Chapter Text
Half an hour later, Beef glanced over at Emerich for what felt like the hundredth time. It was just – he wasn’t doing anything. He was staring at the dripping pipe tucked into the corner of the ceiling, yet not-staring because it was like he was looking through it. What really threw him off was the stillness; by now Emerich usually would have pulled out the give-a-ghost projector and started tinkering out of boredom. It felt wrong for such a fidgety guy.
His book (Caleb Cleveland #205, where he hunted down a missing Twitch streamer who was secretly also Bigfoot, this series had really gone off the rails) was barely registering. When Beef had reached the penultimate chapter, Emerich started muttering to himself. He looked over his book. Emerich pointed the give-a-ghost projector at his end table, where he had manifested the hard-light flowers, turning dials. The flowers changed rapidly, from daisies, to roses, to tulips, to -
“Emerich. Can you stop that. It’s making me dizzy.”
Emerich looked up, his expression wounded. Beef winced – he had tried asking as nicely as he could, but Emerich still acted like he had told him to eat shit and die.
“Oh, um, I apologize.” His hands stopped mid-rotation; the flowers became blurry and pixelated like a badly-rendered texture in a video game. “Shit.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Beef said quickly. “It’s kind of interesting to look at. Like, uh, abstract art.”
“If you say so,” said Emerich.
“I’m not mad at you,” Beef said desperately. “I literally just felt motion sick.”
“I – I understand. I apologize, for, um, making you sick.” With that, he went back to staring at the pipes.
And no, Beef had to bring this up, it was going to drive him insane. He put the book down. “Emerich? Is there something you wanna tell me, buddy?”
Emerich jumped. “No. I – I don’t know what led you to that, um, impression, but….”
“You just seem kinda nervous.”
“Oh, well, you know what I’m like! Always on pins and needles, ha ha.”
“I do know that,” he agreed. “More nervous than usual, I guess.”
Emerich said, “Hmph.”
Beef waited for him to continue, but he didn’t, and the silence dragged on. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what happened after....”
Emerich cocked his head. “After….”
Right. He forgot that Emerich didn’t get context cues. “After I got shot,” he explained.
And then Emerich’s whole demeanor changed. He straightened, furtively glancing around the room as if he was checking for someone listening in. “Why – Why do you want to, um, know that, Beef?”
Now that was really worrying. “I mean,” Beef said carefully, “I think it’s important we’re all on the same page? And no offense, but you guys have been acting super weird and that kind of makes me feel like there’s stuff I’ve been missing.”
He sighed. “No, no, you’re right. I, um, I’m sorry. Montrose and I dealt with it, and the intruder will no longer be a – an issue.”
“Yeah, that’s what he told me, too,” said Beef. “Dealt with it how, though?”
“Oh, well, I just gave them – our intruder, that is – a little shock, to incapacitate them,” he said. Seeing the expression on Beef’s face, he added hastily, “But it wasn’t like the last time! They were not in possession of a pacemaker – at least, I assume that they weren’t -”
“It’s fine, man,” Beef assuaged him. “It was self-defense, right?”
“Well, yes,” he said hesitantly. “In some aspects, it was self-defense. And there were extenuating circumstances, it was the heat of the moment, and – and – I know you have a ‘credo’ against killing others without the absolute necessity for it, but I think this will be good! It will teach people not to – to mess with Poppy’s Pals.”
“Woah, okay, let’s calm down there,” Beef said quickly. It was kind of disturbing to hear such a Montrose-y sentiment come out of Emerich’s mouth. “First of all, I’m not the only one who has that ‘credo.’ You’re against unecessary violence too, right? I don’t wanna be part of a group that makes examples of people or whatever.”
“I know that, he said, sounding mildly affronted. “That sort of violence, is, um, not really in my wheelhouse.”
“Cool. I’m just saying, you don’t have to pretend like it was a – a calculated tactical decision. I don’t want to sound cornball, but it’s okay to feel guilty.”
Emerich hesitated. “Should I?”
“Should you…. What?”
“Feel guilty,” he said.
Uhh. “That could mean so many things, Emerich. Like, if you just knocked the guy out, I guess that’s fine.”
He was silent for a second too long. “Yes. I knocked him out. That is what – that’s exactly what happened.”
Alarms bells sounded in his head; Beef tuned them out.
“I – I didn’t feel guilty when I attacked him, rather - I saw you, and I didn’t want you to be, um -” He turned a dial absently; the flowers wobbled. “I was upset -”
“Emerich, I’m fine,” he said softly.
Emerich lifted his head sharply. “Well, you got shot.”
“Yeah, I'm not gonna pretend I don’t feel shitty right now, but that doesn’t make me…. double traumatized, or whatever. I think I’ve let on to the fact that I did some criminal stuff before coming to Steeplechase, so this isn’t the first time this has happened, y’know?”
Emerich scoffed. “Oh, I see! And that grants you some sort of invincible… armor… against ever being shot again!”
“That’s not what I meant -”
“What did you mean, then?” He crossed his arms, scowling. “Because it seems, to me, that you have been thoroughly, um, incapacitated.”
“I get that, but Emerich - I’m the bodyguard, basically. Taking hits is kind of in my job description.”
Emerich shook his head. “I don’t think it is. I don’t think it should be. And I did not see that qualification in your, um, proverbial job sheet. I – I need you to be safe.”
“That’s what’s been bothering you?”
“I – of course it is!” Emerich shouted. “I – you – you stepped in front of a bullet for me. You could have died on – on my behalf! Don’t you remember? Or has the bullet amnesia addled your brain?”
“Forget about the bullet amnesia, that’s not-” Beef took a deep breath. “It wasn’t a planned decision, Emerich. It wasn’t like I woke up and went, ‘oh, you know what would be great? Getting shot today.’ I just acted on instinct.”
“So you wouldn’t do it again?” Emerich asked, almost pleading.
“Come on, I can’t promise you that,” Beef said instantly. “I wouldn’t just let you get hurt.”
“Well, what about me?” Emerich asked. “Do you think that – that I would want you to get hurt? That I could, um, forgive myself if any harm were to befall you?”
The confrontation apparently too much for him, he went back to staring at the ceiling. “I can’t be responsible for losing another friend. And especially not you. You have done so much for me, you mean a great deal to me, and if it was a choice – if it should come to that, if it was a choice between you and me, then -”
“Woah,” he said, alarmed. Where the hell was this coming from? “Okay, whatever you’re thinking about, just forget it, because I’m telling you right now that there is no situation where I would let you die to protect myself.”
“Don’t think about it as letting me die!” Emerich said. “Think of it as…. hm. I believe, that if such a – a situation were to occur, you would understand afterward why I told you this. And you would agree that it was the best decision for everyone.”
“Emerich, that’s -”
But he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I do have something else to say regarding this, um, subject, if you would be receptible to it.”
Beef didn’t like the look on Emerich’s face. It was the distinct expression of not liking what you were going to say next, but being in too deep to back out. But saying no would require a lot more willpower than he had right now. “Okay?”
“I have a -” he paused, considering his words. “A contingency plan, in case something happens to me.”
“What kind of contingency plan?” Beef asked warily.
“It’s a secret. I can’t reveal the details right now, but….”
Beef was about to interject, something like what the fuck are you talking about, you’re scaring me, but Emerich continued, stumbling over a speech he had clearly planned in advance. “You don't have to, um, ‘throw yourself into the crossfire,’ for me anymore. It's all taken care of. You have my word.”
For a moment his words hung in the air.
“Okay, but now I have something important to tell you, so you have to listen to me.”
He had Emerich’s attention.
Beef wasn’t big on speeches. Honestly, he had no fucking clue what he was going to say. But he had to say something. Even if it was way too soppy. “Everything you said to me just now? I feel the same way. I care a lot about you, too. You know, more than just as a work friend. And I get you’re a genius mad scientist, and you probably do have something up your sleeve, but – I’m sorry - I don’t really care. You don’t need to make anything up to me, you don’t need to take revenge in my name, you don’t need to do some…. Heroic sacrifice bullshit. Whatever you have, it isn’t worth your life. You got that?”
Emerich blinked. His expression was unreadable. Then he said, “Your, um, proficiency in swaying has improved quite dramatically.”
Beef was thrown off. “Uh, thanks, I guess. I didn’t say all that just to show off my public speaking skills, though.”
“Oh, I understand,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I – I share those feelings for you as well. I really do appreciate it, and, um – thank you, Lyndon.”
Beef could tell he hadn’t been convinced. “Can you promise you’ll at least think about what I said?”
“Yes. I most certainly will,” he said, and Beef believed him. “And – and since I am considering your request, would you consider mine? Keep my contingency plan in mind. Just for – for absolute worst-case scenarios.”
“Uh, let’s just hope something like this doesn’t happen a second time.”
Emerich smiled. “Yes! No, no, I would not want to experience a repeat. This was – was not pleasant for me.”
“Yup, it wasn’t pleasant for me either.”
“I could tell.”
Beef nodded – yep, being shot at wasn’t pleasant – like an idiot. He wasn’t happy that Emerich’s mysterious plan was still in his back pocket. But he heard Beef out. He seemed to be in better spirits than he was before. Maybe that was enough for now.
There was just one more thing: “So, now that you’ve got that off your chest and stuff, do you wanna leave? Go, I don’t know, take a shower?”
“No, no, no, I would like to stay,” Emerich insisted. “Don’t, um, don’t worry about me. Besides, I have gone much longer than this without showering.”
“Gross,” he said. They really needed to have another talk about oversharing. “I just thought you might be bored or something.”
“Actually, I have a few, um, hard-light projects in the works. They’re small ones. This would be an ideal time to….”
Not bothering to finish his sentence, he dug into the giant duffle bag next to him, retrieved about a dozen hard-light tools, and dumped them all out on the couch. Beef couldn’t help but smile. Typical.
He read the final chapter of his book, then flipped to the first page and started reading it again. Emerich tinkered with the projector. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was comfortable, familiar. The type of silence perfect for letting his thoughts wander.
If Beef was smart, he would quit. Leave the Darkcade and Poppy’s Pals for good. Right now, the thought was really, really tempting. He promised himself he would leave if shit hit the fan, and if this wasn’t the moment, what was? It didn’t have to be abandoning them. Maybe he could convince Emerich to leave, too. Montrose – well, the idea of Montrose abandoning his life of crime was laughable, but he could always find a new crew. A hitter who wasn’t soft. Could be that was what was best for everyone.
It was a nice fantasy. It only had one problem: Beef didn’t want to quit.
He didn’t want to quit. He didn’t know if it was out of protectiveness, or a need to reenact his glory days, or what. Even now when the three of them were in bigger shit than they were before, because Emerich had definitely killed that guy. What did that say about him?
And what did it say about him that he only sort of cared that someone was dead, because he was more relieved that Montrose and Emerich were okay?
Beef was realizing he was more vicious than he thought.
But, okay, he didn’t have to think about all of this now. A little bit of compartmentalization, he decided, was totally fine. Sue him, he wanted to rest. Secret projects, the consequences of another death on their hands – those could wait until later. Beef got back to reading his weirdly engaging children’s book, listened to Emerich quietly speaking to himself. His friends were alive, and he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
(For now.)