A/N: I haven't finished the game (Second Son, that is) but the brother relationship really got to me and I wanted Delsin to face more consequences for being a cocky little shit (I say with utmost affection) and Reggie to have to really confront the possibility of losing him. Also whump. As usual. so.
He isn't breathing.
The realisation hits like a bullet thumping beneath Reggie's ribs, striking something fragile that shatters into pieces and forms a sudden void that sucks the air from his own lungs.
Bodies. Wreckage. Ruin. And among it all Delsin. Little Brother. Epicentre of the blast, surge of power too much for even his body to handle.
Lying motionless. Face slack, chest still. No response to Reggie's cries; to his trembling, pleading hands.
A trickle of blood seeps slowly from Delsin's nose. Or perhaps it isn't flowing at all.
Reggie finds himself thinking of a fuse, of the lightning storm that took out power on the reservation a few years back. It doesn't matter if a material is a conductor. Force too much power through it too quickly, it melts down.
Ignoring the sting in his knees from the concrete (concrete, of course it's fucking concrete) Reggie kneels closer beside his brother and tilts back his head. Fingers press in search of a pulse, push, dig hard enough that Delsin's throat should bruise, and find no answering throb from an artery promising Delsin's heart still fights.
He's wasted too much time already. Reggie laces his fingers over Delsin's breastbone and pushes.
One, two, three…
He's four years old again, a tiny baby being placed in his arms.
Five, six, seven…
Eight years old, bandaging a skinned knee.
Nine, ten, eleven...
Most of his life the protector, the responsible one, making exceptions, making excuses for his loose cannon of a kid brother…
Then Delsin got powers. The cannon backfired.
And Reggie is powerless.
Sixteen years old, a hand on Delsin's shoulder at a funeral.
Twenty-two years old, in the audience of a high school graduation he almost thought wouldn't happen.
Twenty-eight years old, holding a shaking, panicking Delsin in his arms.
Thirty.
Breathe for him. Once. Twice.
Back on his chest.
There are sirens in the distance. Not so distant. Smoke in the air. His eyes are stinging.
Reggie ignores it all.
One, two… He counts another cycle. Breathes. And still nothing.
He's never given up on Delsin in his life, not even for a moment. He isn't about to start now.
Seventeen, eighteen...
How many minutes can he do this for? Delsin needs medical attention, but any ambulance that arrives will sooner take him to a DUP holding facility than a hospital.
Reggie will die himself before he lets that happen.
Twenty-nine, thirty…
Start again. He tastes Delsin's blood on his tongue.
Just keep counting.
Nine, ten…
The sirens are getting closer. Reggie is readying himself to fight them all off with only his sidearm if he has to, when the impossible happens.
Delsin breathes.
The inhale is deep and desperate, the heavy gasp of a drowning man surfacing, and then he blinks, glazed eyes coming to focus on his brother's face.
"What are you looking at me like that for? I heal from bullets now, remember?"
Reggie stares at him. "Your heart stopped, Delsin." His voice sounds like a stranger's.
Confusion passes over Delsin's face, cockiness melting into abrupt sobriety. "What?"
"Your heart stopped." Reggie can't take it anymore. He throws his arms around Delsin's shoulders and crushes him tight to his chest.
Dazed, Delsin blinks again, brain catching up with his ears as he processes the words. He feels Reggie's heart thudding against his ribs with fear relinquishing itself to relief, and his own hammers in reply.
Delsin hugs him back.