"You call this crap food? I wouldn't even feed this to goddamn pigs!"
The rudy-faced bald man threw his plate of mostly-eaten dinner down onto the restaurant floor.
Riley, along with 99% of the other patrons, winced at the loud crash! but said nothing, not wanting to risk turning the man's ire their way. Even the other waitstaff hovered around, frozen and unsure what to do.
The pretty blonde waitress was trembling, and when she finally spoke up, she sounded nearly in tears.
"Please, sir, there is no reason to be so loud. The kitchen is remaking your"
"It should have been made right the first time, you dumb bitch! What, did that hair dye kill your brain cells? Or did you trade them for that set of ti—"
"Excuse me, miss? Could I please get a refill?" Jason asked, holding up his mostly emptied glass of water. The movement jiggled the ice clubs, clinking them against the sides.
It was like all the air had been sucked out of the restaurant. Everyone, patrons, the loud-mouth jerk, waitstaff, and Riley himself, turning to stare wide-eyed at Jason.
"...Uh, yes. …Of course, sir. Right away!" the waitress stuttered. A brief stop at the workstation for a water pitcher later, she scampered to their table. "Here you go."
Her hands shook as she refilled Jason's glass. It was so bad some water splashed over the rim and over Jason's fingers.
The waitress went white. "Oh, I'm so sor—"
"It's fine, don't worry about it," Jason said, grabbing a napkin to dab his hand.
The waitress' blue eyes stared down at Jason's hand. Riley cringed when he realized that, more specifically, she was staring at the empty spot where Jason's left ring finger should have been.
After a moment, Jason caught her gaze and cocked an amused, questioning eyebrow in her direction.
The waitress —Claire, according to her name tag— blushed. "I, uh, like your tattoo."
Jason grinned, glancing down at the dark markings that peaked out past the end of his rolled-up shirt sleeve. "Thanks. I got it on vacation."
Riley gagged at the nonchalant world choice, giving his brother a wide-eyed, horrified look that was completely ignored. He opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by an annoying familiar irate voice.
"Hey, I wasn't done with you yet!" The bald man yelled at Claire, who flinched at the sound. "Get back here and clean this—"
"My brother and I are also ready to order," Jason said pleasantly, cutting the other man off once more. "Riley, you go first."
"Oh… Right," Riley scrambled for the laminated menu that he'd only briefly glanced over. "I guess the… chicken parm sounds good."
Claire scribbled something down on her notepad with a small nod. She turned to Jason. "And you, sir?"
"..."
"Jason?" Riley spoke up, trying to grab his brother's attention.
Jason had shifted to the side, leaning so he could see past the natural barrier of the booth's seats. And the look on his face put Riley on edge. Jason's mouth was set into a hard, light line. His brows were drawn tight as he glared furiously at —Riley twisted around to see behind him to confirm his suspicion— the loud-mouthed jerk. Except now the man had grown pale, and after another tense moment, he leaned down to start picking up the shattered bits of plate from the floor.
Part of Riley felt relieved this guy was put in his place. A greater part hated when Jason looked like this.
"Jason?" he tried again. 'Please come back.'
This time, his brother heard him.
"I'll have the steak with mushrooms and corn," Jason said, easily slipping back into a relaxed charm. "Go easy on the butter and seasonings, please. And I want that steak as rare as you can legally make. Seriously, just walk the cow past the grill, and it'll be perfect."
Another scribble and Claire collected their menus. She nodded toward Riley's soda. "I'll bring you a refill for that too. Pepsi, right?"
"Uh, right."
As she left, Jason wrinkled his nose. "You shouldn't be drinking that stuff. It's just sugar, water, and chemicals."
Riley shifted, giving his most realistic smile. "Since when have you been such a health nut?"
That just got him a blank stare, effectively killing Riley's own false grin.
Like so much about Jason, his eating habits had changed since they got back from Those Damn Islands. Before, Jason always ate healthy enough to keep his barely-there six-pack, and do his extreme sport of the month. But, like any young guy, Jason had a sweet tooth, and loved his salty snacks. Oh, and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.
Now though…
Now it was fruits and vegetables, all bought from local farmer's markets, or fancy organic stores, mostly eaten raw. Or, if they were cooked, it was only with a small amount of homemade butter and the herbs Jason had started growing from his windowsill garden. Then there was the meat. Chicken, beef, pork… All had to be as fresh as possible. Riley suspected that if he could, Jason would select and butcher the animal himself. There were no more Cheetos or candy bars, and maybe a drink or two on the rare occasion Riley and the others were able to drag him out for a night on the town.
"So, how are things with that girl you were talking about? Roberta, wasn't it?"
Yes, it was. Roberta was the name of the girl Riley had mentioned in passing three months ago.
'A year ago, I would have killed for Jason to show this much interest in my life. So why does it feel like he's keeping tabs on my life for threat assessment?'
"Fine, I guess. She hasn't come into the cafe for a while though," Riley said honestly. "What about you and Liza? When are you two going to move in together? I know you were considering it… a while ago."
Before Those Damn Islands.
Jason blinked. "Oh… I guess you didn't hear. We broke up like a month ago."
Riley's jaw dropped. No, he hadn't heard that! Not from Jason's bi-weekly call, not from the last time he heard from Liza.
"Oh shit. Sorry, bro?"
"Eh, it happens. We grew apart, became different people. We decided to end it so we stopped hurting each other," Jason said, shrugging. Nonchalant. Like this was some brief, meaningless fling instead of the woman Joasn used to claim was the 'love of his life."
"So what are you doing with your time then, if you're not 'busy being in a relationship'?" Riley asked.
It was petty to use the phrase Jason always gave for why they couldn't spend time together, but Riley just wanted to provoke some sort of reaction from his brother. Something that proved Jason still had some emotional investment in the people around him!
Another shrug. "Nothing particularly interesting. I'm still doing some freelance photography work. The Sacramento Zoo was really happy with my work, so they've been sending my contact info and portfolio to other zoos and aquariums."
Riley nodded enthusiastically. That was something good and normal to hear. Jason still liked taking pictures of animals, that hadn't changed. It probably didn't pay as much as taking pictures of rich yuppy weddings, or spoiled little girls' birthday parties. Still, in a gig economy like photography, Jason always took what he could get.
"Aside from that, it's just the norm. I hang out with Ollie some weekends to make sure he's actually doing his coursework, and not spending all his time getting high. I visit Daisy to help with whatever I can at the shop, and I make sure I always have Tuesday evenings free to take Keith to his meetings. I don't go in, obviously, but he says it helps having someone there when it lets out. Plus, Keth likes going on drives along the coast afterward, so we do that sometimes too," Jason said, going through their friends like he was checking off items on a list.
"That's… nice of you," Riley mumbled. Then, for lack of anything better to do, Riley grabbed a roll from the complimentary bread basket, and started pulling small bites off of it.
Those Damn Islands had left scars on all of them, be it mental, emotional, or physical. Familial.
They showed the worst with poor Keith. He never fully explained what happened to him —it seemed only Jason knew fully, and he wasn't talking— but you didn't need to be Albert Einstein to see the way Keith would flinch away from physical contact, and would crumble in on himself whenever a nearby man would raise his voice. Hell, the loud-mouth jerked here would have had Keith shaking in the booth. It killed Riley to see his formerly cocky and fearless pseudo-older brother so afraid and uncertain. At least his 'PTSD' meetings appeared to be helping. Keith was making eye contact with others again.
Then there was Daisy. Daisy had always been tough as nails, that was one of the things Grant liked about her. So she pushed forward, getting into therapy, hitting the pool, doing volunteer work, and had recently opened a self-described junk shop. It was small, with cramped hallways, and crowded walls full of random knickknacks, dusty books, vintage records, and old clocks, music boxes, sewing machines, radios, and even the odd engines. Some Daisy would fix up and sell, tear apart for parts, or turn into bizarre art pieces. Riley liked it though, and was glad she was keeping busy. Busy meant you couldn't spend time agonizing over what happened.
Liza… Riley had thought Liza was doing well. But, considering she hadn't thought to tell about her break up with Jason, maybe she was as much of a mess as Riley tried not to be? If nothing else, her acting career was still chugging along. In fact, her new role as a stalking victim caught in a cat 'n' mouse game with an obsessive ex was getting her a lot of good buzz online. Go figure.
Weirdly enough, Ollie was doing the best out of all of them. In fact, Ollie came back improved! With a newfound interest in organic chemistry, Ollie was now back in college. Fully paid for by his parents, of course. Riley wondered if they'd be so thrilled by their son's new ambitions if they knew it came from a desire to "follow in the cool old dude's footsteps." Riley only knew Dr. Earnhardt as a bloody, whimpering, almost-corpse. But Riley couldn't argue with anything that made Ollie happy, he didn't have the strength.
Grant and Vincent were both dead.
And Jason… He had more physical scars than the rest of them combined. Knife slashes, bullet scars, claw marks, and ones Riley was too afraid to ask about. But more than the scars, his fun-loving, recklessly passionate brother was so different now that sometimes Riley wasn't sure Jason ever truly left the jungle. Maybe he was still there, hunting pirates and killing tigers? And that would mean the thing sitting across from Riley in the booth was… something else.
Last of all was Riley —and wasn't THAT the story of his life— who was left with a bullet scar on his shoulder, leaving him with an arm that he couldn't completely raise, and endless sleepless nights in Mom's house as he tried to pull his life back together.
"It's my job to keep an eye on everyone," Jason said. "Oh, and I got an order for ten of my satchels. They're paying me $750 for them."
"That's great!" The news made Riley so enthusiastic that he could ignore that Jason just called him and their friends a 'job.' "That's your biggest one so far, right?"
One of the… weirder changes in Jason after Those Damn Islands was a newfound desire to create. Before, no art form aside from photography managed to hold his brother's interest for more than a few months worth of lessons. But within a few weeks of being back stateside, Jason started to sketch. First, it was rough images on printer paper that slowly morphed into beautifully elaborate abstract or impressionist watercolor pencil drawings. Water and landscapes —jungle landscapes— mostly, and portraits of people who Riley didn't recognize, but had a sinking suspicion of who they were.
There were also driftwood carvings, lovingly detailed miniatures of animals; tigers, birds, lizards, snakes, and a dozen other things. Jason would go on long, beachside walks at dawn and haul large chunks of driftwood back, then spend the next week whittling away at it.
At first, Riley, Mom, and their friends were amazed by Jason's skill and thrilled he'd found something 'productive' to do with his time. The therapist Mom hired went on and on about the 'therapeutic power of art,' which got him a patronizing smile and nod from an unimpressed Jason.
But then came the leather working.
It started when Jason helped Daisy clear out a storage unit she'd won at auction, and found a few yards of dusty suede leather. Having no use of it, Daisy let Jason take it home, where after a bit of cleaning, he deemed it 'of poor quality but usable.' Three weeks later, one of the old backyard sheds had been cleared out, and turned into Jason's makeshift workshop. Now it was filled to the brim with drawings, carvings, and handcrafted leather wallets, belts, satchels, and handbags. All… creepily well-made too. Riley didn't know where Jason had learned to make them, nor did he ask, but he found the blissful smile on his brother's face as he sliced through the leather to be unnerving.
At Mom's (and Jim's) insistence, Jason rented a stall at the local craft fair/farmer's market with Daisy. He came home at the end of the weekend with almost no products left over, and over $3000 in his pocket. It was an achievement that continued over the next few months, his creations becoming increasingly complex every time, even after Jason moved out of Mom's place.
"Have you considered becoming a full-time artist?" Riley asked. "You could make a website and sell things online. Some people make a lot of money doing that nowadays."
"Maybe," Jason replied. "I like being able to work for myself, and doing things on my own time. But making stuff is how I relax, so I'm not sure I want to turn it into a job. Besides, it's not like I'm hurting for cash."
Another wince.
The time after returning to Bangkok was a blur of buildings and people. First police officers at their station, then doctors and nurses at the hospital, and then finally men in suits at the American Embassy. They'd all been interviewed by both American and Indonesian authorities multiple times. For Riley, there had not been much to describe but a filthy cell, leering privateers, and the pain and fever from the slow-growing infection in his shoulder. Eventually though they were each told to sign a bunch of papers before being handed an envelope, in which was a check with a lot of zeros. Jason was interviewed more than the rest of them combined. Lots of men in suits. Lots of different accents. Lots of envelopes.
Vincent's parents received a check for him too, their son's life and loss reduced to a five-digit number. Mom got one for Grant too, along with an official death certificate. It made her weep with anger and rage that Riley had never imagined possible. She nearly threw it out in protest before Jason convinced her to donate the money to a veteran's charity that Grant always supported.
"I'm thinking of getting a hunting license though," Jason continued, jarring Riley from his thoughts. When gave a confused look, his brother elaborated. "I'm not satisfied with the quality of leather I've been buying. I figure I can hunt a couple of bucks down when the season is right, and tan the hides myself. Maybe I'll even bring Keith with me. He might enjoy it."
Jason's grin when he said that turned Riley's stomach.
"I can use the rest of the deer too. You know, honor the kill. Turn the meat into jerky, sausage, or steaks. The bones can be turned into furniture or art pieces. Maybe even knives."
Knives…
'Jason liked his knives these days. Daisy mentioned he'd spent three hours picking out a set of kitchen knives after moving into his new apartment. I guess he likes hunting now too.'
"Maybe you should get a real job, Jason," Riley said without really meaning to. "It might help you get back to normal."
The word 'normal' was cruel to even Riley's ears. He started to apologize, only for Jason to smile at him over the top of his water glass.
"Normal, huh?" he sounded amused. "I guess Jim is still running his goddamn mouth."
Goddamn Jim. Before Those Damn Islands, and depending upon the situation, Riley tolerated their mother's boyfriend with a combination of bemusement, apathy, and vague annoyance. Dad died almost a decade ago and Mom was still beautiful, she deserved to date and find love again.
And Jim was… fine. Boring mostly. A kinda blandly attractive white-bread sorta guy that probably filled the walls of stock broker offices. Nice enough, prone to making lame jokes, didn't know how to cook, and usually didn't push any of them too much; seeming to understand that Grant was 'Dad' in all but the title. And when he did overstep, Grant encouraged him and Jason to just let things go for Mom's sake. So they did.
Then Those Damn Islands happened. Grant died, and now Jason pushed back.
Moving back in with Mom was her idea, one Riley jumped at (he couldn't handle dorm life, not after everything) and Jason didn't fight. Mostly, Riley suspected, to make their mother happy. She'd been a basket case when they'd all been reported missing by their hotel. Learning of Grant's fate made everything so much worse. Now, to his credit, Jim was a rock for Mom during that month; Riley would always be grateful for that.
The issue was that with Grant gone, Jim had it in his head that he was now the #1 Man in all their lives. And after a few months of recovery and coerced therapy —individually for Jason and Riley, and as a family for everyone—, Jim decided to start in on Jason needing a 'real job.' Apparently, the crafts shows didn't count. At first, it was just the odd comment, then it turned into Jim getting Jason an interview at the company he worked for. One Jason only went to at Mom's insistence… only to promptly walk out midway through.
~"The interviewer couldn't even look me in the eye. It was pathetic! I'm not working for anyone that weak."~
The fight that occurred when Jim got home echoed through the house, no matter how much Riley and Mom tried to break the two men up. It only stopped when Jason declared he needed some air and made for the front door. And that should have been the end of it, if Jim hadn't grabbed Jason's shoulder to stop him from leaving. Before Riley could shout out a warning, Jim was on the floor, clutching his arm and howling in pain. Jason was gone.
He moved out in the night, slipping into the house like a ghost and vanishing with the few belongings he deemed valuable. Jason didn't even tell Riley he was leaving.
The next day, after Mom and Jim got home from the hospital —a new, stark white cast on the man's arm— Riley shamelessly eavesdropped on a hushed, hurried conversation between the two. It allowed him to finally understand the mounting tension between Jim and Jason.
Jim was scared of Jason. ~Just like Riley~
A few days later, when Jason finally called to give Riley his new address, the youngest Brody Brother attempted to explain this.
~"Yeah, that's what I figured. He doesn't want a full-blown killer sleeping under the same roof as him. I can't fault good ol' Jim for that, especially since he knows he doesn't have a chance against me," Jason laughed. "Hey, let Mom know that I'm sorry things got a little out of hand. I probably wouldn't be around for a while, but maybe we can go out to eat at some point."~
Neither Mom nor Jim ever tried stopping Riley from spending time with Jason. Not when all it took was a smirk from his brother to send Jim scurrying back into the house when he came to pick Riley up.
To be honest, Riley kind of wished they did. Maybe that would get Jason back in the house. Instead, he wasn't sure Jason even still talked to Mom.
Claire's return, two steaming plates and a pitcher of Pepsi balanced on a tray saved Riley from having to answer the question.
"Here you are," Claire said cheerily, serving up their meals. "One chicken parm, and one rare steak with mushroom and corn. Both good choices, I have to say! Then again, I'm so hungry I'm ready to start raiding the walk-in fridge."
"Been there," Jason replied. "Is your dinner break soon?"
"Thankfully, I'm actually off at seven," Claire replied with a relieved sigh. "I'll probably have the cook whip me up something to take home."
Jason gave a thoughtful nod. "Well, I hope you'll end up having a good night."
"Thanks! I hope so too, especially since I'll have the rest of the weekend free."
That last bit was paired with a flirty grin thrown Jason's way, one his brother returned.
'That eager to move on from Liza, eh Jason?'
Claire topped off Riley's soda before hurrying off to help another customer. Jason watched her go for a moment before turning his attention to his steak. He sliced through the meat with ease. Riley watched on, growing queasy as red juice leaked out to cover the plate.
"Enough about me," Jason said after a moment. "What's going on in your life?"
Riley sighed and, picking at his food, started on a rant about his algebra class.
"I'm going to grab a smoke before we leave," Jason suddenly announced. Standing up, he dropped three $20 down onto the table. "Here, pay the bill and meet me outside."
Riley looked between the last few bites of food on his plate and Jason's retreating back. For a moment, he thought he spotted the glint of light on metal above his brother's belt, but then Jason slung on his jacket, covering himself.
"You don't smoke anymore!" he called, only for Jason to ignore him as he headed for the restaurant's front door.
"...Ass," Riley grunted, even as he obediently scarfed down the rest of his dinner and waved for assistance.
Their new waiter was a young guy with purple-dyed hair, who grinned when Riley left the change behind as a tip. Not like it was his money, and he needed to hurry outside to find Jason.
True to his word, Riley found Jason leaning against the side of the restaurant, an unlit cigarette balanced between his fingers.
"What was that about?" he demanded.
"I needed to check something."
"Huh? Jason, stop being so—"
Jason held up a hand. "Just watch."
Despite his annoyance, Riley obeyed. And, after a minute, Riley saw Claire round the corner of the restaurant, take-out box in one hand, and her phone in the other. She was so distracted with whatever message she was trying to type that Claire didn't even notice Riley or Jason when she walked right by them.
"I wanted to make sure she got to her car alright," Jason explained as they watched Claire get into a white Honda and drive away. "You know, to make sure that the asshole from earlier didn't try anything when she left."
"Oh…"
Shame clashed with warmth in Riley's chest. "Well, now I feel like an idiot! Sorry, Jace. I shouldn't have doubted you like that."
"No problem, little brother. I know things have been crazy recently. It's no surprise your brain is a little scrambled," Jason said, putting his hand on Riley's shoulder to lead him toward his jeep.
"Still, after everything you did for us —for me!— I should trust you more," Riley sighed. He glanced up to the dying sun. "It's getting late. You know, you could stay at the house tonight. Mom still has your room made up, and I'll make sure Jim doesn't bitch too much… Jason? Jason, are you listening to me?"
A glance to the side sent a jolt of fear up Riley's side. Jason's face was terrifyingly blank, even as his grip on Riley's shoulder tightened.
"Riley, listen to me. We're going to keep walking and when I say, 'GO!' you're going to run to the 7/11 at the end of the street. Then you'll call the cops and wait. Do not stop running until you get there. Do not look behind you. Understand?"
Every other emotion and sensation in Riley's body was replaced by panic and confusion. "Jace, what's going on?!"
The grip on his should grew painfully tight. "Understand!?"
Sweat dripped down Riley's forehead. Somewhere behind him, Riley swore he heard heavy, angry footsteps —multiple sets— but that might have just been because of his heart pounding in his ears.
"Riley?"
He swallowed hard, throat dry as sand. "Yeah… I understand."
"Good. Then one… two… three… GO!"
Jason shoved him forward into a wobbly run. Riley's converses slapped against the concrete sidewalk as he ran. Behind him, Riley heard shouts of anger, followed by howls of pain. There was the distinctive, meaty sound of someone getting punched. Riley tried to block it all out and he almost succeeded when a loud CRACK! had him skidding to a stop.
The scream that followed… Riley hoped to never hear anything like that again.
'Please, don't let that be Jason!' he half-begged and half-prayed.
Summoning all the courage he possessed, Riley turned to call out to his brother.
.
.
.
And screamed in horror as he saw Jason drag the stolen steak knife across the throat of the loud-mouth asshole from earlier, smiling all the way.
"And so you're saying the attack was unprovoked? …Sir? Sir, are you listening to me?"
Riley blinked, tearing his eyes away from the flashing red and blue lights that illuminated the restaurant parking lot. The world slid back into focus. "Huh?"
The police officer, a tall blond man named Perkins, frowned. "Kid, have you been drinking?"
"Uh, no," Riley shook his head. "I'm only nineteen."
"Then why—?"
Perkins' partner, an older black guy who had introduced himself as Officer Chesler, nudged his arm before turning to address Riley.
"Young man, did your brother instigate the conflict in any way? Even accidentally?" His voice was calm and patient, yet it did little to calm Riley's racing heart. "We need to be able to understand what happened here in order to help you both, and any little detail could be important."
'That made sense,' Riley nodded. The night's events flashed through his mind, jumbled and shuffled out of order. "Well… Earlier, Jason stopped one of those guys from harassing a waitress. I guess he didn't like that, and called over his… buddies."
"So the other party attacked first?"
"I… don't know. Jace made me run. He didn't want me to look back. I didn't see the start of the fight."
Only the end of it. The bloody, brutal ending.
Riley dragged a hand down his face. "Look, are we in trouble? Do I need to call our lawyer?"
By that, he meant, 'Do I need to call my mom and her army of legal assistants?', but 'lawyer' made Riley sound less like a stupid teenager in over his head.
"I don't know, do you need to?" Perkins asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that made Riley queasy.
"...I want to talk to my brother."
The cops looked at each other in a moment of silent communication, before the older one nodded at the parked ambulance.
Riley's legs felt like jelly as he shuffled toward the back of the vehicle. Jason sat there, still holding the unlit cigarette. Dark smudges covered Jason's shirt and hands; Riley could only be thankful that the illumination from the sirens meant he could enjoy plausible deniability as to what they were. There was a bruise growing on his left cheekbone, a bandage over his right eyebrow, and a split lower lip. Under different circumstances, Riley might have made a joke about 'what the other guy looked like?' but, well, he knew what the other guys looked like, and it was no joking matter.
With the thousand-yard stare and the trauma blanket draped over his shoulders, Jason almost passed as a victim of some horrific event instead of a…
"Jason?" he whispered. No response. Riley cleared his throat and tried again. "Jason?"
"Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?" Jason asked.
"Huh?"
"Insanity is doing the exact same thing over and over again expecting something to change, even if it never fucking does."
"That's—"
Jason glanced at his unlit cigarette before tossing it down onto the asphalt. "The first time someone told me that, I thought they were a complete psycho. But these days… I'm starting to think he may have been onto something."
Riley took a step back. "Jason, what are you talking about?"
"I meant it, you know?" his brother continued. "I meant what I said on the island. No more blood, no more killing, no more violence. That I would fight my way back to how I was before. And I tried to stick to that promise. But again and again, it just doesn't work. I'm starting to wonder if I made the right decision back then. Maybe this wasn't meant to be."
He looked down at his tattooed arm, frowning as he turned it back and forth. In the shadows of the ambulance, illuminated by the flashing siren lights, Riley swore he saw the ink of the tattoo move.
He shivered. "Jason, you're scaring me."
His plea was enough to snap Jason back to the present. "I told you not to look back, Riley. You should've listened to me."
"I was worried about you!" Riley spat out. "I thought you were going to get hurt!"
Jason scoffed. "I faced down entire islands of pirates and mercenaries, and you thought overweight idiots like that stood a chance against me?"
"That isn't the point, Jason! I saw you— you—"
"It's not the first time," his brother said coldly.
"Not the first time you've been involved in a mess like this, Mr. Brody," Officer Perkins asked, sauntering up to the ambulance. His partner hung back, watching on with cautious eyes; his hand rested on his hip, a few inches away from his gun.
Words caught in Riley's throat. Jason though, he just smiled. "What can I say, I have horrible luck."
"I'm going to call Mmmmmm—the lawyer," Riley mumbled, fumbling for his phone.
"Don't worry about it," Jason said, tapping Riley's shoulder. "Pretty obvious that this was all just self-defense."
The cop's eyes narrowed. "I've never seen an incident of self-defense end with four dead bodies."
"First time for everything."
Jason laughed as Perkins' face went red. The cop went to grab his brother's shirt, only to be stopped by Chesler.
"Stop it, Jace!" Riley begged.
Jason waved him off. "Look, if you've run my license, then I can promise that within the next ten minutes, there will be a phone call telling you to let my brother and I go. Then this entire will be swept right under the rug. Not even a mention on tomorrow's local news."
'What's he talking about?' Riley stared down at his brother in confusion.
Confusion he shared with the pair of police officers. Perkins opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a call coming over the radio.
"You'll want to answer that," Jason said with a shit-eating grin. "I'm sure it's someone really important."
The look on Perkins' red face explained in great detail how much he hated Jason, even as he was pulled away by Chesler to answer the phone.
"What the hell, Jason?" Riley demanded. "Are you trying to get arrested?!"
Once more, Jason waved his fears away. "Everything will be fine."
"And how do you know that?"
Jason gave him a bemused look. "You thought I'd leave Rook and then Bangkok without insurance that we, well, mostly me, would be left alone?"
A memory hit Riley like a truck.
They were on the tarmac, about to board on the private plane Oliver's parents had charted for them to finally go home. A man in a nice suit carrying a briefcase pulled Jason to the side. He cracked the case open, showing Jason the contents. His brother laughed before leaning forward to whisper something in the man's ear. The man jerked backward, making it easy for Jason to take the briefcase. With a cheery wave to the suited man, Jason caught up with the rest of the group. During takeoff, he only chuckled when questioned.
"What— Why— What do you mean by 'insurance'?"
Jason cocked his head to the side. "Do you really want to know?"
Riley started to agree... only for the words to die on his lips.
He looked over the scene before him, the dozen cops that swarmed around them, the ambulance, the reporters, and the bodies being loaded up into a van that said 'CORONER' in massive letters on the side. He looked at the dark stains covering the parking lot asphalt, wet and glistening in the sirens' light. In a morbid way, it was pretty. Such a thought made Riley shudder once more. Despite the mild California night air, he felt cold down to his bones.
If he thought about things too much, if he questioned things Jason said or did, Riley would fall right down the rabbit hole. Just like Jason.
"...No," he whispered, shaking his head.
His brother nodded, pleased by this answer. He took Riley by the wrist and tugged him down to sit next to him in the back of the ambulance. Draping his own trauma blanket over Riley's shoulders, Jason said, "Here, you need this more than I do."
The younger Brody nodded, accepting the gesture. The affection.
There were times when Riley wasn't sure the thing they brought out of the jungle really was his brother. When he lays awake at night, fear of nightmares making it impossible for Riley to sleep, he wondered if maybe Jason died alongside Grant on Those Damn Islands. And yet... The thing sitting beside Riley now was the only brother he had left. So Riley would stick by this Jason's side, and learn to be the brother he needed.
For both their sakes.
Far Cry 3 has always been one of my favorite games and I have always wondered what happened after Jason came back to the 'real world.' So I decided to write a fic about it, even if through Riley's eyes instead of Jason's.
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