That's where the sea
by Ang Griffen
January 6, 2005
Disclaimers: DC's, sucka.
Spoilers: None. Set a year or two before Hank and Don got their powers.
Note: I blame Caia, who encourages these things. Title from Moxy Fruvous's, "Gulf War Song."
One day, something horrible is going to happen to Don.
It's not bad yet. Not really. Just some guys at school, seniors, who started this shit at the beginning of the year. Back then it was ordinary freshman hazing, and Don came home with a few more bruises than Hank had the year before, but it was just boys being boys.
Except Don had to go and run his stupid mouth, and now, three months later, it's worse. Because at first it was just that senior-freshman bullshit; just pranks and pushing, and Don must have said something about how "ultimately futile the oppression of others" was, and something about the "cycle of violence" and whatever other stupid political beliefs in Don's big, theoretical brain were applicable to the situation. In any case, it's worse, because Hank's decked Tommy Krizan twice in as many weeks to stop him from slamming Don's face into a locker.
And stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking idealistic Don—Don, who wouldn't stop talking with that smug, superior look he gets in his eyes, even when he had a split lip—turned around and yelled at Hank for hitting the guy!
Hank just grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hall, around the corner. "So what? I was just supposed to stand there and watch him beat the shit out of you?"
"I had everything under control, Hank," Don snapped, yanking his arm out of Hank's grip.
"Right. I know when I'm in control of a situation, my face is getting slammed into a wall," Hank said.
"Look, I know you thought it was what you had to do, but-"
"But what? You were going to talk Tommy into playing nice?"
"It's better than punching him!" Don protested.
Hank looked at his brother then: Don was wide-eyed and earnest, last week's black eye mostly faded, drying blood at the corner of his mouth, and how was this better?
Don thinks he can change the world by thinking hard enough at it, and he's tough. Not as tough as Hank, but pretty close, especially for a skinny brain. Tough enough that he can take this, but no one can take everything. And Don's big words and high-minded morality doesn't help anything.
One day it isn't going to be a fist, or a wall, or a kick to the shin. One day, it's going to be something Don can't just suck up, but he'll try; he won't even think to fight back.
Right now, Don's in the living room, holding a bag of frozen peas to his lip, a stack of books for his history project piled up on the coffee table, and that should be enough, but one day—
One day, Hank might not be there.
