Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sibyl Aurelius was pleased to say that she had taken successful measures in protecting her son from a life in which destiny overrode desires. When Tex decides he wants to take saxophone lessons in elementary school, she excitedly signs him up, eager to sate his musical curiosities simply because he had them. When he joins the varsity basketball team in high school, she’s at every game she can make, appreciative to raise a son who was afforded the luxury of pursuing his interests. She knows she can’t protect him forever, but dammit, if she doesn’t wish she had more time.

The first clue that something’s up is the car she notices when she leaves for work early this morning. It’s a simple black sedan, but her past has made her more observant than the average person. That’s why there’s a niggling feeling in the back of her mind all day at the fact that the vehicle had no tags and no visible driver.

She works in an office, mostly glued to her computer and phone. Today, she’s working hard to convince herself she’s paranoid at the way the computer screens zap sporadically throughout the day as if there are interruptions in the connection. She grabs lunch from across the street and nearly stumbles in the middle of the intersection when she thinks she sees intangible blips up above, almost like there’s someone unzipping and zipping the linings of the sky. 

She feels sweat start to prickle under her arms and her nerves are too high-strung to be worried about the inevitable stains in the royal blue blouse. She stumbles in her heels as she walks to her car that evening and forces herself to control her breathing once she’s in the driver’s seat. She uses her hands to ground herself, gripping them to the steering wheel as an anchor. 

When she gets home and walks from the garage into the yellow linoleum-tiled kitchen, she refuses to acknowledge that the stove and microwave clocks were in need of a reset, much like after a power outage. Refute, ignore, deny. 

She has the night to herself at home while her son spends the night at a friend’s and so she orders takeout instead of facing the beeping digits of her appliances and eats on her burgundy tufted couch in front of the fireplace before reading her current mystery novel and heading off to bed. 

Only she hears the front door slam as she reaches the top of the steps and shrieks at the sound.

Tex.

He looks up at her, taking out one of his AirPods, bewildered at his mother’s outburst.

“What?”

She heaves a heavy sigh, clutching a hand to her chest, “What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night at Tyler’s.”

Tex shrugs, “He got grounded. Got kinda boring when his dad took away the Xbox.” 

He takes note of the way she’s still taking deep breaths as a means of calming herself.

“You good?” he asks.

Sibyl briefly closes her eyes, more worn down than usual. She suspects all this worrying and paranoia has expended a lot of energy. “Yes. It’s late, come on and get into bed.”

She gives him a light kiss on the forehead as he climbs up the steps and passes her in the hallway. It’s summertime so she knows her son’s not going straight to bed, but she knows she’ll sleep better tonight with him under their shared roof. 

Draven hears the footsteps from several blocks away. The bionic mechanics of a synoid meant one could potentially hear from miles away and if you’ve trained your body enough, you learn how to block out distractions and channel the noises you want to hear. Draven knows, at some point, he was going to hear the measured steps of Silas Aurelius. He doesn’t need to recognize the signature whoosh of his long tunics’ sway or the way that the man walks with his power in the middle of his steps rather than at the heels. He knows it’s Silas because there was no way he wasn’t going to be the one to face his estranged wife and son. To tell them that he was now the new Arch of Cascadia. To tell Tex that there was a whole other entire universe etched within the chasms of Earth. That he himself was less human than he thought.

Night brought a cool breeze to the quiet suburban streets of the subdivision. The neighborhood lights leave the area in tones of dim gray instead of pitch black.

Silas could’ve run and made the distance of several hundred yards within seconds. Instead, he walks and is at Draven’s side minutes later. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Draven drawls. He’s leaning leisurely against the unmarked dark sedan he rented from in town for his surveillance duty. His blonde hair was combed back towards his shoulders, almost long enough for him to start putting into a ponytail. For a man who’s spent his day watching over one of his childhood friends and his godson, he’s remarkably easygoing, but then again, that’s his usual disposition. 

Ordinarily, seeing that lazy one-sided smirk of his would be a comfort, but Silas is more impatient than usual and rolls his eyes in response, “How are they?” 

“They’re fine,” Draven soothes good-naturedly, “What were you expecting? Ninjas to fall down from the sky at the news of your new appointment?” 

Silas shakes his head, mostly at himself, because he doesn’t need Draven’s light-hearted assurances to know that he might be tripping out a little. Everything’s happening so suddenly and he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the bus to come out of nowhere and run down the two people he loves the most in this world. 

Things aren’t like they once were. 

Things aren’t like they once were. 

Things aren’t like they once were. 

“There’s been a lot of traffic going back and forth through the Sieve with the news. Noticed some blips here and there today since I’ve been here,” Draven informs him, snapping Silas out of his fifty-eleventh over-contemplation session. 

Silas gives an irritated frown, “Shit, we don’t need ourselves drawing attention from humans.”

“Expected,” Draven remarks offhandedly, “Talk of new leadership was always going to stir up waves. People traveling through to gossip and spread the news with the expats… They’re not gonna notice a millisecond power outage.”

They’re - meaning humans. 

“Still. I don’t wanna start off my term as Arch having to deal with the shitstorm of the human race finding out about us.”

Draven pulls a pack of his expensive imported cigarettes, “Want a smoke?”

As his answer, Silas gives an unimpressed side eye as he leans beside Draven against the car. 

After a beat, he comments, “Sibyl probably noticed.”

Draven chuckles, “Yeah, she did. She damn near tripped in the middle of the street earlier today on her break.”

Silas lets out a noise that resembles both a scoff and a snort, slapping at Draven’s shoulder as the blonde man continues to chortle at his estranged wife’s expense. 

“Be quiet before we get caught out here,” Silas hisses, though not exhibiting much intimidation, as his shoulders shook in line with Draven’s.

After a few seconds, his laughter dies down and he informs Silas, “She’s sleep. Tex is still up, though.”

He doesn’t need his own synoid level hearing to know that the teenager is still moving around in the house. The light from his room glows, one of the few lights still on in the dainty neighborhood. 

Silas sighs again, his frame becoming heavy with the weight of his circumstances. 

“I can’t believe he’ll be seventeen this year.” 

Draven grins, “Seems like yesterday, we were that age running around town like we owned it.”

Struck with the realization, Silas’ eyes widen and he notes, “I guess now, we finally do.”

Draven startles. Then he reaches for his companion, doing something that no one today has probably done. He hugs him. Pours into him with all of the pride and love he needs right now. 

There’s no words needed for the moment. Nothing that quite lives up to the allegiance that Draven has always embodied. The effortless loyalty with which he’ll serve as Silas’ first hand. And nothing that will take away the reality that Silas was currently tasked with the duty of telling his son that life as he’s known it has never truly been the life he’d been destined for. 

“I wrote a letter,” Silas blurts out once they part with another shoulder pat.

“A letter?” Draven repeats.

Silas nods, “For Tex. I wrote a letter when he was two, explaining all of this.” He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out the frayed paper. 

“I’m sorry, you somehow found all the words to encompass and explain how he’s not only not human, but also why you and Sibyl decided to ship him away from his true home and self?? … And you’re just gonna what? Stand there and watch as he reads it?”

Silas winces. 

“Everything was so uncertain back then. I didn’t know whether I’d ever get the chance to tell him in person, that I’d even be alive…” his hand rubs the back of his head, “Now, so much time has passed, I’m scared how he’s going to react. We’ve lied to him about who he is his entire life.”

“I mean, he’ll probably be pissed,” Draven stubs out his cigarette and looks back up at Silas’ stare of betrayal, “What, you want me to blow smoke up your ass? He’ll be pissed, he’ll be shocked, and he’ll be hurt. He’s going to find out that he isn’t who he’s always thought he was and that’s gonna twist anyone up.”

Draven stands up from leaning against the car and grabs Silas’ shoulder.

“This is going to overwhelm him. Life, as he knows it, is gonna change forever .” At this, Silas blinks his eyes heavily with self-contempt before Draven shakes his shoulder, “ But .. At some point, he’s going to realize that you and Sibyl were only doing what you thought was best in order to protect him.” 

Silas tilts his head and stares up at the house that his son has been raised in all of his life. Away from him even if always near. Living a separate life though at the forefront of his father’s mind with every sweeping moment. Cascadia had been rippled with violence, death, and terrorism as Tex grew into toddlerhood. It was necessary for him to be raised in a safe haven away from it all but a son always needs his father. The last fifteen years have taught Silas that a father always needs his son. 

Tex zaps awake, momentarily unsure of his surroundings. His eyes adjust as quickly as they always do and he quickly realizes that he’s in his bedroom. He looks all around, searching for whatever startled him.

It wasn’t unusual for him to sometimes experience a prickly kind of feeling that ignites every nerve in his body. It’s akin to what he imagines falling out of the sky feels like, having your breath taken away and the feeling of weightlessness breathing in from under you. It’s a common sentiency for him, one he surmises everyone experiences from time to time. 

He sits up completely and shakes it off. A yawn leaves him and he leans back in bed, comforted by the slowness of Saturday mornings. Except he hears the clash and clank of dishware downstairs. And then he hears a deep voice intermingled with the mellifluous tones of his mother’s. He’s out of bed immediately because he recognizes that voice.

“Dad!” 

He practically jumps the last four or five steps of the staircase, rushing into the open space of the kitchen. 

Silas looks up and immediately bears the widest smile in whoever knows how long. Probably since the last time he saw his son. He’s embraced in a hug before he even gets a chance to stand and the thought of whether these hugs will continue to be the usual greeting between the two of them, pops up in his mind. 

“What are you doing here? Mom didn’t mention you were coming to visit!”

Tex swipes a quick glance at his mom who was sitting down at the dinette table adjacent to Silas. Tex does a double take, noting distress on his mother’s face before she immediately transforms it into cheerfulness. She stands up too, rubbing Tex’s arm as he separates from Silas.

“I was surprised, too, honey. It was a spur of the moment kinda thing,” Sibyl hums, her smile cracking even under her best efforts.

Tex was willing to brush aside the quick moment of unease from his mom’s expression, but he clocks the nervous glances between his parents and he’s instantly on edge.

“Uhhh… what’s going on?”

A ding from the toaster erupts and Sibyl jumps in response. She gives an overstrung chuckle as she moves around to the counter and grabs the wheat toast with her fingertips.

“You want cheese or butter?”

Tex frowns at being ignored. 

“Butter,” Silas replies. Peripherally, he sees his son’s head swivel towards him and feels the burning of befuddlement crackle along the side of his face. 

The sound of the knife gliding against the bread and then of the toaster making that “chfff” sound as more bread is added within its slits are the only noises that fill the void. Tex looks between the two of them, waiting for someone to clear the air.

Sibyl wordlessly grabs cheese from the refrigerator drawer for Tex’s toast.

With a puny smile, Silas sits back down and gestures for Tex to take a seat as well. His hands are clasped together, resting over the gray woven placemats as he chances another look at his son.

Tex frowns.

“Are you dying?”

Silas’ mouth opens and closes, “...No.”

“That was a pretty lengthy pause for a non-dying man.”

Sibyl rolls her eyes as she hands them both plates of toast, “He’s not dying, boy.”

“Then, what is it? Why are y’all acting all weird?”

Tex watches his father sigh and he’s unsure whether to brace himself. His expression holds regret, apprehension, and even some fear. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his father express fear. His mind combs through all sorts of possibilities for the source of crisis that’s emanating from his father. He watches his eyes and how they saccade side to side before he finally resigns himself to make a decision on what he’s going to say.

“Listen,” he holds Tex’s shoulder, “it’s not bad. Outright, at least. No one’s dying. It’s just… a lot. We’ve got a lot to talk about. And I don’t know how you’re going to react, and so I want to ask just one thing of you.”

At this, Tex leans forward, “Anything.”

Silas gives an amused scoff. His child won’t be so eager to please once everything is out in the open, “Give me the day,” he says.

At Tex’s perplexed face, he continues, “Give me the day with just us.” He reaches his hand out to Sibyl, denoting that she was included as well, “Give me a day we haven’t had in a long while. A day with just the three of us.”

Tex looks to his mom, whose eyes are carefully following her son. Attentive to the most microscopic detail with her breath held. She chances a side glance at Silas and gives him a meek grin. And when she looks back to Tex, her smile widens encouragingly. 

The boy breathes a resigned sigh because what other choice does he have? He hasn’t seen his father in an easy six months and spending time together wasn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact, if he wasn’t suspicious that something was askew, he’d already be upstairs getting dressed.

He looks up at his parents’ cautious yet excited expressions and knows what his answer will be regardless.

“I call shotgun.”

“You know this is where me and your mom first met..”

They’re standing within the botanical gardens outside the city. Silas always had a predilection for nature. When Tex was little, his father would always bring trinkets to give to him during his visits. Cacti, ant farms, succulents, terrarium kits. Maybe his favorite thing to give was the butterfly garden kits he’d bring to Tex on multiple occasions. 

Butterflies weren’t the most treasured gift to a young boy who preferred toy race car tracks and block sets and one day, Tex had asked him why he had such an affinity for the winged insects.

“What’s not to like about them, son? They start off clinging to life and working their last breath to stay alive only to one day metamorphose into these elaborate pretty little things that soar without restraint.” 

Standing here in the gardens wasn’t the expected destination when Silas corralled Tex and Sibyl into Sibyl’s sedan earlier this morning. It’s definitely eased some of the awkward tension emanating from his parents, though. His mom had giddily wandered over to a woman’s booth who was selling cookbooks themed around farm to table dining. Tex had followed Silas’s lead and strolled into the dome-shaped conservatory to browse the orchard collection. 

“Right here in this dome or just here at the gardens in general?” 

Tex finally inquires as he watches Silas get lost in the memory of meeting his mother. 

His father’s smile grows even more, “Right here in this dome. Me and your uncle Draven came here to sneak away from the rest of the group we were with. I guess your mom had the same idea because she was all alone away from the rest of her class on the field trip.

“I didn’t see her at first. She had dropped her sunglasses and you know how clumsy your mother is,” he muses, “and she was on the ground, under this bench trying to grab them.  Draven tried to warn me but it was too late. Her leg had tripped me up and I was face down on the ground with her before I could even catch myself.” 

Tex bursts out into laughter disturbing the quiet air of the glass dome. There’s no one else but them inside. Nothing but the dendrobiums and cycnoches to wave alongside him in laughter.

“Sounds like you were a klutz, too,” he remarks.

“Did I mention she slipped on the hem of her pants as I helped her up?”

Tex cackles, “That sounds like mom.”

“I really can’t talk, though,” Silas concedes, “I didn’t know which way was up and down when she first opened her mouth. She had my tongue twisted before I could even give her my name.

“She started rambling about wanting to start a garden, but the yard at her house was too small and she was moving into the college dorms next year. All I kept thinking about is how I’d spend hours in the sun plotting trees and flowers for her if it kept that smile on her face. I always meant to… But things change-”

Silas guides Tex out of the way as he spots another family amble under into the orchard dome. 

“What changed?”

Tex asks. He’s emboldened by the moony gestures in his father’s face. While divorced, his parents have never been the type to constantly argue or unable to stand in a room together. If anything, they’re prone to making their child want to disappear into the walls when they’re giving each other nervous lovelorn glances across the room. He’s never acknowledged his parents’ split without one of them bringing it up first, and he’s always reticent to dig for details when it’s met with silence from his father and anguish from his mother.

It’s why he’s nearly baffled when Silas actually bestows him an answer.

“Me and your mother never split because we fell out of love. We did it because it was the best thing for you at the time.”

Tex could feel off put by that response, but it makes him more speculative instead.

“Why was that the best thing for me?”

Silas takes a moment, leading Tex back outside under the beaming rays. If there’s ever been a lesson in patience, it’s when Tex is waiting to hear his father explain something serious to him. His father was always measured in his words, embodied with wisdom and sapience. It’s why he’s never felt led astray or mistrustful, even beyond things that his sixteen year old brain can even discern.

“You living here with your mom in the same city that she grew up in, in a stable place with plenty of family, in a place that’s safe and where you’re free to grow into the extraordinary young man you’ve grown up to be, that was the best thing for you. I couldn’t be here to be a part of that as much as I wanted to, but that was always what we both wanted for you.”

“It’s the job, huh?,” Tex muses.

For as long as Tex could remember, Silas has always worked some high-profile diplomat position that’s taken him everywhere but home. Tex isn’t even sure where his dad lives, only that he’s always on the go. 

Silas pauses, “Partly,” and then as he resumes his steps, he rectifies his previous comment, “Mostly.”

“And you had to choose between the job and being at home,” Tex surmises.

With immediacy, Silas counters, “No. It was never about having to choose. You come first. Always.” 

Tex continues trailing alongside him as they veer back near the chef’s table where Sibyl’s still chatting away. He watches and waits. Holds off to hear whether Silas is going to expound. 

“I don’t get it,” he says.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t get how him being away was putting Tex first. How their occasional visits and quality time weekends were the best Silas could do. He doesn’t like to breathe life to the resentment. He saves it for the times when his dad is away, when he has the time to focus his energy on discontentment and not let it eat away at the short, sporadic periods they get together. 

Sibyl’s finally walking away from the table, new cookbook in hand and a cone paper cup of rosemary spiced cashews that were given as a sample. Silas looks up at her, a faint smile curving on his lips before turning back to Tex.

“In due time, son. In due time.”

“Castle Valley???”

Lost in his own thoughts, Tex hadn’t been paying much attention to their next destination. Sibyl was behind the wheel, pleasantly gorged after another hour at the botanical gardens. The trio ended their stroll through the grounds by sitting at the ceramic water fountain stationed towards the back of the land. The hot sun was in full effect by the time it got to early afternoon and she couldn’t resist taking her sandals off and dipping her toes in the water. She couldn’t stop talking about how tranquil the entire experience had been and how she needed to make trips there more often.

Meanwhile, Silas was perusing the various radio stations as if catching up on the latest tunes dominating the airwaves. Even with songs that had been out for months, he stopped to listen to a verse or two, nodding his head along as if it were the first time he’d ever heard it.

It wasn’t until the car had stopped and the closing adlibs of a recent country hit phased off into a commercial ad that Tex looked up.

He looked up at the large sign capturing the theme park’s logo and chortled.

Sibyl looked back with a grin, “You know I hate roller coasters, but figured your dad would be up for a ride on the Terror Towers.”

Answering for Silas, Tex yelps, “You know it!”

He’s out of the car before his parents even get their seatbelts off and he’s rushing both of them towards the admitting turnstiles on a mission. 

His bout of deep mentations earlier was lost to the wind as he dragged them along to hit up the nearest thrill rides. First, there was the whip ride that hoisted passengers 7 stories high up into the air. Then, there was the vertical drop coaster that positioned riders at a 90 degree angle in relation to the actual tracks of the ride. Even the mere thought of simply standing in the contraption left Sibyl nauseous and so she simply watched Tex and Silas experience those brief seconds of adrenaline. 

She’s not left on the sidelines for long before they both corral her into a few of the water rides to cool down in the growing blaze of the afternoon. 

Tex hoots and hollers as he shakes off water drops that are dripping down his forehead. He’s hopped up on adrenaline, looking for the next hit like crack.

Silas is right behind him, ready for exhilaration as Sibyl trails behind them both. 

“One more ride, guys! It’s getting late and we need to eat before the booths start closing up.”

The usually responsible mother knew it was to hell with a balanced, nutritious meal as the evening further transitioned. Their meal tonight would probably consist of corn dogs and deep fried oreos.

She wanders off to the nearest food shack to go ahead and get in line once the father and son duo have picked their final deathtrap. The sun has set and with the park closing within the hour, the crowds have started to thin. It only takes ten minutes of standing in line before she gets to place her order at the front. She’s wondering how she’s going to jumble all of the food to the nearby table when Tex and Silas make their reappearance and help her out.

In the corner of her eye, as she begins to turn away from the counter, an aberrance pulls her sight back to the screen of the register. 

The numbers of her amounted change zap in and out of focus. Like the machine has malfunctioned. It’s gone one second and back up again in the next. 

It’s subtle and the average person might not notice such things, or even pay much mind to them when they do notice. Sibyl knows better, though. She recognizes the intricacies that afflict her surroundings when things are changing. 

She exchanges a look with Silas, whose eyes are already waiting for hers. He only gives an acknowledging smile before gesturing towards Tex who’s already found a table for the trio. 

Sibyl gives Silas a pointed eyebrow. You’re running out of time , she means to say.

He looks down with a befitting amount of deference that tells her he understands what she’s conveyed.

Dinner is stilly. There’s plenty of cacophony surrounding them as they watch other groups of satisfied thrill seekers make their way towards either their last ride of the night or straight for the exit. But the three eat without exchanging words.

Sibyl exchanges another glance at Silas, waiting for how things will go next. Tex has already picked up on the shift in tone of their family outing and he avoids both of their stares. He thinks that if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it won’t follow through. He was anxious to know what was awry earlier today, but now he’s bracing harder than he ever did on any of the rides today. Instead of more anxiety, he’s eager for his parents to rip off the bandaid and tell him what’s going on.

As more food disappears from his plate and into his stomach, he finds himself more and more unsteady. More on edge. Silas can hear the tachycardic rate of his son’s heart. 

Literally. 

Sibyl takes note of his focused expression as he watches his son and slides him a glare. She always got jumpy when he used his abilities around here. Even to someone as seasoned in his powers as him, it was a draining force when here on Earth.

The large speakers throughout the amusement park blare, giving a 15 minute warning that closing time was near. 

“Well….” Sibyl rises from her seat, “Let’s get a move on it, boys. Unless you want to be stuck in here overnight.” 

Tex gives an unfeeling shrug, not indulging in his mom’s attempt at relieving the tension. 

Silas leads the way towards the exit and halts as an idea materializes. He turns back around to them.

“Let’s go to the beach!”

Sibyl turns her nose up, “The beach? It’s already dark and I hate those crabs that pinch up your feet!”

Silas slants his head with a smirk, “You’ll survive, my dear,” he looks towards Tex, “Plus, I don’t get to go to the beach often where I live. A shame, really. It always calms me.” 

Tex is looking down, but he peers up at his father’s knowing smile. 

“I guess that means whatever talk we gotta have is gonna upset me.” 

Silas remains silent. Sibyl rubs her hand across Tex’s back. 

She sighs, “Y’know… Maybe it’d be a good idea for you two to have that talk alone.”

Both of their heads snap up at her suggestion. She’s met with betrayed frowns and she can’t help but snicker.

“Never let anyone say you two don’t look alike,” she jests before sobering, “I’m serious, though. I’ve been imposing on guy time enough. You guys deserve some time to yourselves. Just drop me off at home so you two can have your talk.” 

Silas recovers with some ease first while Tex still wears a grimace of anxiety. 

Sibyl shakes him, “It’ll be fine .”

She hopes it’s not showing that she’s trying to convince herself of the same notion. It was with a steely hesitance that she suggested they go without her. She wanted to be there and take every reaction as Tex realized how much they’ve kept from him. Anger, shock, sadness, resentment. She wants to be there to take it all and most of all, be waiting with open and comforting arms. 

Tex’s uncertainty must whoosh into impatience because he’s walking in front of the both of them, leading them towards Sibyl’s car. 

THE NEXT MORNING

Tex wakes up, welcomed by the bright sunlight poring into his window. From his pillow, he looks all around the room, taking in the dirty laundry on the carpet and his open laptop screen showing a paused still of an anime he’d been watching earlier.

“It was all a dream,” he says to himself, “Yesterday was just a dream.”

His mother’s knuckles tap obligingly on his door before she opens it anyway without waiting for assent.

“Morning, honey, I’m making fish and grits.”

The waft of fried snapper and Cajun seasonings trails into the room behind her and he immediately sits up, licking his lips. It’s a special dish that she only makes when his dad is in town, which brings the past twenty-four hours into perspective.

Nope. Not a dream .

Sibyl keeps his door ajar as she leaves for down the hall and knocks on the guest room door, “Breakfast in seven minutes!”

Tex smiles at the quirk. His mom, as carefree in some ways, was super particular when it came to things like timings down to the minute or continuing to read for a few more pages if the number she stopped at was a digit off from what she liked.

He listens as she retreats down the stairs to finish up the meal and begins to hear movement from the opposite end of the hall. By the time Tex is at his door, Silas is ambling out into the hall. He’s already dressed, and his eyes are a lot more alert than the sleep fog that’s still floating in Tex’s.

“Morning, son,” he greets as he takes measured steps towards him.

Tex simply nods his head. He’s not quite sure how to navigate around his dad after everything he learned about himself last night. Even in the long distances they would go without seeing each other, there’s never been an awkward gap between them. Not until now. Before, they could go six to nine months without tangible in-person contact and they’d be the best of buddies within minutes, either catching up over a meal or Tex teaching him whatever new video game he was hooked into.

Now, he looks at him (no longer looking up because he realizes he’s finally the same height as Silas after his most recent growth spurt) and he feels like he’s face to face with a stranger.

The words his father confessed to him last night still ring in his head.

“You’re a synoid .”

LAST NIGHT

“I wish I had an easier way of telling you this.” Those are the first words that Silas speaks as they amble just at the crest between sand and water. Tex had made no move to initiate the conversation. They’d been walking in quiet this entire time so far, the teenager’s nerves becoming more frayed as the silence grew on. But even still, this wasn’t his conversation to start. Silas owed him that much.

“Have you ever felt like maybe a part of you was missing? Like there was something your body knew that maybe your brain hadn’t connected to yet?”

“No.”

That’s his immediate response. His automatic response. The truth is that when Tex stops to actually think about the question he’s just been asked, he can absolutely relate to his father’s words in a way he’s never been able to contextualize. 

He doesn’t amend his previous answer. He doesn’t have to. His startled gaze is enough for Silas to understand. 

“First, let me just say that everything your mother and I have done has always been to protect you.”

Tex nods.

“And we were always going to tell you. It was just a matter of when .”

Tex doesn’t nod this time, growing with silent frustration at his dad’s long-windedness. Finally, Silas comes out with it, only leaving his son in confusion.

“You’re a synoid.”

Tex stops short.

“I’m a what ?”

Silas chuckles because he supposes he should have expected that reply. “A synoid. I suppose the term you’re more familiar with would be cyborg.”

Silence permeates between them. Nothing but the nearby waves can be heard. 

Tex shakes his head. Starts back pacing before pausing again, shaking his head, and back to pacing. Silas waits patiently.

When he pauses again, the teenager looks back at Silas and frowns, “I’m a fucking robot ?!”

“Well, no-”

“ How would I not know that I’m a gotdamn robot?! I have a mind! And feelings! AND I fucking bled last week when I busted my lip while skateboarding,” he’s going in circles gripping his hair through his fingers, “this gotta be a joke, bruh..”

Tex pauses again and the hopeful expression is equal parts comedic and heartbreaking.

“You are playing with me right now, right?”

Silas contemplates making Tex sit but he’s back to pacing circles before he can suggest it, “No, son. I’m not.

“But you’re not a robot,” he stresses, “You have a heart, and a mind, and plenty of other human physiology as well.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there are parts of you that you don’t share with other humans here.”

Questions continue to explode within Tex like Independence Day fireworks. There’s no method or madness to which ones pop out first. 

The next one, he falters out, “So what does that mean?”

“You’re a synoid,” Silas repeats. “It means that while there’s plenty of you that’s identical to the normal human beings you’re used to growing up with, there are also parts of your genetic makeup that makes you cybernetic. Gives you distinguished abilities that set you apart from other humans.”

“Synoid, cybernetic…” Tex tests the words on his tongue with bewilderment.

“Yes.”

“So, I’ve got like, what, metal parts that somebody placed into me or something?”

“Not placed inside of you, you were born with them. The same way that your genes tell you to create your liver and pancreas while you’re growing as a fetus, your genes also told you to create various bionic features in your body.”

“And who fucking told my genes to do that?! Does that mean mom is a synoid? Are you?!”

By now, Tex is too hopeless for knowledge to formulate questions one at a time.

“No, your mom isn’t a synoid. But I am. And it’s my genetic makeup that contributed to you being the same as me.”

“And how have I just not known? Like how am I walking around living life completely unaware?”

“Our powers don’t typically work well here on Earth. It takes time and practice,” Silas shrugs. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s the simplest answer he can give.

Tex scowls, “That’s it ? ‘iT tAkES TimE ANd pRaCtICe?!’ That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“I’m here to answer all of your questions. I know you must have plenty…” Silas flinched at first, taking on the sharp shift in his son’s tone. He waits for more raining down of admonishments and maybe even insults, but is met with silence. He looks up and sees the beginning of a far away stare from his son.

Tex realizes his mouth is open and closes it again. 

“So what does this mean?” He repeats. “Why did you keep it from me? Why are you telling me now ?”

“It’s complicated and maybe a story for another day,” he starts and flinches once more after realizing how he’s already contradicting the promise he just made mere seconds ago. Still, he continues, “But I’m telling you now because I’ve recently been tapped into office as the Arch.”

Tex removes his temporary stare of disappointment when his eyebrows lift.

“Arch?”

“Yes, the new Arch of Cascadia.” Silas expounds, “Akin to, say, a president. I’ve recently succeeded the previous ruler after his death. I’ve only just assumed office less than 24 hours ago, actually.”

“And that’s why you’re telling me now?” 

Tex finally sits in the sand, too tired under the weight of ongoing revelations. 

“I’m Hunter fucking Biden to a place I’ve never even heard of before,” he mutters to himself.

At that, Silas spurs ahead and continues his exposition, “Cascadia. It’s where I live,” he takes a seat next to his son, “A nation among many that inhabits beings just like us. The same way that this version of Earth has plenty of different republics, our Earth has the same.”

Tex gives a humorless guffaw, “ Our version of Earth. Thought there was only one…”

His energy drains, pulling his color with him. He’s paler now and Silas remains quiet, giving him time to absorb the blast from the bomb that’s been dropped on him. 

The silence they share is anything but peaceful but it passes on regardless. Tex watches the waves and it’s the only thing that tampers down the multitude of thoughts racing through his brain. 

They both overlook time as Tex focuses on the water and Silas focuses on Tex.

He’s almost startled when his son finally opens his mouth. He’d been staring at it for too long, waiting for it to move.

He looks at the eyes that mirror his own and meets the awaiting stare.

It takes him a second for his mind to register the question he’s just been asked.

“What happened to the guy before you?”

Silas’ eyebrows furrow.

“The guy who was in office before you? Before you became.. Arch.”

“Oh,” he’s momentarily confused by the spontaneous question, “Like I said, he passed.”

Tex looks disconcerted before Silas explains, “Old age. He’d been Arch since I was younger than even you.”

“...so nothing crazy like a JFK kinda situation? You’re not gonna have, like, opps, are you?”

At first, it’s a shoulder bounce. 

Next, a few chuckles. 

And then, full out laughing. 

It’s so ridiculous that Tex has no choice but to join in. 

Their cackles join the waves, ebbing and flowing. It’s not enough to cleanse all of the debris from tonight, all the irreversible confessions, the unanswered questions. 

Tex’s face sobers first, still coming to terms. 

“You say that it was the best thing for me. But why? And will you? Have enemies, I mean?”

The urgency has left his voice. But he’s not letting this go. There’s been a part of him that he’s been unknowingly living with for all of his life. His frame is becoming numb the same way that a computer freezes when it becomes burdened with too much information. The irony in this comparison makes Tex chuckle. There’s a small part of him that’s clawing for some last scraps of information. A few more data points of background before he begins to shut down from the overheating of his psyche. 

Silas relents because he owes him that much. More, actually.

“While there’s plenty of synoids who live quite peacefully both on this Earth and our Earth, there are others who are never satisfied. Hateful beings whose entire philosophy hinges on the belief of being superior to all other beings, whether that’s humans or other bionic beings. And trust me, there are others,” he narrates, “At one point, people who thought like them rebelled and started an uprising that proved to be quite harrowing. Violence, savagery, and massacres… It was a dark time in Cascadia.

“It got so bad that purists, that’s what we call them, briefly took control of the Arch’s office and henceforth, the nation. No one was safe. Not even synoids themselves, not if they disagreed with purist ideologies.

“Your mother and I, we were afraid for you. Not unlike plenty of other parents who resisted against the rebellion.”

Tex startles at the sudden appearance of emotion washing over Silas. Anguish cracks the last words in his sentence and Tex watches his father swallow before taking another deep sigh.

“I remember rushing home one night when I heard there had been a massacre in the Rusvil district. Attacks because that had been an area where several sanguinx families lived, along with a few humans. That’s where you, your mother, and I lived back in Cascadia. Was too scared to think about what I’d find after driving past houses burnt to the ground with no sound.

“ No sound, Tex,” he reiterates. “In light of chaos and calamity, you expect to hear screaming and uproar. But I heard utter quietude as I made my way to our house and there’s never been anything more terrifying.

“Somewhere in that haze of despair as I searched for you two in that house, your mother and I’s eyes finally met. And we knew then what we had to do.”

Something very painful strikes Tex straight in the middle of his chest. Angst. Pain. Fear. 

Because he’s understanding something that his brain hasn’t finished processing. Coming to terms with something that will plague his emotions for a very long time.

“You knew you had to protect me.”

BACK TO NEXT MORNING

Silas wants to take Tex’s lead in how to deal with last night’s revelations. Waits to be met with confused tears or maybe a hook to the face. But Tex just stares. Takes in all his features as if he’s meeting his dad all over again. Watching carefully, unsure if this mysterious figure in front of him wishes his harm or misfortune.

Silas feels his heart clench and he wonders if a hook to the face would hurt less.

“Listen… I’ve got lots to do this week. A grocery store list of items with the inauguration coming up in a few weeks. Old problems I’ve gotta resolve from my previous post, new problems I’ve inherited with this position…” he pauses with a sigh, “I say all that to say: I can’t stay. I’m leaving for Cascadia tomorrow and I was wondering… I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.” 

“To live with you?”

Tex’s eyes widen and Silas feels like he’s just spooked a lone deer in the road.

He jumps to intervene with a hand up before Tex runs off into the woods of his bedroom.

“No! I mean, if you want to, that’s one thing-” Silas stops and starts again, “What I mean to stay is that we’re not going to make rash decisions, especially when this is all so new. I just figured you should at least visit Cascadia, but that’s all I ask of you.”

Tex nods slowly again.

“Five minutes!” Sibyl bellows from the kitchen.

Silas backs away from Tex, giving him space as he peers at the cogs turning within his son’s head. He wonders how the boy was even able to sleep with the volume of everything he’s had to process recently.

“Go wash up for breakfast,” he directs before retreating, leaving Tex with only his thoughts.

That’s all Tex has had to sit with since last night, his thoughts. When the duo got home last night, Silas was quick to make himself scarce. He couldn’t just magically dissolve everything he had just thrown at his son, but he could dissolve his own self from the situation and give him space if that’s what he needed. So, he slipped out a quiet “good night” before immediately finding sanctuary in the guest room, his predestined haven for his visits.

Sibyl took an ounce of more initiative. She was in their faces the moment they stepped through the door. Her eyes were like magnets, stuck to Tex’s every movement and expression. She said nothing as the two settled into the house, Tex aimlessly wandering around the living room in a daze. She watched and waited, her lips betraying none of the comforting and apologetic words she wanted to sooth him with.

Her patient gaze would shift to some other object in the room when Tex’s eyes lifted to her, but they were back on his frame immediately as he fell into another pacing episode as his mind ran on a thousand.

Right when she gathers the intention to say something , Tex rushes up to his room with a frenzied, “good night.”

Her words died on her open mouth with fear and fluster battling for the win until she laid her eyes on him again this morning.

He’s washing his face in the mirror with the realization that breakfast this morning will probably be awkward and quiet, what with his father’s avoidance tactic and his mother’s borderline creepy leering.

Her smile had looked painted on when she had first greeted him. A wonder her face didn’t fucking crack , he muses.

With everything that he’s had to digest, his mind actually never considered not going to Cascadia. If anything, he’d been thirsting for more information, more knowledge on who he was and where he came from. 

The sound of chewing and clinking forks are the only sounds that travel through the air once Tex sits for breakfast. 

A beep pulls Tex from his silent thoughts. The sound comes from Silas. He pulls his phone out and groans, “I have to take this.”

Instead of answering the beep of the phone, he taps on something behind his ear. Tex never noticed it before, but it goes from flesh-colored to a metallic chrome piece that resembles an ear bud. 

And then Silas is talking. Carrying on a conversation with whoever was on the line. At first, Tex is bewildered, but then he’s pinching at his own ears. 

Sibyl gives a low chuckle as she chews her food. 

“It’s a bionex,” Sibyl supplies, “Those things had just become popular after me and your father got married. Kinda like a smart watch except it’s an earpiece instead and comes with a-”

Well timed, Silas makes a swiping motion with his fingers and a holographic screen appears. He makes a few more motions as he completes a quick administrative task as Tex watches in awe.

“Alright, Serenity, thanks,” Silas says, “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sibyl perks up, “How is she? She’s gonna be the Sine, right?”

“And already taking the role as serious as can be,” Silas chuckles, “She sent me an eighteen page itinerary earlier and made sure to remind me just now that it’s not even a quarter of everything we’ve gotta get done before the ceremony.”

Sibyl looks over to Tex, “Serenity was one of the first people from Cascadia your dad introduced me to once we got together. She’s a big ball of energy. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Tex nods, “I guess you’ll be happy to see her again.”

Sibyl tenses.

Tex stops chewing, “You’re not coming with us?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” her eyes dart from Tex to Silas in a moment of hesitation. When their son notices, he throws an accusing glare to Silas. Clocking it instantly, Sibyl persists, “No, no. It’s not your dad, honestly. I just think it would be best if you two shared this experience together.”

Silas cuts in, “Besides. Your mom knows Cascadia like the back of her hand. She lived there, after all. I’m sure she’s not eager to be dragged around like a tourist all day.” 

When Tex looks down at his plate with subdued disappointment, something passes between Sibyl and Silas. A look of distress from Sibyl that morphs into appreciation once it seems that Silas has effectively mitigated the conversation from going further.

Once breakfast is over, Silas reaches for everyone’s plates before Sibyl has a chance to.

Tex’s plan to ask 50-11 questions gets cut when a knock sounds from the front door. 

“It’s Draven,” Silas states. He’s towards the opposite end of the kitchen at the sink, farther from the front door than the other two. Sibyl goes to the door while Tex frowns in contemplation.

Silas points to his ear, “He keeps a gun holstered on his right ankle. Makes his right footsteps sound heavier than the left.”

“And you heard that from right there?” Tex’s eyes widen.

“I can hear the dog barking from ten houses down if I listen closely enough.”   

He says it so nonchalantly and Tex can barely fathom having such an ability. 

“‘Scuse me, my good sir! Looking for my godson. He’s about yay high. Probably still  drinking from sippy cups. You happen to see him?”

Tex’s smile widens across his face as he lunges out of his seat to greet his godfather, “What’s good, unc!”

Their embrace is brawly, in close resemblance to how most wrestling matches start. 

“Fuck, you’ve gotten so big!”

Draven accepts the slap upside the head from Sibyl with a chuckle as she follows him into the kitchen. 

“Let me look at you, kid,” they separate from the hug and Draven is in awe that his godson is now at eye level with him, a departure from their previous encounters. It’d been probably two years since they’d last seen each other. He pats him on the shoulder, “Looking more like your pops with each day. Those eyes are all your mom’s, though.”

“And the foul language is all yours,” Sibyl chides.

“Hey! I haven’t seen the guy in two years.”

“You’ve been dropping f-bombs in front of the boy since he was a baby. Shit sticks.”

Sibyl throws a nearby rag at Silas, “Really?!”

Their laughter fills the kitchen, zapping away all of the earlier tension.

Sibyl’s upstairs in her room finishing the last load of laundry. Tex has mostly been spending time catching up with his dad and godfather, getting apprised of everything related to bionicism. The shock of last night’s revelations was still ever present but had morphed into a voracious curiosity for everything related to the capabilities of a synoid. 

Tex was in awe as he learned all about how synoids were able to run at ungodly speeds, hear and see from miles away, and even possess a talent called “girding” which allowed synoids to absorb and reinforce currents of power when impacted by traumatic blows to the body. 

There was still a heavy tension floating between Silas and Tex, but her son’s inquisitiveness was currently overpowering his crossness. Sibyl told herself she was keeping her distance to give the father and son pair some time to sit with recent developments, but that was only partly true. She also kept away because she couldn’t bear to see disappointment in her son’s eyes. Especially aimed at her. 

She’d been waiting for the outburst. The fiery row where he bellowed in betrayal and demanded how she could keep this from him all of his life. 

So far, she had escaped from the ire that was probably building with each revelation he was told. Tex had mostly kept his head down during breakfast earlier and he didn’t seem to notice that she had made herself scarce once Draven had arrived. She supposed that her luck could only prosper for so long because Tex knocked on her open door and took a step inside her minimalist room. 

“Hey, baby.”

He nods neutrally.

“How are you?”

“You okay?”

Their questions are intermingled within each other as mother and son speak simultaneously. 

A quiet laugh rumbles between them. 

Sibyl gestures her hands out in the space separating them, “Alright, have it out.”

Tex’s eyebrows raise, “I just came to see if you were okay. You’ve been quiet all day,” he pauses, “Since last night, really.”

“Trying to follow your lead, I guess,” Sibyl shrugs, “I didn’t want to be overbearing or force you into having a reaction.”

“To be honest, I kinda don’t know what reaction to have. Feels like that time when I was six and stuck my finger into that outlet in the dining room. I feel all foggy and everything’s too loud that I can’t hear my own voice.”

He gives a rueful smile and shifts his feet.

“Did you know dad was a …synoid when you two first met?”

Sibyl clenches the shirt she’s just finished folding, “No. I didn’t know until after we got serious. He needed to know he could trust me.”

He nods. It’s not the question she expects him to ask and she feels like she’s walking on eggshells, waiting for her to say the wrong thing that ignites his anger full force at her.

“How did you react when he told you?”

“Badly,” she laughs humorlessly. “I didn’t really understand what he was telling me. Thought he was half-joking. Finally, he gets tired of trying to explain and drags me out of my parent’s house out onto the street. Stalks over to the nearby stop sign, picks it up, and bends it like a plastic straw with his bare hands. I screamed bloody murder to the point where the neighbors started to come out of their house.

“As if I wasn’t already scared out of mind, he picks me up and runs so fast into the woods. It was like riding a train with all the windows down, he was so fast. 

“He let me scream and freak out once we were in the middle of the woods where no one else could hear us. Which only made me freak out even more because now I’m alone with this guy who I’m not even sure is human anymore.”

Sibyl chuckles. 

“Your father doesn’t always make the best decisions when he’s under emotional duress. He somehow got me to promise to keep his secret, but I needed space. I didn’t know how to act, much less be around him after he told me. There was a point later on after we had gotten back together that I asked why he felt the need to tell me right at that exact moment. Why he was so urgent to get me to understand. 

“‘I realized that I loved you,’ he said.”

The smile that creeps up on her face fills Tex with the same sense as back at the gardens yesterday. The feeling like something is missing. The compulsion for more. All his life, his parents’ relationship has never made sense. The pieces have always been within close distance but never fitting snugly together.

“Why didn’t he leave with us?”

Sibyl’s reminiscent smile disappears at the sharpness of his tone.

“He was working hard to fight against the people who were making Cascadia a dangerous place. He wanted it to be a safe place for you to grow up.” 

Tex’s frown deepens, “And now it suddenly is?”

Sibyl bites her tongue. 

“Like I said, I don’t know how to feel,” Tex sighs, rubbing his forehead.

She walks over to him, the laundry left abandoned. His head lifts at her light touch as she caresses his jaw.

“That’s okay, baby. For what it’s worth, I am so sorry. Regardless of our best intentions, we still denied you a very significant part of your identity. You’re allowed to feel any and everything about that. Even if you don’t know exactly what that is right now.”

Like the walls of a dam, Sibyl’s words release the need for control gripping Tex’s psyche. He essentially falls into her arms, allowing his mother’s touch to disarm the tension in his chest threatening to take his breath away. 

“Oh, sweetie.”

Their embrace lasts for minutes with Tex shaking in his mother’s gentle arms. 

He’s not sure for how long he seeks haven in her touch. A knock on the open door separates them. Silas appears with a careful approach. 

The sun begins to melt into the horizon beyond the open shades of Sibyl’s room. It casts a shadow against Silas’ face as he ventures further into the room towards the two most important people in his life. 

Tex looks at him.

Really looks at him.

The smooth lines of his face. The sapience in his eyes.

Comes to the conclusion that Silas looks no different than before he knew the truth of what his father was. Of what he was. 

Would he still look the same or is there something profoundly changed in his brain that can’t visualize the same person as he was before?

“Am I still me?”

The question was supposed to rest only in his mind but it leaves his lips involuntarily. 

A breathful of his father’s sandalwood and cypriol scent surrounds him as Silas grips his frame in an encompassing hug. 

“This doesn’t change who you are. Not in the slightest.”

Tex snorts, “How can you even say that? This changes everything.”

Silas’ hand touches his son’s chest, “Not who you are… You’re still my son.”

His mother’s hand reaches for his and he lifts his head to find her reassuring gaze. Her eyes have always been the salve that illuminates his fears. 

“I don’t wanna lose myself.”

“We won’t let you,” Sibyl affirms, “Look, if there’s anything for you not to worry about, it’s that. We got you. You’re not alone in the slightest.”

“That’s a promise?” Tex asks, pulling back from their embrace with vulnerability stretched across his features.

“It can be a threat if it works better for you.”

The wisecrack whooshes out the fragility in the room. Tex lets out a loud cackle, with the sound of his parents’ laughter following closely after. 

Tex wipes the lone tear from his eye, not worried about whether it’s from his near-existential crisis or just the power of his mom’s wit. 

He glances between the two of them. 

“So…. what happens now?”

Silas smiles, “Whatever you want. You can carry on living the life you already have. Things don’t have to change if you don’t want them to. But if you want to learn more about your roots, explore what a different path would look like for you… Well, there’s no need to rush to a decision. The option will always be there.”

Sibyl reaches for Tex’s hand again and squeezes it tight. Silas wraps an arm around her and grips his son’s shoulder. Their bond is their lifeline, now more than ever.

“The choice is yours.”