A/N: Hi, everyone. Here's another heartbreaking double drabble for you all, generated nearly directly from the new Thinking chapter.
Many thanks to Pink-Libra-Girl for reviewing the last chapter. :) I'm glad you continue to enjoy my work, despite the fact that my angst switch seems to be stuck in the ON setting. As always, it's amazing to get feedback from you.
Episode: None, not even a specific season.
Rating: K+, for angst, and mentions of death
Warnings: The same
Inspiration: Just a lot of angst left over from Thinking, especially where he's feeling utterly hopeless, and just apathetic towards impending doom. All that emotion bore this, plus a long, taxing week.
Be the reason someone smiles today. :D
Chase's eyes are heavy, pulled down by unfathomable weight and far too old to belong to her younger brother's face. He sits slumped forward, elbows on knees, almost curled into himself, so gratingly different from his usual, picture-perfect, posture. It's a position that Chase's equivalent of screaming.
Bree had been just walking past, but she's struck cold by the expression on his face and position. She frowns.
"Chase, is something up?" Are you okay?
Her brother starts at her words, clearly jarred, which is all wrong. He was supposed to notice her approach three different ways before she said a word.
"Fine," he says absently. Bree snorts; it's the least convincing thing she's heard in a long time.
He notices, and sighs, clenching his hands tighter under his chin. "I was just thinking... If I don't make it, sometime, what would happen to you all." He meets her eyes for the first time, and the depth of those eyes scares her. "You'd take over for me, right, as mission leader? Take care of them for me?"
Unnerved, Bree can only mutter, "Of course," and hurry out of the room before the weight in Chase's eyes can crush her too.