"I'm… fine." Bryce isn't sure that's true, but he's doing better than Bryce expected, so, maybe. But then Roman continues, "Yeah, I guess they were just concerned I was being abused. Asked me if I feel safe at home and all that. Nothing outside of what they usually ask."
"What they… usually ask?" And shit, he shouldn't have said that out loud, but… What they usually ask?
"What they… usually ask?"
Ah... Roman realizes he probably shouldn't have said that— didn't need to have said that. Too late to take it back, now, though.
"Mm... yeah." Roman pulls away a little and looks out the window. "Ah, when I was growing up, they always used to ask me and Archer at our yearly checkups and stuff." Should he say more..? Explain further? He doesn't really want to, though, so he stops.
(This isn't really what I set out to write, but I don't hate it. Ambiguously canon for now. Proofread only once — please point out typos)
Roman is sleeping again, his breathing slow against Bryce's chest. He's sprawled more than usual on the sofa, but he's leaning against Bryce, his face pale even against Bryce's faded Dark Side of the Moon shirt. Bryce nudges the television volume down until it's just a hair over muted. He puts the remote down and tilts his head, watching Roman breath. He seems calm, in his sleep. Peaceful. Bryce is fairly certain he actually is, too, given how he usually reacts to bad dreams.
A stray lock of hair slips over Roman's face, and Bryce smooths it back without thinking. The action feels so natural.
When did … this … become his life?
It's been just over two months since he stumbled across Roman. But that wasn't when his life changed, not really. He had a plan, like he always does, a simple plan that would have gotten Roman out of danger, out of his life, just a few weeks after he pulled him from that basement.
It seemed achievable, at the time. Not easy, but simple. Straightforward. Something he could spend a few weeks working on, engaging on an intellectual level only, and then forget. Continue through his life unchanged.
And it stayed that way… For a day? Two days? Three?
The first night was easy, and Roman too exhausted to really make an impression. The next day… Well, he let everything overwhelm him when Roman begged him to stop splinting, but overall, he could have moved past that without pausing. The day after that…? That was when Roman heard his call with Corey, which he'd expected, and failed to hide it, which he hadn't. And then been exasperated when Bryce told him how to hide it, insisting he wasn't trying to lie.
He'd felt better about it then. Felt like he probably could send him off to a decent life armed with a bus ticket, a new identity and a few grand in cash. And, of course, threats ringing in his ears, what would happen if he ever came anywhere near here again, if Bryce or any of Boss's people ever saw him again.
The next day…?
No.
That night.
It was the last thing he'd been expecting, although he should have known better. Oh, he wasn't shocked at the screaming that woke Bryce. Wasn't surprised when he was able to wake him and calm him, somewhat. He remembers that he let himself imagine staying to comfort Roman, but also that he was shocked when Roman actually asked him to wait, clearly torn between between the idea of wrapping his arms around Bryce and the reality of who he knew Bryce to be.
And he remembers giving in to his own buried reactions, sweeping Roman into his arms and holding him while he sobbed. Going against every bit of discipline he's worked to drill into himself for years, decades, and responding to Roman's plea to go home.
Was that it? Was that the moment he was lost? That he became a feeling being again, after so long being numb?
He thinks maybe it was. But still… He was hurt when Roman didn't believe him, the next day in the garden, but he wasn't shattered. Could have moved past that, rationalized it away as an off day, kept his distance from Roman emotionally. Been soft, careful, but not vulnerable…
What's that saying? When you have a breakfast of bacon and eggs, the hen is invested, but the pig is committed.
He could have stayed invested only, from that point. He thinks. (Not that he'd planned on getting invested in the first place, of course. What's the cow, that made the milk you drink with breakfast? Not invested, surely. Just…involved. Contributing. That was what he expected going in, really.)
Roman's breathing stutters, his face twisting, and Bryce rubs his shoulder automatically. "I've got you," he murmurs, and Roman's face smooths out again. Bryce waits a breath, then two, focusing all his attention on the young man snuggled against him.
Oh yeah. He's been committed for a long time, now.
Well, two months. Less…
His thoughts circle back around to their first days together. Roman's clear distrust of him, after that disaster of a conversation about the future. That hurt, but, again, he's sure he would have gotten over it.
He tries hard not to lie to himself. He doesn't think he is, right now, but he's not sure.
That was the first day they'd spent on the sofa together, he remembers. Roman didn't want contact, and Bryce tried to honor that, but he wasn't able to rest without it, and when he woke up, he wasn't in a hurry to leave Bryce's side.
Bryce wasn't in a hurry to make him, to be fair.
Was he committed then?
No, he decides, he wasn't. He liked Roman, sure, but he had no second thoughts about sending him away. Not then. Not later that day, when Roman got up the courage to ask why Bryce kept him alive, and almost seemed to believe Bryce's truthful reply. Not later that day, when Roman thanked him for the bare minimum of supplies Bryce supplied him with. Bryce was happy, true, glad to help, but… Not more, he thinks. And, true, he was relived he could help Roman sleep, that night, and fierce when he told Roman not to be ashamed of needing help, but not… Nothing irreversible.
The next day…? They looked at cookbooks together, which was nice, surprisingly so, and… All right, maybe at that point he'd have felt a little bad sending Roman away. But he'd still have done it in an instant, if he could.
Well… A minute, anyway.
That night, though… Roman asked if he had nightmares, too. Pushed for an answer, gently, true, but… Roman was concerned about him, although he'd done little to deserve it. Been better than Avery, true, but a bar in hell isn't hard to clear. And Roman still didn't believe Bryce was going to send him away, not then.
That might have tipped him over. Not to committed, not like the pig, but…
He watches Roman sleep for a few minutes, just remembering. Not analyzing, not trying to understand his own emotions, just remembering.
The next few days were rough. Mal's visit and Roman's reactions to it. He tried to pretend it didn't change anything, but he wasn't good at lying, not about that.
He is good at lying, though. He listened to Boss discuss his future without even a hitch in his breathing as he pretended the earbuds drowned out her speaking.
So why wasn't he…
Bryce shakes his head. That's not what he's trying to figure out, not right now. Not that there's a good reason for his current thoughts, but now that he's started them down a path, he wants to see where it leads. Needs to see where it leads, needs to reassure himself, somehow, both that his current life is real and that he wasn't lost to it within a week.
A week…
No, it wasn't the first week. If Roman had left after that, it wouldn't have been a blip, his feelings would have lasted longer than that, but it would have been fine.
Two weeks…? That was the dinner with Avery. Two weeks after they met, exactly. Several days after Roman's catastrophic escape attempt, and therefore several days after Bryce buried himself in work and found Avery.
It couldn't have been the dinner, though. That was a Thursday, when he had online plans with Jean, and he called the previous day to cancel. Jean already knew, at that point, just from Bryce's guarded words and questions about Roman's health. Your new kid brother, he'd said then, and he'd been right.
Was he committed, though?
He might have been, he decides. He could have kept living after sending Roman off, never to be seen again, then. It would have felt like sawing off an arm or leg: life-changing, not life-threatening. His life as he knew it could have continued, somewhat.
Not now, though. It would feel like cutting out his heart, now.
And he'd still do it, if Roman asked.
Fuck, how lucky is he that Roman hasn't asked? Isn't likely to ask.
Bryce kisses the top of Roman's head, just off from the part in his hair, and leans back against the sofa. He grabs the remote and switches to a movie, turning on the subtitles as he does.
Archer Cates' POV of what happened in the coffee shop. Putting most under a cut because this is almost 7,000 words and over 14 pages in 11pt. font. @whumplr-reader
God, this time of morning is slow... When is Finley coming in? In, like, an hour, right? Time can't pass fast enough...
Archer doesn't even look up as the door opens and someone comes into the cafe. He finishes texting his fiancée, 'it's boring here without you,' and only then does he pocket his phone and look at the guy in a wheelchair as he approaches the counter.
Archer gets halfway through his scripted, 'what can I get for you today', thinking all the while how absolutely fragile and cut to hell this guy looks, and what the hell happened to him, before the man... says his name. Says Archer's name like he knows him.
"Archer?" The young man immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, almost like he regrets the word.
Archer's eyes narrow. Hang on a minute... this kid...
It takes far too long for the familiar features to register past the scars and the perpetually haunted look in the man's eyes.
"Holy shit, Roman?" The picture of the last time Archer saw Roman clashes harshly with this new image set before him, but as he says it, he knows it's true. That's his little brother. "Roman, oh my god, what happened to you??"
Archer doesn't think as he vaults the counter. It's the fastest path to his brother, and he does it all the time anyway. A moment later, he has Roman wrapped in a hug. Safe. Not safe at all. How the hell did this happen? How did he end up in a wheelchair?
"I— ah— Why are you here—?" Roman splutters as he tentatively returns the hug. He sounds... nervous. scared. Why?
"I work here," Archer says against Roman's shoulder, but that doesn't matter at all. "What the hell happened to you?" he asks again. "God, you look awful— you're in a wheelchair?"
The door opens again before Roman can answer, and whoever it is moves quickly. "Roman, are you—" Archer lets go of Roman, on the defensive as he stands back up, but stays close, just in case.
"Who the hell are you?"
The man stops, putting his hands up, and Archer is glad for that. He's been in enough fights to know that he doesn't want to be in one with this guy. He's relatively short, but he's not small. Almost definitely stronger than Archer. "I'm Bryce," he says, voice much calmer than when he came in. "I was worried."
'Bryce' looks like a bigger bad than Archer has ever personally met before. To a degree, all criminals have similar tics and habits— the way this guy looked at Archer initially definitely felt like he was sizing him up. In Archer's own wary analysis, he's pretty sure that shape under the man's jacket looks alarmingly like a gun. Anyone can carry a gun or size someone up, though. This guy gives the distinct impression that he is a very real threat.
"Bryce, this is... this is my brother, Archer," Roman says, sounding like it's a struggle to get the words out. "Archer, this is Bryce. I— he— I'm living... with him right now." And his brother's voice shakes a little bit with... anxiety? Why?
Archer doesn't bother to hide his concern and confusion at the rapidly developing situation. "Why? Who is he?" Is he the reason you're in a wheelchair?
"I'm working for him. On a farm," Roman says, and his voice stabilises into a tone Archer is all too familiar with. "Well— I mean obviously not really at the moment."
He's lying. Archer has heard his brother lie a million times before. He's a damn good liar, too— able to convince their mom that they had been there all night when they were nearly caught for sneaking out, provide reasonable explanations for how 'contraband' got into the house, and gloss over missing food from the pantry. He was always good at persuading others that nothing was happening at home, too... although perhaps things would have been better for them if he hadn't.
Through all of that, Roman had never lied to Archer, though. Not about anything that had ever mattered. His eyes narrow now reflexively. "Alright, how'd you end up in a wheelchair and a cast?"
Maybe he'll back out of the lie. Roman had never been known to back out of a lie before, but he'd also never been known to lie to Archer before. Except there's that same, unfortunately familiar quality in Roman's voice as he speaks again, just to tell another lie.
"There was an accident with some equipment not long after I started."
Well shit. How is Archer supposed to address this? It has to be because of this guy who just came in with Roman, right? What's his name? Bruce or Bryce or something? Bryce. It was Bryce, he's fairly certain.
He's gotta say something. Just... call him out for lying? Would that be dangerous? If he lets this guy—Bryce—know that he knows his brother is lying, will that cause an altercation? Archer doesn't know what else he could possibly say, though. "... Why are you lying to me?"
Maybe it's his imagination, but Archer swears he sees Roman pale just a shade.
"What? I am not!" Roman protests with a healthy measure each of incredulity and indignation. Has he ever even been called out so explicitly? Archer can't think of a time. "There was an accident with the equipment when I started, and I'm in recovery right now. Why would I lie about that?"
"I don't know," Archer says, looking from Roman to Bryce, and back again, voice slow as he tries to think of an explanation— anything other than the obvious, very, very bad explanation for Roman's lying. "I don't know why you're lying about that, and that's what scares me."
Well, if Roman won't tell the truth of it, there's only one other person here who might know it. Maybe Bryce isn't so good a liar. Even if he is, maybe he'll reveal at least something true. "How did you meet my brother?"
"That… That's a long story." Bryce glances down at Roman for a moment before meeting Archer's eyes again. He sounds calm, and that irks Archer more than a little. "And it's not all mine to tell." At that, Bryce looks back down to Roman, like he's trying to communicate something through the look.
What does he want Roman to say? The truth? Archer would appreciate the truth, but he doubts that's what's being communicated. A secondary lie then? Something Bryce hopes will be more convincing than a farm accident? God, Archer would already be fucked if he wasn't so familiar with what Roman sounds like when he's lying. He doubts there's any lie Roman could tell that would change that subtle alteration of tone in his voice when he lies. At least Archer will know if it's another lie, no matter what bullshit is said next.
"You left me behind!" Roman turns on Archer, tone suddenly all but hostile. There's... tears glistening in Roman's eyes, unshed. Even before Archer left... when was the last time he had seen Roman cry, and it wasn't part of a facade? Not for years, he was sure. "You left me behind, so I had to figure things out for myself. Sorry if you don't like the way that ended up!"
Archer doesn't need to read the tone of Roman's voice to know that's the truth. The accusation burns in his chest and makes his stomach twist. After a second, he becomes aware of the wide-eyed, half-stricken expression on his face and fixes it, setting his jaw.
"Okay. That's the truth." He takes a small step closer to Roman again, crouching down to be on Roman's level again. "Will you continue that and tell me what that means?"
They don't need to dwell on what happened in the past right now. Archer doesn't want to relive that regret again right now. He wants to know what happened to put his brother in a wheelchair.
"Why do you even care? God, you never let anything go! Maybe I just don't want to talk to you about it!" Roman is shaking now, like he did when he first realised it was Archer behind the counter. There's something that doesn't feel right in his words, though— not so much a flat-out lie that's clearly being told as it is a sense of falseness.
"Roman, you're in a goddamn wheelchair!" Archer throws his hands up in frustrated exasperation. "Last time I saw you, you were fine! Look, I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind— I really am— but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you." And he does— he really does care about Roman. "Please, for the love of god, don't try to sell me that story about working on a farm. Who the hell is this guy, and how do you know him? Did he do this to you? Does he know how this happened?"
So what if the guy knows Archer thinks he did this to Roman? They're in a public place— the walls are glass for fucks' sake— and there are cameras. He doesn't care anymore that he's being horribly obvious. Why won't Roman just tell him what the hell is going on?
"No, he didn't do this to me!" Roman insists, and it sounds like the truth. "And of course he knows how it happened. I told you there was an accident!"
Archer can't tell if Bryce actually knows how it happened or not— not when Roman keeps trying to reinforce the lie that Archer already blatantly doesn't buy. "Oh my god, stop it with the accident shit! Okay, he didn't do this to you, but you were fine when I left you. Someone caused... all of this. Tell me what really happened!" If Roman would just cut it out with the lie he's already failed at telling, maybe there would be new information to glean.
"Physically," a heavy voice interrupts. Both Archer and Roman turn to look at Bryce, Archer in a state of mild confusion. "Physically, he was fine."
Archer's mouth hangs half open for a moment as a dozen different iterations of 'excuse me?' and 'what the fuck did you just say to me?' ping in his thoughts, knocking into each other before any of them can actually make it to his mouth to say.
Bryce takes a quick breath and, when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, urgent, and sincere. "Archer, Roman's trying to protect you."
Some of the incredulity evaporates, replaced by confusion and an increase in concern that Archer tries to conceal. "Protect me? From what? He's my little brother. He doesn't have to protect me." He stops there, a little spike in his chest warning him not to go further; he would be admitting that it was his job to protect Roman. Something he completely failed at, obviously. He finds... he can't say it.
"Can we sit down, please? And then we can talk about what happened." Bryce is still calm. Too calm. The contrast with the frustration and concern bordering on outright fear rolling in Archer's own chest is a potent irritant. Why is he calm?
Archer glances down at Roman again, his gaze lingering longer than he meant for it to. Roman is pale. So, so pale. He's shaking still, too. Archer glances back at Bryce, then at Roman one more time.
Bryce is calm because Roman is clearly panicking.
Archer isn't sure what conclusions that should lead him to draw. That maybe Bryce cares at least somewhat about Roman? That he sees this as a risk and is trying to bring the energy down so that Roman can calm down and maintain the lies he's been spewing since they came in?
In the end, it doesn't matter. Archer takes a breath, forcing himself to calm down despite his impulse to continue yelling. He isn't helping Roman at all by freaking out— and that's what he wants, really. He wants to know what happened to Roman and how he can help him.
"Yeah, okay. Let's sit down."
They sit together at one of the little wooden tables, and Bryce speaks again, calm cracking into concern, despite an obvious attempt to maintain it. "Roman, do you want to tell Archer what happened?"
Roman takes a slow, deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, before answering with reluctance. "... Yeah... Yeah, I... I don't think there's really any other option."
Seeing the two of them interact suddenly feels... strange. They've both been talking to Archer, so far, not each other, and there's far too much familiarity and comfortability in the way they speak to one another. Like they're friends, almost. At the very least, they are far too relaxed with each other
Bryce takes a deep breath and nods. "Do you want to start?"
"Yeah... I... I guess I probably should..." Roman takes another deep breath and directs his eyes down to a spot on the table, rather than looking at either of the people sitting with him. Archer is determined to watch him, though.
"After you left home," Roman starts, "things... ah... I don't think it's right to say they got worse, because I think there were just... less people for mom to take her anger out on..." He seems to think for a moment as guilt begins to settle into Archer's chest. He didn't realise they would be starting this far back. "No, they did get worse when you left. Mom... I don't think she ever really believed that I didn't know where you had gone... She was particularly angry that I wouldn't tell her where you were— especially for the first few months and then... I think again, right before I turned 18."
And Archer's resolve to keep his eyes on Roman crumbles. Faced with the overwhelming fullness of the guilt he's carried for nearly seven years, he finds himself suddenly seeing what Roman finds so interesting about the wood grain of the table.
It's not that Archer wanted to leave Roman behind or didn't want to take him along. It's not that he didn't want Roman to know where he was going, either. If he was going to leave— which he had to do— he already knew their mother would look for him. It was hard enough to erase himself. He could only imagine how impossible it would have been to erase Roman, too. Kidnapping his kid brother would have done little but put him on a wanted list, which would only help his mother find them both. It's one thing to erase yourself from civilian view— a completely other thing to erase yourself from law enforcement. He couldn't tell Roman where he was going, either. Not when he knew the pressure he would be under from their mother to tell.
"She, uh, started locking a lot more things," Roman continues. "All the windows got locks on them after you left. I wasn't ever planning to run off without saying anything, but... I think she thought I was at one point. Eventually, she started locking my door from the outside so I couldn't disappear overnight. I learned how to pick the locks on the windows and the cabinets myself after you left, since you weren't there to open them for us anymore."
God, Archer should have at least taught Roman that before he left. Roman shouldn't have had to learn that on his own... And she was locking him into his room at night..? What the hell was wrong with that woman... How do you hate your own kids so damn much...
"I uh... I ended up staying with mom and dad until I was 20. I-I could have left sooner, but..." Roman clears his throat a little and switches gears from whatever he had almost said. "After I finally did leave, I cut off contact with them and everyone else from our town. None of them were really my friends, and they all still had ties to mom and dad, and... I just didn't want to deal with that anymore. I got an apartment, and for a couple of months, it was good."
But... then it wasn't? That was around the time Archer had lost track of him. He had been able to keep at least some sort of eye on him while Roman was still living at home. After he left, though, it was like he dropped off the map completely. Archer raises his eyes to see Roman's face again, a little bit of the guilt receding behind the walls he's so carefully built. Whatever happened to him next, it wasn't Archer's fault.
Well... it likely wouldn't have happened if Archer had stayed, which makes it his fault in a way, but it's a danger he couldn't possibly have realised, so the guilt about whatever may have transpired next doesn't quite eat him alive.
Roman's voice trembles, and Archer can tell he's trying to repress it. "I... met this person who told me their name was J, while I was living by myself and trying to make friends. W-we... we just kind of clicked really well at first, I guess, and I didn't really think it was weird when they invited me over to their house." Roman's hands slide off the table and disappear into his lap. "Except, I didn't end up leaving their house again. Not for a long, long time."
Roman glances up as Archer feels the color drain out of his face. Roman... was kidnapped? Roman was kidnapped. Roman was kidnapped. It doesn't matter how many times the sentence repeats in Archer's head; it's like he can't form any thoughts past it about the following implications. There are too many. It's too much to think about, and his mind won't let him wander to any place it doesn't have to— any place Roman doesn't take it directly.
Roman looks back down at the table. "They... th-they made tea, and we watched a movie or something, I think, but... ah... they put something in mine. I-I fell asleep in the middle of whatever it was we were doing, and when I woke up, I was in their basement, chained to a w-wall."
Roman is stuttering. He never used to do that before. Did he ever used to do that before?
"I-I kept... k-kept telling myself that I couldn't have po-possibly been down there for that long— th-that, because there were no windows or cl-clocks, my mind was p-playing tricks on me and stretching out the time..."
God, how long was he down there? This... this random guy tied him up in a basement for... weeks? Months? How the fuck did he get out? Archer is glad he got out, but how?
Roman shakes his head. "Th-they did a lot of things, while I was stuck down there... U-used a lot of di-different drugs to fuck with my head..."
Drugged. No clock. No windows. Roman is only 22 now— only 20 when he left home and when... when this happened. He couldn't have been there for more than two years at the absolute longest. ... He could have been stuck there for two entire years.
"As... as time passed, they got less careful... I don't know how long it was or how long I was still down there after, but... they left a needle where I could reach it one day and then, not too long after that, a flathead screwdriver... I-I picked the lock for the chain that was keeping me there and tri-tried to get out, but... i-it didn't... didn't go very well... I didn't know they were home still, at the time... Um... They dr-dragged me back down to the basement... and they broke my leg so I cou-couldn't try to run again..."
Archer feels ill. And dizzy. All of the blood that left his face earlier seems determined to remain wherever it went and never come back. That's why Roman is in a wheelchair with a cast? But... he didn't escape, so then how is there a cast? Archer shakes his head just a little to try and get his thoughts loose.
Roman didn't escape, but he isn't there anymore. He got out somehow, and the cast must have come after.
"E-everything just kind of... continued like it had been so far for... for I don't know how much longer, but... they pissed somebody off. Bryce and... a-another person... they showed up at the house while J was out one day, and Bryce got me out of the basement and took me with him."
So... Roman never escaped. Never got real help. He's still stuck. Whoever this... this J person is, they did something to piss off a group. Organised crime? And that's where Bryce is from?
As Roman looks up again, Bryce touches his shoulder, and Roman turns his way.
Again, the way the two of them interact seems entirely too comfortable— almost familial. Archer doesn't believe that Bryce hasn't hurt his brother, but he can easily imagine that whatever he's done has been less than whatever this J did to him. And clearly, Roman has since received medical attention of some kind. Somehow, a deluded sort of trust has obviously developed.
Archer should be angry. In the back of his mind, maybe he is, but all he can really feel at the moment is sick.
Forget any absolution of guilt he felt earlier. This is too big— too much for Archer to absolve himself from in any way. This is his fault. If he had stayed, none of this would have happened. If he had looked harder for Roman instead of assuming he disappeared intentionally, this would have ended sooner— ended at all! Because this hasn't even ended for Roman. His situation has just changed. Instead of being tortured in a basement, he's being kept as... as what? Just a captive? A pet? Archer's mouth tastes sour at the thought.
"Do you want to take a breath and keep going, or do you want me to take over?" Bryce asks Roman, interrupting Archer's racing thoughts.
Roman nods. "Yeah... yeah will you..?" Archer hears him try, and fail, to steady his voice.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Bryce takes a deep breath and looks at Archer.
Archer's eyes turn almost unwillingly to watch Bryce as he continues the story. "Roman… came back to stay with me for a bit," Bryce stops. Shakes his head. "No. I took him with me. I— He'd already seen too much, and he wasn't in shape to— Anyway. He didn't trust me at all, of course."
But he certainly does now, Archer can see. Anyone with eyes can see! Why? What in hell could possibly have Roman trusting this guy?
"And… One day, while I was out, Roman tried to escape."
And failed, clearly, again. Fuck... that had to have been awful. To try twice to get out and to fail both times. To think you have a chance only to find out, brutally, that you never did.
"I wasn't there. I didn't get there in time to stop them. Just in time to get a medic involved."
Roman shrinks, and Archer feels his stomach twist with a fresh wave of nausea.
"That was in July. There— A lot has happened since then, but I think that's what you were asking about."
It does explain why his brother is in a wheelchair. It explains how he ended up with Bryce. Still, it doesn't feel complete. It doesn't feel like enough.
Bryce takes a breath. "We trust each other now, and—"
"I'm sorry, you trust each other?" Archer interrupts, incredulous at the audacity. Clearly, Roman appears to trust Bryce for some fucked up reason, but each other? "From where I'm sitting, it looks like my brother doesn't have any choice except to 'trust' you, and you have no reason to need to trust him!" Archer still feels ill, but he absolutely refuses to let his voice waver.
"Archer, just stop." Roman raises a hand from his lap and presses it to his face. "I understand how you're getting there, but you're wrong. I do trust him, and not because I don't have another choice. If I didn't trust him, I still don't believe that he'd be a danger to me."
Archer finds himself all speechless for a moment. It doesn't sound like Roman is lying, so that means that he really believes that what he's saying is true. Is this Stockholm syndrome? How the hell is he supposed to fix this?
"He's the first person in the last two years— no. In the last seven— to treat me like he actually cares what happens to me."
Archer becomes suddenly and painfully aware that Roman is watching him. He takes a slow breath, trying to put his thoughts in order as he forces his face to remain neutral. "... That... isn't right."
It's wrong. It's wrong— it's so wrong. It shouldn't be that way. Roman shouldn't feel like that because there's no way in hell that Bryce actually cares. And Archer has cared. If he had even an inkling of an idea of what Roman had been going through, Archer would have torn the entire goddamn city apart looking for him.
But he didn't know, and he didn't look hard enough. He didn't know...
"You don't have any reason to believe me," Bryce says, and Archer realises they've all been silent for several moments. "But I do trust Roman. He has enough information, and the tools to use it, to ruin me, even get me killed."
Yeah right... The voice in Archer's head scoffs. Even if Roman has been led to believe that, there's no way it's true. ... Right?
Bryce's gentles as he turns to Roman. "Would a drink help the headache? Or food?"
Oh, right. What did they even come here for, anyway? For... coffee..? Archer has never really known Roman to be a coffee drinker, but that might have changed. He was only 15 before, after all. Did they come here to eat?
"I think... if I try to eat anything, I'm going to be sick. W-water might help, though..."
Archer is halfway up from the table before Roman can even finish talking. He's failed so many times in the past— neglected things he should have done. Even now, there seems to be little he can do to help, but he can at least do this. "Hang on." Archer steps over to the front doors of the cafe and locks them. No one needs to come in and interrupt them right now. He ducks behind the counter and returns a moment later with a glass of water.
"Thank you..." Roman accepts the cup with a shaking hand and takes a small drink before setting it back down on the table. It doesn't look like it helps much.
For another several moments, it seems that none of the three of them knows what to say.
Archer can't take the silence after a while. "What can I do to help you?" And there has to be something. There has to be, because Archer simply cannot sit and do nothing. He'll implode.
Roman looks to Bryce at the question. Archer doesn't want Bryce's answer; he wants Roman's, damn it. Still, his attention snaps to Bryce as he responds.
"We…" Bryce seems to be thinking as he glances at Roman. "For now, you need to stay safe. After… When I've stopped…the problem in the organisation….Then it will be safe to— To do…Whatever."
That is completely absurd. "You want me to just pretend like none of this happened?" Archer asks, incredulous, then turns to Roman. "You want me to just pretend I still have no idea where you are? That I don't know that you're in active danger?"
"Yes." Roman sounds like the word is a struggle. Archer can't tell if it's because that isn't really what he wants or because it is what he wants and he knows Archer won't listen.
"I can't do that! I can't just act like everything is fine— Roman, that's insane!" Even if it's dangerous to get involved, it barely matters. There has to be something Archer can do to even begin to make up for everything he walked away from— everything he let happen to his little brother.
"It can't possibly be harder for you than the last two years have been for me!" Roman snaps.
Archer freezes up a little at that. Roman... Roman actually wants him to walk away and pretend he doesn't know. Unfortunately, if he thinks about it, Archer is pretty sure the only thing harder to do than endure what Roman has been forced to go through would be to willingly choose to endure it. Choosing to ignore it feels shockingly similar. It's impossible.
"He really is trying to keep you safe," Bryce tries, like that's going to make anything better. "There's— Some of the people I'm up against are kidnappers. Human traffickers."
"What the fuck??" There are more? Are they all being treated like Roman has and is? Worse? "The chances of any of this happening to a person have to be astronomically low! You're telling me there's multiple people this is happening to? Recently? In this area? Are the police not doing anything? Haven't they noticed?? I mean, fuck the police, but you'd think they'd at least notice multiple people going missing!"
"No," Bryce says firmly and, for a moment, Archer feels just an ounce of relief. "Not around here. The point isn't that they might grab you accidentally, the point is that if they knew about you, you'd be a target."
Ah... Archer takes a breath and a moment to try to calm himself back down. Maybe he's being irrational. He's probably being irrational. Maybe the implication is still that getting involved would put anyone at risk, but something about the way Bryce said it just now makes it sound almost like Archer specifically would be in danger because of his relation to Roman...
Still...
"Okay, look, I understand. I understand that being involved puts me in danger, but I also understand that my brother is sitting in front of me in a wheelchair." Archer takes another breath, recognising the distressed pitch starting to creep back into his tone and making himself lower his voice again.
"Roman..." Archer rests a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder and tries not to let the way Roman flinches get to him. He didn't seem to do that when Bryce put a hand on his shoulder... "I am so, so sorry, but I can't just let this go. I will not let this go."
"What does that mean?" Bryce asks, and to Archer, he sounds accusing. "You won't let this go, you'll get yourself hurt, maybe killed, and how will that help Roman?"
It doesn't matter. He is being irrational, but it doesn't matter. There isn't an acceptable, rational way to handle this. "If there is a less dangerous way that I can help, then please, tell me. I would very much like not to die, but I've... I've already made too many mistakes. I'm not walking away again. And I'm not an idiot. I can take care of myself pretty damn well."
"The hell you can," Bryce snaps. "Look—"
"You don't know me." Archer interrupts with a sharp glare. "I don't have a gun on me today, but you can bet I sure as hell will after this." Maybe Bryce thinks he can judge Archer based on what he thinks he knows of Roman, but he couldn't be more wrong. "Even if you think you know Roman, we are very different people."
And even if Roman has Bryce convinced that he knows him, Archer knows better. Roman is a survivor, and he always has been. The way he survives is by lying; it always has been. If Archer could lie half as well, maybe their lives would have been easier, but that's just not who Archer is. Roman, though... Archer doesn't doubt that Bryce thinks he knows a lot about Roman. He also doesn't doubt that most of it is wrong.
"I know he can use a gun," Bryce says, and Archer hides his surprise that Roman told him that. "And I know that carrying one will put you in more danger."
"I disagree with you." Arches counters, voice calm.
"You—" Bryce clenches the fist of his free hand. "If they come for you and you're not a threat, they will take you. If you're armed, they will take you out. If you get shots off, they will take their time."
Unfortunately, that makes sense. Fine, no gun, then. It would look suspicious for him to start carrying regularly again anyway.
Bryce takes a breath, and his voice is calmer as he continues. "Look, I understand that you want to help. I understand that you're worried we'll walk out this door and you'll never see him again. You could stay in contact, just not…Not in person. Not yet," he offers.
That's not what Archer wants, but the longer this conversation goes on, the more certain he is that he isn't going to get what he wants.
"How?" Archer asks, voice still the same careful calm.
"Phone. Email, although that will be harder to cover up." Bryce throws out the name of a secure messaging app Archer has never heard of, too. "If we get your info, there are ways we can contact you that won't be traceable to anyone who's spying on me."
If they get his info. So he won't really have any way to contact them, only a hope that they might contact him. That is far, far from what Archer wants.
Still, it looks like that might be all he can get.
If he never hears from them, he'll just have to fall back on his worst option— investigate things on his own.
Archer digs a small notepad out of his pocket after weighing his options and finding all of them terrible. He scribbles down his number and passes the sheet across the table to Bryce.
"This is my number. Is that app you mentioned something I can sign up with my own number, or should I download it now so I can give you whatever the number it picks is?"
"I can show you how to set it up," Bryce offers, putting the folded paper with Archer's number in his pocket.
Setting up the app is irritating, but Archer can't be certain if it's because he's still pissed about things going so badly or because the process is actually terrible.
"This will alert that you have a message, but won't show it to you until you open the app, and enter the passcode you set up," Bryce tells Archer once everything is set up. "If you enter 0000 instead, it shows a spam message. Either way, it will be deleted five minutes after you read it."
That’s good. The last thing Archer needs is anyone else getting involved with this shit-show. Or anyone on Bryce and Roman’s end of things finding out that he’s involved.
Bryce turns to Roman, his voice becoming unreasonably gentle, radiating what sounds like almost genuine concern. "K— Roman? Can you handle a little more water?"
Roman picks his head up. He looks so pale as he takes another drink before putting his head back down...
"... Roman?" Archer's voice is careful as he pushes his chair back and crouches next to Roman, moving his hand to his brother's back. "I..." He pauses, Unsure how to put his thoughts into words that will maybe provide some sort of comfort instead of just sounding like excuses...
Roman turns his head to look at Archer, and he looks like hell... The last time they saw each other, Roman had worn a similarly desperately sad look to the one that's in his eyes now, but that was never typical... Archer had hoped he would never have to see it again on his brother's face. As it is, the look is punctuated badly by the deep bags under Roman's eyes and the harsh scar across the side of his mouth.
"Roman, I did look for you." Archer finally says. "I... you know Luke didn't leave with the rest of us that took off. He kept me in the loop about... about things he could see. That you were still with mom and dad. That you... well... that things didn't look on the outside like they had changed much."
Not that Archer had expected things to visibly change. If they had, he wouldn't have known what to do. It wasn't that he thought everything stayed the same, just that... Roman has always been a survivor. Archer had convinced himself when he left that, so long as things didn't get so bad that they were visible to the outside world, Roman could handle it. It was an ill-advised conclusion, but hindsight is 20/20, and he was an idiot 18-year-old...
"He told me when you left, and I tried to track you down after that, but I couldn't find you, and I just... I thought maybe you hated me. Maybe you didn't want me to find you." It would have been understandable. Reasonable. God, with everything that ended up happening to Roman, he has every right to hate Archer.
"I didn't hate you. I don't hate you." Roman blurts out.
"Yeah, well... you probably should... None of this would have happened if..." Archer shakes his head. It would make more sense for Roman to hate him than not. Hell, it would probably be healthier...
Archer makes himself continue. "I love you, and I know you aren't safe, but are you at least okay? Do you really trust this guy?" He nods a vague acknowledgement in Bryce's direction. "He hasn't hurt you?"
"I do trust him. And no, he hasn't hurt me." Roman manages, voice still weak.
It doesn't sound like Roman is lying… Archer isn't happy, but that's at least closer to okay than he had initially thought when Bryce came in. "Okay... as long as that's at least true..." Archer looks back in Bryce's direction again. "If there is anything I can do to actually help, I want to know." Even if Roman wants him unequivocally uninvolved, maybe Bryce would let him help at risk to his own safety if it meant making things easier for him.
Bryce nods. "We'll be in touch."
Archer doesn't have any other choice but to hope that's true...
"Roman?" Bryce turns his attention.
"What?" Roman sounds so drained...
"Do you want me to step away to a different table for a bit? Or do you want to…head out? Eat?"
"No— don't leave me here—" Roman answers quickly, picking his head up from the table in alarm.
Archer feels a little sick at the sudden, alarming display of attachment. Don't leave me here? At a table alone with his brother..?
It sounds like Roman is forcing his voice to be calmer as he continues. "I-I just want to go. I want to leave."
Maybe Archer has severely misjudged the situation... He isn't sure how or in what way he may have been wrong, but this doesn't feel right at all.
"Okay. Okay, yeah, we can go." Bryce soothes.
A tugging realisation finally pulls to the front of Archer's mind at the thought of the two of them leaving. Something Roman needs to know. Something Archer should have thought of sooner, damn it. "Ah, actually, there's one more thing you should probably know." Because if Archer gets involved, he isn't going to be putting just himself in harm's way...
Roman turns his head to look at Archer again as his brother stands up.
"You remember Finley, yeah?" Finley, who also works at this damn coffee shop now. Finley, who will probably be here in the next half hour.
Roman gives a little nod, and Archer continues. "She's in the area, too. She actually works here, too. Just... in case you run into her somehow. So you don't... have to go through the shock of it all again..."
He should tell Roman that he and Finley are engaged... Would like to invite Roman to the wedding, even though there isn't really a date set yet. He can't do that, though. It's not the time. It's not appropriate in the context of everything that's just happened.
It is by no means a time to celebrate that, but... it still feels wrong not to tell him. Like he's keeping a secret...
"That's... o-okay... Thanks for the heads up..."
It doesn't sound like it's okay, but there isn't really anything Archer can do to change the fact...
Archer walks with them to the door and unlocks it, holding it for them.
When Roman and Bryce have gotten into the truck in the parking lot and pulled out into the street, Archer releases a heavy breath, sitting back down at a table and putting his face in his hands.
Should he tell Finley about this..? He isn't a good liar... Can he even hide it? Probably not...
Bryce isn't sure how to interpret that, although he's sure it's in response to his own tone.
"Yeah," his voice is quiet. "For now… Please."
"Yeah," Bryce's voice is quiet. "For now… Please."
Roman nods, glad to be wrong about Bryce's hesitation. As Bryce gets up, Roman swings his legs carefully over the side of the bed and makes the transfer into his chair. He ignored the pain as best he can, trying to forget for even another moment that they're getting ready for a doctor's appointment. The pain is always worse in the mornings, though, when he hasn't taken any painkillers yet, and it's pretty much impossible to ignore...
Archer doesn't reply for a moment, and Bryce isn't sure how to handle what's coming. But then Archer seems to relent, and writes out a phone number which he slides over. Bryce glances at it, memorizes the number, and slips it in pocket for now, unwilling to destroy it in front of Archer.
"This is my number. Is that app you mentioned something I can sign up with my own number, or should I download it now so I can give you whatever the number it picks is?"
"I can show you how to set it up," Bryce offers, and walks Archer through the process, which is more confusing than it has any right to be. He pulls out his own phone and enters the information. Roman is still and silent throughout. Bryce pushes back his concern. Roman is breathing quietly under his hand, not wildly panicking. That's something, at least.
"This will alert that you have a message, but won't show it to you until you open the app, and enter the passcode you set up," he tells Archer. "If you enter 0000 instead, it shows a spam message. Either way, it will be deleted five minutes after you read it." And then he lowers his voice, softens it, and turns to Roman. "K— Roman? Can you handle a little more water?" Are you here?
"I can show you how to set it up," Bryce offers, and Roman listens absently to him walking Archer through the process.
"This will alert that you have a message, but won't show it to you until you open the app, and enter the passcode you set up," Bryce tells Archer. "If you enter 0000 instead, it shows a spam message. Either way, it will be deleted five minutes after you read it." And then he lowers his voice, softens it, and Roman can hear the difference as Bryce turns to him a bit. "K— Roman? Can you handle a little more water?"
He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to pick his head up.
Still, Bryce sounds... worried. And Roman feels worse than ever. He picks his head up, pale-faced, and takes another drink of the water in front of him.
There's an impulse to say that he's fine— to try and relieve even a little of the worry, but... he's so incredibly not fine. He doesn't want to say he is, and Bryce wouldn't believe it anyway.
Roman puts his head back down.
"... Roman?" Archer's voice is careful. Roman hears his chair move back and then feels his brother's hand on his back as he crouches next to the wheelchair. "I..." Archer pauses, like he's trying to figure out what he's supposed to say. Or maybe how to say what he wants to.
Roman makes himself turn his head to look at his brother, and Archer looks so much better than when they were kids... Those tired circles under his eyes are gone. There's worry in his expression now, but... that's probably not usually there. He seems so much stronger, now... not just physically, but... He's stopped shouting. He never used to be able to calm back down and continue a conversation... It was always shouting the whole way through, once it started, or he would stop talking altogether.
"Roman, I did look for you." Archer finally says. "I... you know Luke didn't leave with the rest of us that took off. He kept me in the loop about... about things he could see. That you were still with mom and dad. That you... well... that things didn't look on the outside like they had changed much."
Yeah... it looked like everything stayed the same after Archer left because nobody was allowed in the house, which was always where the worst bits happened.
"He told me when you left, and I tried to track you down after that, but I couldn't find you, and I just... I thought maybe you hated me. Maybe you didn't want me to find you."
"I didn't hate you. I don't hate you." The words are out so fast, Roman doesn't have a chance to put them through any sort of filter, scared that the way he's just acted today will only reinforce that belief. If he hated Archer, he wouldn't care whether or not he was involved in this mess.
Archer doesn't look any less worried, though. "Yeah, well... you probably should... None of this would have happened if..." Archer shakes his head, and Roman doesn't know what to say to that. None of this would have happened if a lot of things. If Archer had stayed, sure, but also if Roman had left sooner, maybe, or left later, or been more careful, or a million other choices had or hadn't been made.
Luckily, Archer only pauses for half a second, and Roman doesn't have to figure out what to say. "I love you, and I know you aren't safe, but are you at least okay? Do you really trust this guy?" He nods vaguely in Bryce's direction. "He hasn't hurt you?"
Is he okay? Not really, a lot of the time... "I do trust him. And no, he hasn't hurt me." Roman manages, voice still weak, as he chooses to only answer the last two questions, hoping the first will be forgotten.
Archer doesn't look happy— the concern is still there in his eyes— but he does at least seem satisfied with this answer. "Okay... as long as that's at least true..." Roman puts his face back down as Archer looks up in Bryce's direction again. "If there is anything I can do to actually help, I want to know."
They sit down in the far corner of the waiting room, facing away from the front desk. There's no one around, but Bryce shifts in his seat anyway, concerned about onlookers.
"I… don't know how I'm 'supposed' to answer these," Roman says, trying to pass the clipboard off.
"Okay," Bryce breathes, more a whisper of wind than a sound. He slips Roman the cards in exchange for the clipboard.
Bryce takes the clipboard from Roman, holding it an awkward angle to let Roman see what he's writing. Current date is already scrawled out in a handwriting he doesn't recognize: 9-10-23. Patient name, likewise, Reagan Stryerson. Bryce fills in birthday, the same as Roman's real one: 2-18-01. There's a section for notes on the injury, which is information they should have, but Bryce fills when the ankle injury occurred (only 7-29, because he has no idea how long the leg had been broken before that.) and date of surgery (8-28).
He pauses, pen hovering above the paper, as the starkness of the dates finally hits him. He let Roman suffer with a make-shift cast for a month. One whole fucking month.
And he tells the kid he loves him. Fuck, who the hell is he kidding?
Roman accepts the insurance card and ID, looking over the ID to make sure he actually pays attention to the information on it this time. The birthday is...
It's his real birthday.
Did he know that..? He had to have known that... Even if he didn't try to commit the information on the card to memory— which he hadn't— he still would have noticed the birthday was his own.
He stares at the card for several long moments, trying to drag back the memory he knows has to be there.
He can't.
He can't remember seeing it before, even though he knows he did. It doesn't make sense that he didn't.
"Anything," Kyle says, because it really really doesn't matter.
There's a pause.
"It… was nice outside, earlier, sir. The… the sun was kind of bright and there weren't a lot of clouds." Kyle makes an interested noise as he continues his work. "It was… warm. For the time of year, sir."
"That sounds nice."
"Yes, sir." The reply sounds a little confused. And nothing follows it.
What else can he do? Is he stressing the poor guy out, making him speak too much? Mal doesn't love him talking too much, he knows. Then something occurs to him… He confirmed there was only one wound in the car, but the guy was pretty out of it. And it's possible Mal has left wounds that he wasn't called in for that he should have been. He can't ask if there are other wounds he needs to treat, because of course anything Mal did wouldn't qualify in this guy's head as something he needs to treat…
"This is the only area you're injured?"
"That sounds nice."
"Yes, sir." Is all the pet can think to say... He doesn't know what he's doing at all. It's been so long since he's tried to have anything resembling a conversation. He wishes Kyle would just ask him questions...
"This is the only area you're injured?"
But not that question. That familiar twist of anxiety comes back.
He's not supposed to tell anyone about any punishments he's received, or even whether he has received any. He isn't really hurt anywhere else, but he's not meant to let Kyle know that.
If he can't tell him that he's not injured anywhere else, there's only really one other option. It feels kind of rude, but he doesn't know what else to do, so the pet just tries to be as respectful as possible.
"This is the only one I received this morning, and I believe it's all that my master intends to have treated, sir." He manages to keep most of the anxiety out of his voice.
Roman nods his head against Bryce's shirt. "You gonna be able to sleep again?" He sounds far too awake.
Bryce nods back, then meets Roman's eyes. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I appreciate it, but I'm sorry. Will you be able to fall back asleep?"
Bryce nods back, and meets Roman's eyes. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I appreciate it, but I'm sorry. Will you be able to fall back asleep?"
"I don't mind. I'll be able to fall back asleep eventually. It might take me a little while, but I'm still tired." Even though it'll be likely hard for him to fall asleep again for a little while, he wouldn't take back waking up even if he could. "What time is it?" He asks, then remembers the watch on his wrist and pulling his sleeve back a bit. He touches a button and the screen lights up. It's about 2 in the morning...
