Amidst the chaos, it was easy for Mason and Rube to vanish without a trace. Sure, leaving the scene of a crime was a crime in itself, but neither of the Reapers could risk being put into files or being remembered. They were around crime scenes constantly, so if they were questioned at a second one, suspicion may start to form around them – because being witness to a murder was unlucky. Being witness to two murders, at two separate times was just uncanny.
Three was pushing it, and Rube had been witness to a lot of murders.
Now, Rube didn't like liabilities, and being tailed by cops would be a huge fucking liability. So they booted it, got away as fast as they could and didn't look back, though part of Mason's brain was still in that room, sitting on the little plastic chair, waiting patiently to say what it had to say.
At least it would have the pleasant company of Trevor Hatchman's brain, though it was decidedly in even worse condition than Mason's was, sprayed everywhere from floor, to wall, to ceiling. It was just another of a hundred images burned permanently into his brain; poor Trevor Hatchman running to his brother's side, the bullet bursting from the back of his head, bringing a shower of blood, gore, and auburn hair with it. Trevor Hatchman hitting the floor by his feet and Drew Reid, without a face, landing beside him seconds later, his wire-rimmed glasses lop-sided and shattering when they hit the floor.
Amazing how his memory didn't work until he didn't want it to. That visual would be there for eternity, festering, haunting his dreams until he had to drink a little more so he wouldn't have to remember it.
"I'm going to hurt you, Ruby," Mason said, running alongside the bigger man, trying not to listen to the distant sound of sirens. "I'm going to hurt you very badly."
The sirens were just getting further and further.
"I'm going to fucking hurt you for putting me on the spot like that." Mason continued, his words fuelled by adrenaline, panic, humiliation, utter rage, and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Whatever it was, it was clear he wasn't thinking straight, wasn't considering that Rube could break him over his knee like he was a twig, snap him with those two big, graceful paws of his and – goddamn it, what was his obsession with Rube's hands all of a sudden?
They both began to slow; stopping by the corner of some brick warehouse, and Mason could have cursed when he saw the sky was beginning to darken like it was mirroring their moods.
"Go ahead." Rube said, his breathing a little heavier than normal, but only barely. Mason couldn't have been more winded than he was right then, but he still had the energy to look surprised by what Rube had said.
"'Go ahead' what?" Mason asked.
"You saw those men in there, Mason," Rube said, "Guys who are fighting to keep their families, their friends, their lives. They binge on alcohol thinking it will make them feel better and for a minute it does, and then when it wears off, their lives are worse than they were before. You saw that. You were even ready to say something back there, maybe help yourself a little."
Thunder cracked overhead, and Mason jumped a little.
"You saw the darkness those guys had hanging over them, the guilt, the self-loathing, the anger that they just couldn't let out. And you felt just like them, didn't you?"
Rain was beginning to dampen Rube's hair against his forehead now, and Mason realized Rube had let it grow out more than usual.
"And you didn't know how to handle it. So you're angry. You feel mean and vicious and you want to direct it at something, someone, so go ahead." Rube said, gesturing with his hands up, palms out, "Hurt me. See if you feel better."
Mason couldn't seem to make his voice work, and with Rube looking at him like that, he felt the burning anger flicker and die away. Left in its place was – nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"I don't pick where our reaps take place." Rube said flatly, lowering his hands now, watching Mason. "I didn't choose for us to go there today."
A pause,
"But if you want to keep giving up like that, all you'll ever be is a fuck-up."
And then there it was again, the rage flaring up red hot and searing into Mason in a way so strong he couldn't even remember ever feeling anything like it before. It was so sudden, so all-encompassing that even if Mason had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to control what he did next; it was like something had just snapped.
"Stop calling me a fuck-up!" Mason roared, and charged head-first into Rube, grabbing him around the waist and knocking him back onto the pavement, the rain beginning to pour down onto them, spattering over their shirts, leaving patterns across the clothing, darkening the colours.
"Can't take the truth, Mason?" Rube snarled back, and Mason managed to elbow him in the chest, "You're a fuck-up; you screw things up for yourself every time!"
"I am not a fuck-up, you wanker!"
Rube's biceps clenched and suddenly Mason was on his back with Rube looming over him,
"Drew Reid had a few before he came to the session today," Rube growled, and Mason was struggling to free his arms, but Rube had pinned them onto the ground above his head. "He was out of control; he was looking for a way out,"
"Let go of me!"
"He was angry, probably angrier than you've ever been in your entire life, angrier than I've ever been."
"Get off of me, you fucking –"
"He didn't know how to get it off his chest, he didn't know how to handle it, and he didn't know how to stop his blood from boiling under his skin, so he directed it at someone in a way that was more permanent."
"Stop – just – don't – Jesus –"
"And you know what? The moment he pulled that trigger, he became the biggest fuck-up in the world."
"Why are –"
"Anger, Mason! Anger! That's all it was, because he didn't understand, he didn't fucking know there were people who wanted to help him, people who gave a damn about him! He didn't know how to let it go, so yell, scream, shout, swear at me, hit me if you have to, but for fuck's sake, stop keeping it in and pretending it's all right, stop thinking that it's brave to hide it! Confront yourself!"
Mason's expression went blank, and he stared at Rube with wide eyes, and Rube stared back, and it was a strange and frozen tableau, the rain hit them more steadily, running off Rube's jaw, tracing his features.
And then Mason brought his knee up, hitting Rube square in the stomach, knocking the bigger man back, and then they both just lay there, side by side, staring up at the sky and panting.
After a long silence, Mason wheezed:
"You piss me off."
"Good, you piss me off, too." Rube said flatly, blinking rain out of his eyes, "Are you ready to talk now?"
"I want to fucking hate you for doing this."
"That's a start."
"But no matter how hard I try, I can't. You're like that Rube, you know, you piss everyone off because you're too cold." Mason said, his words coming out all at once, rushing like each word was fighting to get into the air first, "But then you do things, you buy them a warm cookie, or you – or you put an arm around them when they're weepy, or you put out your hand when they're so off-balance and down-trodden and fucking pathetic. You're like a wall one moment, emotionless, cynical, bitter, and the next –"
A pause,
"-well, the next moment, you're something else."
Another, this one longer.
"I was already high when I died, you know," Mason said, settling further into the puddle that was appearing around them as the rain came down harder, "Made sense when I was doing it, putting a drill into my head. One of the guys I knew, he suggested it, said it was supposed to give you a high like no other."
"It's called 'trepanning'," Rube filled in, "Old malpractice – puts extra oxygen in the brain, and excess oxygen can put you in a state of euphoria."
"Whatever it was, I did it wrong."
"What were you trying to get away from?" Rube asked, and Mason considered this for a moment before he spoke.
"Life." He said finally, "I did a good job of it, eh?"
Rube couldn't say 'no' to that, but he didn't have the heart to say 'yes' either.
"We look pathetic, don't we?" Mason asked, staring up at the ugly grey clouds crowding into the sky.
"Yes, we probably do."