really correlate with the police radio feeds the organization had taps on.

It was drawing more heat to this lead.

Roman never got a good visual on the vans and hearses doing the drop-offs, at least from where he was initially posted. But he did see that emo kid’s wary body language during the transfers. Like he didn’t want to be seen, which was weird. All the bodies were in black bags, indistinguishable from any other deposit.

Soon enough, he had orders from the Captain to close in on what’s happening.

The first move-in involved Roman dropping by during normal day job hours, nearing the end of a week of this. Roman really didn’t want to learn the guy’s name, in case his gut instinct was right about the “kid”. There was a reason most of the targets on the board remained nameless.

Roman was glad to see a different person in the customer-facing part of the operation – the funeral director happily waved him in. Far too cheery given all the death stuff going on in there. A complete stranger, but at least she had some color in her face that didn’t look like make-up or a fake tan.

“Welcome! What brings you to Shady Plots Funeral Home, this fine evening? Name’s Dani!”

Roman really should have thought of a cover story to offer before entering the venue, but he was stuck winging it, “I’m- I’m looking into making plans in advance for a relative. Yeah. I just wanted to shop around, you know how it is?”

“Of course. Does this relative of yours have any end-of-life preferences?”

Roman’s guts churned, really wanting NOT to think about his own missing and presumed dead brother. His parents talked as if Remus never existed after he was released from prison. That didn’t stop Roman’s mind from dwelling on hypotheticals at the worst possible times. Like then, when Dani snapped their fingers in his face to get him out of that spiral, “Hey, I know talking about this kind of stuff is hard. Are you okay?”

“Uh. Yeah. I was just thinking about them…”, Roman refused to utter Remus’s name, even if it was just for a ploy.

Despite not mentioning the name, Roman found himself constantly making vague references to Remus. He thought, “Talk about what you know, I guess.”

Dani seemed to be very sweet and attentive about the whole yarn, Roman wasn’t too sure if it was genuine. But Roman did find himself disarmed a little bit, in doubt that there really was anything amiss here.

---

Roman remembered the first time Remus crashed on his motorbike. It was before Remus was rotting in prison. Not long after he got his GED. They were only 19.

It reminded him of the scaffolding incident, all over again. 

It was Roman’s idea that they learn how to ride those things. It was Roman’s idea to fool around in that construction site they found when they were little. It was Roman’s idea that they try doing some tricks on their stee-bikes. It was just a moment where he could just have fun .

Remus had always taken the offer to play with Roman, with no hesitation. No matter how dangerous it turned out to be, looking back.

Remus almost died at a 25 mph turn near Mount Rainier, fresh after a sleet storm. Rock slide warning signs dotted the roads, never really thought about until then. There was debris on the road, Remus lost control of his bike. Roman almost sped past the wreckage, trying to avoid the rocks, himself. There was so much blood.

Roman was paralyzed when Remus didn’t seem responsive, but eventually fumbled to call emergency services. He barely managed to get across what happened, the signal was so bad up there. Remus was taken by helicopter.

It really was touch and go, and Roman struggled to process what was happening. The parents seemed to worry too, but they were trapped in an airport or stuck in traffic or... So it was only him for the doctors to talk to about it, it didn’t feel real. In a blur, Remus was in and out of surgery to get more plates and screws in him. The medical stuff still flew over his head.

Remus didn’t complain nearly as much as he did when he was younger, as he was in recovery. There was something off about it all to Roman. All told, It was some miracle that Remus was able to “walk” it all off with a smile. 

His parents thought it was always Remus’s fault. Roman started to believe his parents, after Remus kept finding himself behind bars or in a hospital. After Roman was no longer steering him in the path of self-destruction. Remus was his own person and seemed to accept his part in everything.

He had to own up to the consequences. Remus could have simply told Roman, “no”.

---

-

Roman was brought back to the present when a phone rang from a nearby office room.

Dani took the moment to say, “Sorry, I need to take that call. I’ll be right with you.”

She left to answer it and Roman couldn’t help but try to listen in from where he was. He only got fragments of a brief exchange, “Shady Plots Funeral Home, how may I help you?”

“Mhmm. Really? I understand, It’s deeply unfortunate that-”

“- plenty room for intake.”

“I’ll tell my tech about that, thank you, Dr. Min!”

Dani went back to addressing Roman, “Thank you for your patience! Would you like to hear about our service packages?”

“I-I’ll have to think about this some more. But thanks for all your information, Miss.”

“Sure thing, hon’.”

As he broke things away, Roman swore he saw the guy in the hoodie moving about in the back area of the place, although it wasn’t entirely clear what he was doing there. But he would rather get back into Steve’s car, than to prolong his stay. It was only a preliminary mission, after all.

He idly wondered who that Dr. Min guy was, it probably wasn’t important.

-

There were a few different places that the Dead Enders met up.

Different high ranking members had owned the various facilities at their disposal. An armory, a gun range, an “abandoned” fast food restaurant functioning as their HQ, and a couple warehouses. Roman knew he had helped the group afford some of the logistics, but he was impressed by how much was already established when he joined up.

There were a few bloodless rookies like Roman, but they usually bailed in their first few weeks. They were often not aware of the special board devoted to deserters, that was a privilege afforded only on a case by case basis. Those that remained loyal, were vicious in how they were talked about. Well beyond name-calling, in a lot of cases – there were veiled threats .

Some of the more gruff, veteran types had background with the law enforcement, or the military, or something else, Roman was scared to ask. Steve was in that third category, and he was the one who told Roman about it before the Captain did.

Roman wasn’t sure what he felt when he was given that information. Some weird mix of intimidated and honored. Steve claimed to see a lot of potential in him and was the one member that chatted with him the most.

After a couple weeks into the month, Steve ran over to Roman with news, “Hey, rookie! Did you hear about Eddy, yet?”

“No?”

“Guy was supposed to be around to keep an eye on you, but he got caught unawares by one of those zombie freaks, a couple days ago. We don’t know which of them did it, buuut-.”

Roman gulped, suddenly feeling a creeping dread, “What?”

“He’s dead as a doornail. And you know what that means, right?”

“Maybe?”

“You gotta-!”, Steve was interrupted by someone buzzing Roman’s phone.

It was the Captain, no message. Roman got shaky a moment, “I-I guess the boss wants me.”

Steve grinned, “Then who am I to stop you? Go. I gotta good feeling about this.”

-

Roman gave the Captain all the information he had on Shady Plots from his time on assignment.

Her next order to Roman was, “Well, consider your target priority escalated. Either find irrefutable proof that that body burner isn’t affiliated with those monsters AND that they’re also human. OR kill it . I don’t care which. You have by month’s end, Roman. Dear Eddy must be avenged .”

The first time he stood in her office, he saw a portrait of DW and her husband, Scott. She appeared to love him, but it was often hard to tell. At some point the photo still sat at the desk, but faced down. She pointedly glared at it as she spoke of Eddy. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

Roman spent the next week, wanting to convince himself the guy in the hoodie was innocent. It wasn’t because he was a coward or anything. He just wished it was one of those in the late-stages, at that point, they had no sign of humanity. Ones more like that monster he had the privilege to see when he only just joined the group, a couple months or so ago. He barely knew how to even use a shotgun, then.

One thing Roman noticed about the guy’s body language was being more wary and nervous about something. The influxes at the funeral home, the timing and location of Eddy’s death, it was all too suspicious.

As Roman continued tailing him – he noticed the guy often took a pit stop at a rather obscure deli joint, the Meat Cute Charcuterie. It wasn’t part of any big franchise and didn’t get many customers. Roman wondered how it could even stay in business. He really wasn’t the best judge on value, so he often took the other Dead Enders’ word that the menu was overpriced, too. Their specials tasted a little funny and were entirely too spicy for their blood.

Besides the poor reviews of his compatriots, it all just seemed to be so normal. At first.

Occasionally, Roman would see one of the same vans that delivered bodies to Shady Plots, parked near the back entrance of the place. A finding that often coincided with the hoodie chatting with some suit that wore garish yellow gloves. The suit also spent a lot of time chatting with the owners of the place.

Usually, there wasn’t much happening with said van. For a while, Roman thought, “maybe the drivers just liked to have lunch there.”

That was until one night, where he saw someone lugging in a black bag that Roman was sure had a body in it. Roman immediately concluded, “This has to be some kind of ring operation, the Captain has to know about this!”

-

The Captain only became more strident in her command for Roman to make his move.

In the last week of July, he finally found his opportunity to confront his mark. The runt had some metal debris in a wheelbarrow, heading for one of the dumpsters in the back of the crematory building. It was a dead end- the building on one side, wall behind the end and the other side. The only obvious way in or out of there, Roman had blocked off.

The runt was humming along to a vaguely familiar tune, back turned to Roman and shoveling stuff into the dumpster. Roman briefly thought, “… is that Paramore ? No. Don’t get distracted .”

Roman slowly approached his target, his shotgun ready to fire.

The runt with the hoodie froze at the sight of the weapon, once it turned around. It raised its hands, “Whoa-whoa-whoa! Can we just- talk this out? Do- do you want my money? I don’t have a lot, but-”

Roman wasn’t going to fall for it, “Do you take me for a common thief? I know what you are!”

The runt gulped, “Wh-what did I even do to you?”

Roman fought down his own shakes, as he rose the barrel to the emo’s center mass, “YOU know what you did. What you’re complicit in doing!”

The emo flinched and had such a look of fear that made Roman doubt whether the target really was a monster. But the Dead Enders told him in no uncertain terms this guy WAS Eddy’s killer. He saw the evidence.

“Please. I’ll do anything, don’t sh-shoot!”

Even if the runt was human, he was still sighted with those undead freaks. The Captain said no loose ends. Roman raised the barrel up to the guy’s face a moment, “Take it up with the guy upstairs.”

In a moment of uncertainty, Roman wound up drifting down to the guy’s center again. The emo still tried to pacify Roman, seeing Roman faltering, “Wh-what’s your name?”

“Nobody important. Yet.”

Roman shook his head a moment, squeezed the trigger, and closed his eyes a moment. There was a clipped shout that made Roman open up and readjust to the muzzle flash and the scene before him.

The shout came from the target who was just standing there in shock – hand to his gut and staring at the blood dribbling out. What disturbed Roman even more was how the guy, the monster , didn’t even wince at it. He didn’t realize he was gawking until the target slowly looked him in the eyes.

It confirmed Roman’s worst fears, as its eyes darkened and reddened, as it started to run for him.

Roman yelped and quickly pumped the shotgun. The monster’s expression was hard to read, Roman refused to look again before firing one more time. Roman’s heart felt like it was going to explode, bracing for a strike that never came.

Just like that. The zombie was missing most of its head, went limp, and collapsed. It had reached out toward Roman, moments before annihilation, landing less than a foot away from him. Roman stared down at the corpse, worried it might flinch with life. As the seconds crept by, he was lost in his own handiwork and his stomach turned.

He looked around for any more threats before unloading the gun, flipping on the safety, and putting it away. After some more moments to barely collect himself, he shakily contacted Steve, “H-hey. Steve? Tell the Captain I did it. The monster who took down Eddy will no longer be a problem.”

“Oh? You HAVE to snap a picture.”

“O-Of course. You know my location? I need some janitors over here.”

“I’m so looking forward to seeing that on the board for you. We should go grab a drink together to celebrate, yeah?”

“S-sure, Sounds like fun!”

They soon closed the call and Roman did what Steve asked. Really, it was Dead Ender policy to never use your phone to take trophies – the more old school, the better. They had a guy who could covertly develop the film later. Roman pulled out the fancy Polaroid he bought when he was still going to college and snapped a few pictures for the group.

With a deep breath, he packed up and drove off.

-

---

What little ability Remus had to focus was shot, which was a little dangerous when he was at the workbench. His guts were feeling all knotted up and queasy. He wondered if it was something he ate, or neglected to eat.

He had a suspicion of what was happening, but he really didn’t want to deal with that mess. He was trying to coordinate some soldering wire and a very hot soldering iron. He just needed to seat this capacitor and-

STAB.

“FUCK!”

He clumsily dropped the iron, it clattered onto the motherboard he was working on and started to melt one of the PCI buses. He was more focused on bracing through a powerful wave of spasming coming from that useless bag of muscle in his guts, white-knuckling the bench and hovering above his chair, as it passed.

Logan was in earshot and rolled into his workspace, “Are you-?”

Remus glared at Logan.

As the wave passed, Remus tentatively sat back down, breathing through his teeth, “… Got any of Satan’s cotton fingers on you?”

“What are you- oh. You mean... menstrual products.”

Remus was back to glaring at Logan some more, “Specs. I love you. But-”

Just like that, Logan was in and out with his backpack and rifling through it. It was times like this that Remus envied Logan.

After a few home invasions from El Primo Rojo on the clock, Logan suggested that maybe Remus’s experiences weren’t “standard”. That they shouldn’t feel like someone gleefully and repeatedly shooting a rusty nail gun into his gut. His tendency for time blindness didn’t do him any favors, when his “monthly gift” took a scenic route to Guam half the time. That he shouldn’t be gushing like a stuck blood-doped pig, when it did.

It was a pain in the so-called “girl nuts” to figure out just how fucked his were.

At that point, Logan had learned to get the big guns out and asked, “Do you need any help?”

The aforementioned bus was smoking at that point, but Remus finally had the presence of mind enough to yank the iron’s plug. He winced and headed to the bathrooms and mumbled, “… probably.”

It was nice not having to explain to someone what it was like to deal with this curse. Not that it really stopped him sometimes. He got a few write-ups for that.

Never mind what was going on in the co-workers’ pants. If he was suffering, he was determined to make it everyone’s problem. Logan was just better able to deal with the gender feelings shit there, though.

-

Something Remus liked to do with Virgil is visiting his place, watching movies, and snuggling up. Well, more like, Remus wrapped himself around his Emo like the cephalopods he so loved.

Virgil was in for a shock when he started to invite Remus over more and let him stay, one day waking up to a crime scene and a severely anemic looking boyfriend.

It was clear public (and private) sex ed failed him. Virgil was thrown into a panic trying to find a non-existent wound on either of them. All while Remus was just curled up and groaning in pain in front of him.

Virgil went so far as to grope around their waist and back, provoking Remus to ask, “Feeling a little… frisky?”

“What? NO! I’m checking to see if someone broke in and stole a kidney or something!?”

Remus chuckled while that uterus of his spasmed, “Oh-ho, I wish...”

At that point, Virgil realized that, no, it was coming from Remus. And the only maniac here was the guy’s innards. Which then had Virgil panicking again, “Th-that’s a LOT of blood! Sh-should I call 911, o-or something!?”

Remus made an attempt to sit up, but then Iron Deficiency called and said Gravity was feeling pretty clingy that day. Remus might’ve started to feel a little delirious, “What happened to ‘a little bit of the red stuff doesn’t scare me’, last night?”

“That was “ Saw ”! And it was just a MOVIE. And with loads of the FAKE stuff! This-!?”

Remus’s laughter was punctuated by a few “ow”s. Remus knew he wasn’t his usual chatterbox self, “… can’t words, call-Lo.”

“Isn’t he at work right now?”

“Tell him… Code Mangenta.”

Virgil tilted his head, “Oooh-kay?”

Virgil barely knew Logan, but did as bidden. Remus laid there, listening to a one-sided conversation.

“Hey. Uh. Logan? It’s Remus…”

“I-I’m not sure man, he just said Code Mangenta.”

“Uh-huh. Uh huh. Oh. THAT’S WHAT A PERIOD IS!?”

Remus laughed again, but it came out more like a whimper.

“Shit, sorry. Do I need to take him to the hospital? Alright, I’ll ask him that...”

Virgil muted the phone and spoke to Remus, “Logan wanted a number from you?”

Virgil pulled the phone up to Remus, “ Nueve de - FUCK!”

Logan simply responded, “Ah. I’ll let the boss know you’re not coming in for probably… a week.”

Virgil’s one-sided conversation continued, “Can you text me all of that? Yeah, I’ll keep you posted. You’re a lifesaver.”

Virgil hung up, awkwardly found a non-biohazardous spot on the bed, and ran a hand through Remus’s hair. It was comforting and distracting. “Hey. I’m gonna get a few things that uh. Might help? Try not to die while I’m gone?”

Remus whined, “No promises, Virge-y.”

Virgil snorted, “Still-”

Remus slurred his words, thanks to dizziness, “Mmm… gonna poltergeist you if-I-do.”

Virgil glanced at the browning stain and back into Remus’s face, “… I don’t expect anything less. See you.”

-

As Remus lay there, waiting for Virgil to come back, he reflected a little bit.

He kind of hated how he only figured out how his mood got all fucky, in time with his broken biological clock. It foreshadowed his doom, and he missed the warnings every damn time. Then again, emotions were the bane of his existence. Words like angry and horny were close enough, a few days ago. But now that the dam burst, he was just angry, restless and tired . And in a world of hurt.

He wasn’t sure how long of a list of things Logan had sent Virgil, nor how long Virgil had disappeared. It didn’t help that he broke his alarm clock by angrily throwing it across the room – everything was getting a bit much. He couldn’t readily see where his phone was, just his luck losing it somewhere. It could be in Virgil’s unit, in his own car, or way back in his unit.

It didn’t help that he didn’t really want to move much. A lot of the times he found himself in this state, his mind asked him, “Is this going to be the Big One?”

He wondered if it was possible to exsanguinate yourself via your period. He mumbled, “That would suck.”

Remus’s thoughts wandered toward Virgil seeing his boyfriend’s corpse in his bed and- Remus groaned and shook his head. A spell of nausea stack overflowed his thought process and he had to drag himself to the bathroom. It felt like his uterus was ripping and tearing at his bowels, and not what he’d imagine to be “the fun way”.

While on the can for the third time in however long, he felt some relief hearing Virgil’s voice again, “You still alive in there, ‘Mus?”

Remus was still indisposed, barely able to project his voice, “I don’t know anymore, check my task manager and find out!”

“Whatever you’re doing, hold on a second. I brought a lot of stuff over.”

After several more minutes, Remus’s innards buffered enough and Virgil got the stuff inside his unit proper. Remus was impressed by just how many items the guy brought back.

“Okay. So. I got into your apartment to see how much of the things you had at your place already. Here-” Virgil pulled out a familiar, neon green octopus plushie and handed it off.

Remus grinned, he wanted to jolt up and bounce about it, but he was too damn woozy for that. “Cthulhu! Oh, how my loins have missed you!”

Remus unzipped the toy and reached inside.

Virgil narrowed his eyes, “Uh... are you going to fuck that thing or-?”

Remus cackled as he pulled out a bag of dry millet from inside and gave it to Virgil, “Pop that in the microwave for… a minute.”

Virgil was momentarily confused before smacking his face, muttering to himself, “Duh, that makes way more sense, alright now...”

As Virgil attended to that, Remus looked inside the bags. He saw some of his underwear, some heavy flow hygiene products, medication…

Beep!

“Hot! Hot! Hot!”, Virgil almost pulled the bag out with his bare hands before grabbing an oven mitt.

Remus chuckled some more, feeling all gooey over his boyfriend being the biggest whale penis ever. Virgil’s cheeks reddened, “L-look. It’s kind of hard to think straight when I’m freaking the fuck out over here!?”

“Aww, you really do care about me!”

Virgil flustered, handed the warm bag of seed to Remus. Remus snorted at the sight and the thought. As Remus got Cthuhu all ready and cozy, his Scare-Amore huffed, “Whatever.”

Remus hugged the plushie against his belly for dear life, feeling some of the tension and pain melt from its soft warmth. He zoned into that feeling, combing the thing's velvety tentacles with his fingers. System checks returned Normal again.

Virgil sighed, probably in relief, before bolting up again, “Shit, I need to go put some of that stuff in the freezer!”

Remus barely caught a glimpse of Virgil hurriedly putting several tubs of ice cream up. Chocolate anything sounded good, actually. Virgil muttered on about the rest of the things he ran out for and needed to clean up the mess Remus made – but Remus was just focused on the warm and gooey feelings swirling around in him.

-

Remus was glad to have someone in his corner who had the wonderful experience of having this kind of anatomy. It was an awkward story for another time when Remus found out that Logan was trans.

That said, it was obvious they had different experiences with the gender thing.

Logan was curt whenever discussing the menstruation topic, just enough to get any point he needed to get across before spacing out for a hot minute. Logan was a lifesaver about it, even though he mentioned that he was one of those lucky guys that saw the monthly visitor fuck off pretty much entirely while on T.

Logan was worse about the first time the subject came up. It was a little after Remus’s first month working there. Remus forgot to bring his products with him, which was normal. He was used to resorting to stacking a lot more waddage to stem those heavy currents. It had the secondary benefit of looking like a poor man’s packer, if it held up long enough.

That one went a little easier on him, but one of the next ones after that was a bad one. Despite him playing it off with his typical brand of terrific humor, even Logan noticed something was wrong, “You look ill.”

The stabbings made him pause between each word, “When don’t I?”

“Fair point. My understanding here is that you might need to see a doctor about that. All I can say is that… standard periods shouldn’t be quite so obviously painful, heavy, and irregular. I-I wish I could help more.”

“You haven’t been the first person to tell me that, Specs.”

“My point stands. But now I need to… excuse myself.”

Remus knew Logan would need that breather to himself. Remus had this problem for a few years at that point, but he kind of hated the idea of seeing a doctor.

His tired and anxious mind went back to the old demons telling him he definitely had cancer and he was going to die a miserable death. Cancer or something else just as terrible. He had to use several blocking measures to keep himself from doom-scrolling through WebMD. He’s done it on multiple software and firmware levels; on all his devices, routers, and modems. He tried to call his ISP multiple times, to block him on that level. He was denied, predictably enough.

Annoyed, he recalled Logan saying, “They don’t want to cause a catastrophic failure on their side. They have to serve other people too.”

-

While Logan had some shared lived experiences, Virgil was a lot more openly fretful around Remus’s cycles. Especially after that first time in his apartment.

Virgil was honestly a nervous wreck about it, which only made that little warm feeling Remus got from the Emo more intense. He probably got a little too used to how fucked up it could get for him.

Just before Remus was in high school, he experienced his first one, a little later than most “girls”.  It was relatively mild at first, but things got worse from there. He zoned out during sex ed and didn’t exactly have the social skills or cojones to ask if any of it was normal to any of his girl peers or the school nurse. Esteban didn’t really care and would tell Remus “she” was just making up more excuses. Roman was honestly clueless, but he tried.

Finding a connection with Logan and then Virgil was more than a little nice.

After a few times on the bloody rodeo, Remus had one of his worst ones. It was a bit of a haze to recall some details, apparently his iron levels were critical and he lost a fuck ton of blood. His heart was racing, he felt clammy to the touch, and delirious from it.

Worst of all, he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He wondered if he was having a panic attack, but instead of being amped up, he was overwhelmingly tired. He woke up to Virgil frantically shaking him out of some layers of stupor.

“Oh fuck, Remus. Wake up, you gotta wake up!”

The way Virgil’s voice trembled peeled another few layers of stupor, but Remus only managed a confused “Wuh?”

“This is- you are- I can’t-!”

Remus slurred a bit, “Use your wooords, Virgie.”

“I-I’m gonna to call for help. This is just- fucked up!”

Remus was back to listening to a conversation about him, but Virgil put the other side on speaker.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My boyfriend lost a lot of blood and-”

“Is he injured?”

“I-I guess? I don’t know! He’s cold and-”

“Was there an accident or-?”

“N-no, I mean- no one did this to him. He just-”

“Okay, ma’am, we’re sending some people over to help. Are you okay to stay on the line?”

Remus snickered at the address, Virgil had more to worry about than that.

“I-I guess.”

“Can you tell me your names?”

Virgil calmed down barely as the call continued and Remus writhed about – exhausted and in pain. It felt like an eternity until the EMTs came over. One of them was preparing a stretcher outside. The other took to assessing Remus’s vitals and asked them more questions as they went.

“So, Remus. Do you know where you are?”

“An adorable raccoon’s warren.”, he weakly chuckled.

The responder from outside moved to fill out their report and blinked a moment.

Virgil clarified, “… he means me.”

“Do you know what today is?”

“Hump Day?”

Virgil fidgeted, “He’s always been bad about dates…”

“Noted. Now, Remus, name the first president of the United States.”

“Some slave owning asshole with bad teeth. I think he died like this…?”

Virgil shrugged, “I- uh, don’t think that Rushmore guy was trans.”

The responder attending to Remus didn’t acknowledge Washington getting roasted.

Remus whined a bit, “Tough… audience, eh?”

The responder relayed everything back to his dispatcher and spoke to Remus again, “Can you walk?”

Remus’s muscles were too noodle-y from fatigue to right himself, let alone stand. “Not happening.”

“Alright, we’ll carry you out to the stretcher. Jim, over here?”

It didn’t look the most graceful or particularly gentle, but they were pretty careful. Tim supported Remus’ torso and Jim took up his legs. Remus just wanted to take a nap, once he rested on the stretcher.

-

Remus lost a good chunk of time from there.

The next thing he remembered was being in a hospital bed with IVs in him. He was feeling a bit more cognizant, yet very, very off.

He yelled at the nearest nurse to him, “W-where’s Virgil? Can I see him?!”

“We’re still trying to get you more stable, pushing some fluids mostly. Virgil is in the waiting area, but he told us some of your history. This is a recurring problem for you, yes?”

“System records indicate that is correct.”

The nurse blinked before continuing, “Do you have any experience using birth control?”

“No? The idea of carrying a kid kinda wigs me out… so uh…”

“When taken as prescribed, the pill has a very high effectiveness in preventing that.”

Despite his sense of humor, he admitted, “I… don’t exactly have plans to be sexually active anyways.”

“Alright, hon. The pill isn’t only good for preventing pregnancy. We’re going to give you some hormonal birth control to manage your bleeding for now. And some iron supplements, your levels came in very low there.”

Remus hated feeling small and stupid, “Don’t call me that… please.”

“Apologies, we don’t have your full history. You’re… nonbinary?”

It was the simplest language for Remus’s weird gender feelings. “Yeah.”

“Are you on HRT?”

He kind of wanted to be, but, “… no.”

“Would you be comfortable being referred to a gynecologist?”

Remus shivered, unsure if it was the blood loss or the hospital being too cold or something else, “D-do I have to?”

“We don’t recommend you rejecting the option, but we can’t force you.”

Some of the liquid coolant started leaking out of Remus’s eyes. Having seen how stricken Virgil was earlier finally hit him, “I... don’t want to put my boyfriend through this again. What’s wrong with me?”

The nurse took a breath, “There are a few possibilities that come to mind, a very common one is something called polycystic ovarian syndrome. We’re waiting for more of your bloodwork to come back to us. But, some specialists would have to assess you for that and give you more treatment options than I can say at this moment.”

He wasn’t sure about having someone rooting around in there or the potential bad news the exams could bring, “Can I think about that some more?”

“Of course. Right now, we’re just going to focus on getting you well enough for discharge.”

-

The ICU doctor managing his care was not a specialist, Remus was still on the fence on having that referral done.

The doctor talked to him about the lab work, “Well, we have one point toward a potential PCOS diagnosis here.”

“What?”

“You seem to have abnormally high values for testosterone and other androgens.”

Remus blinked, “Wait, what? Really?!”

“Yes, that’s one of the criteria.”

Remus found himself weirdly excited about that part, “S-so could that be why I started growing a mustache when I was in high school?”

“I understand how facial hair can be distressing for some.”

Remus cackled for the first time since he woke up nearly in hemorrhagic shock a couple days ago, “Distressed?! I’m trans, as all fuck, man! I thought it was really cool, even if the other kids bugged me about that a lot. Don’t worry about it. I took care of them. If you know what I mean?”

The doctor looked at him with a strange expression, “If other tests confirm this diagnosis, do you realize it could mean fertility issues?”

“Even better!”

“… you’re taking this better than a lot of patients I’ve worked with.”

“Well, the bleeding and the pain sucks all the ass. But, you just mighta convinced me to take that referral.”

Really, Logan and Virgil planted that seed in his head first. But this information could have explained so much of the shit he just put up with for the past several years .

He just hoped he wasn’t going to be treated like a girl or some weird shit like that.

Or that it could get in the way of some of the things he really wanted to go forward on, in talking about transition stuff with Logan.