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There were no vacations in Desert Bluffs. The time away from work, the stress of covering the responsibilities of your colleagues as well as your own, it all put a dent in productivity.
Braen had a proposal for Lauren Mallard, however, to grant himself and Kevin a few days off. He highlighted his advancements in the StrexMed design that reduced cost by %15, as well as Kevin’s stress at work that would surely require more than a weekends rest to recover fully from, wouldn’t it?
The proposal was accepted, and Braen and Kevin were granted a four day weekend during which they could do as they pleased.
Braen found a small cabin out away from the city, it was small, quaint, and only standing because it served absolutely no purpose and demolishing it would be a waste of resources.
Bags were packed. Shifts were covered. Kevin found an intern. Braen found an assistant.
This vacation would be perfect.
They took Braen’s jeep, bags tossed in the back. Kevin had a hand on Braen’s knee, and his smile was somehow more enchanting than before.
I’m so excited for this vacation,” Kevin told him, “I think it’s gonna be great.”
“Yeah,” Braen nodded, glancing away from the road to look him in the eye.
“I mean, it’s not very productive,” Kevin said, looking down.
“Hey,” Braen took a hand off the wheel and covered Kevin’s. “You’re gonna relax, enjoy this weekend, and when you get back you’ll be twice as productive as you ever were.”
Kevin smiled properly, and his hand drifted up past Braen’s knee towards his thigh. “It’s gonna be so much fun,” he said excitedly.
Braen drove faster.
They reached the cabin, and Braen didn’t hesitate before throwing off his seatbelt and dragging Kevin into the cabin, pinning him against the door and kissing him fiercely.
“We should probably get the bags,” Kevin said faintly when they broke apart, but his eyes were shut and he didn’t look like he was willing to move.
Braen smiled devilishly. “We should,” he agreed, kissing Kevin again, “But I think,” he kissed again, “they can wait.”
Kevin made a faint noise of agreement before reciprocating.
It was a nightmare that woke Braen up later that night. Another one. Confusing, distorted, terrifying. There had been… someone…. someone important screaming his name over and over. A small figure running towards him, clutching him.
He knew this dream well, the figure was a recurring character, someone he knew but could never quite remember. She would run to him, cling to his sides, and cackle as he felt his life energy draining away, growing weaker and weaker until he was shook awake.
Braen hated the feeling, and curled around Kevin for comfort, reaching blindly towards the nightstand for the little bottle he always left there…
But it wasn’t there at all, was it? Pulling away from Kevin’s warmth, Braen rubbed his eyes and sat up. He scanned the cabin bedroom and sighed.
He grabbed his underpants from where they’d ended up on the bedpost and pulled them on. He returned to the living room, where he found his jacket discarded on the floor. Inside the pocket was a bottle of pills.
No, wait, pill. Singular. Braen shrugged and swallowed it, no problem, there were more in the… car…
He glanced up. Sand was whirling outside. A vicious, swirling, vortex of sand. A sandstorm that could last for hours, days, weeks.
The bedroom door banged open and Kevin bolted upright, confused by the sight of his boyfriend grabbing his shirt, kicking on his jeans.
“Sandstorm!”
It was all he had to say before Kevin was jolting out of bed, grabbing his own clothes and yanking them on. Sandstorms weren’t to be fought or questioned, only weathered.
Without hesitating, Brean tore a wide strip out of the flat sheet, wrapping it around his nose and mouth. He didn’t look to see if Kevin followed suit, he just ran out of the bedroom, out of the cabin, into the storm.
He couldn’t see the jeep, which was parked three feet away. He couldn’t see his own hand. The sand howled around him, digging it’s way into every crevice of his clothing, under his very skin. He forced himself to take one step forward, then two, in the direction he knew the jeep must be. He shut his eyes and reached out blindly. The wind, smiling god, the wind! It pulled at him, tore at him, shoved him carelessly aside as the sandy ground slipped beneath his feet.
Smiling God preserve them all, Braen couldn’t make it. He turned around, at least, probably turned around and ran back to the cabin.
He wound up being one pace away from spending the rest of his days wandering aimlessly in the desert. Once pace. If his shoulder hadn’t caught the edge of the cabin he would have been lost, a hand's breadth away from safety but he’d never know it.
As it was, he hit the cabin side solidly, and managed to fumble his way to the door, crashing into Kevin as he tried to follow.
Braen grabbed him and pushed him out of the way, banging the door shut behind him. He tore the sheet off of his face, gasping for air. His eyes were watering. Sand, sand, SAND! Everywhere! Smiling God, he had grown up in Desert Bluffs, but he could never get used to all this sand. There was a small mound in front of the door, the tiny grains had scattered all across the room, wedging their way in between the cracks of the floorboards and under the rug, it was in his hair.
“I need a shower,” he muttered, turning to Kevin, whose bright, endless smile had fallen as he began searching restlessly through his pockets.
“Kevin?” he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I need my pills,” Kevin muttered in response, before turning and giving Braen his brightest grin and saying, “Don’t worry, I’m so happy today!”
Braen recognised the signs of Kevin coming off the StrexMeds, and felt his stomach churn guiltily. “I took the last one,” he admitted, “I thought we could get the rest, I’m sorry.”
Kevin sobbed openly, even as his smile stayed as it was, waxen, frozen. “I forgive you,” he promised between gasps, “I forgive you!”
Braen knelt down to take him in his arms. “It’ll be alright,” he promised, “The storm will die down in a couple hours, then we can get the StrexMeds for you.”
Kevin’s grin stretched further. “I’m so happy right now,” he said stiffly, “Look how happy I am, I’m so happy!”
“I know, honey,” Braen promised, kissing his forehead, “I know.”
Kevin was under a blanket on the couch while Braen took a shower. At least they had water still, all the food they brought was in the jeep, now covered with sand. By the time Braen returned to his side, he was shivering, sweating.
“Kevin, babe, are you alright?”
Kevin nodded stiffly, using his own fingers to forcibly stretch his mouth into a grin. “Look how happy I am,” he insisted.
“I see,” Braen said softly, kneeling beside him, “I see how beautiful your smile is, I see how happy you are.”
Kevin relaxed for a moment, before the agitation came back full force. “But the Smiling God doesn’t think so,” he groaned, throwing his head back and worrying the blanket in his fists. “I need to please the Smiling God! I need to be happy, I need to smile my beautiful smile!”
“It’s okay,” Braen tried to reassure him, but he lashed out.
“No!” he yelled, swiping a fist at him, “No!”
Braen jumped back, he knew from here it would only escalate. “Okay,” he said, “Okay, just listen to me.”
Kevin had leapt to his feet, clutching his head. “No!” he insisted, “Stop talking!”
“Just calm down,” Braen pleaded, “Violence isn’t productive, remember?”
“Violence is…” Kevin trailed off, and for a moment, Braen believed that he might actually calm down, that he might be at ease until the storm passed, that maybe withdrawal wouldn’t be so bad on him, on them.
But he reached down and flipped the coffee table. It crashed against the floor. Braen flinched but said nothing. How long had it been since his last dose? He shouldn’t have taken that pill, he should have given it to Kevin. He hadn’t been completely off the meds in… ever? Not since they had been made.
Kevin ran his hands through his hair. “You’re a monster,” he growled, looking up at Braen for the first time since he first lashed out.
Braen felt crushed as he saw his lover’s dark eyes fade from the beautiful solid black, the edges going white and the irises gaining a little color. “Kevin,” he tried again, “It’s me, Braen! Try and remember!”
“I remember you’re a monster!” Kevin yelled, shoving him, “You’re a monster! You tore me apart and made me your toy!”
“I didn’t!” Braen insisted, feeling tears spring to his eyes as he scrambled away from Kevin’s wrath, “I would never hurt you! Kevin I love you! Don’t you remember?”
“You never loved anyone!” Kevin snarled, “You chose a comfy life at the cost of mine!”
“What are you talking about?” Braen demanded, “I always put you first, always!”
Enraged beyond words, Kevin lunged at Braen again with a roar. Braen scampered out of the way, falling backwards. Kevin ran towards him, trying to kick him, but Braen managed to scramble back towards the bathroom.
“HIDE YOU COWARD!” Kevin shouted at the locked door.
Braen braced himself against the door, waiting for Kevin to try and break it down. He was deceptively strong, he knew. But instead, he heard a faint scratching noise. What was that? He tried the door. “Kevin?” he asked when it didn’t budge.
There was silence from the other side.
“Kevin!?” Braen rammed his shoulder on the door, but Kevin must have, what, barricaded it?
He sank to the floor, pointlessly ransacking his own pockets for Strexmeds and only finding an empty bottle. He hurtled it angrily across the room and waited for the storm to end so he could find his happiness again.
Several hours passed. Braen was hungry, scared, and miserable. He paced from one end of the tiny room to the other, drinking water from the sink, poking at his facial scars in the mirror, shoving pointlessly at the door.
He could hear Kevin from the other side. He sounded like he was on a rampage for a while, between the crashes and bangs and thumps. But he had fallen quiet in the past few hours, sniffling, sobbing, wailing. Braen called out to him once, but Kevin had howled at him, calling him a monster.
He sat down on the floor, leaning against the door. How many hours had passed? He didn’t have a watch or a phone, there was no clock, just a tiny window that displayed the endless, swirling sand. Braen buried his head in his knees. His mouth was dry, hadn’t he been drinking constantly while he was stuck in here?
With a sigh, he raised his hand, but she was standing in front of the sink. The monster from his nightmares. The face he recognised but could never place.
Braen would never admit he screamed out loud, no matter how much he really had. He scrambled for the doorknob, ramming his shoulder into the door over and over again. “KEVIN!” he yelled at the top of his voice, “KEVIN LET ME OUT! PLEASE!”
Dead silence answered him.
“KEVIN!” His shoulder throbbed, his voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead against the door. He didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want to see that she was still there.
But Kevin didn’t answer, the door didn’t open, and Braen reluctantly turned around.
She was still there.
Braen shuddered.
At least half an hour passed. Neither of them moved. Braen was so, so thirsty. He licked his lips, but that accomplished nothing. His mouth was dry, his breath rattled, his lips were splitting apart and blood was running into his mouth and down his chin.
“You’re gonna have to drink sooner or later,” the girl told him, shrugging a shoulder.
Braen wailed and turned away. Was this why Kevin had been crying earlier? Had this spectre killed him too?
“Are you really scared?” she asked in a voice like Lauren Mallard. No, not like that. Lauren Mallard had the same high, sweet voice, but this monster, the aberration, she sounded… sincerely concerned.
“No!” Braen yelled, partly in answer and partly in rejection of his realization.
She approached and knelt beside his crumpled form. “Come on, Braen, look at me. You’re strong enough, even if I wanted to hurt you, would you be totally incapable of protecting yourself?”
Braen refused to look at her. He didn’t see her crestfallen expression.
“Alright,” she said holding her hands up. She moved to sit on the toilet, “There. I’m out of the way. Go drink.”
Still not looking at her, Braen jumped up towards the sink, gulping down water and gasping. He splashed excess all over the counter, across his face, down his front. His pressed a finger to his once-cracked lips to find that they were whole, maybe never broken in the first place.
“Feel better?” she asked in that same voice, laced with toxic, poisonous, evil sincerity.
Rather than jumping back or curling up, Braen turned to look at her properly. She was young, younger than he thought, maybe 14 or 15 at oldest. She had long green hair, her head partly shaven on one side. Oh my god you look ridiculous. The affectionate words bubbled up in his throat, before he fell back to his knees, looking away.
“You said it looked cool,” she corrected in an irritated tone, as if she heard his thoughts. She ran a hand through it absentmindedly. “I like it.”
Braen shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted quietly, “I’ve never seen you before, I’ve never seen your hair.”
She slipped from the toilet so they were eye to eye. “Braen, you practically raised me, remember?”
“Shut up!” he finally snapped, angry, “I didn’t raise anyone! I didn’t raise you!”
Her lip quivered, her eyes filled with tears. Braen found himself reaching for his jacket pocket, where he kept the bottle of StrexMeds. He knew he could make her happy, she was such a pitiful monster. But he couldn’t use the StrexMeds, he just couldn’t, and not because they were gone.
“Go away,” he said fiercely, “I don’t know you. I don’t know who you are.”
But it was a lie. Slowly, slowly, he felt his memory piece together. The girl smiled and rubbed her eyes. “You used to fall asleep when you played games,” she told him, her voice a little unsteady, “you would pick on me in front of my friends to embarrass me and you scared all of them, except for one, because she had a crush on you. It was so gross! You would tell me stories to help me fall asleep and promise me you’d keep me safe from monsters!”
Braen’s face crumpled, because he did remember, he remembered all of that and more. He remembered picking her up at the bus stop after school, literally, he remembered her sneaking into his room after a bad dream, he remembered building forts outside. He remembered the squishy baby his parents had brought home and he remembered them telling him,
“Braen, this is your sister.”
His sobs were the only thing that punctuated the silence.
“Hey, Braen,” she said teasingly, but she was crying too.
He looked at her and recognised her, she was so familiar he couldn’t understand how he never could.
“Cass,” he cried, crawling to her side to give her a hug, but-
BANG
There was dead silence. Braen looked at the window. Somewhere along the line, the sandstorm had stopped.
BANG
He looked back at where Cass had been sitting. Nobody was there. “C-Cass?” he called out warily. “CASS?!”
BANG
The bathroom door burst open, a dozen uniformed Strex workers charged in. Braen felt small, vulnerable, like a small child wanting to hide under the bed.
“Cass! Cass come back!”
The were grabbing him, holding him down. He fought, and he remembered.
He remembered the first time that he’d been taken, that he’d fought, the threats that had come from the uniformed workers and ghosts in the walls.
There was a sharp pain in his neck and he cried out, reaching up, crushing the syringe in his hand. The glass dug into his skin. The pain was sharp and helped him remember.
His name was Braen. Cass was his sister.
His name was Braen. Cass was his sister.
His name was Braen. He had a sister.
His name was Braen.
He woke up in the hospital. THere were IVs in his arms. He felt… happy. Content. The nightmare of the vacation was fading away to indistinct memory and an aversion to repeating the experience.
The doctor came and spoke mildly to him, he hadn’t been unconscious for long, Kevin was fine, they had just needed brief reeducation. His StrexMeds were working properly again, he was recovering nicely from withdrawal. The scars on his hands would fade.
“I’ll just have the nurse get you set up so you’re good to go, how does that sound?” the doctor asked.
“Sounds like a plan,” Braen smiled.
“I’ll send her in.”
The doctor left, and a few minutes later, the nurse came in. It was a woman, young, with dark hair in a ponytail over her shoulder. Her square glasses matched his own.
She hesitated before approaching him, perhaps she was new? But she smiled, a faint quirk that spread into the proper Strex-approved grin and began to work silently.
Braen frowned. “Have we met before?” he asked her.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, not looking up from the IV needle she was removing.
“You look familiar.”
“Well, you’re a doctor, I’m a nurse, I guess our paths could have crossed before.” She ran her fingers through her hair absentmindedly as she grabbed the paperwork he needed to sign
“Yeah,” he agreed, signing.
She took the clipboard and handed him his jacket. “May the Smiling God bless you,” she told him a moment too late.
“And you as well,” he said, nodding towards her with a flourish. He hesitated before leaving. “What did you say your name was?”
“Cass, Cassandra. Cassandra.”
“Cassandra,” Braen echoed, looking puzzled. “I’ll see you around.”
“And you as well.”
Cass kept her smile in place as Braen left the room.