Shermie yawned and rubbed his eyes. He felt exhausted, and so drained. He wanted to get some sleep, but he didn't dare to. Even if Ford was stable and Stan was perfectly healthy, Shermie didn't know if he'd be able to bring himself to sleep. He would be too worried about his brothers disappearing right out from under his nose. He wasn't going to let that happen again.
So when Shermie brought Stan into the bathroom so he could get cleaned up, he took the opportunity to splash some water on his face. It made him feel more aware, but it also made his little brother aware of just how tired he looked.
"Did either of you get any sleep last night?" Stan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. If his shoulder wasn't burnt, Shermie was sure that he would be leaning casually against the frame of the door.
"No." Shermie said. "I'm hoping Ford dozes off while we're in here. He needs the sleep."
"You look like you do too." Stan said.
"I have a kid." Shermie said. "I can go a night without sleep." He didn't mention the fact that he hadn't gotten more than a few hours the night before last either. It would just make Stan worry.
His younger brother's face somehow seemed to fall and light up at the same time. "So, uh, how is Alex doing? I guess he's not a cute little baby anymore."
Shermie had almost forgotten that Stan hadn't seen his nephew in ten years. He knew that Alex would have loved him, and Stan would have spoiled him rotten. Stan had always loved kids, but had never shown any interest in having any of his own. From the time that he was twelve years old though he had proudly proclaimed that he would be the cool uncle. Even before he knew that he would be an uncle, he knew that that would be his place in the family.
Shermie hated that it was just another thing that had been taken from his brother.
"No, he's a cute little kid now." Shermie tried to keep his tone jovial. He didn't want to make his brother feel guilty or upset about what he'd missed out on. They'd gone through enough hurt. Right now Shermie just wanted to be excited about what could be ahead for them.
"Alex has been getting into origami." Shermie said. "I can't tell you how many paper frogs and swans I have in my room."
Stan chuckled and seemed to relax. Shermie smiled fondly and told Stan every single fun story about Alex that he could think of. He cleaned around the injury again, just for good measure. He would love to do more, but when he asked his brother to take his shirt off, Stan got closed off again.
Years ago, Shermie would have teased Stan about this new-found modesty. He didn't say a word though. He suspected what Stan had been through, but he didn't know for sure. He thought if he saw his brother without his shirt on, he'd probably see scars, or skin conditions, or something that would give him a clue of what was going on with his brother.
The problem was, Stan probably knew that much, and whether because he didn't want to be pitied, or he didn't want to be judged, he didn't want his brother to see him like that. Not yet. Shermie wouldn't push him. Not yet. It would take time to gain his trust again. They could afford to wait a little more.
Shermie talked about Alex and Olivia, and how their lives were. He avoided talking much about Ford, because things between the twins were still very tense. Shermie thought that they could work things out, but it would have to be the two of them doing it. Shermie would play the part of mediator and make sure that things didn't go too far, and he would try to be more attentive than he had been in the basement, but this was still up to them.
It was clear that Stan enjoyed the stories, but Shermie saw a tension in his brother's shoulders. This was a lot to take in at once. Shermie thought that his brother needed a little bit of privacy so he could have the chance to breathe and really process everything that had happened.
And if Shermie was being honest with himself, he needed that too.
"Why don't you get cleaned up?" Shermie said as he finished cleaning around the burn. "I'll give you some space, and I'll see if I can find some spare clothes around here. Something of Ford's has got to fit you." That is, if he could find any clothes that were clean. Ford's cabin really was a disaster.
Stan looked a little conflicted. "You'll still be here when I'm done?"
Shermie had been worrying about Stan running off the second his back was turned. He hadn't considered that his brother would be scared of being abandoned.
"I'm not going anywhere." Shermie promised. "I'll just be downstairs. If you need me, just holler."
Stan rolled his eyes. "I'm not a kid anymore." Shermie grimaced and grabbed Stan's arm. He looked him intently in the eyes until his brother fidgeted and sighed. "Okay, okay."
"I'm serious Stan." Shermie said. "I know I wasn't there for you when you needed me, and that's haunted me every day, but I'm here now, and I'm not letting you go."
Shermie reluctantly released Stan's arm and made his way to the door. He heard his brother sigh.
"I don't blame you for what happened." Stan said quietly. "I stopped being angry a long time ago." A part of Shermie wanted to know how long Stan had been mad at him for letting him down all those years ago. The other part of him thought that he didn't deserve his brother's forgiveness.
Shermie said nothing. He just left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath and leaned against the door. He felt all of his energy drain out of him. He didn't feel ready for this. He had spent ten years trying to figure out what he would do if he found Stan again, but now that he was here, any plan he had made had gone out the window.
He was in over his head, but he couldn't back off, because his younger brothers were even worse off than him. He needed to get himself together. Stan and Ford needed help. Neither of them were in any state to help each other, and Shermie was the only one who could step in right now.
He let his breath ease out of him. He ran his hand through his hair and pushed himself away from the door. He needed to calm down. His brothers needed him.
He wanted to go down to the kitchen, but first he went back to the spare bedroom, just to check in on Ford. As he'd hoped, his younger brother was sprawled on the bed, fast asleep. As much as Ford tried to fight sleep, he was only human, and his body was only capable of so much. Ford had pushed himself, but he'd reached his limits, and now he was finally asleep.
Shermie watched his brother for a long moment, finding an odd amount of comfort in just watching him sleep and listening to his grating snoring.
Shermie slowly made his way downstairs to get a drink of water or something. It didn't take him long to realize that there weren't any clean dishes in the house. They were all either used and hadn't been washed, or even rinsed, or they were unused and dusty, having not been touched in weeks or more.
"Ford, what are you doing with yourself?" Shermie found something resembling a clean cup, and he cleaned it out. He got himself some water from the sink, sat down at the kitchen table, and just gave himself a moment to relax.
Shermie's mind was running a mile a minute, but he couldn't make sense of any of his thoughts. He just knew that he was worried, frustrated, tired, and incredibly scared. He couldn't even focus on what the source of those feelings were. He couldn't think of any solutions, or calmly reassure himself the way he would with Alex when he started to get stuck in his own head. All he could do was sit there as his dark thoughts swam around him, making him feel like he was drowning in them.
Shermie wasn't sitting there for too long. It was maybe just a few minutes. His eyes were drooping, and it took everything in him to not give in to the temptation to just doze off and get some sleep. He may not need it as much as Ford did, but he was still exhausted.
He wasn't going to let himself sleep, but if he rested his eyes for just a few seconds and tried to calm his mind, maybe he'd be able to gather himself and properly take care of his brothers without losing his nerve.
Shermie found himself in a slight daze, somewhere between dozing and complete awareness. He was snapped out of it when he heard a sharp sound break through the silence. He thought it might be a scream, but it disappeared in an instant, making him think he had just imagined it. Shermie glanced towards the stairs, feeling the intense desire to run back upstairs to check on his brother.
He knew it was probably nothing. Stan could take care of himself for a few minutes. There was nothing in here to hurt them, as far as Shermie knew. This was probably just his imagination and concern getting the best of him. But he couldn't relax. Shermie sat there for just a moment before he stood up and ran up the stairs. He just needed to check in on his brothers, and then he could relax.
"Stan?" He practically tripped over his feet in his hurry to get to the bathroom. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "Ley?!" The bathroom door was wide open, and Shermie could hear muttering and splashing in the bathroom. That didn't necessarily mean that anything was wrong, but he had a really bad feeling about this.
He ran inside the bathroom, and froze at the sight he saw. There was Ford, kneeling over the bathtub, laughing in a way that sent shivers down Shermie's spine. He saw Stan's leg kick out of the bathtub, and an arm flail around desperately, and he reacted instinctively before he fully processed just what he was seeing.
He ran forward and grabbed Ford by the back of his shirt. He wrenched him back, not even putting in the effort to tread carefully. There was too much at stake to be careful. As Ford was pulled away from the tub, he pulled Stan back with him. Stan sputtered and coughed as he reached a hand back. He clawed at Ford's hand, which was gripped tightly around his hair. Ford wasn't relenting his grip though. If anything, it tightened.
Shermie growled and flung Ford to the side. His brother stumbled over his feet and his head knocked against the kitchen sink. The cracking sound it made and Ford's grunt of pain made Shermie feel sick to his stomach. Ford crumpled to the ground and he lay there, unmoving.
Shermie stood there, staring blankly at the mess in front of him. Both of his brothers were soaked. Ford was unconscious, but breathing. Stan had scrambled to the other side of the bathroom where he was coughing, sobbing, and trying to make himself as small as possible.
"Ley?" Shermie hurried to his brother's side, reaching out towards him. He wanted to pull him into his arms, but he held back. Stan had been so reluctant about his touch earlier, and Shermie didn't want to overwhelm or startle him.
Stan let out a choked sob and launched himself into Shermie's arms. He held his little brother close, being careful to avoid touching his shoulder. He'd noticed that while one of Ford's hands had held onto Stan's hair, the other had been pressed carelessly on his shoulder until Shermie had pulled him away.
Ford had been holding Stan down under the water. He had attacked and tried to drown their baby brother, and Shermie was terrified at the thought that if he hadn't let his paranoia get the better of him and come check on Stan, then he would have lost him.
Stan would be gone. By Ford's hand.
Shermie felt like he was going to start crying, but he kept it in. Stan was losing it, and he needed Shermie to be strong for him. Stan cried and gasped for breath as he clung to Shermie. His hands were digging painfully into his skin, but he didn't complain. He couldn't. He just held his brother close.
Shermie wanted to ask what had happened, but he didn't say a word. This wasn't Stan's fault, and the last thing Shermie wanted to do was to upset him by throwing around accusations. Besides, he had a pretty good idea of what had happened.
Stan wasn't at his full strength, but he was a fighter by nature. He would have defended himself against Ford, and Shermie had seen him try, but he'd only been able to get so far with his back to Ford.
That was the problem. Stan hadn't been facing Ford, which made Shermie think that he'd been snuck up on. He could picture what had happened. Ford had come in here and grabbed Stan by his burn. That must have been the scream that Shermie had heard, and it had cut off so abruptly because his head had been forced under the water.
What Shermie didn't understand was why.
Stan and Ford had seemed like they had been getting along just a few minutes ago. Their relationship was far from perfect, but they were talking. More importantly, they were listening. Shermie had thought that things would fall apart sooner or later, but never in his worst nightmares would he imagine something like this happening.
They had fought downstairs, and Ford had hurt Stan, but he'd backed off. He had seemed sincerely apologetic. Why would he turn around and assault Stan like this? What could possess him to try so hard to harm his little brother like this?
Shermie held Stan close and just let him cry for several long minutes before he started to calm down. Stan sniffled and pulled away, wrapping his arms around himself. His clothes were dripping off of him, making him look a bit like a drowned puppy, and the imagery didn't do anything to make Shermie feel better.
"W-what are we going to do?" Stan asked. "I don't know what happened."
What Shermie wanted to do was drag Stan out to his car and drive as far away from here as fast he could. There were just two things stopping him. First was the storm. It wouldn't be safe to drive out in the storm, and Shermie didn't want to risk it. They could get stuck in the storm. Shermie could wait it out in the car, but he didn't think Stan could. Not in his vulnerable and emotional state.
The second thing that was stopping Shermie from leaving was Ford, and he had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, Ford was the one who had attacked and could have very well killed his little brother. On the other hand, Ford was his little brother too, and he clearly wasn't in a good mindset, and he hadn't been for a long time.
But how could Shermie ask Stan to help him take care of the one who had hurt and betrayed him so much?
Shermie sighed and looked at Ford. He looked so peaceful when he was unconscious, even though he was sprawled on the ground and there was a small pool of blood gathering beneath him. He must have hit his head pretty hard.
Shermie felt like he should feel guilty for hurting his brother like this, but it was the only thing he could do to save Stan. He'd done what was necessary, and he couldn't feel bad about that.
"Let's take this one step at a time." Shermie took a deep breath. He stood up on shaking legs and held a hand out to help Stan up. "I think you've gotten cleaned up enough. Let's get you warmed up before you make yourself sick." He grabbed a towel and threw it onto Stan's head. His brother pulled it up away from his face, but kept it on his head, wearing it like a hood.
"How's the burn?" Shermie asked.
"It stings." Stan grimaced. "I think it's doing better though." Shermie breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried that Ford could have done some additional damage to the burn, but other than some intense pain, Shermie thought that Stan's burn was going to be just fine.
He was going to keep a close eye on it though.
"Go back to the room, relax, dry off, warm up, and maybe finish off that pizza." Shermie said.
Stan looked like he was far too eager to do what he was told, but he still gave Shermie a concerned look. He refused to even look in Ford's direction. "What are you going to do?"
Shermie glared at Ford, who was unfairly oblivious to the fear and despair that the other two were feeling. "I'm not taking my eyes off of him. Not until I know what's going on."
Stan's eyes widened. "What if he attacks you?"
"Then I'll attack him right back." Shermie growled, and he wouldn't hesitate. Ford was his little brother, but he was also a knucklehead who needed to be put in his place, and Shermie had come here to do just that. Stan still looked worried, and Shermie gave him a reassuring look. "Don't worry about me, kid, I can take care of myself.
Stan didn't look so sure, but he was in no state to argue about it. "Just…be careful. And let me know when you figure out what's going on, because this whole thing just feels too nuts to me."
"I won't leave you in the dark." Shermie said. "Whatever I know, you'll know." Stan nodded, and though there was a certain reluctance in his eyes, he practically ran out of the room. Ford had hurt him twice now. That couldn't be easy for him to process, and Shermie imagined that as soon as Stan was on his own he was going to be freaking out.
Shermie gave Stan a minute to walk away before he bent down and grabbed Ford by his arms. He lifted him over his shoulders, frowning when he felt how light he was. Shermie didn't think that Ford had weighed this little since he'd been in high school.
That was just one more thing about his brothers that he needed to find a reason for, and then fix.
"You'd better have a very good story, Ford." Shermie muttered as he dragged his younger brother down the hallway and into another bedroom. Ford's room. He carelessly deposited Ford on the bed, not caring if he was in a comfortable position or not. He went to the door and locked it, just in case.
Shermie thought for a second before he went to Ford's closet and grabbed his largest button-down shirt. He struggled to drape it over his brother's shoulders, and then, without pulling his arms into the sleeves, Shermie buttoned up the shirt, leaving Ford's arms pinned to his chest, like a crude straightjacket.
Shermie didn't think this would do much if it really came to it, but it might by him at least a few seconds.
When he felt significantly prepared, Shermie dragged a chair next to the bed and sat down. The minute he was off his feet, his exhaustion, concern, frustration, and terror all came bursting out from behind his carefully preserved mask.
Sitting there, waiting for and dreading when Ford would wake up and finally give him some answers, Shermie cried.
He cried out of fear for what had nearly happened to Stan right under his nose. He cried for the burn that had only happened because he hadn't intervened soon enough. He cried in fury and fear about Ford and what he could possibly be going through. What Shermie could have prevented if he'd let himself push Ford sooner.
He cried for all that Stan had suffered for ten long years, and for the fact that his little brother wouldn't have had to go through any of it if it weren't for him and his selfishness.
He cried for his broken family that he had no idea how to fix. He tried, and he thought his brothers were trying too. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Ford had lost his mind. Stan was weak and vulnerable. And Shermie was completely falling apart, and he didn't know how he could even begin to pick up the pieces.