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“What do we do now?”
That really was the question of the day, and the worst part was that Nathaniel didn’t know. He always knew, he was supposed to always know, but for the first time Nathaniel just…didn’t know.
Less than twelve hours ago they started driving away from their father after being found in Seattle and in those few short hours, less than a day, Vanessa burned their mothers dead body and Bella buried the leftover corpse in the sand. Now Nathaniel was walking them in the vague direction of San Francisco because he was the only one who could keep them going now.
They were alone.
Sometimes a car would drive by and Nathaniel would instinctively look for their mother before he remembered she was gone.
Dead and gone, exactly as their father wanted, but they were not in his grasp and that was the only thing keeping Nathaniel walking because her death could not be in vain. Not after everything she did for them to live…even if it felt pointless to go on, Nathaniel had to keep them moving.
It felt pointless to continue when they were the reason she was dead in the first place. Her and their father’s relationship wasn’t happy or formed out of real love, whatever that was, but at least he wasn’t interested in killing her before she took them away from him. That was the final straw, she would have been fine if only father’s plans for them had gone through, but she ran to protect them from that fate and now—
Now…
…
Now look where it got her.
Look at where it got them.
They should have died in the basement.
They should have died when they were a child.
Should have let their father kill them when he wanted to, right before they were almost sold and the pain increased and increased and increased until Nathaniel was sure they wouldn’t live long enough to belong to Ichirou.
They should have died.
They should have died.
They should have died because then she would be alive and it’s all their fault and—
But they couldn’t think like that now.
There wasn’t the time to think about what should have happened when Nathaniel knew their father wouldn’t be far behind them, and he’d rather kill them himself than let that man get their hands on them again.
They wouldn’t survive it again.
They couldn’t survive it again.
Fuck, Nathaniel couldn’t survive it again.
He didn’t want to find out how long his father would make him survive it, though.
Maybe if he just…did something to stop it? Made it so their father couldn’t get his hands on them again? Ever again?
He could do that…he could be a hero and—
NO.
Nathaniel shook his hand in delusion to try and make Elias’ voice go away, but they were physically weak after everything and somehow even weaker mentally than that and it only made Elias’ desires nearby get louder.
Get stronger.
It’s been a long time since Elias was this close and this intense about his desires, not since…really probably not since he called their father back in France and it led to Jackson and the other two finding them. Nathaniel’s memories of the event are clinical and detached since they don’t belong to him, but he knows enough since Fletcher was in front for the start of the assault and torture. Stefan whines somewhere in headspace and Nathaniel tries to push the memories away as Elias only pushes them closer, trying to remind them why they should listen to him instead of continuing to move forward.
But as the hours continued on with no company except themselves, their hopelessness only grew.
Nathaniel was trying to stay strong, but Elias was wearing all of them down to their bones. Even Bella, who’d had suicidal thoughts practically beaten out of her by their mother the one time she dared admit to them, started thinking about the idea a little too closely as the day dragged into evening. No one would outright say it besides Elias, but Nathaniel could hear it from just about everyone in headspace.
Maybe Elias was right.
Maybe there wasn’t a point to continuing on without her, maybe this was the best it was going to get. At least if they did it themselves it would be under their control instead of their fathers. They could choose something less painful and just be a John Doe lost in the system of unknown bodies found on the streets…maybe they could die in a way that wouldn’t give anyone access to their body again.
The Golden Gate Bridge was nearby…if they jumped, no one could touch them again.
They would be safe, they would be left to the ocean never to be seen, touched, or hurt by another's hand ever again.
Elias could do that, he could save them from pain even after death.
He could be a hero.
He could—
Nathaniel shook him off mentally and leaned against a tree, maybe twenty feet from the road. It was starting to get late and soon they’d come up on the bridge, something Nathaniel dreaded even as the rest of headspace debated what they should do. If he let them walk across then there was a strong possibility they wouldn’t reach the other side and even if the hopelessness felt immense, Nathaniel didn’t think he was ready to take that chance.
That left hitchhiking as his only option.
He let them sit only another minute before standing up and walking to the edge of the road, putting on a calm face and pretending the entire world wasn’t collapsing around him as he stuck his thumb out and waited. It took awhile before the first car stopped and Nathaniel let out an internal sigh of relief that it was a woman.
“Where are you heading, sweetie?” She asked.
“San Francisco, near Oracle Park if you could?” Nathaniel said. “But however close to there you’re willing to go is fine, ma’am.”
Maybe it should have concerned him more that she didn’t ask for more, didn’t wonder why a teenager was hitchhiking or ask where his parents were. Maybe if Nathaniel wasn’t so dissociated, if Elias wasn’t so loud, if mom wasn’t dead and Vanessa didn’t still smell the smoke…maybe he would have said no and waited for another driver.
Except all those things were happening, and Nathaniel wasn’t thinking, and he got into the car thinking at least it wasn’t a man.
He forgot women can be just as bad.
They were nearly across the bridge when he felt her hand on his thigh. It was low, almost to his knee, but Nathaniel felt the dread creep down his spine as he stared at short french tips switch to long red claws between blinks. The woman didn’t speak, and Nathaniel felt frozen, and everything was wrong again.
“I don’t want you to touch me.”
He tried to sound firm, strong, capable like he knew he could be, but the woman only smiled sweetly and caressed his leg through his jeans like he hadn’t spoken at all. Nathaniel wanted to throw her off, jump out of the car at the next light, but he felt unable to move as Lily stared at the wrong feminine hand moving up and up and up and up and—
Lily laid her head back, too tired to fight, to speak, to do anything at all, and looked out the window at the pretty lights flying by outside. It was just a hand, just on her leg, and she would survive it. Lola would forgive her for it one day, maybe, and Lily could…she would let it happen because they didn’t have it in them to fight anymore today.
Tomorrow Nathaniel can fight again and be angry at her for being weak and letting it happen, but today Lily couldn’t bring herself to do anything but look at the city, watch the sun streak pretty lights across the sky, and pretend it wasn’t happening at all.
“Are you a run away, sweetie?”
The hand was off her leg now, too far up to call it that anymore, and Lily felt a small tear trail down her cheek.
“That’s okay, you don’t need to answer me. I won’t be offended. What about a drink then? To help you get through the first night? It’s easier out there with something in your system, you know.”
The vodka bottle was full and unopened as the woman placed it right beside their duffle bag and Lily stared at it sloshing around as they drove. She wasn’t sure how much longer it was before she blinked and found herself sitting on the curb, vodka stashed away in the bag and the woman long gone. Julian, maybe, she thought, since it seemed like his type of thing maybe…she didn’t really know.
Headspace was crowded, loud, and too much as Lily stood up and Julian started walking and Marlene looked around searching for threats. Stefan thought about the vodka and Reagan the last two cigarettes they had and Sebastian the people yelling around them as he made them disappear into the evening crowd. Alexander winced at the pain and Vanessa glared at a person who nearly knocked them over and Nathaniel kept them moving aimlessly, they just needed to find somewhere for the night then they could figure out tomorrow what to do.
Tomorrow would be a new day and Nathaniel needed to make sure they reached it.
He needed to…
He…
Nathaniel needed to keep them moving…
He…
She couldn’t have died in vain please—
The vodka was half empty when Elias blinked into front. He deliriously looked around what looked like the second floor of an abandoned building, still standing but obviously had been empty for a while despite various things still strung around the room from what might have been a warehouse at some point. The corner whoever was in front before him stuck them in was clean enough as he stared at the alcohol clutched in his hand, examining it. There was a pleasant buzz throughout his body, but Elias had never cared for alcohol.
The bottle though…
Headspace was quiet compared to how it had been before. It felt like only Bella was around right now and Elias could feel her avoiding looking anywhere near him as he got more comfortable in front after not being allowed in it for so long.
Hm.
The bottle breaking apart was nothing to the noise of the city surrounding them, just a pin drop of existence before glass shattered to the floor. Elias dropped the bottle neck and picked up the largest shard, looking it over and testing his grip on it as he smiled.
Nathaniel may have wanted to keep them moving, but Elias knew he’d been outvoted by the rest. Everyone felt too tired to continue on without mom, too tired to figure out how to live on the run without her with their father still chasing after them and without a doubt close on their tail. This last run in was already too much and father hadn’t even had time to get his knives out on them, how could any of them hope to survive another time?
They couldn’t, and that’s why Elias could be their savior, because no one was arguing with them and no one felt good and everyone was ready for the pain to end.
The pain registered before Elias realized he’d moved. Blood bubbled up from their right forearm, a crooked and deep line cut from their wrist to elbow that had Elias gasping in pain as soon as it started to hit him. Tears immediately welled up in his ears against his will and he dropped the glass to clutch at the burning wound, trying to make the pain lessen as he clenched his jaw to hold back his whines.
He breathed through it just long enough to get used to the feeling, then grabbed the glass again with his injured hand. It shook a little and twitched, the glass digging into his fingers and palm as he tried to get a good grip on it, but Elias pushed through the added pain by pushing the glass into his left arm and d r a g g i n g it down just like the one in his right.
Elias knew it must have been him who made that noise, high pitched and long and full of regret pain horror guilt guilt guilt shame, but it sounded so much like an animal he struggled to believe it actually was him.
He breathed, almost hyperventilating because it felt like there wasn’t enough air in his lungs, and did it a g a i n right next to the other one even as he started to lose consciousness and his hand veered with the glass still painfully gripped in it went right with it. It clipped out the side of his arm about halfway down and the increased pain from that compared to naturally coming out near his elbow was just enough to wake him up.
Elias could barely feel the oxygen being dragged into his lungs as he dropped the glass, no strength left to hold it, and collapsed onto his side. Their right arm dropped in front of him and Elias smiled through his struggle.
The second line was just as pretty as the first, even if it wasn’t complete.
He could even admit it hurt less now than it did before, which maybe wasn’t a good sign if he cared about that and it wasn’t really what he wanted because Elias wanted it to hurt but he thought maybe that meant it was working and he can accept it working over it hurting even if he wants both but it’s okay he can be happy with one over the other if he needs to.
“Elias STOP—”
Someone Elias didn’t care to identify screamed from headspace—I guess Bella told someone…traitor—but why should he?
What did they have left? Why keep going when nothing mattered anymore? Why risk their father finding them and taking them back with him? Why find out what punishment was waiting for them when he eventually took them back? What reason was there to continue to suffer when Elias could make it all go away right now?
The answer was there was no reason.
Elias didn’t care to listen, he didn’t care to do anything, but make sure this knife could get as deep into their wrists as possible so it can all go AWAY.
HE WAS TIRED.
THEY WERE TIRED.
And now it was time to sleep.
Elias could help them.
Elias could save them.
Elias would make the pain end because if he didn’t then he knew it never would.
He could be a hero…he would be one.
They’ll thank him for it later.
They weren’t meant to survive, especially not without their mom.
He could save them.
He would save them.
Even better, Elias was saving them.
Now he just needed to—
Alexander was terrified.
Everything hurt, and it was hard to move, and his arms felt like—no he couldn’t feel his arms enough because it was like they were numb.
Alexander prayed to a being he didn’t believe in but hoped would listen anyways that Elias hadn’t gone deep enough to give them nerve damage, but right now it wasn’t looking good.
Nothing was looking good.
Alexander needed to—
They’d need to get rid of his shirt soon, preferably burn it so they couldn’t be tracked as Alexander tried desperately to soak up the still leaking blood.
It was all over the floor, too, which meant he would need to clean that too because if their father found them then there’d be even more blood on the floor and—
And he needed to stitch this up because if he doesn’t they will die and Alexander can’t let them die he can’t fail please he can’t fail because this is his only job he can’t he can’t—
There’s not enough supplies, and his hands are too shaky, and Alexander has fixed so much before but he doesn’t know—
Repeated pin pricks in their skin, it’s not the right needle but it’s all he had—
It’s not the right thread, it’s going to get infected then what will happen, but it’s the only thing he could find and it’s either risk dirty sewing thread or risk blood loss and either way it’s death so Alexander has to try—
He was going to fail, it wasn’t going to be enough, Alexander was afraid to die he can’t let them die please it’s not enough it’s not enough—
It’s not…
It was enough.
Neil Josten woke up as himself for the first time in an abandoned building somewhere in the middle of San Francisco.
He knew where he was despite never being here in his life and had all of his memories without having a single one. Neil knew he was Neil Josten without knowing who Neil Josten was and he knew Neil Josten was not alone even if he was supposed to be. He knew the stitches in his wrists were for injuries done by himself even if he didn’t remember doing them and he wouldn’t know who had actually done them for a long time after this.
Neil Josten knew everything and nothing at the same time and wasn’t that just a contradiction?
He knew he had to keep them moving even if he only kind of knew who “them” was. It was his job to keep them moving no matter what else was going on because their life depended on Neil Josten keeping them moving and running farther and farther away from someone.
Neil sat up and looked around the run down building. There was some blood underneath where he was laying from his arms and dirty bandages and medical equipment he knew he needed to get rid of so no one could use their blood to know they were here. He did not know why that was a threat, why he was so paranoid of it happening, but he knew it needed to be done no matter the questions he might have had.
They were running, Neil knew that, but he did not know yet what they were running from.
He just knew he needed to move.
Neil was meticulous with cleaning the blood and bandages and what might have been a sewing needle and thread. He did not know how or why he knew how to clean blood, but Neil was wiping away the last of it when he first realized that maybe this wasn’t a skill he should know this instinctively.
When he finally walked outside, three days after Julian had walked in, the new day’s barely risen sun warmed his skin enough to keep him walking. The blooded shirts were stuck in his duffle under the binder filled with pictures and money and information and new scars, still aching and bleeding if Neil moved too much, hidden under one of their only long sleeve shirts.
There was a bus stop four blocks down, only an older man waiting, and Neil sat himself down to wait. The person in his head—Reagan right now, Neil was told, but they’re not the only one—spoke softly and at length about something or another as he watched the bus pull up. The bus driver barely blinked at him as Neil glanced at where they were going, nodded, and paid the fee.
He sat down on the bus—in the back, but not quite the last row, just close enough to the middle to be glanced over more easily— heading East without being sure where he was really going besides that direction. Neil kept the duffel clutched tightly in his lap and tried to keep his face neutral, tried to keep it looking like he knew what he was doing and was supposed to be doing it. The world passed by him when the bus got on its way, a world he’d grown up in yet had never seen before in his life, as he laid his head against the cold window.
Neil thought about where he should go, where might offer some temporary safety after everything. The early morning turned to the day when he eventually determined a small, nothing town in a state most people forgot would be perfect. Neil Josten could be just another teenage boy in the crowd, maybe he’d even go to a high school and find an abandoned house to stay in to have some shelter instead of being left to the elements.
Who knows, maybe he’d even get lucky enough to play a little exy before they’d move to the next town…move onto the next identity where Neil might not continue to exist when the external identity that he formed from was no longer needed.
Yeah…yeah a little exy sounded really nice…Neil sure hoped he’d get that chance before it was too late for him to try.
At least for a little bit.