Chapter Text
Television.
What an extraordinary machine.
Peter never liked lazing around , so he certainly didn’t like TV.
He was half sure that feeling was hard-coded into him, now that he's this .
He tries not acknowledging the this he is,
his head may be heavier, more plastic-y, but he's still as much as anyone else.
Despite not liking it, he sat and watched television.
Practically melting into the red couch, he turned off the television.
(that he didn’t even comprehend was on),
Staring at the black screen he could see his reflection, he focused on his dress shirt.
Peter pushed himself into the present when he felt a surge of tiredness.
That was still a new thing.
He was far too used to trying to find a comfortable way to cuddle into the back row of his car.
He remembered waking up with a sore everything,
wondering if it was related to that man’s springlock accident, or how he bent himself that night.
He’s reminded that- he has a room upstairs, with a wonderful wife,
and a bed where he doesn't have to tetris-puzzle his way into.
Well, he’d better sleep before this turned into another restless night
(to which he’d shake, never wanting to remember again.)
He rested against the handrail as he walked up the stairs.
Lazily approaching the master bedroom,
He noticed the light still on in the guest room.
Right, he thought, Jack’s here.
He liked when Jack visited, always convincing him he never overstayed his welcome.
It felt like, whenever he elbowed him, teased him, let alone talked to him- like a core piece of himself was restored.
He may as well say goodnight.
He knocked on the door just before barging in
(it felt natural.)
Instead of being met with the tangerine man groaning, looking up from doing whoever knows what,
Jack was unceremoniously scrambled onto the floor and gave no response, lightly snoring.
Before the twinge of pity could ruin his mood, he shut off the light,
“Goodnight.” he called out.
Shutting the door, he headed to his own room.
The pillow sank deep as he placed his rotary-phone-head on it, he was yet again reminded of this.
Trying to pay the this he is no mind, he’d drift off to sleep.
_
“Wait Peter, don’t go yet!”
He turned behind him, seeing his brother, Jack.
Staring back at him with piercing hazel eyes and waving hands.
He and Dee always joked that the good genes missed him, since he and Dee both had green eyes.
Wait, what.
“Ha, well it's nice to know you miss me n’ all, but i don’t want my drive any later in the night,
You know, Caroline will get worried.”
Which was true, and frankly, she’d be getting gray hairs if he came past 12 am,
And looking at the freshly evening sky reminded him of the more than 10 hour ride in front of him,
he was beyond screwed.
Jack crossed his arms.
Peter sighed, holding onto the door, not daring to tear his stare.
“No, moron, Dee wants you to tuck her into bed.”
Peter swore Jack hadn’t aged past 16 with his constant string of insults and impoliteness.
Which had been a reason Peter was so afraid to introduce him to Caroline-
It wasn’t that he WASN’T proud of his family!
It’s just that, Caroline, so proper- wouldn’t be able to fathom someone like Jack.
Tho of course squished Dee’s cheeks a mile!
(what?)
His heart warmed just thinking of going home to her gorgeous smile.
“Can you do it? It’s getting late and I have a long drive ahead of me.”
Peter said, gesturing to the outside.
“Please Peter, I won't ask you anything ever again.
She keeps crying, she doesn’t want you to leave.”
Jack usually sounded tired, but he sounded genuinely exhausted.
Yet again he was met with the conflict.
He felt like he was choosing Caroline over his own family.
“I’m sorry, I’ll do it.”
Jack slinked down the hall of the already small enough house, assumingly to get a headstart on sleep.
Peter slipped off his shoes and walked off to Dee’s room, still in his fluffy coat.
Toys were scattered around the polyester like fragments of a battlefield.
A little redheaded girl sniffled from all the assumed crying.
She wore a pink shirt adorned with sequins, with black leggings, admittedly an odd choice for bed.
So this must be Dee, a part of Peter thought.
Dee hugged her blanket and wiped her tears,
Her eyes beamed seeing the man.
“Oh dear.”
Peter knelt to Dee’s bed, ruffling her ginger hair with a hand not decorated in scar tissue, using the blanket to wipe the remaining of her tears.
She faintly smiled, obviously tired but refusing to sleep.
“Can you read me a story..?”
Dee said in a soft voice, hiccuping.
Peter just knew Caroline would kill him for worrying her, he’ll have to make this quick.
He focused, instead of answering. He felt far too guilty to explain he really had to leave again .
He still had the whole motion of tucking her in despite not having done it for the past 3 years.
“So, do you have books around here somewhere?”
He felt slightly ashamed he didn't even know the layout of their house yet.
“Umm… Can you… Tell me ‘bout Stingy Jack..?”
She said, stumbling among sniffles.
Peter raised an eyebrow, he remembered that legend.
He didn’t imagine it’d be appropriate for Dee.
“You don’t have anything else in mind? I loved Cinderella when I was your age even though it was girly.”
He spotted the fairytale book lying in one of Dee’s vacant closets,
While going to reach it, Dee shook her head.
“I like Stingy Jack more…! I don’t have a book for it but pretty please!!”
Peter wasn’t so sure, in all honesty, it freaked him out when he first heard the tale.
“Who even told you about Stingy Jack?”
He held the heavier book in his hand, and knelt over her bed.
Dee still refused.
“Jack told me it for bedtime once! PleassEEEE!”
Dee looked at Peter with furrowed eyebrows.
Peter felt the devil being persuaded by Stingy Jack.
He discarded the fairytale book on the floor.
“Okay, sure.”
Dee smiled with triumph.
He cleared his throat, thinking about how to cut the drunk parts.
“Long ago in Ireland, lived a man named Stingy Jack.
Known throughout the land as an evil man.”
Dee’s head turned.
Peter lightly pushed her head, reminding her to begin sleeping.
She closed her eyes, cuddling her blanket.
“Satan had heard of Stingy Jack and his evil actions, and was jealous.
Stingy Jack was walking along the road, when he saw somebody with a smile on the ground.
It turned out to be Satan.”
He paused yet again, realizing the next part literally was about the two at a pub.
“Knowing Satan was going to take his soul because of his evil deeds, Jack got a clever plan.
Jack said he’d agree to let Satan take his soul as long as he brought him to the…”
Think Peter, think!
“Grocery store-”
“That's not how it went! He brought him drinking and-”
Dee erupted, waking from her feigned sleep.
“Dee…”
Her name slipped out his mouth so smoothly, just right.
Before Peter could take his brother’s life in his hands, he began unraveling the story once more.
“Okay.
He said that if Satan brought him to the bar and let him drink as much as he wanted, he’d let him take his soul.
Satan agreed. After Stingy Jack had all the drinks a man could want, he asked Satan to pay for it.
When Satan was confused, Stingy Jack told him to turn into a silver coin before the bartender noticed.”
Dee went back to trying to sleep.
“When Satan did so, Stingy Jack put Satan as a coin in his pocket, which also had a cross.
He made Satan promise to not take his soul for another 10 years.”
Dee tossed and turned.
“Stop movin–
OK, anyway, 10 years later, Stingy Jack and Satan met again.
Stingy Jack agreed to go to hell, but told Satan he wanted an apple from the tree.”
Dee got comfortable, he was finally nearing the end of the story.
“Satan foolishly agreed. When he went to climb up the tree, Stingy Jack once again tricked him and trapped him in a cross.
Satan, angry that he was tricked, demanded to be released.
Stingy Jack said ‘as long as you never let my soul go to hell, I will let you free.’
Satan agreed, having no other choice.”
“Eventually, due to his bad habits, Stingy Jack died. Jack’s soul prepared to go to heaven, but was rejected by God Himself. Stingy Jack accepted going to the fiery pits of hell.
Satan reminded him of their promise, and rejected him.
Stingy Jack asked ‘But where will I go?’”
Dee relaxed, letting go of her grin.
“Satan told him, ‘go back from whence you came.’ Sending Stingy Jack back down to Earth, between Good and Evil.”
He had no idea why he could recall the tale so easily, but he was glad.
“Satan gave him fire from Hell to guide his way, Stingy Jack put the light into an emptied out turnip, and began roaming earth…
The end.”
He felt a rush of relief that he could get going.
Thankfully, Dee was out like a light.
“Goodnight…” He murmured, closing the door slightly as he left.
The morning sun blared in Peter’s eyes, having forgotten to close the curtain.
Peter instinctively went to rub his eyes, feeling the buttons of his dial, he let out a half-hearted chuckle.
To avoid acknowledging it any longer, he turned to his side,
“ Good mornin,” he said in a thick voice. Even he didn't recognize it.
“..?” He noticed Caroline wasn’t at his side.
He cleared his throat, falling back into bed.
To his disappointment, it looks like he’d just miss her going to work.
He sat up, in the aftermath of that dream.
It must be a new Peter memory, he thought, quick to correct himself, memories from before I died.
He was glad, but confused, did he have more siblings than Jack?
Practically sliding out of bed, standing aimlessly.
Since he didn’t have to eat breakfast or do much in the mornings in particular,
He figured he could ask Jack.
He opened the door, noting the new vibe the house still emitted.
He stepped down the stairs, a meaning to his step; only one thing on his mind, that family photo.
He’d seen those portraits and polaroids of himself through the house; he always was skeptical of it.
Jack’d always avert his gaze to his own self,
then to Peter, telling him all about his affinity for dress shirts because of how ‘easy’ they were.
Maybe she was still out there! He’d just have to meet her.
He walked in front of the photo, sliding it from its hook.
He stared into the ginger girl, in pink clothing, to Jack’s left.
He wished he’d come to an epiphany just looking at her.
Noting her details, hoping he’d remember the outfit,
Anything more than telling her about an immortal drunk.
Dee, Dee, Dee…!
Nothing rolled off the tongue, it didn't feel right saying her name.
He began feeling that anxiousness- what if he never remembers her? What if she thinks Peter is really dead?
Then she’ll be back to the unstable foundation of being a photograph, never to be understood - to tell no tales.
The ideas raced through Peter’s head, chained away from any logic,
He heard a loud smack behind him, breaking his train of thought, he turned behind him with a wince.
“Shit, you felt that?”
The familiar voice of his (supposed) tangerine brother asked.
Peter didn’t tear his gaze away from the portrait, not releasing his death-grip.
“What the heck were you doing? No, I didn't feel that.”
“I hit ya’ to see if you feel anything in your phone head,“ Jack grinned “What’re you doing?”
Jack stepped to be at Peter’s side, not looking at, or trying not to look at the photo,
“Jack,” Peter said before his imbecile brother interrupted him immediately “Damn, my legal name, what happened to ‘idiot’?”
“There's nothing you’re hiding from me, are you?”
“Not that I know of..?”
Jack seemed genuinely confused; Peter would’ve believed him.
“You sure? Then who's the girl in this photo?” Peter said, handing it to Jack.
Jack glimpsed down at the portrait, then back at Peter.
“Oh so you noticed? I mean, there's tons of photographs here you haven’t noticed–”
“Don’t change the subject; who's the girl?”
“... Who is she to you?”
“I’m not sure, but I think our sister..? Since we’re siblings?”
He didn’t mean to sound so unsure.
“Basically, I had another dream.” Peter clarified.
Jack just stared at him, no expression, yet it felt like it meant so much more.
“Look I…” don’t want to talk about this, Jack thought.
“Please Jack, who's this? I won't get mad.”
Peter said, continuing to point at the ginger girl in the picture as if Jack hadn’t noticed her.
“You always said that exactly BEFORE you got mad.” Jack said, adding a half-hearted chuckle.
“Okay then, even if I get mad or not, remembering who this person is and where they are now matters a lot to me.”
“I mean, she looked 5 or 6 the last time I saw her! She's probably just barely an adult nowadays!
Oh and during the dream, I felt this detail that I… Felt like I raised you? I’m confused, am I your father or what?”
“No…” Jack responded flatly
Jack didn’t look away from Dee (in the picture) for once; like a punishment from looking away once before.
“Jack, don’t be like that- let’s talk about it.”
“I’m just not ready-...”
He murmured.
“Why not? Why is she such a sore subject? I’m scared I’ll forget about her before I get to ask you again.”
Good, Jack thought.
Jack locked his gaze back to Peter, looking straight into his dial.
“Let’s talk about it, then.”
“You’ve helped me a lot these past months, Jack, I have no right to-”
“It’s a long time due, either I ‘fess up now or I do later.
Plus who knows if another Fazbender opens- I’ll be busy, then you might forget. ”
Jack said, a hint of passive-aggression in his voice.
He sat on the couch, his back straight.
“I’ll never get why you still work there,” Peter said, nervously sitting with the portrait still in hand.
He put the portrait on his lap, then began talking.
“I got nothing. All I remember now is that her name is Dee and she's our sister.”
“You’re right. We have a sister, that's who the girl in the photo is,”
He admitted to, feeling like he confessed to the biggest lie ever.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I knew you’d get mad, so HA.”
“There has to be more, why didn’t you wanna tell me about this..?”
Jack’s expression lost its subtle tone to it, before he could change the subject, a hand outreached to him-
Peter placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, albeit, a bit awkwardly but Jack tensed under his touch.
“If it irreversibly destroys me, I don’t care. You know me, Jack.”
“Where do I even begin?”
Peter’s hand slid away, clasped in his lap.
Jack put his head in his hands.
“Well just begin with the cold hard truth, where or what is she?”
“You’ll never forgive me.”
“Listen to me,” Peter snapped his fingers, bringing Jack’s attention in a childish manner,
“Even if I hate you for it, it’s for the better.”
“For the cold hard truth,” Jack remarked, mocking Peter’s formality.
“She’s… No longer with us.”
Peter looked down, Jack knew what it meant.
“She’s dead…? I saw her when she was barely a child-...
The dream seemed to emphasize how- she meant something to me.”
“I knew you’d get upset. That's why I didn’t wanna tell you.”
“How old was she…? Back when I was alive?”
Peter asked.
“Barely six.”
“ Barely? ” Peter didn’t look from the carpet, “What do you mean barely?”
“How about we question that later, till you remember her more- I mean, do you even know her name?.”
Jack insisted.
Peter wasn’t having it- Before daring to respond, he backed down, this wasn’t about him.
“It was Dee, something to that effect.” Jack’s expression gave it all.
“Do you remember anything else? What was the dream?”
Peter looked to his side and chuckled, “Well calm down.” Jack crossed his arms.
“Hey you do that alot when you’re angry,” the tangerine tilted his head at that offhand comment.
“Sorry, that was a part of the dream…
So… It was a dark night out, I think I was leaving to go to this house- I was where you lived, Reno, right?”
Peter made hand gestures as he recounted the nostalgia in the air that night he never accounted for.
“Right.”
“You told me not to leave, and I said I had to go or Caroline would get worried.
I began remembering Dee at that point or before, something about how we’d make fun of you because we both had green eyes and had superior genes…? Probably was funny back then.”
Jack gave no comment.
“You told me that Dee didn't want me to leave, and that she would cry whenever you tried to tuck her into bed. You know… Because she wanted me to do it.”
Jack grew attentive.
“I sucked it up and she asked me to read a bedtime story to her.
I obliged, for whatever reason I just felt this break in my heart whenever she got upset-...
I told her that story… Of some halloween-related drunk who got cursed to be immortal?
I wondered in the dream how I even knew it– that's what makes me think this is a memory and not some morbid dream.”
“Right I remember that too,” The tangerine claimed, his head shooting upward
“She ended up getting upset in the morning when you weren’t there, sucked to deal with the entire month after you moved out.”
“Moved out?” Jack looked straight at Peter.
“You forgot what you left behind and made such a great deal of it?”
Peter couldn’t help but realize a resentment was festering in Jack’s voice.
“I’m sorry.” Peter murmured, “You don’t even remember though–!”
Silence falls over them after Jack’s interjection.
Peter looked into the reflection of the glass in the portrait,
“No, I’m sorry, really.
I’ll never be Peter, at least in the way you remember him (me?) again.
I don’t know how I hurt you, and why. I can’t give you closure.”
He set aside the portrait of Dee.
“Well now I remember we were a family, and I want to know more about us. ”
“You have a good memory of Dee, you know? I wish I had more.
Since in your state you can choose how to remember her, it’s for the better.”
Jack explained with a sigh, bitter to how Peter wore his heart on his sleeve.
“Let me ask you a question, Jack.
If you could forget all the bad memories, would you?”
Peter asked, looking away
“I mean obviously, hand over the button, bro.”
Peter groaned at Jack’s facetiousness.
“No! You should treasure every memory with Dee, even the tough ones!”
“Why should I do that? I’d rather only remember the picnics, the days at the park, the times we were all together and happy-”
“A good future requires bad memories. Us being brothers prove that.”
Jack’s eyebrow’s furrowed, not getting it, why value something that's over?
What Peter had said didn’t even make sense, who said this future was good for anyone?
“What do you mean?”
“Well I’m just saying shhhh – stuff, but…
I assume because I left you, something happened, and Dee died right? ”
Jack’s eye twitched, Peter had no idea what that meant.
“You’re getting warmer.” Jack winked, a silly detour-
“Jack, treat this seriously!”
“Sorry, I just don’t like the past. You’re somewhat right.”
“Basically, if you get rid of every bad memory… What would you remember of me? Hell, what of Dee?
My point is since we barely have any memories we must find good in the worst.”
“That makes sense. You’ve always been more rational than me. I used to hate that about you. ”
“Guess I’m just better than you,” Peter chuckled to lighten the mood,
the other man barely reacted, having a faint smile (Peter saw how he and Dee were related.)
“Tho, Jack I don’t wanna screw up our relationship. We can leave this since it’s upsetting you.”
“No, I should.
It's been a little over a decade, and I’m still so angry at myself.
I’m practically the only person who remembers her, it feels like she’s hung around my neck on other days.
I need to relive, just one last time.”
“Thank you. Please, tell me about her.”
Jack felt like he was on the top of a rollercoaster.
“That’s so vague, what do I tell you?”
“Well, when you think of ‘Dee Kennedy’ what do you think of?”
“I… Think about…I guess, her love for cats… And pink.”
“ I think I remember that. Am I allergic to cats, yes or no?”
“I mean we can’t know now but you were?”
“We couldn’t get a cat because I’m allergic then- right? So we got Sparky (the first).”
“I remember Sparky the second more, so I’ll take your word for it.”
Jack said, back to his usual lack of enthusiasm.
Infact, that very dog was somewhere upstairs!
Peter tried not associating with Sparky (the second) because he swore a purple canine would usually be with it barking garbled sounds.
“Can you tell me about my relationship with her?”
“Hell, she liked you more than me, made it VERY clear she wanted to live with ya’.”
Jack grinned.
“Had to convince her not to bother you, cause I learned the sticky situation a toddler’s emotionality is.”
“Why couldn’t she live with me?”
“I felt like I owed a debt to you for taking care of me and an entire baby at the same time while grieving!”
“That… Doesn’t line up.”
Peter fiddled with his collar, recounting Jack’s earlier resentment.
“What do you mean?”
"When you said I ‘left behind’ us, you seemed angry at me. I even apologized and you were still a bit peeved.”
“Fuck, okay, I hated you for leaving.
Look Peter I didn’t want you to remember this, but we didn’t have the best relationship at the start.”
“Jack… Please, just tell me the truth from here on now.”
“I'm sorry. It just feels so hard to explain to you what we were. She was Dee, that’s what I know of her.”
“I’m asking a lot of you, right?”
“It’s a fair question, I just don’t think about what's not in front of me..”
Jack hadn’t realized how much he felt like he should yearn for her.
Her memory appeared like something natural, nothing he’d mourn, nothing he could overlook.
Dee…
She only came back when she felt like it.
He’d drive to work, see a ginger girl, swear for half a choking second it was her!
Then he’d do a double take and wallow in embarrassment on the ride home.
He’d avert his gaze, despite his efforts it was like she was smiling somewhere in his eye-sockets.
“Your relationship with her… For one, you were never close and you barely saw her, but she loved you regardless. I dunno— kids are weird like that.”
“I see… When she died, how did I feel?”
“That one’s up to you, never knew ‘cuz complications .”
“I was just curious, it feels like my body’s remembering but I can’t.”
Peter remarked that the more they talked about her the more he felt like curling up.
“Do you have any stories with her?
“This is starting to feel like it’s more about me than you.”
Jack retreated to his normal blankslate, sitting properily.
“I guess so. If I can’t remember her that's that but… After all this I feel it’s best we have this conversation.”
Peter was fiddling with his dress shirt button.
“Ahem,” Jack felt like he was talking to an audience.
“I remember once… After kindergarten, she was complaining about ear pain.
Got all worried, you know, those places have infections for miles.” Peter nodded, interested.
“Being the frugal bitch I am, I ended up looking through both of her ears with tweezers.
Turns out she had a cookie sticker lodged up in there. She was sobbing so hard because she didn’t want me to figure it out, it felt unjust to laugh back then but… Pfft.”
“I haven’t thought about that day in a long time.”
Jack recalled, the weight on his neck loosening.
Meanwhile, Peter wished he could smile.
Peter shuffled closer to his brother, reaching out with arms extended, Jack practically fell into Peter, embracing him.
He could hear Peter’s heart steadily beating, the only proof he was alive.
“I cannot thank you enough, Jack.”
“I cannot wait for you to remember her more.”