Gnawing on Graviturtle and Griddex's color schemes. I wondered why they stray from the standard for Leo and Raph to instead wear a purple-red combo and blue - and it isn't even the Leo who wears the blue XD But then just a couple searches on color symbolism and I'm like Oh. They wear the colors that represent what they want to be.
We all know how they're usually seen with their colors. Leo = blue, cool, calm, constant, reliable, trustworthy, loyal. Raph = red, fiery, courage, drive, passion, action, strength.
Purple is said to be symbolic of mystery, rarity, royalty, wisdom, creativity and inspiration, red is symbolic of energy, action, determination, and they're both thought to represent courage. Grav wants to be that wise, brave, inspiring leader -- no surprise there for a Leo -- with just a hint of something mysterious that makes him unique. Again, he's the only one on the team who has a full-on intricate official-looking costume; if he's being a superhero he's going to get creative and full send it with a "royal", theatrical flair, even if he has no secret identity to protect under the mask XD If this is his identity, he's making it one of a kind
But purple is also the combination of red and blue, the balance. Maybe he's striving to find the balance of Leo and Raph-like traits he uses to lead, with the red accents in his costume meaning he's still working on asserting those Raph-like qualities, more overt passion and determination and strength. Building - or rebuilding - his inner fire, confidence and courage after Sliver's abuse!
And Griddex. He wears a simple unfussed blue jumpsuit, not an actual costume. Not as much to say and yet it says so much. One of the first things I read in my search of blue symbolism was this: "Many people see blue as non-threatening." My heart. He's a hulking, near indestructible giant with super strength but like all Raphs, he doesn't want to scare the people he cares about. He wants the people to see him as non-threatening. He wants to be seen as a soothing, stable, reliable, dedicated, trustworthy presence.
Blue also represents sadness, distance, depth, loneliness and cold. Raphs feel everything so wholeheartedly and, try as they might not to, often wear said hearts on their sleeves - kind of literally in this case. And it's no wonder. He's got a lot of deep feelings to process and grieve.
Anyway I love picking their brains and hearts and reading too deep into them. I love them very, very much. Holding them so tenderly <3
Tune in next time for why the shell is their Don orange XD
You know, 2012 Leo would be another good Leo for Graviturtle to encounter in the multiverse sometime because he too was thrust into the head of the household role too soon because of his father’s absence-by-death
Thinking about your super turtles and getting in my feels about Gravi and Griddex. You know that post that's like 'there was a time we got picked up by our parents and didn't know it would be the last time' cause they're getting too big? I imagine that time came for Griddex even faster than they others cause he was always bigger and Sliver would stop bothering but Gravi still picks him up when Sliver stops because he can just use anti-gravity, he'll always be his little brother and he'll never be too heavy for him <3 and then when Grid gets big enough he can always return the favor for any of his brothers whenever because he's so strong and just <3 <3 brothers lifting each other up!!
Yes, yes, yes <3 All of this lives in my head rent free. Given everything they go through, the "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you" sentiment is so important for them both figuratively and literally at times.
You know around Halloween time Graviturtle is going around keeping an eye out for the kids in witch/astronaut/other aerial-based costumes and using his gravity tricks to make their brooms and space suits and such hover ever so carefully off the ground to give their trick or treating a little magic <3
He was being watched. He could feel it, even if there was nothing around him to indicate it.
There was nothing around him overall. It was almost like the sky in flight but there was no wind on his face, no current or slipstream to follow, no blur or sense of movement. He could be floating, yes, but…suspended. Still. He couldn’t come down because there was no down.
At least that meant he wasn’t falling.
No up, left or right either. No matter which direction his eyes darted, they ached. It was so pitch black, were they even open? It felt like someone was twisting their thumbs into his eye sockets. Was that the same person or…ambiguous presence currently observing him? Where were they?
Where was he? What was he doing here?
What was he doing before?
He couldn’t remember. With those metaphorical (metaphysical?) thumbs pressing in and no anchor in this nebulous void to latch onto beyond them, it was harder than it should be to concentrate but he couldn’t let the welling nervousness drown him. It was his job to stay calm, keep a level head. Fear reduced him to mindlessness. Fear left him vulnerable, one of many things he wasn’t allowed to be.
If it or they could see him somehow through the black, surely he could make them out too, somewhere, if he looked hard enough. Maybe his eyes would adjust to the darkness over time. Maybe he just had to…wait.
.
.
.
He could only hope it wasn’t waiting on him too. Why was it watching him? Was it hoping to see something in particular? Hard to work with an audience when the stage lights were down.
Perhaps that was a mercy. Resigned to inaction, inertia, he didn’t have to perform.
Was it here just to watch him…exist? It would have a much clearer view and understanding of the how and why if it were to let him exist where he belonged and with whom. If it wanted to see him at his most unguarded, it could find him bundled up on the couch, wedged between Grid and Shelle with the volume cranked up to savor the theme of their favorite show.
The show was great all around, one of the few viewing options they didn’t squabble over, but the theme song had always stood out to him for being solely instrumental. No lyrics for his brothers to butcher, although if Blob got the tune stuck in his head, he would still make an…earnest effort to mimic the trombones.
Dwelling on it was going to get the song stuck in his head. Did the eyes on him have ears too? Would they mind if they caught any echoes of it? Were they even aware of what he was thinking right now? Were they aware he was aware of them?
“You know this one, don’t you, Grav?”
If he was conscious of inhabiting a tangible body, he would have jumped out of his skin upon being directly addressed.
“Don’t worry, I…I won’t try to sing along.”
Blob? Speak of the devil. Near, then far, right in his ears like the tuba and then nearly drowned out by the march of the drums.
“We’ve missed a couple episodes this month but…obviously we’re not gonna watch them without you. The sooner you come back, the sooner we can catch up.”
Come back? Did Blob know he was here, wherever “here” was? He must if he knew Grav was thinking of that song—or had his brother somehow put the thought in his head to help him find a way out? It was exactly the kind of anchor point he didn’t have before.
Now if he just knew how to move, he could try to make his way toward the strains of it, toward him.
“Oh, here’s your favorite part.”A pause, presumably to let him listen. The familiar brass, strings and woodwind sounded much slower, more…funerary than inspirational from a distance.“…Remember when we were kids and I wanted to learn how to play the flute? Heh, that was a mess. What was it, thirty seconds? I got every inch of that thing gummed up, inside and out.”
Of course he remembered: his heart sinking at his little brother’s tears of frustration. His pleading with their father to clean it, fix it. Sliver instead sneaking it into a drawer he knew Blob wouldn’t think to check—to spare everyone the future earaches, he told Grav in private, and hopefully in time Blob would just forget about it.
“I don’t know how you got ahold of it but you must’ve spent all night figuring out how to take that thing apart, clean it and put it back together without busting it. I didn’t even want it back at first; I figured I’d just ruin everything again. But you said you wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble if you thought I’d really given up. You didn’t give up on me, so I didn’t give up on me. ’Least not until I got bored of the flute on my own.”
The music had trailed off.
“So…here’s me finally returning the favor. I’m—We’re not giving up on you anytime soon. You don’t get to give up on yourself either. No matter what…a-anyone else has said to you…or done to you…to make you think you should, you’re not allowed to give up.”
His voice was wavering, as it always did when he was holding back tears. If Grav had a mouth within this liminal space, he would go to open it now, to console him.
Raw, rough, choking pain clenched, bore down on what would have been/might be/must be his throat and there was no substance to him to flail or fight back as it smothered any sound.
.
.
.
Any sound but…that. A low, choppy, broken hum in the distance, barely perceptible to anyone who didn’t know it, but he knew it all too well. It was the same sound Shelle was making when he found him on the floor, the same cloying smell of ozone, of stress-pain-exhaustion-fear but…muted, intermittent, as if he were trying to stifle it.
He should know better than to suppress himself around his brother. He was allowed to be vulnerable with Grav there to maintain the strong front. If he could just tell him that, if he could figure out where and how to reach—What he wouldn’t give for Shelle’s dazzling light to chase away the dark and reveal a clear path back to what he knew.
“This is harder than I thought it’d be. I can’t think of what to say. I guess…I just wanted to let you know I could hear you, Grav. Before. When I was out of it and you all were dealing with my leg—which you shouldn’t have blamed yourself for, by the way. Yes, I heard about that. And it really wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Whose fault could it be if not his? The responsibility for any failings, every minute weakness, always fell on his shoulders. It had to. It was meant to.
“I know being drugged up isn’t even close to the same thing but the point is I-I was confused and scared…and then I heard you. Knowing you were there helped, even if I didn’t fully understand. I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now but…if it’s scary, just know we’re here for you too. However long it takes, we’ll wait. Just like the first time we snuck out, remember? First and last.”
How could he forget? It was raining. Every step away from home ratcheted his stress levels higher and higher. One distraction, one slip and his antigravity aura repelling the water from his brother’s sensitive, supercharged skin could give out. He still didn’t know how Shelle had talked him into that.
“I just wanted to stand out there and see lightning with my own eyes that I didn’t have to generate myself, without an umbrella blocking my view. But we weren’t public yet. When those people spotted us, I didn’t even think, I just ran. I had no idea where I was going. I thought you were still right behind me because the antigravity held up. When I turned around and didn’t see you…well, I don’t have to tell you. You were probably just as terrified, wherever you were.”
And then some. Multitasking to keep the humans off his trail, keep calm, keep looking and, most critically, keep that antigravity dome up at an unknown distance? That was one of the worst half hour stretches of his life.
Aside from…
Why was he suddenly so acutely aware of this headache? The relentless pounding felt more real than his vague perception of the skull at which it knocked; it nearly overwhelmed the sound of Shelle’s voice.
“But the whole time I sat there and cried and waited for you, that field never fell. Not one raindrop got through. You were still protecting me…but of course, when you found me, all you did was say sorry for letting us get separated, when I was the one who bolted, when it was all my idea in the first place. You took all the blame when we got home. You…You’ve always been so hard on yourself. You try so hard to fight everybody’s battles, like everything else you already do and are isn’t enough. Like you think that’s all we want from you, when we just want you. Okay? You’re not just a shield. No matter what he’s told you.” A beat. Another. Another, at the back of his skull. “…I guess I did have a lot to say. I really hope you can hear me too…and that you’ll come back when you can.”
I hear you, I’m here! I would, if I could just…if I knew how to…I can’t…!
The darkness had weight to it now, cold and damp, pressing down on him.
Failure. Useless. Weak, it hissed, sending goosebumps along his skin-not-skin as it draped wetly over a nonexistent arm, a leg. Look what you’ve done. You surrendered yourself. You lost to yourself.
His attempt to thrash or recoil from it produced little more than a twitch. I’m still here! I have to get back to them, they need me!
Then why did you leave them in the first place? Why’d you give in? Something caressed his cheek, catching on split scales, prickling, stinging. You did this to yourself. You’ve embraced your weakness, you accepted defeat. There’s no coming back from that. It will never let you go.
You…You don’t know my brothers! Neither will they!
And are they your only reason to hold on? Not the city you love? Not the humans you protect? Not you? Are you worth fighting for at all? What are you worth? You’re nothing more than your power, your strength, and you don’t have any left. You are nothing left. You—
.
.
.
“—remember what you said to me before?”
Grid. Tired, gravelly, quieter than he’d heard him in years.
“If somethin’ happened to us that we didn’t walk away from, you didn’t know what you’d do? You might’ve believed it when ya told me that but I don’t think it’s true. Cause I know what you’d do. You’d pick us up. You picked Shelle back up when he couldn’t get up on his own, didn’t ya?”
What? How did he know about that?
“You picked him up, put him back together, made him feel safe, even after…How d’you do that? You’ve always done that, since we were kids. Gettin’ the others to stop cryin’ after a nightmare or calmin’ them down when they were throwin’ a fit. I used to hate that, how easy you made it look. And, uh, maybe…” He sucked a breath through his teeth, released it in an awkward growl. “Ugh. Maybe…I kinda hated thinkin’ when you were helpin’ them all the time, that meant you wouldn’t bother doin’ it for me anymore. I know, I know how stupid and selfish that sounds but…” His voice hardened. “Well, that’s how it was with Sliver, wasn’t it? Playin’ favorites, and it was never me. I just figured you were doin’ it too, pickin’ them over me. Never thought about how you were just pickin’ up his slack, till you had to pick me up again.
“We were playin’ hide-and-seek, remember? It was gettin’ pretty boring; we must’ve played a billion times already, we already knew all the hidin’ spots. Then I got the bright idea to hide in the dryer. It was one of those stackables, on top of the washer. I climbed up there and got in just fine; I thought it was perfect.” A rueful, bitter snort.“Annnd cue the growth spurt. Gettin’ wedged like that, I freaked out. Couldn’t figure out how to make myself small again or even big enough to break out but somehow I managed to throw myself and that dryer right off the washer onto the ground. Door side down. Yay, me. Surprised it didn’t explode or somethin’.”
The moment the playful, anticipatory hush of hide-and-seek was broken by that thunderous crash was one of many times Grav had wondered if his brothers would end him via heart attack someday.
“I yelled for Sliver, y’know. I forgot he was out that day; he hadn’t said goodbye to me. But you came. Used your gravity tricks to sit the dryer back up like it weighed nothin’. Pulled me out as soon as I was small again and just…did your thing. Picked me up and went the laps up and down the hall like you’d do with them after a bad dream.”
It was what Sliver used to do for Gravi after his bad dreams, until he sighed one night that he was getting too old for this. Grav hadn’t realized comfort was something he could grow out of. He hadn’t wanted his little brothers to share the aching disappointment of that realization too until absolutely necessary. Even if it meant he was babying them. Even if Grid’s fiercely frightened, full-body hug around him was so tight it hurt, he was carrying-sized when he came out of the dryer because he needed to be carried. After a crazy scare like that, it just made sense.
“…I-I don’t even know why I told you that story. Didn’t mean to make it all about me but…apparently you have a hard time makin’ it about you unless it’s somethin’ secretly for us. So…do us a favor?”
Anything.
“Let us pick you up. Just let us do somethin’ to help. But for that, you gotta come back and tell us what to do. Come on. Me, askin’ you upfront for orders? Once in a lifetime chance, fearless leader…What’re you waitin’ for?”
What are you worth?
Whatever he had to give them.
We just want you.
We’re not giving up on you.
However long it takes, we’ll wait.
Waiting. Wanting. Hoping.
Oh.
It was them all along, wasn’t it? The gaze that could pierce even this darkness…He wasn’t being watched and waited on for some performance. He was being watched over. Until he could stand on his own again, at least.
You are the only thing holding yourself back. Get up.
He couldn’t. There was no upwards.
Then maybe…there was nowhere to go but down: a trust fall into the arms waiting to catch him and hold on for dear life. Maybe they would find an upwards and onwards together. Maybe the only way forward was back.
The sooner you come back, the sooner we can catch up.
Come back when you can.
You gotta come back.
You say they are your source of strength? Prove as much.
What are you waiting for?
His last deep breath before the plunge.
I’ve got this, Grav. Why can’t you trust me?
In. Out. It burned.
Of course I trust you. Though not without fear or pain—through the fear, with it and despite it. They wouldn’t let him fall too far; they were right here.
“What? What did you say?”
.
.
.
“…right…here…” Unusually winded by those paltry, slurred syllables, muffled by something plasticky over his beak, and near blinded by the glaring lights overhead when he cracked his unblackened eye open—but here. Present enough to fight his eyelid already drooping again after mere seconds, enough to make out a green and blue blur slumping beside him as if a great weight had been lifted.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right,” was the faint, achingly relieved response. “We’re right here, bro. You’re stayin’ right here with us.” A hand rested on the crown of his foggy, heavy head, rough with its callouses but gentle with its touch. Perhaps it was only because he was too tired but he didn’t even feel the instinct to flinch. “…Safety in numbers.”
The first time Grav had any reason to doubt his father, he was six, maybe seven years old. He and his brothers could tell Sliver was eager (impatient, in hindsight) to get a move on and help them start exploring and maturing in their powers. What they interpreted as excitement was infectious; they were all tripping over themselves to volunteer for the first lesson.
All except Gravi.
Of course he would love nothing more than time alone with his father, a chance to receive his undivided attention. With three little brothers always up to their eyes in chaos—Grid crashing into every other corner with his uncontrolled growth spurts and shrinks, Shelle irresistibly drawn to stick his fingers into outlets, Blobby trailing puddles to be mopped up throughout the day—to say one-on-one time was a rarity would be an understatement.
Gravi was always the one Sliver didn’t have to concern himself with because his powers were, quote unquote, “the least disruptive.” He tried to take pride in that but really, it was all about how and when he used them. When Grid was suddenly a couple feet taller and his elbow bumped the lamp over, Grav could catch it before the bulb broke. He could exert a smidge of extra G force on Shelle’s pace, slowing him down long enough for Sliver to pull his hands away from the outlet. If he was paying enough attention, he could cast a little antigravity bubble to catch some of Blob’s mess before it spattered the floor.
He could have been the most disruptive if he wanted his attention badly enough. Imagine Papa’s face if he came in one day to find everything in the room floating! Imagine his face if he saw his brothers floating! But of course Gravi wouldn’t do that. He had lost count of how many times Grid and Blob begged and begged him to make them fly and how many times he had to verbally let them down, because there was no way he was going to let them up and then down physically.
He kind of…maybe…had a teensy little problem with heights. Gravity kept everything on the ground, which in Gravi’s mind meant if that was his thing, the ground was precisely where he was supposed to stay. The sky was antigravity; it was nothingness, it wouldn’t do anything to help him. But he knew, he just knew the first thing Papa would want to work on with him was flight.
And it was. Because of course Sliver picked him first, expecting him to be the least disruptive student and thus the least trouble to teach.
Maybe if he had made himself more of a nuisance, he wouldn’t be planted here, paralyzed, sweaty palms and shaking shell pressed to the cold pane of a dormer window.
“There is nothing to fear, my son. You already possess the tools with which to get yourself down safely.”
“I can’t!”
“You must. You’ve slowed and stopped Blobboid’s messes before they hit the ground several times before. How is this any different?”
“B-Because it’s me!” The comparison to Blobby’s slime only painted a worse mental picture of what might happen when he hit the ground. Splat. “I don’t wanna fall!”
“You are the only one who can ensure that.” Not true. Didn’t his father have powers too? Why wouldn’t he get him down? Why wouldn’t he help? Whatever his reasons, Sliver simply stood waiting for him some twenty feet below.
Every time Gravi risked a tearful peek down at him, his heart jumped into his throat—and every time Sliver looked less and less pleased, until at last he sighed disappointedly.
“I expected quicker progress than this…but I suppose it does give me a chance to check on your brothers, make sure they’re still where I left them. I trust you will be. Perhaps by the time I return, you will be ready to set your personal feelings aside and participate in this lesson.”
“Wha—No! D-Don’t just leave me up here, please, I’m scared!” he cried, desperation turning cold blood to ice as Sliver turned away. “Wait! Wait, come back! Papa!”
Something surged, something shivered. Something shattered. The gravitational force with which he tried to cling to the window caved it in with alarming ease. The crashing of the glass made him jump, feet skidding out from under him. Heels over head he slid wildly down the sloped roof and then off into the nothingness. And then—
Slow motion. Floating. Flying. What was it in that one movie? Falling with style, flinging himself right into his father’s arms.
“There, you see? Was that so difficult? You did it! You did it on your first try. You certainly took your sweet time but observe: no mess, not a scratch, which means there was no need for any of this fright and fuss! Come now, no need for all these tears. You are perfectly fine and I am very proud of you,” he tutted, though it was little consolation to Gravi in the moment; he only caught bits and pieces of it over his heaving sobs of frantic relief that he had turned back to catch him. “Tsk, did you honestly believe I would have left you there? I would never, silly boy…”
And he had wanted to believe him. As much as he wanted to take it at that, on trust and love, that stubborn root of fear curled around the newly planted seed of doubt. He could sense the “but” coming.
“But you needed the push. Now you see the fear was all in your imagination. You are the only thing holding yourself back. You have done it once, now you can do it again—”
And again.
With the holo-hall’s safety disengaged and the density heightened, he was quickly discovering panes of cyber-glass were just as painful to fall through as the real deal. Stars blinded him as his head slammed into the window frame but the mask provided just enough padding that it didn’t knock him completely out. His cape protected much of his skin from the glass, except the uncovered lower half of his face, the arm he’d thrown in a futile attempt to catch himself and the leg that slid across the sill. Gasping as he thudded onto the ground, he was hard-pressed not to inhale any of the shards raining down after him. The projected ceiling of the downtown antique store swam, vaguely pulsing in time with the throbbing of his skull. When his father loomed blurrily overhead, a part of him wished the crash had knocked him out.
“Get up.”
“I…can’t…”
“You can and you must. If you cannot, who else will? Every moment you lie here helpless is another moment the enemy has to wreak even more terror. Every moment you waste in weakness provides them more time to rip everything you love away from you.” He jerked a nod out at the simulated street, the holograms fleeing, stumbling, scrambling. “Your brothers would be out there at this very moment, fighting, as you should be! You say they are your source of strength? Prove as much. They need their leader. A leader cannot stay down. Staying down is for those already defeated. Get up!”
Get up.
Can’t.
Can’t stay down. If he stayed down, it would prove to Sliver that he wasn’t cut out for this and his eye might drift back toward his brothers. Can’t let that happen. He was cut out for this—and rather deeply at that, if the blood slithering across his scales was any indication. Diamonds were formed under pressure, Sliver said that first day. Diamonds were cut down to size, cut to perfection. Diamonds were nigh unbreakable.
It was only with antigravity to serve as a boost a crutch that he gradually made it back to his feet, swaying, shaking from head to toe, but upright nonetheless. He could barely make out Sliver’s nod of…presumably approval through the spots in his vision.
“Now…prove to me you are still strong enough to endure alone against unfair advantages.”
A swift kick to his ribs sent him right back down into the field of glass, his whip deftly snatched from his side as he fell. Not again, not again! He’d propelled the air from his lungs with that kick; he didn’t have time to properly school his breathing before his world was constrained to the fifteen inches of a noose.
No panic, no fear, no panic, no fear, no air—
He scrabbled for purchase across the floor, thicker fragments of glass biting through his gloves, but cranking up the G force on his own body made it harder for Sliver to drag him.
“Good. Your fear does not reduce you to complete mindlessness now. But suppose your enemy were to have an element of surprise?”
Element?
Shell.
The instant the Utromidium came within range, his increased G forces were stripped. All extra resistance in the line went slack and he went sprawling. He couldn’t have drawn a full breath even with his throat free; nausea clogged him. If he thought everything was spinning before, it was pirouetting now but he couldn’t pinpoint the green glow. Where—? Sliver could have stashed the Utromidium in any one of the numerous antique pots or vases nearby. With one scrounged burst of adrenaline, he flung a foot out at the nearest vase, rolling it over, but there wasn’t enough power behind the blow to break it open.
“Property damage? Is that what your critical thinking has been reduced to? Perhaps I spoke too soon about your state of mindlessness. Surely I raised you to be more observant than that.”
He wasn’t observing much of anything anymore; the world was graying out at the seams. Not now, not like this! He just had to get through a little more, dig a little deeper, a little further. One day at a time.
This day felt like it would never end. Maybe it never would. At this rate it would blend into the next, then the next, the next, the next, wringing him like a wet rag until he had nothing left to squeeze out but fear. No power, no control, no voice.
No more. He just had to make it stop. End your own suffering as quickly and painlessly as possible.
“C—hgh—C’mputer—f-freeze progr’m—”
There was no way Shellitron 99 would register his gurgling as a clear command; even if it had, the whip drew taut to cut him off.
“You should know better by now than to speak out of turn,” Sliver growled. “That is not a tactical retreat; that is a coward’s way out. Your lesson concludes when I say it is over. Now fight back! Where is your willpower, your determination?”
Bleeding out of him in dazzling, dizzying streaks of red. He’d always liked red.
“I expect more of you than to take this lying down!”
What else could he do?
Without power, control or a team there to be strong for, what else could he do but fall back on the basics? Slump bonelessly and trust the ground to catch him as it always had, always would. That’s where he was meant to be. That’s where he would stay.
Staying down was for the defeated, the weak, the heartbroken and humiliated. The failure.
That cut deeper than anything else. At least he wouldn’t be conscious to feel the sting of it for much longer. At least his brothers weren’t here to see.
I’m sorry…
“Computer, end program!”
The gray world flashed white—white as the flag of surrender, white as his eyes rolling back.
Grid hadn’t gone out of his way to hide his presence as he passed Grav’s quarters; naturally his footsteps were loud and lumbering but even if they weren’t, Grav just had a sixth sense for the moment he was being watched. It helped that said sense had been cranked up to eleven this past month by the cold, calculated, sustained stare of his father; it was constant, penetrating. It felt like he was being watched at any, every moment now. Maybe that was why he still jumped when Grid spoke, even though he was already acutely aware of him.
The tea in his hands sloshed with the movement but it had long since gone too cold to sting. He watched it spill down his cupped hands to spatter his lap and…found he couldn’t really muster the will to care.
That numbness should frighten him. But after Shelle and Blob’s near misses and the “debriefing” his father put him through for it, the well of fear situated in the pit of his stomach must have run dry.
If only for tonight.
“I don’t get it,” Grid repeated, a terse, more obviously attention-grabbing tone. When Grav appeased him by looking over, he surprisingly faltered. Whatever Grid must see in his face, it wasn’t good, but regardless he rallied himself and went on. “I-I did most of the talkin’ before but you said you wanted to clear things up so…clear ’em up. You know I wanna be in the advanced classes. You didn’t let me. Armorgga and I have tussled before; you know I can take whatever he dishes out. You didn’t let me. Traffic duty of all things? Really? Then we get home and you tell Sliver you got complete faith in me. So which is it? Do you trust me to handle myself or don’t ya?”
Breathe in. Breathe out. It hitched into a cough, one Grav chased back down his throat with a quick gulp of unpleasantly cold tea. In. Out. Choose your words very carefully now. “Of course I trust you,” he rasped. “I know you probably could have handled him. But just because you’re strong enough to take it doesn’t mean you should have to or that I want to watch it happen.”
“Right back at ya.” The tea sloshed again and Grid pulled a face at his obvious surprise. “Y’think I wanted to leave you there to face a trigger-happy two-ton on your own?”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Why, cause I ‘let you protect me’? What was that about? Sounded like you’d been holdin’ that one in for a while.”
“I just…Being a leader requires foresight, wisdom.” How bitter his father’s words tasted. “Even when I’m confident in the team’s strength and capability, it’s also my job to anticipate whatever could go wrong and make sure it doesn’t—or if it does, make sure it impacts as few of us as possible. Just me, preferably.”
“That’s stupid. It’s not just you. Whatever happens to you affects us too.”
“But not nearly as bad as it could be if it were you directly. Your wellbeing has to be my first priority, always. But even if I wasn’t leader, it would be anyway; it always has been, because I’m your brother. I can’t…”
He was wrong. There was still some frigid fear left at the bottom of the barrel to leak free into his veins.
“If something happened to you, any of you, that you couldn’t walk away from…” Can’t walk away from your father, your home, everything you’ve known. Where would you even go? Who could you turn to? “…I don’t know what I’d do. That’s why I’m the one in the advanced classes, Grid. I have to do everything in my power to protect you. From anyone. I have to be the first line of defense—before you, not above you.” Frustration and shame crawled over him like a second skin. “And apparently I can’t even do that right. If you honestly think I could ever assume you’re beneath me, you obviously don’t trust me anymore. Shell, after I couldn’t protect the others, maybe you’re right not to.”
“What d’you mean, you couldn’t…? You got Shelle, you pulled K’nign off him. You stopped Blob gettin’ smeared by that mortar.”
“They’re still hurt.”
“But not nearly as bad as it could’ve been,” Grid deftly shot his own words back at him. “I wouldn’t’ve yelled at you to catch Shelle if I didn’t think you could. Trusted ya to do that much, didn’t I? We’re gonna get hurt, Grav, it’s part of the job.”
“No more than strictly necessary, if I can help it.”
“What does that even mean? How much is ‘necessary’?”
However much it takes for him to be satisfied or bored or…“I don’t know. Sorry.” His voice cracked yet again. “That doesn’t even make sense, does it? Never mind. Long day, I’m tired.”
An obvious out if Grid had ever heard one but he still didn’t move. Instead he gave Grav a long look that made his skin crawl.
“…What?”
“D’you even get why I wanna join the advanced classes?” He didn’t wait for an affirmation. “Cause you’re tired. You’ve been tired. You think that ain’t affecting us? Judgin’ by your voice, you’re makin’ yourself sick tryin’ to be the front line for the team or whatever but what about you? What if I wanna help? What if I wanna protect you?”
Stupid throat tightening. Stupid shaky hands rattling the saucer, speaking too many volumes. You are not allowed to be vulnerable.
“I…appreciate the sentiment, really. But you shouldn’t have to.”
“Sentiment.” Grid dragged a hand down his face to muffle a sigh that was equal parts exasperated and exhausted. “That’s what you—Okay. You’re a double-standards dumbbell, y’know that?”
