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esmeinlove · 7 months

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I have another idea I can’t stop thinking about

Carlisle and Esme are both human, married and in love (obs). After 4 years of trying for a baby they fall pregnant and are so desperately overjoyed. But 2 weeks later Carlisle ends up being attacked on the way home from work. He stops to assist a broken down car. However when he approaches approached the car he disturbs a vampire who was feeding on the driver. Carlisle tries to run but is bitten waking up three days later alone and thirsty….

All he can think about is Esme and his thirst. The two go hand in hand. He wants to get back to her but every time he moves closer to civilisation he wants to feed on human blood, so he retreats back into the forest, disgusted with himself. He was a doctor in his previous life, wanting to help people and how he was the opposite.

Esme is obviously beside herself. She is frantically looking for him. A search party, posters, missing people charities contacted, but nothing. No trace. How can this happen to her? They were so happy after such a hard time in their lives. She whispers to her baby every night that she will never give up looking for him.

Carlisle works with his thirst, desperate to get back to Esme - finds he can survive on animal blood. Finally, just as Esme is reaching the end of her pregnancy Carlisle is able to reach the woods that border his old house. He can smell her. Oh, how wonderful she smells. It’s overpowering and draws him in closer, he finally sees her through the kitchen window washing the dishes. He moves closer, it’s dark, she can’t see out to the dark grass. She dries her hands and walks across the kitchen past the glass doors. Carlisle sees her. He drops to her knees and sobs. The swell of her pregnant belly is too much for him, the way she touches her rounded stomach and talks to the baby. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it was taken away from him.

He can hear two heartbeats. He can sense the extra blood, his lips begin to pull back across his sharp teeth. The growl pulls him back and he runs away. He despises himself. He wanted to bite her, consume her, drink her blood.

He now visits every night, sitting in the trees far enough away so he’s of no danger. He watches over her and his baby that is safe inside her body.

One night, after hunting, he goes back and she’s not there. He panics. He can smell amniotic fluid. The baby, she must be in labour.

He follows the scent as best he could and heads for the hospital, but it’s too much. He can’t get closer. The bloodlust. The fear someone would see him. So he goes back to their old house, to the safety of the woods. After a day - he’s curious. Is the key still under the chicken flowerpot by the front door… it is… he lets himself in.

He consumes her scent. He wraps himself in her blankets, her clothes, their bed. His heart aches greater than it ever has before. Nothing has changed. His belongings are still in the house, his running shoes were still by the front door. Like she was expecting him to come back. His throat burns but he could put that aside for her.

For them.

She returns 5 days later. He retreats to the forest. She is alone. She’s quiet, her eyes are hollow sat upon dark circles. Her skin pale. The life and love deserted her. She’s forlorn. Her shoulders are slumped, she shuffles her feet, looking at the ground. Esme’s good friend brings her in and settles her into bed… they hardly say anything to each other. Esme can’t make eye contact. She sobs quietly into her pillow.

Carlisle hurts for her. What happened? The fire in his throat is present he can smell her bleeding from down below, and its like a hot iron piercing through his soul. It would have consumed him and made him tear into the house if he wasn’t so concerned for her.

Carlisle wonders where is the baby? What has happened, what has gone so wrong? Esme’s friend goes downstairs and makes a call to her husband. Carlisle can hear every word as he’s so close to the house now. Esme’s sobs are pulling him apart. He wants to comfort her and he’s so close but he needs to her what her friend says on the phone.

‘I’m back at Esme’s. I’ve just tucked her in bed’

‘Oh babe, poor girl. How is she?’ A male voice came from the small phone.

‘She’s bad’ a pause. ‘I can’t believe this happened. It’s just so tragic. First Carlisle, now their precious baby boy. She doesn’t deserve this’

Carlisle felt as though the world had shattered around him. He had a son. But what had happened? He couldn’t stay away any longer. Esme needed him.

He climbs in through their bedroom window. She barely lifts her head to acknowledge him. Her face is tear stained and eyes are blank. She catatonic. He has to hold his breath but pushes the fire down. Her emotional needs were far greater than the pain in his throat. He calls softly to her. She doesn’t register.

He sits on the edge of the bed. His cold hand reaches out to take her hand. He has to loosen her fingers that are gripping the sheets tightly.

‘Esme’ he tried again.

She slowly turns her face to his and whispers ‘You’ve come back’

‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry, my love’ he watched the silent tears roll down her face as he spoke.

‘Take good care of him’ Esme was so far into grief, she assumes Carlisle has come from the afterlife to comfort her. She doesn’t realise he’s with her, that he’s really there. He sat with her until he heard the friend come back up the stairs.

He goes to hunt - to quench the fire that burns his soul. The grief of losing a son, Esme’s grief fuelling his body to run further to smash through trees to be careless. After he drained his third bear he fell into the fur and cried. Tearless sobs echoed across the valley as the rain poured down.

He went back 2 days later. She was gone. The police were there. He heard that she had left in the middle of the night. Carlisle closed his eyes and followed her scent. The rain dampened it but with her fresh bleeding after birth he could track her through the woods. He ran as if his life depended on it.

He finds her at the edge of a cliff, that overlooked the valley in the forest. A favourite picnic spot of theirs from happier times. Her hair whipping around her face blowing her scent into the wind. She stepped closer to the edge… turned around, looked at him in the eyes as he shouted

‘Esme!’ His arms reaching out for her, his fingertips stretching to their limits.

He heard her whisper as she fell backwards over the edge ‘I’m coming Carlisle’. He watched her fall and then he jumped.

He heard the impact of her soft body hitting the ground and she didn’t scream. He landed next to her. Scooping her up screaming ‘no, no, no’ thoughts screaming round his head - what could he do. Her breathing was uneven, her heart was fading, she was so close to death. He needed to save her.

His fingers held her broken body close to his, his face buried in her hair, close to the skin of her neck. He could feel the flutter of her pulse. His teeth were so close to her skin. He thought of the crescent moon scars that were on his neck… on his wrists as he leant into her.

Following some unknown instinct he bite into her skin, her blood filling his mouth. He groaned as he stopped himself from swallowing the delicious blood that spilled from her body. He bit again on the other side, her wrists and her chest near her heart. He held her close as she screamed for three days. Trying desperately to muffle the sounds of her pain. Burying themselves deeper into a nearby crack in the cliff.

He hated himself for putting her through it. He couldn’t bear to continue to cause her pain, but when her visible injuries began to heal and her heart stopped beating he knew it had worked. He continued to hold her as her red eyes flicked open and fell upon his.

‘Carlisle?’ She whispered. ‘Heaven’

‘My love. I’m here’

#esme cullen #carlisle cullen #carlesme #twilight #carlisle x esme #fanfiction #the cullens #I really need to complete my dissertation but yet here I am hashing out a plot to a fanfic #this will have to do for now

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fruit-teeth · 1 year

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Chronicles of Love and War (chapter 25)

Guilt is a cruel emotion. It was one that Merasmus did not know he was still capable of feeling – why, why did he feel guilty? He didn’t want it to be there, he hated that it was there. He hated the parts of him that were still vulnerable, still weak. Nothing made him feel worse than acknowledging those parts of his psyche.

As he stared down the group of mortals before him (was Helen considered a mortal? Oh, well), he tried to suppress the guilt in him. There was no reason to feel it – they were not friends. Despite the fact that he had been aiding them, he did not view them as friends—or, at the very least, he did not allow himself to think of them as such. In any case, feeling guilty for concealing vital information from them was ludicrous. Wasn’t it?

“So…let me get this straight,” Miss Pauling pressed her hands to her temple. “You’re telling me…your six-year-old daughter, Lucy, is part of a demonic entity? The same entity that our enemies wanted to summon in order to kill us? And you didn’t feel the need to tell us that!?”

“It’s a long, complicated story,” Merasmus countered, voice low.

“We have time!” Spy urged, although in truth, they really didn’t. God only knew how long it would take Bea to try to attack the base after she had left with the address on her.

“Tell us what happened!” Helen snapped in agreement. “You owe us that, at least!”

Merasmus looked back up, snarling, “Fine! Fine, you want the truth?”

“Yes, very much!” Medic nodded, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

Merasmus tapped her foot against the floor, and after a moment, she took a long breath. “It’s not going to make much sense to you, but…I will try: it was six years ago, right here in this very town…”

The memory of that day still felt recent. Merasmus was in his study, looking over a new spellbook that he rarely used when he heard a frantic knock on his door.

He grunted in frustration, looking up from the book. “Who is it?”

A woman’s voice shouted back in reply, “Merasmus, we need your help! It’s urgent!”

Merasmus’ brow furrowed. He knew that voice anywhere. “Cynthia?”

Upon answering the door, Merasmus was met with the sight of Cynthia, a witch he knew, pacing anxiously. Cynthia halted when she spotted Merasmus, running right up to him. “Please, come with me! Something very terrible has happened!”

Merasmus wrinkled his nose. “What? What has brought you to my door at this hour? Don’t you see I’m very busy? If you need me to help you with a spell gone awry or some such thing, you’ll need to pay me fi–”

Right at that moment, a horrible shrieking sound rang out from several yards away. Merasmus froze, blood instantly running cold.

“...what was that?” she asked, looking to Cynthia for an explanation.

Cynthia swallowed, her sweaty hand gripping Merasmus’s. “The Corrupt is here…someone in town summoned it! Some of the other witches and I managed to halt its destruction, but we have to open the portal and send it back! We can’t do it alone!”

Another shriek filled the air, rattling the ground. Merasmus pinched the bridge of his nose, but he sighed. “All right…show me where it is!”

Cynthia led Merasmus to a clearing deep in the woods. There, about six other witches stood in a circle, and in the center of the circle, a hideous creature lay, tied up. A thick, sludge-like substance enveloped the monster entirely, and the tips of each finger were long, black claws. It howled like a distressed dog, white eyes glowing eerily in the night. Only a rope held it by its wrists and ankles while it writhed in the dirt.

“Where’s the rest of it?” Merasmus asked, looking around for the rest of The Corrupt. “This creature is so puny, surely this can’t be the only one!”

“We’re using this one as bait to lure the Kingpin!” Raven Backwoods, sleep therapist and experienced witch, explained. “The Kingpin never leaves a Corrupted One behind, it’ll stop whatever its doing to get it back!”

Right as Raven spoke, another ungodly shriek filled the air. The ground shook, and a pair of huge, red eyes glowed through the trees.

“It’s here!” A witch with half their hair balding exclaimed. “Quick, make the portal!”

Merasmus jumped into action, recalling everything she'd learned about apprehending The Corrupt. “Someone hand me some gold!”

Cynthia dug into her bag and handed Merasmus a hunk of gold. All of a sudden, the Kingpin burst forth, sending a wave of blazing hot energy with it.

The witches shrieked in terror, but Meramsus held his ground. He looked up at the Kingpin, which now loomed over him like an eagle about to strike prey. It was much bigger than he’d thought, but he did not back down.

“Back!” Merasmus exclaimed. He raised its staff and shot a burst of energy at it, causing the beast to rear back in rage. More Corrupted Ones sprang from beneath the Kingpin's wings, charging at the witches. A few of the Corrupt chewed on the ropes holding the captured one, freeing it.

Merasmus grabbed hold of the gold again as the witches battled the Corrupted Ones around her. She stood up tall and held up the gold, announcing, “Look what I have!”

The Corrupted Ones stopped their attacks and eyed the gold, shrieking in glee. They moved towards it, their movements cheap imitations of human beings.

Suddenly, The Kingpin roared again. It knocked Merasmus into the grass, sending the gold flying. As Merasmus sat up, a sweltering blast of air rushed over him, and he realized that the Kingpin itself was hovering just over him. It stared down at him, its eyes red like flames and its hot, sticky breath gusting over him in waves.

Cynthia pried a Corrupted One away from her, only to gasp when she saw the Kingpin looming over Merasmus. “Merasmus! What are you doing!? Get away from it!”

Merasmus was not afraid of being killed – death meant little to him, after all. However…there was something else, something extremely unnerving behind The Kingpin’s eyes.

“Get away!” Cynthia screamed again, getting to her feet and rushing towards Merasmus. However, Merasmus simply held her staff up and touched it just between the Kingpin’s horns.

In her thoughts, she heard a distressed duck squeaking, a furious adult man shouting from behind a closed bedroom door, something shining gold in a box, newborns writhing and wailing within wrapped up cloths, blood on bedsheets, and a single black thorn. All of it, every single image, was tainted with a strong sensation of rage. Mortal rage, in particular, which could only fester after death, after being silenced in life.

When Merasmus came back to himself, he was still staring directly into the eyes of the Kingpin.

“You were mortal once,” Merasmus said finally. He looked into the Kingpin's eyes despite the light and spotted the silhouette of a person somewhere deep within the demonic thing.

“What are you doing!?” Cynthia exclaimed, trying to pull Merasmus away.

Merasmus just shook her hands away. “There’s a mortal woman trapped in there! If we can pull her out, we might weaken the Corrupt’s power!”

The Kingpin suddenly shrieked in outrage. It reared back up, opened its mouth, and without warning, shot out a large black thorn like a bullet.

The thorn went straight into Merasmus’ chest before he had time to dodge it. Panicked, he stumbled backward and tried to dig it out with his fingers, but it was no use. His sight quickly turned pitch dark as the thorn seemed to burrow itself far into the center of his chest.

Merasmus could hear another woman's voice speaking to him as the witches' shouts and yells faded. She sounded quiet but with venom in her tone.

“I hope you will not resent me,” the woman said. “But I had to stop you before you became a nuisance. I must say, you’re quite observant…makes sense, you’re a wizard…you will make a fine addition to The Corrupt, won’t you?”

Merasmus strained to maintain his consciousness, fighting the darkness that was consuming him. He soon noticed all of The Corrupt encircling him, and their former mortal selves gleamed vividly in front of him.

Then, it all went pitch black.

The next time Merasmus awoke, she was tied to a tree in the woods. She blinked a few times, looking around frantically as she realized where she was. Not only was she bound to the tree by her wrists, but her clothes had been ripped right down the middle. On her chest, where the thorn had been buried, now sat a large scar.

Before she could try and understand how much time had passed, she could hear footsteps approaching. Cynthia walked towards her, a distressed expression on her aging features.

Trying to break the ropes but failing since they seemed to be infused with magic, Merasmus yelled, “What happened!? Why am I tied up!?”

“The Kingpin corrupted you,” Cynthia explained, halting at Merasmus’ feet. She knelt down and loosened the ropes, saying, "The other witches and I, we performed an unheard-of feat and managed to un-corrupt you."

Merasmus shook away the ropes and rubbed his wrists, struggling to stand. “I…I did not know the Corrupted Ones were…not previously demons. That’s what all the texts seem to suggest,”

“Well, the texts aren’t always correct,” Cynthia sighed, looking away.

“Did you send it back?” Merasmus wanted to know, approaching Cynthia.

Cynthia struggled with how to answer for a moment. “Not exactly…” she looked back at him, biting her lip. "You see...The only way we could find out how to extract the thorn from you was to create a separate being from your body that would carry the thorn instead..."

“Another being?” Merasmus repeated, taking this in. He stepped away from Cynthia, shock spreading through him. “You…cloned me?”

“It was a gamble, but it worked!” Cynthia assured him. “You’re no longer part of The Corrupt, but…the clone is, so…we must send it back through the portal with the rest of The Corrupt. We managed to seal it in a cave, but it won’t be held for long. We need your help sending it back.”

Merasmus nodded numbly, following Cynthia up the trail nearby. The whole time, he wondered what this clone even could look like. He’d heard of magical clones before, but he had never actually seen one. On top of that, cloning spells were notoriously unpredictable. Because this clone had been compromised by the Corrupt's thorn, he could only imagine it looking like the sludge-covered monster that was seized earlier.

However, upon arrival to the cave’s entrance, Merasmus would be proven wrong. As he approached, he saw Raven standing there, holding something wrapped in a towel in her arms.

Merasmus stopped in his tracks, eyes focusing on the towel. “...what is that?”

Cynthia took Merasmus by the wrist and tried to lead him toward the cave. “Don’t look, just come and make the portal before the Kingpin breaks free!”

Merasmus tugged away from her, walking back towards Raven. Raven tried to hide the bundle, but Merasmus was much taller than her and reached right in to pull the towel back.

Laying in the towel, curled up and asleep, was a tiny newborn baby. The only indication of The Corrupt on them was a mark on their chest, where the Kingpin’s thorn now likely resided. Other than that, they looked like a regular, harmless baby. The child sniffed and yawned, rubbing their eye with their tiny fist.

Merasmus just stood there, staring in awe. Raven looked at the baby, and then back up at Merasmus. “This child was cloned from you,” she explained to him. “But its part of The Corrupt. I’m sorry, but we have to send it through the portal.”

“Why?” Merasmus asked, voice hoarse. It was as though her whole world suddenly shrunk down to the tiny baby.

“You know why,” Cynthia cut in, placing her hand on Merasmus’ arm. "The Kingpin never leaves a Corrupted One behind - if we don't send this baby down with it, The Corrupt will be nearly impossible to send back through its portal!"

“Besides, why would you want a child?” Raven questioned. “I understand this is difficult, but you must understand that this is for the best!”

The baby squirmed in the towel and let out a strained, sad whimper. Merasmus, moved by immense affection, pulled the infant into her arms and embraced it without hesitation.

“Merasmus,” Cynthia grunted through gritted teeth. Inside the cave, the Kingpin could be heard shrieking.

Merasmus offered the child his finger, watching as they grabbed it in their tiny hand. After a long moment, Merasmus finally spoke. “I’ll put together a series of large stasis cocoons. I'll seal The Corrupt into each one with a spell; those cocoons can endure for decades, so I'll just need to recharge them every now and again.”

“What!?” Raven exclaimed, horrified. “You can’t keep that baby, and you certainly can’t keep The Corrupt in stasis cocoons! This child will never be normal, and if they ever use their powers, that could risk breaking the cocoons! All of The Corrupt is connected to the same hivemind, and if you keep one free, you could free them all!”

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you…!” Merasmus trailed off, pressing his eyes shut. “I understand you did this so I would not be corrupted. Which…” he stroked the infant's round face. "I'm grateful; I don't know anyone who would have cared to save me. But…I cannot go through with this. Certainly, I sound pathetic! I sound pathetic, don’t I?”

“No, you don’t,” Cynthia sighed. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way…” she looked back to the cave, and shook her head. “Fine, do the stasis cocoons. Just…keep the child from using any magic until we figure something out!”

Merasmus agreed and The Corrupt became imprisoned in stasis cocoons inside Coldwater Cave's depths. The entire process of this took three days, and after it was all over, he went back home with the infant. He kept his word, keeping little Lucy hidden from the world while not allowing her to use her powers.

However, he’d grown too relaxed. Despite everything, he felt terrible for not letting Lucy play with other children, so when Olivia arrived, he lowered his guard. And now, the price for this was being paid.

Merasmus finished by saying, "If Lucy keeps using her abilities in this manner, it could rupture the stasis cocoons and release The Corrupt. The result of that would be absolutely disastrous for all of us – we would be doing Zelda’s work for her.”

The entire room had gone silent. Nobody had an idea of what to say for a long moment.

Finally, it was Spy who spoke: “...six years? For six years, you’ve been raising this child with the knowledge that she could free those demons at any moment?”

“Yes,” Merasmus replied simply. “But you have to understand– up until now, she seemed…completely normal. She may have dabbled in magic on occasion, but nothing significant or related to her Corrupt traits. She’s always yearned to practice magic, like me, but I always told her–”

Helen suddenly jumped up from her chair, fists clenched. “I cannot believe this! I cannot believe you would let her around my daughter, knowing full well what she was capable of!”

“Helen!” Miss Pauling tugged on her sleeve, wincing. “Hey, sit down! And be quiet, the kids are upstairs!”

“Lucy isn’t dangerous!” Merasmus insisted.

“She broke a man’s arm! Right in front of us!” Helen walked towards him, coming to stand just paces away from where he sat. “And you’re saying having her around other children wouldn’t be dangerous!? Honestly – you put the whole world at risk by keeping her!”

“And what would you have done!?” Merasmus asked suddenly, standing up. Being significantly taller, she loomed over Helen. “If it had been you, would you have sent Olivia down into that cave with those monsters? Would you have taken your hours-old child and left her to the demons? Hm?”

Helen’s face twitched, though she did not break her gaze away from Merasmus’. “I already did. I sent my daughter to live with her father right after she was born.”

There was another pause, before Merasmus inquired, “And how do you feel about having done that? Is that something you feel good about?”

“We’re not talking about me,” Helen turned away, stalking back to her chair. She sat down slowly, feeling all the eyes in the room on her. Her eyes focused on her nails, and she finally admitted, “If you want to know…no. I’ve never felt good about…about letting my daughter out of my sight. I regret it, but there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

“Exactly,” Merasmus slowly sat back down. “You understand why I did it, then, don’t you?”

“I do,” Helen confessed, though she didn’t meet his gaze.

Spy reached over after a moment, offering a gentle shoulder touch to Helen. Another pause fell over the room before Medic spoke.

“The Corrupt used to be humans?” Medic rubbed his chin in thought. “Fascinating…”

“I know,” Merasmus sighed, leaning her chin into her hand. “For whatever reason, the authors of those monster books I’ve owned never thought to mention it in any of the texts.”

Medic considered this for a moment, and then asked, “May I borrow some of these texts? I’m very curious to understand what exactly these creatures are, what that ‘Kingpin’ is all about. I’ve meddled in demonic affairs before but this is very different than anything I’ve ever heard about.”

Merasmus gave a half-hearted shrug. “Fine – but I will make copies for you! I am not given you any of my sacred texts…”

Miss Pauling shook her head, standing up. “Okay, okay…we need to prepare just in case Bea or whoever else is on the way to the base!”

“Yes,” Spy sat up taller, nodding. “Should we also do something about our loved ones at the base? It may not be safe for them to be there,”

“I’ll think of something,” Helen sighed, standing back up again and straightening out her blouse. She looked to Merasmus, and added, “And we should keep Lucy somewhere safe as well.”

“Yes,” Merasmus agreed, leaning his chin into his hand, eyes pensive. “But I don’t want to worry her. That could very well make things worse…”

At the base, the radio in Engineer’s bedroom played a country song. Without really thinking about it, he reached over and turned the volume down.

“You didn’t have to turn that down,” Fred mumbled, seated on the edge of the bed as he thumbed through a stack of clothes.

“Oh,” Dell paused, looking back at the radio, but he shrugged. “Eh, its fine. You want me to turn it back up?”

“Nah, its fine,” Fred glanced up, briefly, and then back down at the shirts. “I think only two of these actually fit me. Did they go back and find my normal clothes?”

Dell thought for a moment. “No, I…I don’t think anyone went back to pick up your old stuff. I actually don’t even know where it is.”

“Damn shame,” Fred grunted. “I had that keychain you made for me still in my drawer.”

Dell paused as this sunk in, and he crossed over from his spot by the wall to sit beside his father on the edge of the bed. “You kept that? Really?”

“Sure did,” Fred gave a little laugh. “I mean, c’mon – you drew a lil’ stick figure getting torn up by a robot. Funny as hell for a seven year old to draw!”

The two laughed about it for a moment, and once their laughter had died down, Dell cleared his throat. “Ma was so upset about that, she didn’t like it once bit and I got a whole lecture about violence.”

“I remember,” Fred confirmed. “Your ma, she…she has a funny attitude about those things. I thought maybe it would change once we’d gotten married, but…I guess it never did.”

“Mm…yeah…” Dell looked down at his feet, hands folded on his lap. After a moment, he said, “You should call Ma. She thought you were dead.”

Fred looked back up, surprised. “Oh– you still talk to her?”

Dell’s brow furrowed at that comment. “...yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Fred’s voice faltered, but he just shook his head. “Nevermind, uh…maybe I’ll call her later. It’s been a long day, y’know?”

“I understand,” Dell took a long breath, looking away. After a long pause, Dell spoke up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Came the response.

“Did you…” Dell trailed off, trying to think of how to properly articulate what he was about to say. After a moment, he tried again. “Did you know it was my team you were fighting against?”

“Of course I did,” Fred replied, though he was focusing on the shirts in front of him again rather than looking at Dell.

Dell gave a nod, glancing away, before he looked back. “And…if I had been with them, would you have gone after me, too?”

There was pause, and Fred slowly turned to look at Dell. “Well…” he struggled with how to explain. “I wouldn’t have wanted to, but…if I had to…I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” Dell repeated.

“You ain’t mad, are you?” Fred asked, voice dropping slightly.

“Well…no,” Dell admitted. “I mean, I get bein’ loyal to your team and everything. That makes sense. But…”

Fred leaned in slightly, waiting for him to finish the sentence. “But?”

"I dunno, Pa, it's always felt like you tried really hard to make your team and the job part of our family," Dell finally said.

“That’s because it is!” Fred insisted. “I mean, c’mon, boy, it’s our legacy! You know that,”

“I know!” Dell assured him. “And, don’t get me wrong: I do think of my team as part of my family. I have for years. But…sometimes it feels like work’s all you and I have. It’s the only thing that ever mattered around the house, around us,”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Fred’s brow furrowed at that comment. “I thought you were okay with that.”

“I mean…really, it’s all I’ve ever known,” Dell shrugged. "It was all I ever heard about - the job, the Mann brothers, fighting, everything, ever since I was born. But...it was different for Ma, wasn’t it?"

Fred got quiet for a moment, lips pursed up in thought. Finally, he asked, “Has this been weighin’ on you that much, son?”

“I…yeah? It always has,” Dell went on. “Ever since you and Ma split — probably even before then.”

“…oh.” Fred looked down again. “Yeah. I mean, I can get why…”

A silence passed between the two, before Dell stood up. “I’ll call Ma,” he offered. “But after that, I really think you should talk to her. Right?”

“She ain’t gonna want me back, son,” Fred stated, his voice low again.

“Well…you don’t know that,” Dell sighed. “It would just be nice for us to…talk it out, you know?”

Fred said nothing for a very long moment. Just as Dell stared to turn away, Fred spoke up again, “I need to talk to Bea. That’s more important. Maybe I can get her to calm the hell down and stop…whatever she’s doing.”

“What if you join her?” Dell asked suddenly, turning back to look at Fred.

“Join Bea? With whatever the hell she’s doing?” Fred looked aghast at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t! She went through all of that to get revenge against you and the rest of your gang, which is real troubling. That ain’t how our family rolls, son.”

Dell just nodded, but he added, “Isn’t it? She’s getting back at us because of what happened to her and her teammates, which includes you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah…” Fred rubbed his forehead for a moment, eyes pressing shut. He opened them and looked back at Dell, mumbling, “You should go call your Ma.”

“Okay,” Dell sighed. He watched his father for a moment, before walking over to him and leaning down to give him a hug.

Fred reached up to hug him back, his arms wide and warm, though he said nothing else. Dell pulled away after a moment, stepping out of the room to call his mother.

#WHOAHOAHsghsd its finally done #there was gonna be more but #this will have to do for now #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #my writing #tf2 merasmus #tf2 administrator #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 oc #actually multiple ocs i guess #tf2 engineer #tfc engineer #tf2 olivia mann #i mean shes mentioned so

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