WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

140. Life is Strange 2 Sean and Daniel 49

Rivers to the Sea

singing_sunflowers

Summary:

He sees those choices in Daniel. Daniel, ever virtuous and kind, looking up to his every move. Daniel could have torn the world apart with his power if Sean let him, could have destroyed it all and built a home for themselves in the smoldering ruins.
Sean's glad he didn't, he's glad that when Daniel visits, he's bright-eyed and still full of love for such a cruel world. He's glad that the stories he's told about his powers involve saving buses full of people- not used for selfish desires and petty crimes.

He's glad, he really is.

He just wants to be selfish, for once. He wants to get another chance at life.

In this post-redemption fic, he does. Time-travel powers au.

Notes:

Yes, it's another Sean has time-travel powers fix it. Because we all collectively went "well, its canon that they exist in this universe, so anything is possible, right?"
Total WIP, I plan on (trying to) post chapters every other week. I want Sean to be happy and I want the brothers to flourish, is that really such a big ask? Will add character/relationship/trigger tags as they come up. There's implied/referenced suicidal thoughts in this chapter, it's brief, but take care of yourself.

Chapter 1: Bifurcation

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

One month.

In one month, Sean will be transferred to an adult prison. His "brief" 12 month stint in juvie is drawing quickly to a close, then his real sentence starts.

15 years. 15 fucking years for a crime he didn't even commit. His lawyer told him it was a good thing . That his sentence was cut significantly, and he could've faced upwards of 30. The thought of that alone is enough to make his stomach turn.

If he could change it, he would. Never would have risen to Brett's taunts, never would have run, never would have dragged Daniel across the country; just to spend his childhood with his older brother watching behind fucking bars.

Daniel visits every other weekend, despite the fact that it's a pretty awful drive for Stephen and Claire. It's clear that he's sad, and that he feels guilty for all of it, but he does his best to put on a brave face. Claire and Stephen even got him a puppy for his eleventh birthday earlier this year. Sean didn't get to spend it with him. He promised himself he'd spend his eleventh with him, after missing his tenth.

He's going to be missing a lot more birthdays.

He loses track of the days pretty easily, they all kind of blend together. The schedule is the same no matter what day it is, though the schoolwork he's been catching up on helps break up the drollness of it all. He's been careful to not make any friends, not to get to know anyone. It's gotten him a bit of a reputation of being an asshole- but he can't really bring himself to care.

He's leaving soon, and he's sick to death of goodbyes. So he doesn't want to make friends with them, with anyone anymore. It hurts too much knowing that things will always end too soon.

Daniel's visits are the only thing preventing him from doing anything particularly stupid or reckless. It scares him- before this all happened he never would have even considered taking his own life. Now, it feels like there isn't much to live for. Felony charges and 15 long years ahead of him.

He tried, so, so, hard. So hard to be good, so hard to do the right thing. He faced a system that fucked him over and said "I know you hurt me, but I'll do the right thing. For Daniel."

So many sacrifices, for nothing.

Was this destiny? Fate? Does karma not exist?

Or maybe he's a much worse person than he thought. Maybe this is what he deserves. Penance for his mistakes. It doesn't matter how many nights he went hungry- refusing to steal from people who already branded him a thief. Maybe he should have just let them be right. Stole the food, robbed Merrill, and sicked Daniel on the border agents.

But…no, no. He sees those choices in Daniel. Daniel, ever virtuous and kind, looking up to his every move. Daniel could have torn the world apart with his power if Sean let him, could have destroyed it all and built a home for themselves in the smoldering ruins. Sean's glad he didn't, he's glad that when Daniel visits, he's bright eyed and still full of love for such a cruel world. He's glad that the stories he's told about his powers involve saving buses full of people- not used for selfish desires and petty crimes.

He's glad, he really is.

He just wants to be selfish, for once. He wants to get another chance at life.

Cassidy, Hannah, Penny. All out and free, finished with their community service and back to life on the road. Even Finn is almost out, his letters to Sean so soft and so apologetic still. Sean almost wishes he had agreed to the heist.

Wishes he had kissed Finn.

He wishes things were different.

—-

It's Saturday, the only day Sean bothers to keep track of. Visiting day.

Daniel nearly knocks him over when he shows up, his hug as excitable (and as aggressive) as ever.

"Sean! I missed you." Daniel grins at him, but there's something there, hidden in that sweet smile. A sadness. It hangs over every visit, the wolf brothers only able to see each other with the eldest wolf in chains.

He knows Daniel feels guilty, and Sean can't stop him from feeling it.

Sometimes he resents him, and then he hates himself for feeling such a thing. Buries that resentment alongside his grief. It can't hurt him if he doesn't let himself feel it.

"It's good to see you too, enano. I missed you too."

Daniel's grin widens a bit, excited about something. "I brought something for you!"

Sean tilts his head, and gestures for the younger to sit, Sean sitting across from him. Claire and Stephen are probably outside. They visit as well, but often they just let Sean and Daniel do their thing. It was just the two of them for so long- it's such a horrible feeling that they can't ever be alone anymore. It feels foreign, wrong. If Sean could go back and smack his younger self, he would. Tell him to appreciate the time he's got with his little brother more.

"Whatcha got for me, kid?"

Daniel pulls it out with fanfare, his voice taking on a sing-songy tone, "ba ba ba!" He sets a ragged looking book on the table in front of them, and it takes just a second before Sean realizes it's his sketchbook.

"Holy shit, enano, where did you get this?" Sean's eye is wide with shock, grabbing the tattered journal.

"It was um, well, it was in mom's car at the border. I guess it never got taken for evidence-" Daniel lowers his voice a little at that, given that there's guards around. Not that they care, as long as nothing gets taken into the actual detention hall, they're pretty apathetic. "And when mom went to get her car back from the impound lot, boom. It was tucked under the seat."

"That's awesome, Daniel!" He picks at the frayed edges of the book. "So mom's out and about?" It still feels a little weird, calling her mom, but it's a habit he's glad is back. Daniel is happy about it too.

He nods, smiling. "Yeah, she's back at Away. I um, I think I'm gonna see her for Christmas."

"Right." Sean says, trying desperately to ignore the jealousy that curls around his heart like talons. Sharp and painful. His throat feels tight, and Daniel- ever emotionally intelligent nowadays, notices- and quickly changes the subject to school.

They make idle chatter for a while, Daniel telling him about school, Chris, the dog. Sean listens intently, flipping through his sketchbook as he does so, not quite reading it. It hurts too much to relive, anyway.

He stops when he lands on one of his last drawings, Daniel chilled out, floating over a canyon surrounded by stones. "Dude," he turns the sketchbook for Daniel to see, "this one was pretty good, huh?"

Daniel beams at him. "Yeah! I look super cool when you draw me."

"You look cool all the time, Daniel."

Daniel's smile gets sadder at that, and Sean doesn't know why. "You okay?"

"Yeah- yeah! I'm okay. You just, you can still tease me sometimes, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Daniel picks at his shirt sleeves. "I mean, you can still pick on me. I- I miss your jokes. You don't joke with me anymore."

Sean doesn't really know what to say to that. He didn't realize he had ever stopped. It's not something he thought Daniel would miss. He wants their visits to be good. He doesn't have the energy for joking.

"Right, sorry enano."

"You don't have to be sorry. It's okay."

It's not, though. It's not okay. None of this is okay.

Sean can feel the tears start to burn, and he can not cry in front of Daniel right now, so instead he turns the sketchbook back towards him, staring at the contents, focusing on that to stop the waterworks from starting.

He stares a hole through the book, eye blurring.

Blurring a lot, actually.

His eye is throbbing at this point, but he can't help but look away. The focus is all off, and he thinks it might be his depth perception or something, because the image won't still.

"Sean…?"

"Hold on, enano-" he focuses hard on the drawing in front of him, watching as shaking lines start to steady, and sounds begin to echo in his ears- laughter, his laughter. Daniel's laughter. It's as hazy as the image.

And then, something snaps into place.

"Sean...?"

Sean startles a bit, looking over to Daniel.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, Daniel, I was just-"

Daniel is sitting in front of him, cross legged on a sleeping bag. In the middle of the Desert.

Sun rising over the canyon.

The canyon, the one in his drawing. The drawing sitting in his lap.

Sean jumps up, stumbles back, looking around frantically.

What the fuck. What the fuck .

"What the fuck?!"

He's in Arizona. He knows this spot- remembers this interaction, remembers this place and he certainly remembers everything that happened after.

Daniel jumps at that, getting up to chase after Sean. "Woah, Sean, are you okay? You look like- like, I dunno, freaked out!"

He is freaked out.

"I, um, dude, what day is it?"

Daniel pauses at this, taken aback by the question. "What day? Uh, Monday, I think? It's hard to remember with no school and all."

"No- shit , what day of the year?"

"Sean, you're freaking me out."

"I am freaking out, Daniel."

He falls to the ground, rests his back against the rock. What the fuck.

"...it's July third. Dude, what is going on?"

July third.

One day before the incident at the border.

"Nothing, enano. I just, sorry. I had the freakiest Deja vu, that's all."

Daniel looks like he doesn't believe him, and he expects Daniel to push it- honesty being super important to him and all, but apparently Sean looks messed up enough for him to not push. "Okay- okay. But you'll tell me if something is really wrong, right?"

Sean nods, standing to gather the rest of their stuff, clinging to his sketchbook like it's a lifeline.

They make their way back to Away, and Christ, this has definitely happened before. Their conversation is different- because Daniel is still freaked out about Sean's freakout, and Sean is lost in thought, but the rest of it is exactly the same.

Sean takes the walk to think about the possibilities of this situation.

Okay, in most to least likely order:

He's dreaming. This is just some cruel dream and he's gonna wake up in juvie soon and have a- honestly justified- meltdown.

He's not dreaming, but he is hallucinating this as some messed up sort of coping mechanism. Derealization or some shit like that, he doesn't know.

Everything that has happened since this point has been a dream, a really, really detailed and messed up dream. It actually is July third, and Sean has a second chance.

The least likely, and most exciting. Sean traveled back here somehow. Time traveled. Sean can time travel.

As they make their way into Away, and as Sean is greeted by Joan in the same manner, and as Daniel continues to say the same damn things, number four is slowly becoming more likely.

But, that's not possible. Time travel isn't possible.

Neither is telekinesis, though.

Sean collapses into the lawn chair set outside Karen's trailer, still reeling. Daniel is luckily distracted by Joan, giving Sean some time to think.

How did he do this, how did he get here? How is this even possible?

Is this a sign?

Still not sure if this is a dream or not, he grabs a nearby pen and jams it against his leg as hard as he possibly can.

Well. It hurt.

He doesn't know if the whole 'can't feel pain in a dream' thing is legit or not, given that most of his dreams are near incomprehensible nightmares (even before all this went down, Sean was prone to nightmares, so much so that Lyla would lightly tease him for being a 'tortured' artist.) If he remembers correctly, he never felt pain in any of those dreams.

They've never been this detailed before, either.

He pulls out his sketchbook, stares at the cover.

What if– what if he did go back?

He flips through the contents once again, landing on his drawing of his room.

If he really did go back…could he do it again?

Could he fix it?

So much has happened since then, good and bad. Meeting Brody. Finn, Cassidy, all of the wonderful friends he made in Humboldt. Reuniting with Stephen and Claire, reuniting with mom , him and Daniel becoming so close. Despite all of their trials and tribulations, Sean would be an idiot to say that there wasn't good to come from it at times.

But for his father…?

He has to try.

He stares at the page in front of him, forcing himself to focus.

It's happening again, that burning pain in his eye, the tremor of the lines on the page.

It scares him, but he continues. Stares as the lines go out of focus and refocus, as ambient sounds begin to filter in his ears, he can feel the heat surrounding him, then feels it fade.

There's a snap, sudden, like the flash of a camera. Then, light.

" ...turn upside, a choice you'd normally avoid– "

His hands snap up to his eye, throbbing painfully, then quickly as it came, the pain is gone.

He moves his hand away from his eye, and stops, realizing that it's…working. It's there.

He can see, see with both eyes, and both eyes are taking in the sights of his room, slightly messy, filled with warm light from an autumn afternoon sunset.

His room, his room , matching the drawing in his lap.

His room, on October 28th, 2016. 8 months before the incident at the border.

Notes:

Fun fact about me I got the redemption ending and cried so hard I started hyperventilating, because I have a really healthy and normal attachment to Sean and Daniel Diaz.

TYSM for reading! Standard kudos appreciated and comments loved, yadda yadda. Constructive criticism also welcome but please be gentle I'm sensitive. If you want more, please feel free to let me know! I've got the next four-ish chapters done (minus some extra tweaks and proofreading), but I know this fandom is on the small side so I would love if anyone who wants more to let me know. :)

Chapter 2: Diffluence

Summary:

diffluence
[ dif-loo-uhns ]
noun

the act of flowing off or away.

Notes:

Trigger warning for panic attacks in this chapter, be mindful! Also any spanish is garnered from google translate, I don't speak a word of it unfortunately, so if it's all wrong I preemptively apologize.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It worked.

It fucking worked .

Sean scrambles up, nearly tripping over his own feet. He stumbles into the bathroom, staring at his reflection. His reflection stares back. It's him, 2 years younger.

Even though it's only been 2 years, there's a lifetime of age gone from his face. Two eyes, no scars (besides the one he got falling off his skateboard when he was 14), no trauma weighing down the lines of his face. He might not have aged more than two years physically, but mentally? Ages. Hands reach to touch his face, fingers tracing gently down his cheeks, poking his eyelid-where his scar once was.

All that is gone now, replaced by a fresh face, of normal, stable, 16 year old Sean. Did he really look this young? This was their terrifying cop killer? He looks like a baby . Compared to his 18 year old self, anyway.

He steps back into his room, lets himself take it in. He knows- he knows that downstairs in the garage, Esteban has to be there, working on his car. His dad, alive and well and breathing. Sean will keep him breathing, no matter what.

He tries to pull details of that day, the time, and what he last did. He- while it felt unfortunate at the time, remembers it so clearly.

The therapist he spoke to in juvie told him that sometimes, when faced with trauma, people don't remember what happened. Like Daniel not realizing their dad had been shot. Sometimes, though, they remember everything, dwell on every last detail of what could have been different, what could have been changed.

He remembers getting supplies for the party- and fuck, a party, what a trivial thing he was so strung up about. He spoke to his dad, unknowingly for the last time, and went to his room to draw.

And to call Lyla. Lyla .

His phone buzzes, and it's a little eerie. He takes the phone out of his pocket, and there she is, badgering him to get on skype. There's no reality in which he will be any sort of normal for this call. He misses her so much, though, and he's not sure if he can go see his dad. It's weird, right? He should be booking it downstairs, but he's scared. He needs to stay up here so Daniel doesn't go outside. He considers going into Daniel's room, but he doesn't. He needs to be as normal about this as possible.

So, he Skypes Lyla.

It rings for only a few moments, before she's suddenly there- and fuck, it hurts so much to see her, right in front of him like nothing has changed. "Just a second–" She shifts off screen, slipping on a sweater over her t-shirt, before sitting back in frame. "Okay-" she has a grin on her face, yet it disappears the second she looks at Sean. "Woah, dude, are you okay?"

Sean blinks at that, a little taken aback. "Y-yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Lyla looks at him for another moment, her expression hard to read. "Nothing, you just look super psyched out." There's a thick pause, before Lyla cuts the tension like a knife. "Damn, didn't know Jenn had you this messed up." There's a teasing lilt to her voice, and Sean barks out a laugh.

Not because of her teasing- well, exactly because of it, but not for the reasons Lyla would think.

He doesn't remember the last time his worries were Jenn. It's such an absurd premise, at this point, worrying about girls at a high school party.

Lyla- either distracted or lost through not being in person, doesn't seem to notice the near manic tone of his laughter. Instead she smiles, and starts to rattle on about the party. Sean struggles to keep up, too busy just…looking at her. He hasn't seen her in so long, hasn't heard her voice (besides a hysterical final phone call), it's hard to focus on anything else. Lyla tries to grill him on what he's going to do about Jenn at the party, and he tries to appease her with simple chatter, though it's clear she's picking up that he's not in it.

Of course, that trance is broken the second Daniel barges into his room.

"Sean, look! I made zombie blood! It's corn syrup and food coloring." He points at the bottle in his hand, then catches sight of Lyla on screen. "Hey- Hi Lyla." He waves, and Lyla waves back.

Sean stares.

He remembers what he did next. Acted like a typical, moody teenager bothered by his kid brother. Overreacted like a dick, and shoved Daniel out of his room in a hurry.

He's blinking back tears, and he hears his voice break.

"That's really cool, enano."

Daniel doesn't notice his ragged tone, nor does he notice the wetness in his eyes, instead grinning up at him. "Yeah, you think?"

Sean's smile widens, "Of course, man. That's super cool. So you decided on zombies, then? For Halloween?"

Daniel, overexcited and so- holy shit he was so innocent, bounces a little where he stands. "Yeah! Do you wanna go play outsi-"

"NO!"

Daniel jumps a little, taken aback, and Sean startles himself too. "Shit, no, sorry Daniel." He says, reeling in his tone, trying to simmer down, "I wouldn't go outside right now."

Daniel pouts, and that's all too familiar. Even on the road- despite everything, Daniel remained the master of pouting. "But Sean-"

Sean shakes his head, he feels that firmness coming, the tone he only started to take with Daniel after the incident. The 'dad' tone he adopted when he stopped being big brother all the time, and had to be the guardian, the dad as well. He manages to pull back, though, before he makes Daniel suspicious. He keeps his tone as light as possible.

He decides to be honest. Kids in general, but especially Daniel, appreciate transparency, Sean has learned that multiple times- through trial and error that he'd rather not repeat.

Maybe this will make up for all the lies he's gonna have to tell to seem normal.

"Nah man, I'm being serious. Brett's out there right now, and he was being a huge dick earlier."

Daniel scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm NOT scared of Brett."

Sean's smile softens. Always trying to be grown up. "I know, enano. You're tough, but the last thing I want is him taking his jerk-rage out on you. Look, why don't you hang out with me and Lyla for a bit?" Daniel doesn't look entirely convinced, "I'll let you play games on my phone." He adds, for good measure, and that's all it takes to sway Daniel his way.

Things used to be so simple with him, huh.

He hands Daniel his phone, watches as the boy pulls his zombie mask off and sits cross-legged on his bed, then he turns back to Lyla, when he sees notifications on the screen. She sent him some messages on Skype.

Lyla Park: awww, super brother award of the year

Lyla Park: i think that's the nicest ive seen you be to daniel in like. A year. Lmfao

Lyla Park: are you really worried about brett, tho? Hes a dick but do you really think he would hurt daniel?

Sean Diaz: maybe. Idk. just a bad feeling id rather not have confirmed.

Sean Diaz: also if thats the nicest ive been to daniel in a year then i really dont deserve that award lol

It's meant as a joke, but Lyla doesn't seem to take it that way.

Lyla Park: are you sure you're okay, sean? You seem kinda messed up.

Sean Diaz: yeah im okay im just anxious idk

Lyla Park: about the party?

Sean glances up to the screen, watching as she reads the chat, brow furrowed.

Sean Diaz: probably.

They switch back to talking out loud, Lyla teasing him about his outfit, careful with her words now that Daniel is in the room listening in. Sean's heart is slamming in his chest, and he stops looking at his friend, instead staring outside the bedroom window.

He watches as cars pass, over and over, until he sees it.

A police cruiser.

Sean's heart is in his throat, and he thinks Lyla is calling his name, but he doesn't respond, staring as the cop passes his house, stops at the sign, then turns and peels down the next street.

It's gone.

He did it.

So why is he still so scared?

He can't breathe- he realizes, he hasn't been breathing for who knows how long, and suddenly his breath is coming in rapid gasps. His mouth is dry like cotton, and he feels sweat on his brow. It's over, he did it, it's over.

"-ean! Sean! Dude, what is up with you?"

"Are you okay, Sean?" Daniels voice cuts in, and suddenly there's a small hand on his arm.

He stands up, so fast his desk chair topples over. "I think dad is calling me, I'll call you back Lyla." He hangs up before she can say a word, and damn near sprints out of the room, crashing into the hallway wall.

He's there, standing in the kitchen, using a paper towel to clean the rest of the car grease off of his arms. Sean is frozen in the hallway, watching his father mosey about the kitchen. He stares as Esteban tosses the garbage, humming a little tune as he grabs the cereal box Daniel left out, turning to put it away when he catches sight of Sean staring at him in the hallway.

"Ah, Sean! I figured you would have run off to the party by now. Lyla making you late?" A relaxed smile is on his face, it's so familiar it hurts.

His voice. It's been so long since he's heard his voice.

Sean opens his mouth to respond. There's a thousand things he wants to say to his father.

I love you. I've missed you. I needed you. I'll never take you for granted again.

I wasn't ready for you to die.

Instead, a single broken sob tears its way from his throat.

That playful expression on his Dad's face is gone in an instant, taken over by worry as he rushes to Sean, "Hey, mijo, what's wrong?"

He still can't breathe, arms curling around his chest, another harsh sob escapes him, and he tries so hard to say something, say anything, but he can't. He's still panicking, still overwhelmed, still worried that that bastard cop is going to slam the door down and take his dad away from him. Esteban rests a hand on Sean's shoulder, and it's the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Sean crumples, falling to the ground. He's desperately trying to get his breathing in check, but instead there's just ragged sobs, desperate gasps of air slipping in between them. He's having a panic attack, the small, centered part of him realizes.

His dad is on the ground besides him, then suddenly pulls him into a hug.

It makes things worse for a moment, being held by him. It doesn't feel real, not yet, he doesn't want to hope.

But his dad pulls him in closer, lets Sean bury his face in his chest and sob. His dad cards his fingers through his hair, shushing him quietly, other hand going to rub small circles on his back. Sean pries his arms away from his own torso, wraps them around his dad instead, clings to him- afraid that if he lets go, he'll disappear.

His dad's speaking quietly in Spanish, so low he can't hear it.

"Dad?" A small, concerned voice echoes from the hallway.

"Daniel- do you- do you know what happened?"

There's silence for a moment, Sean can only presume Daniel is shaking his head. "No! He was just on a call with Lyla, then he started freaking out for some reason." Daniel fidgets. "Is he okay?" There's clear concern there, and Sean can't help but feel touched.

"Yeah, mijo, he's okay, why don't you head to your room for a bit? I've got him." His hand is rubbing his back again, and he realizes his dad has started rocking back and forth a little. He thinks that maybe he should feel some sort of embarrassment, 18 16 years old and being rocked by his father- but he doesn't. He missed him so much it hurts. "I've got him" he repeats, quieter this time, and he realizes that this time the affirmation is for him, not Daniel.

Sean rests his head against his father's chest, listens to his heart beat, and it helps ground him. It's just so real, that gentle beat, as solid as the man in front of him. Let himself be rocked, let himself cry, let himself finally shatter after everything has happened.

Because now, his dad is here. He can help Sean pick up the pieces.

He doesn't have to do it alone anymore.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, Esteban shushing and holding Sean, but he does so until his breathing steadies, his tears stop flowing in full force, and Sean is left a shaking, sniffling mess with red eyes and a puffy face.

Finally, he pulls away from his dad's chest. Dad stares at him, so genuine and full of concern. "You calming down, hijo?"

Sean nods, shakily, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Y-yeah. I can stay home tonight, r-right?"

Esteban smiles softly at that, hand going to cup Sean's face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. That alone is near enough to make Sean start sobbing again. "Of course, Seanie-boy. No tienes que preguntar. (You don't have to ask.)".

Sean nods again, stands on shaky legs, reaching a hand out to help his dad up. Esteban takes it, groaning as his knees pop from sitting in an uncomfortable position for that long. "Don't get old, Sean." Sean cracks a smile at that.

"Go sit down, kiddo, I'm going to order pizza, how about that?" There's a pause, his dad watching as Sean goes and falls into the couch, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head on his hand. "Do you want to talk? About it?"

Sean hesitates, then shakes his head.

"You sure? You know your dad is always willing to listen. Did someone at school say something to you?"

Sean shakes his head again. "It's okay dad, really."

He knows his dad is frowning, unsure how to continue. So Sean fills the silence. "I don't..um, I don't know. I just got really overwhelmed for a second there."

"Was it a uh, the thing Lyla talks about? A panic attack? I know she's mentioned dealing with them before." His father wears a little frown, tone soft, like he's walking around a field of mines-worried that the wrong word might trigger an explosion. It's all good intentions, though, everything with his father is.

"I…maybe. I think it might've been."

"What's making you panic, kiddo?"

You dying, His mind supplies, raising Daniel. Not a single bit of this feels real, but it also feels almost too real. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen that fucks everything up. Butterfly effect bullshit, or some sort of karmic destiny. He doesn't know if he can ever be relaxed again.

He can't say that, though. "I don't know. I don't know if there's always a reason. I just got super freaked out about everything." He lets his eyes close. "I'm sorry I um- sorry. Sorry I messed up your shirt and-"

His dad laughs, but it's gentle. "You don't have to say sorry, Sean. There's nothing you have to apologize for, okay? I'm glad you came to me."

Sean's voice cracks, strained. "I'll always come to you, dad."

He glances back at his dad, and for a moment, he sees tears in the man's eyes, before they're quickly blinked away. "Right. And I'll always be here."

You will be , he thinks, I will make sure of it.

"Enough of that! What kinda pizza do you want, kid? The regular?" Sean nods.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe um, maybe half cheese half supreme? I know Daniel prefers cheese."

"Ah, the doting big brother you are. Speaking of which, Daniel-" he glances back at Sean, then continues, "you can come out now, since I know you're eavesdropping."

Sean laughs a little bit at that, and laughs even harder when Daniel waits a minute before coming out.

"Sorry dad, did you call me?"

Sean's laughter picks up again, and Daniel makes a face at him, though it's not mean spirited at all. "You're SUCH a bad liar, dude."

Daniel rolls his eyes, then joins Sean on the couch, fidgeting a little. He knows Daniel wants to ask, but he doesn't know how to.

Not that Sean would have any answers.

" Hey, sorry everyone. The reason I just had a full on breakdown is because I'm reliving the day you died, dad. I think I might have saved your life, but I'm also terrified of what comes next, because now the future is completely unknown and I'm waiting for the inevitable consequences of me fucking with time. Also: can we get cinnamon sticks as well as pizza?"

So Sean breaks the silence. "Hey, do you want to show me your minecraft world?"

Daniel jumps a little at that, whipping his head around to look at Sean. "Really?"

Sean grins. "Yeah man, weren't you telling me you upgraded your base, or something?" He says, gesturing towards the playbox. It strikes him a little that he managed to remember something mundane, but Daniel's jump of excitement at the offer shows he nailed it. Still, Daniel's next words are said with an air of wariness.

"I thought that you thought that minecraft is super dumb."

Did he say that? Probably. It's not even true, it's not his favorite game by any means, but his opinion on minecraft has never been anything more than neutral. He must have said it to antagonize Daniel at some point. Like he said, if he could, he'd go back and smack some sense into his younger self.

"Nah man, I was probably just being a di- jerk." He corrects, glancing back at his dad. "Also, you know that game is wayyyy too scary for me, that's all."

Daniel snorts. "You're so full of it, minecraft isn't scary!"

"I dunno man, it's pretty scary. You're just minding your own business, mining or whatever, then suddenly- hiss!" He leans forward, hissing sharply in Daniel's ear. "A creeper attacks!"

Daniel laughs, which quickly breaks down into loud giggles as Sean tickles his sides. His little brother manages to shove him off, still laughing a little. "You're such a dork, Sean."

"A dork who still hasn't seen your new base. Boot it up, man."

Daniel's grin is a million watts, and he hands Sean back his phone, darting forward to the tv so he can set up minecraft on the playbox.

Sean smiles, glancing down at his phone, realizing there's a barrage of notifications from Lyla. Right, he totally bailed on her.

Lyla: Sean for real are u okay?

Lyla: dude youre like high key freaking me tf out

Lyla: is your dad okay? You said he called you

Lyla: fr dude text me back

Lyla: is this about the party? If u dont text back in like 15 im coming over to check on you.l

Shit, that was 10 minutes ago. If he sees Lyla in person right now, he might just fall apart all over again.

Sean: im okay sorry

Sean: you dont have to come over

Lyla: oh thank fuckin god dude

Lyla: dont bullshit me man whats goin on?

Sean bites his lip, frustrated. He can't tell Lyla all of the truth now- if ever. He doesn't even fully believe it himself. A small part of him wants to experiment with his new time travel powers- but he doesn't want to risk anything. Messing with time is a lot more dangerous than making shit float, and the last thing he wants is for some sort of time-space collapse to happen because of this.

He'll take this one selfish action. That's all he needs.

Sean: i dont think i can come to the party tonight

Sean: i dont mean to flake on you i know you were really looking forward to it and im sorry i just cant

Sean pauses, considering leaving it at that; but this is Lyla. He tells her everything, and he doesn't want to hide this from her. He wants to be able to be open with her, even if he can't tell her about the time travel shit.

Sean: i think i had a panic attack.

He watches his phone, twitchy, as the read notification pops up, followed by those anxiety-inducing three dots.

Lyla: dude, don't worry about it at all. It's just a party. What happened?

Sean: idk im sorry. I dont really know what freaked me out

Lyla: nah man you know me i totally get it. Sometimes there isnt a reason, or sometimes it happens and u dont even know the reason yet.

Lyla: did you do the 5 things you can see 4 things you can hear etc etc thing?

Sean: no but if it happens again ill try it i know it works for you sometimes. But my dad helped me calm down a lot

Sean: im sorry about flaking for real

Lyla: dude, idgaf about a party. What matters is that youre okay, do you want me ditch it and come over instead?

Sean smiles a little at that.

Sean: no its totally cool. Im hanging out with daniel and dad, anyway. Having some diaz man time. Go and tell ellery and eric im sorry for missing it

Lyla: alright, ill probably bail a little early anyway, but ill make a ''''polite''' appearance. And ill tell jenn you had brother aggro, okay?

Sean's grin widens, and he shakes his head. It's absolutely no shade to Jenn, she was super nice, but it really is funny how far she is in his head. With everything else- and everything that happened to him, he probably won't get to play the role of highschool boyfriend.

Sean: thanks lyla. Best freakin fighters forever

Lyla: ofc. Love you sean

Sean: love you too.

He's glad that went well, setting his phone down on the table next to him. He watches as Daniel launches minecraft, enthusiastically showing him the mini castle he and Noah built, though Daniel assures him he did most of the building and Noah did most of the mining.

"This is really impressive, Daniel."

Daniel gives him a look, "Really? You're not making fun of me?"

Sean shakes his head. "Nah man, I'm being for real. You've got a really good eye for 3d space."

He watches as Daniel tilts his head, "what do you mean?"

"Right, so like, you know when I draw, and I draw people and places. I'm drawing the world around me, and that world is in 3d. Well, I kinda sucked at making people and places look 3d when I drew them."

He gestures at the game. "They had a tendency to look really flat, like, I couldn't conceptualize the world in 3d, to get the foreground and background right, and to get foreshortening right. It took an insane amount of practice to get okay at it, and I'm still working on it. But you- you've always been good at seeing the world in 3D. It's why you've always been better at minecraft than me, and even better at building stuff with legos. Cuz' you're pretty good at seeing the world like a model, and less like a drawing. You'd probably be a pretty good sculptor or 3D modeler, if you wanted to be."

He stops, realizing that he's been rambling. When he looks at Daniel, he's shocked to see his brother staring at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky himself.

Sean smiles back. This kid- he doesn't know. Doesn't know that Sean would move heaven and earth to make sure he's safe and happy.

Sean wants him to know.

"For real?"

"Of course, Enano. I wouldn't lie bout' that. I don't lie about art!"

Daniel nods, and for a second, something akin to sadness flashes across his face, before that joy is back. "Do you want to see the mega farm I set up?"

"Yeah! Did you grow pumpkins?"

"No, growing pumpkins is such a waste! The only food you can make with them is pie, and that takes two other ingredients, and they're harder to harvest. I grew wheat and potatoes."

"It's not about the practicality, Daniel. It's about aesthetics. I like the cube-y pumpkins."

Daniel giggle-snorts at that, and Sean smiles back, before glancing back to his dad in the kitchen. He stops, for a moment, trying to read the expression on his face- but he can't. His dad has this almost shocked look about him, staring at Sean like- well, like he can tell something is different about him.

It's only there for a moment though, so brief that Sean almost doesn't catch it. That easy smile is back, and Esteban joins Sean on the couch. "Pizza should be here in 30, boys. Now, what's this about mined-craft?"

"It's minecraft, dad."

"That's what I said. Minedcraft."

"Dad!"

"Daniel!"

Pizza comes and they tear into it, the promise of cheese and cinnamon sticks is enough to steal Daniel away from his game, though his dad teases that he shouldn't get any dessert because Daniel got the last chock-o-crisp, much to his brother's indignation.

They start up Top Gear as they finish , Daniel on the floor in front of the tv, fidgeting with some action figure in his hand, Esteban sitting on the other side of the couch from Sean, talking back to the show as it plays. It's always funny, the mechanic in him showing.

Sean hesitates for a moment, then slides over to the center of the couch, leaning against his dad and resting his head on his shoulder. He hasn't cuddled up against his dad to watch a show in- well, probably since he was about Daniel's age. Maybe a little older. Like most boys, he grew up and thought he was too cool for Dad.

He almost expects Esteban to comment on it, but after a beat, he just rests his arm over Sean's shoulders, pulling him closer so they can both get more comfortable. Sean lets himself listen to that steady heartbeat again, slower now that he's no longer freaking out over a hysterical son.

As the show ends, and Daniel is sent to bed after falling asleep on the floor, Sean finally speaks. "Hey dad?"

"Yes, Sean?"

"I love you."

A warm smile. "...I love you too, mi estrellita."

Notes:

The incident has been stopped! The day is saved! That's the end, right? Right?
My dad has a tendency to say shit wrong, (ie: mined-craft.) it's always deliberate. My dad is a good dad and Esteban is a good dad. Because we didn't get much canon time with him, he's gonna be subject to my dad's dadisms. I apologize in advance.
Tysm for reading! Have the pls kudos and comment spiel here.

See you in 2 weeks!

Chapter 3: Anabranch

Summary:

anabranch
[ an-uh-branch, -brahnch ]
noun

1. a stream branching off from a river and rejoining it further downstream.

Notes:

Canon-typical violence and injury warning for this one! Also my dad glanced over my shoulder and asked "why do you have a glossary of river terminology open?" and after a moment of not knowing how to respond i ended up just telling him it was for fanfiction and lmao i wish i could show you guys the incredulous look he gave me

Also, this chapter was fully ready, then i reread it and decided i hate it and needed to add a scene and refresh some of the other ones. feel a little bit better about it- but it might get edited again in the future, so i preemptively apologize for that lol.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The next two days are spent bouncing between checking on Daniel and being glued to his dad's hip. He even calls out of work, much to his manager's distress, and Sean really couldn't care less if he loses his job over it. There will always be another, he's learned, and he's not going to spend his weekend reunited with his once-dead father stocking shelves at a convenience store.

Both of them notice, of course. It doesn't take a genius to realize Sean is acting a little weird, but neither of them comment on it. Daniel mostly seems excited that his brother is paying attention to him again, and boy does that make him feel guilty. A guilt he refuses to let himself dwell on, but it's there, heavy in his heart.

Daniel is still Daniel, though, and he's not a perfect, sweet angel. He goes into Sean's room and rummages through his shit, messing up an old comic book, and when Sean catches him his little brother is already huffy and indignant.

When Sean finds him, he doesn't freak out, doesn't sink down to the level of a nine year-old like he used to. He hits him with a "why would you do that, enano?" And Daniel stares at him like he's seen a ghost, eyes wide. There's guilt there, too, something Daniel never used to show when he'd mess with Sean's stuff. So his little brother just apologizes, gives Sean a tiny hug and bolts back into his room.

Other than that interaction- one that felt so normal for Sean and so bizarre for Daniel, his younger brother doesn't seem to notice anything is up. Or maybe he doesn't want to question why a switch flipped and suddenly Sean was acting doting.

His dad, however, clearly notices. The way his gaze doesn't move from Sean when he ruffles Daniel's hair, or cleans the chocolate off his face with a napkin, or hovers in his doorway when Dad tucks Daniel into bed.

He just missed his little brother so much.

His dad doesn't comment on the fact that Sean is pretty stuck to his own side, but he notices . Sean can tell. He can only hope that his dad takes the newfound clinginess as just some leftover anxiety from his panic attack on Friday, hopes his dad doesn't read too much into it. Sean can't stop himself, he knows he's acting weird when he ditches Lyla on Saturday and Sunday, instead watching TV with Dad and Daniel.

Sean hangs out in the garage as his dad works on the car, cross-legged on the floor and drawing the car. A new sketchbook, because scarily, his old one hasn't changed. As in, all of those past (future?) entries are still there.

It freaks him out, so he hid it under his bed in a watertight bag and bought a new one, tagging along to the store with him on Saturday, telling his dad he already filled his other one up. Which isn't entirely a lie- his old one was almost out of paper anyway. If anything, it is a good backup. In case something happens and he has to try and jump again.

Monday rolls around, and Sean has to go back to school.

Right.

He spent a good chunk of yesterday in the garage with his dad, textbooks scattered all around him as he tried to catch up. English and History are in a pretty fine spot, those subjects are easier for him- and it's not like he forgot how to write on the road. Stats and chem, though? He has no idea how he's gonna pass. For everyone around him, nothing has changed, but for him- it's been nearly two years since he's touched this crap. He can only hope he can get it together before finals roll around.

Going to school isn't particularly fun, either. He's an anxious mess on the bus ride there. He got so used to the feeling of freedom that came with being on the road- only to become a caged bird in juvie. High school is definitely better than jail- but it doesn't change the fact that wanderlust has found a place in his chest.

That, and today will be the first day away from his dad, and all that paranoia comes back in waves. Sean can't be there to protect him in case something bad happens again. He has to remind himself that he can rewind if something catastrophic happens (not that it will, it won't, that kind of thing doesn't happen everyday).

He expects to get shit from Lyla about bailing on her all weekend, but she takes one look at his face and just rests an arm on his shoulders and walks him to class instead.

It's not until lunch that she finally starts grilling him, and he doesn't know how to answer, picking at the nasty cafeteria food. They hunker down at their table, and it's a surreal feeling- he knew where to go right away. The knowledge never left his head, and he and Lyla sit at the table nearest the vending machine that's always broken, him on the left- her on the right. It's been like that since Freshman year.

She takes the opportunity lunch provides to try and pry from him. "Dude, are you okay? I know I sound like a broken record, but you're freaking me out."

Sean shrugs, shoving cold mashed potatoes around his tray with a spork. The gravy is gelatinous, and it's so repulsive that even he doesn't want to touch it- and he's gotten significantly less picky over the past two years. "I don't know, Lyla." He stops, choosing his next words carefully. "Do you ever just… feel like something bad is going to happen? Even though nothing is wrong, and everything is fine. It feels like this peace is going to shatter. I have this feeling of like– dread."

Lyla considers him for a moment. "Well, yeah dude, sometimes. Anxiety disorder, remember? Usually people with anxiety deal with that. Or PTSD."

Right, post-traumatic-stress-disorder. He has that, apparently, according to the counselor they dumped on him while he was in juvie. They never clicked, Sean wanted nothing to do with her and she wasn't particularly patient. Though it wasn't her job to be his friend, they didn't pay her enough for that. It was just as mandatory for her to be there as it was for him.

Lyla frowns, concern written across her features. "Sean, did something... happen?"

Yes. He wants to say- wants to scream. ' My entire life fell apart in a moment. I spent so much time in danger that I can't possibly feel safe.' He sighs, resting his head on the table. I don't know if I'll ever feel safe again.

He can't say that, though, so he just shrugs. "I don't know, maybe I need to talk to someone or something."

"Yeah dude, totally. You know there's no shame in that. I talk to someone!" She clamps a hand on his shoulder, then pulls him into a side-hug. Fuck, he's going to start crying.

Luckily, she throws him a lifeline in the form of pointing out Ellery and Eric, who have taken to full-on play wrestling in the lunch line over the last chocolate milk. It's such a funny sight, watching his friend pull Eric into a headlock over something as stupid as milk, that he laughs. Loud.

Lyla grins at him as he's overcome with giggles, the kinda awkward laugh that shakes your whole body. It really isn't that funny, but it's so stupid and he's so fucking relieved he's here right now and not on the road in fucking nowhere Washington, begging for food from strangers and being harassed by racist gas station owners.

The laughter brings tears to his eyes, and suddenly his laughs turn into weird, hiccupy sobs. Lyla's smile is replaced with another concerned look, but Sean waves her off, embarrassed, rubbing at the tears streaking down his cheeks.

"I'm okay, Lyla, really. I'm just glad I'm here."

She still looks worried, biting her lower lip, but then Sean smiles at her, and she smiles back.

There's a pause, and her voice is soft, and she pulls him back into their embrace. "I'm glad you're here too, Sean."

The rest of school goes off without a hitch, besides an awkward encounter where Jenn said she was sorry he missed the party, and he struggled to keep his cool. She seems to notice, and leaves him be.

His last class is AP art, and it's the only subject that he's actually better at because of the time travel. His teacher applauds his work, and Sean can't help but beam. Track goes decently, too. He's not quite as warm as he was before everything, but juvie had a running track that he would exercise on in his free time, so he's not nearly as rusty as he could've been.

The bus after track is a buzz of excitement, while most of the high school students already celebrated Halloween with the party on Friday, spirits are still high with people talking about the horror movies they're going to binge and candy they're going to steal from little siblings. Lyla slides into the seat next to him when he gets on, and he gives her an odd look, which she returns.

"What are you- you didn't catch the bus home at three?"

She tilts her head, "dude, I tutor biology on Monday's, remember?"

He did not remember that, no. Little details like this escape him. Some stay, some leave.

"Right," he says, brow furrowed. She snorts, knocking her shoulder against his playfully.

"You've been such a space cadet lately, Sean." He tenses a tiny bit, waiting for another barrage of concerned comments, but thankfully she doesn't seem bothered. "Busy boy track star with his head in the clouds. Or are you just high?"

He laugh, rolling his eyes, not questioning as she grabs his arm and rolls up his sleeve. "Pretty sure my dad would string me up by my insides if I went to school stoned."

"Mm-" she starts, pulling out a marker from her bag and returning to his arm, doodling on his wrist. He doesn't question it, and she doesn't offer an explanation. "I would cover for you-"

"My dad likes you, Lyla." He says, tilting his head as he watches her doodle a thorny vine on his wrist, gradually going up his forearm. She's no artist- she'd admit so herself, but it's a simple design, the kind she scribbles in the margins of her notebooks during social studies. "But I don't think he likes you that much."

She hums, switching up and moving to draw a...something spikey that he can't quite tell- on his upper forearm. "Nah man, I'd just lie for you. I'm an excellent liar."

"Not something you particularly want to hear from someone you trust."

"Pfft-" she snorts, shifting to get a better angle. It's nice, and he realizes how relaxed he feels, even on this loud, bumpy bus ride. Just, being pressed up against her side, her arm in her hands as she uses him as a human sketchpad. "You sound like my mom, and she's like, the reason I'm any good at lying."

"What's that saying-" he asks, turning to glance out the window, "strict parents make sneaky kids?"

She nods, her tongue sticking out as she works. "Something like that. It's why you don't have a subtle bone in your body, because your dad is super chill."

He wrinkles his nose, shooting her a look. "I can be subtle!"

"Like hell you can," she says, punctuating the statement with a laugh. "You're like- and Sean I say this with nothing but love, the most obvious person on planet earth. When we were little I could always tell when you were hiding something." It's not...an unfair or inaccurate statement, one that his dad would agree with. Apparently all it took was him asking and Sean would break.

That's changed, a bit. It has to have, anyway, considering the secret he's holding close to his chest now.

"You know," he says, shaking off that thought process, "being honest is supposed to be a good thing, but you're still making fun of me for it."

"Eh, I'm the cool friend," she says, shrugging her shoulders, "you're the sweet one. It's established lore." She finally lets his arm go, right as the bus turns the corner to his street. She puts the cap back on her marker, then shoves it into the front pouch of her backpack. "Course' with this sweet new tattoo you can be the cool one as well."

She gestures to the assortment of doodles on his arm, and he grins, rolling his eyes. "I'm just relieved you didn't draw a dick."

"To be honest," she grabs her bag as the bus starts to break, standing before it fully stops- which earns her a glare from the bus driver in his rear view mirror, "I was planning on doing so after you accused me of doing it, but you never did, so...I didn't have an excuse."

He snorts, grabbing his own bag and following after her down the bus aisle, "Wanted me to dig my own grave?"

"Essentially."

"Poetic justice?"

Lyla glances over her shoulder at him with a grin, "you get me."

"Yeah," he hops off the bus, walks by her side, and it's nice. Familiar. "Never doubt it."

She leaves him at his front porch with a wave, and he returns it, opening the door to his house to a small commotion on the stools by the kitchen.

"Oi, hold still, mjio. I can't work with you wiggling-"

"It tickles!"

"You're the one who wanted a 'really really convincing zombie bite'."

Sean laughs, shutting the front door behind him. Daniel waves at him, only for dad to smack his hand down, "What part of still do you not understand, little zombie?"

Daniel is sitting on the stool by the counter, their dad hovering in front of him, attempting to make a convincing zombie bite on his neck with cheap spirit Halloween makeup and Daniel's fake blood.

"Putting the finishing touches on zombie-Daniel, huh?"

"Only if he stops moving." Daniel giggles at that- sticking his tongue out.

"It's looking good, Daniel. Very scary."

"Annnnd, finished!" Esteban holds out a hand mirror for Daniel to use, letting him inspect his handiwork. "Convincing enough?"

"Super convincing, dad!"

He chuckles at that. "Okay, good. I let you get all dressed up, so go get your shoes and get ready. We'll leave in 30ish. Get an early start. I heard the house on Indigo still gives out king size bars."

"Mind if I tag along?"

Both Esteban and Daniel turn to Sean at that, eyes wide, and Sean rubs his neck awkwardly.

Daniel has stars in his eyes. "Really? You haven't trick-or-treated in years!"

"Nah, man. I'm not gonna trick-or -treat. I just wanna keep you guys company."

That's all it takes to convince Daniel, he grins and takes off to go find his shoes.

His dad, however, it's not quite convinced. He regards him with- not quite suspicion, that's too harsh. Something else. Worry, maybe. "You don't have plans, Sean?"

Sean shakes his head. "Nah, the momster roped Lyla into giving out candy with her."

"What about your other friends?"

"Ellery and Eric are both grounded. Guess neither told their parents about the party on Friday."

His dad eyes him, the wheels clearly turning in his head. He looks like he's about to say something when his phone buzzes loudly on the counter. He checks it, then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Jackie forgot his keys, I need to go lock up the shop." He glances back to Sean, then grabs his car keys. "It will take me 15 minutes, at most. Make sure Daniel is ready to go by the time I get back, okay?"

"Got it Dad, I'll see ya in a bit."

He smiles, pulls Sean into a brief hug, kissing the top of his head before he takes off.

Sean lets himself feel content. The anxiety is still there, obviously, but it's less overwhelming. So he heads to his room, getting some time to relax in before he has to check on Daniel.

It's peaceful, Sean sitting in his bean bag chair, finally able to start reading his favorite fantasy series again, music playing quietly over his audio player. It still feels a little foreign to him, being in this room, sleeping in this bed. But it feels good.

There's muffled voices outside, sounds of distress.

Peace only lasts so long.

Sean snaps up in an instant, sprinting outside with speed he forgot he had.

No. No. No.

Daniel is in the front yard, and Brett is there, holding onto his little brother's arm. His shirt is smeared with fake blood, and he's yelling at him.

This isn't supposed to be happening, it's Monday. This was prevented .

Seeing Brett, it's everything Sean has to not knock him on his ass. This is the bastard who ruined his life, and he's about to ruin it again.

But he doesn't, instead he strides over to them, pulling Daniel out of Brett's grasp. He needs to get them out of here.

He doesn't register the words Brett yells at him, doesn't let himself. He doesn't want to know what he's saying, because he might just lose his cool.

"Piss off man, he's nine. It was an accident. Let's go, enano." He takes Daniel's hand, pulls him towards the front door.

Brett doesn't like that, if the hand in Sean's hood is any indication, yanking him back and choking him. He nearly loses his balance, staggering a little, and Brett is suddenly in his face. He reeks of booze. He must've broken into his dad's stash or something. Drunk and an asshole.

This is very, very bad. Sean raises his hands, stepping back, trying to settle this. His mind is going a mile a minute, in a scrambled frenzy of panic- he feels frozen. He's going to throw up, or scream, or collapse. This shouldn't be happening right now- he stopped this!

Drunk and belligerent, Brett shoves him, and Sean stumbles back, falling on his back, wind knocked out of him.

He struggles to sit up, catching his breath. He hears yelling, but his ears are still ringing. His adrenaline is surging, and this is too familiar, he's panicking again.

"Stay down! I said stay down!"

Sean stops sitting up, finally looking up.

Fuck.

FUCK.

The officer is there, the very same one, pointing his gun at Sean. Sean's hands go up in an instant.

Of course. Of fucking course the gun is still pointed at him, even though he's on the ground and Brett is still standing. It's always going to be him, isn't it?

He stopped it.

But it's still happening.

Will this always happen? Is this unavoidable fate?

Daniel is begging for him to stop, and the officer is yelling at him.

"Listen to him enano!"

The officer whirls back on him, "shut up! Don't talk, hands behind your head!"

"He didn't do anything!" Daniel cries- his hands are up as well, but he's not kneeling- but Sean can hear the fear in his voice, the tremor he's grown all-too-familiar with. Brett has backed up, looking between the officer and Sean, hands at his side. Even in his intoxicated state, he looks shocked- but he doesn't say anything, frozen just like Sean is. In a moment of desperation, Sean locks eyes with him, desperately trying to will him to say something, fucking anything. But still he stands, frozen- a look of horrified surprise on his face.

"Be quiet!" The officer says, screams, and Sean can see how his hands are trembling, clasped around his gun so tightly- as if he's afraid if he loosens his grip that he'll be the one in mortal danger, not Sean. The victim complex radiates off of this coward like a toxic gas, harming anyone and everyone near his proximity.

Sean tries to keep his voice low, level, but it cracks- terror breaking through. "It's okay, Daniel. Just listen to him-"

"I said shut up!" His grip tightens on his weapon.

A gunshot rings out.

He hears Daniel scream, then feels it, that explosion of psychic power.

As well as searing pain. Blinding pain, the kind that's so intense his mind shuts down, blacks out.

Things are hazy from there. He can piece bits of it together. Things come to him in flashes as he fights to stay awake- but he can't open his eyes. The left half of his face is screaming in pain, and it's so hard to think. There are sirens in the distance. He hears someone screaming Daniel's name- someone screaming his name.

He's being held, there's a shaking hand cupping his face, and he recognizes his father's voice.

"-ean. Sean, stay with me kid. Come on mi estrellita. It's okay, I need you to stay with me—-" He's trying, he's trying. It's so hard.

"Daniel! Daniel, buddy, mijo are you okay?"

"D-dad? There was an explosion- SEAN!"

Daniel is awake?

"I got him, I got him. Daniel I need you to-"

"D-dad he's bleeding-"

"Daniel I need you to-"

"Daddy he's bleeding!"

"I KNOW. I know, I know, I need you to go inside and call 911. Can you do that for me?"

There's more, panicked, desperate voices, a hand pressing fabric into the wound on his face, the sound of Daniel running into the house. "Por favor, Dios, no lo dejes morir. Mantente fuerte, hijo mío. Mi estrellita, por favor." (Please god, don't let him die. Stay strong for me, my son. Please, my little star.)

Then, there's nothing.

Notes:

You'd really think I'd be that nice to Sean? :)

Also that bit about sean not being subtle comes from the fact that when i played him, i pretty much exclusively chose honest dialogue options (like telling esteban he was gonna use the money for drugs at the party cx) so i realize that characterization might not be entirely accurate depending on how you played him.

Chapter 4: Logjam

Summary:

log·jam
/ˈlôɡˌjam,ˈläɡˌjam/
noun

1. a crowded mass of logs blocking a river.
2. a situation that seems irresolvable.

Notes:

im gonna be completely honest, almost didnt upload this in time bc ive completely lost myself in baldurs gate (gonna kiss that wizard) -
but here it is!
also i have a song recommendation for you guys, its called "Halloween" by novo amor, and i listened to it a ton working on both chapter 3 and this one. Not only is it the kind of sound you'd expect on a LIS soundtrack, but the lyrics felt...right. for what i was writing.
i would also like to genuinely thank you guys for all of your lovely comments, i really really appreciate it. i've mentioned in comments before that i'm incredibly insecure about my writing, so all of your support is very motivating and means the world to me.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Haze, cloudy images and flashing lights, soft sounds that he can almost hear, fleeting feelings of touch that don't process- the nerves aren't there. It's a limbo, the space in-between. When consciousness is something unattainable. Dreams are nonsense- a mess of shape and colors, smoking guns that should reek of burning gunpowder, blood dripping on his tongue but none of the metallic taste, high pitched sirens- but his ears don't ring.

They become more coherent- still hard to parse, impossible to remember. Until, finally, Daniel sits across from him. He's surrounded by floating rubble.

They're surrounded by redwoods- and the wrecked remains of Merril's home. Daniel's expression is…it's a million things at once. Angry. Bitter. Betrayed. Disappointed. Sad.

"You did it again, Sean."

Sean stares at him, body locked into place, still as stone. Yet his mouth moves- words escape- but it doesn't feel right. Disjointed, like someone else is doing the talking. "Did what, Daniel?"

"You ruined everything. You ran away again."

Glass shatters, and Sean stumbles back- though Daniel remains unmoving, his voice echoing, booming .

"I was just-" Sean chokes, "I was just trying to help."

"You're always trying to help Sean." He says, cold, detached, so unlike his little brother. "But all you do is run away. All you do is ruin it for everyone."

"I only wanted to make things better." His voice is pleading.

Daniel stares at him, face like marble. He does not speak, but the judgment at hand is made clear.

Blood runs down Sean's face, drips from his chin onto his left hand. "I tried."

Daniel grimaces, almost pitying, "I know, Sean." He says, "And look what it did."

Sean wakes up to the harsh smells and sounds of a hospital room.

He blinks, struggling to move, entire body aching. He feels the IV in his arm, that uncomfortable feeling ever persistent. He opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

He opens his eye.

Eye. Singular.

He sits up in a rush, and regrets it instantly, stomach lurching with the sudden movement. His hand snaps to his eye, then he winces in pain.

A soft cotton patch is taped onto his left eye.

It was a dream. He really didn't jump back. Of course he didn't- how could he be so delusional? Time travel– he really did lose his fucking mind in here.

He doesn't remember how he got here, though, all that's coming to him is flashes of pain and hazy memories. A fight with someone, maybe? A strangled sound escapes him, before devolving into sobs. How could he be so stupid?

A head pops into his room, a nursing assistant with bright red hair and a smattering of freckles, eyes wide. "Aw, sweetie- don't cry." She steps into his room, her hands full with a tray of hospital food, and she sets it down to glance at his chart. "Are you hurtin–? Oh." She glances at the chart, then back at Sean. "Did you just wake up?"

He nods, another sob escaping him, and he stifles the sound with his hand clasped over his mouth.

"Give me one second, honey. Do you remember what happened?"

He shakes his head.

She smiles, pitying. But there's a sense of urgency in her mannerisms now, and he watches as she goes to ring a call-nurse button. "That's okay honey, it's okay. I'm gonna go grab your doctor- she'll help you, alright? We'll just do some tests, normal stuff, I promise." She furrows her brow a little. "Do you understand me-" she glances back to his chart, "Sean?"

He nods.

"Can you say so for me, Sean?"

"Y-yes-" his voice is shaking, "I understand."

She smiles patiently at him, seeming to give him another once-over, before she rushes out of the room, leaving Sean to his thoughts.

He doesn't know if he can do this again, doesn't know if he can grieve like this again. It all felt so real.

He curls in on himself, shaking, shuddering sobs wracking through his entire body. Everything aches, and his eye feels the worst it's been in a while. Whatever happened must have aggravated the injury.

Finally, the assistant comes back, doctor in tow. The doctor smiles at him, a tall woman with long brown hair swept into a messy ponytail, strands falling in her face. She seems a lot sweeter than the doctor he had last time, and it brings him a tiny bit of comfort.

"Hey there, Sean." She sits on the foot of his bed, voice soft, like how someone might approach an injured animal. "It's okay. My name is Doctor Hirai. I'm gonna ask you some questions, if that's alri-"

She's cut off by the sound of the door swinging open, and Sean snaps his head up to look at who just barged in.

His dad stares back, eyes wide, breathing heavily- like he just stopped running.

Sean remembers. Remembers the altercation with Brett, where the officer shot his dad him . His dad is alive. It really did happen.

The whiplash is enough to cause the sobs to start in full force again, and he reaches his arms out for his dad, and he rushes to Sean, pulling him into a hug.

He's alive.

He lost his eye again, but he's alive.

—-

The doctor, and his dad, fill him in for the most part-after some quick tests and questions to check his capabilities. Sean was shot by the officer, and despite the fact that the gun was aimed at his chest, the bullet's trajectory went straight up- was altered by the blast, grazing the left side of his face, and permanently damaging his eye, so much so that it had to be surgically removed- just like last time.

He was out for a week. Shorter coma than last time, thankfully.

"It could have been worse," Doctor Hirai says, her voice soft. "I know that's not always reassuring, Sean, but it's a miracle the bullet didn't travel…" right. He could have been shot in the head.

Jesus.

Talk about facing his mortality.

The "explosion" is the current explanation for why the bullet's trajectory changed, but it's a loose explanation at that. Just like last time, a freak accident that caused the street to be trashed and the officer who shot him is dead.

This time, though, Sean knows. He knows what caused the explosion.

She cleans up his eye, as well as the stitches on his face, while Esteban hovers anxiously nearby.

It's weird. He remembers this, but it was different. Different hospital, different doctor. He was alone.

Finally, it's just him and his dad, and the man takes his hand, sitting at his bedside. "Lyla is watching Daniel right now," he says, "I'll call for them to come visit in a bit, okay? I just want to see how you're feeling."

"I'm…" he pauses, considering his words. "Okay, I guess. Glad I'm awake, and I'm glad that-" he doesn't know how to say it, "it could have been a lot worse."

"I'm so sorry, Sean. If I had been home–"

He shakes his head at that, maybe a little too quickly. "No, dad. I don't think that would have changed anything." It would have changed everything. "That bastard had his gun on me the second he was out of his car, it didn't matter that I was already on the ground. They can call it a freak accident if they want to, but he made his decision to shoot way before he even pulled the trigger."

Esteban looks taken aback by that, like he wasn't expecting the venom dripping from Sean's voice. He doesn't press it, though, instead running his fingers through Sean's hair, soothing.

"Still, I'm sorry hijo." He tightens his grip on Sean's hand, "I can't imagine how hard this is for you."

"I'm okay dad, really." I've felt this pain before.

I'm already used to being half-blind.

I'd trade my eye for your life a million times over.

"I'm tough, you know that."

"Of course you are, Seanie-boy. You're uh, a freakin' fighter?"

He snorts at that. "Yeah, best freakin fighter. Lyla and I both." His dad smiles at him, and Sean echoes the expression, before it slips off his face. "Dad…can I see it?"

"Sean, I don't know if–"

"I'm gonna have to see it eventually, anyway. Might as well let me see it now."

Esteban considers this, then sighs. "Okay kiddo, here." He pulls out his phone, "the scarring will fade a bit."

He hands Sean the device, lets him open the front-facing camera and stare at himself on the screen.

It's..gnarlier, than the one he got before. In the other timeline. He can't see his entire socket, still covered by the bandage. Unlike the first time, Sean's eye and socket was the only thing that got really damaged, a faint scar that started at his bottom lid and ended just before his brow.

This time, though, there's a pretty nasty scar traveling up the side of his face, starting at his lower cheek and ending right above his eyebrow. It's still stitched, and it'll stop being so red and glaring eventually, but it's still pretty brutal. There's smaller, more scattered scars as well- most likely from the shrapnel, though they don't need stitches. A knick on his upper lip, as well as one on the bridge of his nose and on the left side of his chin.

"Jesus," he says, setting the phone down on his lap.

"I'm sorry Sea-" his dad sounds so apologetic, but Sean cuts him off.

"It's okay! It's okay, it's going to take some getting used to, but it's okay. What's that you used to say, uh, chicks dig scars?" Esteban smiles a little at that, reaching out to hold Sean's face with his hand. "Besides," Sean gestures to the scarring, then to the faded scar that travels from dad's chin to his lip. "We match now, right? Diaz men matching facial scars."

He laughs at that, a rough sound, and Sean smiles before he sees the tears welling in his eyes.

"Shit- I didn't mean to make you cry–"

"No! No, you didn't make me cry, kiddo." He leans forward, rests his forehead on Sean's. "I'm just glad you're okay, and I'll be here every step of your recovery."

"I know you will, Dad. I'll be okay." He's done this before, he can do it again. It'll be easier this time, because he won't have to do it alone, with worry and anxiety over Daniel looming over his head.

"Shit, Sean." His dad says, leaning back in his chair, "When did you get so mature?"

Sean doesn't know how the fuck he's supposed to answer that. He can't just say, 'well, you died and I had to balance being a fugitive while also raising Daniel, who has superpowers now. Doing that changes you a lot, so sorry that I'm suddenly way more grown up. I was traumatized and now I'm constantly walking the line between being a dad and being a kid again.'

He wishes he could say it, though. Kind of.

He shrugs instead. "I don't know. I don't think it's maturity." He stares at his dad, studies the lines in his face. All the worry, relief, sadness, happiness, it's all there, written across his face.

Esteban looks like he wants to push the subject, but then Sean winces, pressing his palm against his forehead. So the moment is dropped, rather he squeezes Sean's hand, speaking in that low voice again. "You okay, bud? Should I call the doctor?"

"I'm alright, I think I was just staring a little too hard." This feeling is unfortunately familiar, the splitting headaches that accompany trying to focus without having both eyes. "Could you turn off the light, though?"

"Of course." He stands, grabbing his phone from Sean's lap and switching the overhead light off, and Sean can't help but sigh in relief as the harsh lighting dims. "I'm gonna text Lyla, too, have her bring Danny around. They've been pretty freaked out about this." He frowns a little, and Sean see's now the tiredness in his dad's eyes. His dad must have been pretty freaked out as well.

Right, Sean's been out for a week. This can't have been a pleasant week for his dad, trying to balance life while also unsure if when his kid is going to wake up. Sean can't help but feel a pang of guilt at that. He remembers how it was when Daniel was sick up in the cabin, not getting any better, and how much sleep Sean lost- worrying that he'd wake up and Daniel would be much worse.

His dad starts a little, remembering something, "oh, right-" he goes to the end of the bed, grabs a bag that was sitting tucked underneath it slightly. "I brought a couple things for when you woke up, a couple books, your pencils and sketchbook, some comfy pajamas; you know, the works."

"Thanks, dad." Esteban smiles, and it's in the low-light that he can really see the exhaustion weighing him down- his under-eyes wrung with dark circles.

He gestures his dad over, leaning back in his bed and shutting his eyes, "you should rest, at least a little bit. You look exhausted."

"That's my line." His dad says, setting the backpack on the table where Sean can reach it.

"I know. I'll rest too. When Daniel gets here neither of us can relax."

"True, he's going to be so excited to see you awake. He was really worried."

… "I know." He hopes Daniel doesn't feel any sort of guilt for his eye, like last time. There's less…direct causation, but once again shit went down because Brett was harassing Daniel.

Not that any of that is Daniel's fault, in any way, in either timeline. He knows how stupid guilt can be, how self-centered guilt can be, making things your fault in your mind even if it isn't.

There's also the issue of his powers.

He's 99.99 percent certain that the explosion was Daniel once again, which means his powers are awake. There's a good chance Daniel doesn't know this yet, just like last time. Which means Sean needs to figure out how to have Daniel discover his powers naturally, preferably less destructive than destroying a motel room.

Daniel's powers are linked to his feelings, going haywire when he's angry or scared, especially when they first activated. The last thing they need is for some bully at school to cause another catastrophic event.

Sean needs to walk the line very carefully, and try to do better with Daniel's powers this time. While ultimately Daniel had pretty amazing control of his powers by the time Sean was arrested- and a good sense of when to use them, there were still plenty of bad situations Sean would prefer to not repeat.

It's hard, because as Daniel comes to his own he'll learn what he's capable of, what he can get away with, and the impact he can have on others.

Daniel is a good kid, though. And this Daniel hasn't been through so much grief, so much trauma. His relationship with his powers will hopefully be good, without any complicated feelings of guilt like before.

He just hopes that he can teach him that the fact that he's more powerful than other people doesn't mean he's superior to them. That they should be used for good, and used cautiously.

It's stressing him out.

There's also dad to consider. He…should probably tell him, after Daniel discovers them (and Sean "discovers" them.)

The fear of the unknown follows with that, though. Unknown to how Esteban will respond.

He trusts his dad, obviously , but it's still anxiety-inducing. Life with dad and life with Daniel's powers never overlapped. Does he tell him?

He has to tell him, eventually. He'll cross that bridge when he gets there, maybe do a little bit of wolf brother's training with him before he tells him. Let Daniel get a little more confident with them.

Also, and this is stupid- Sean realizes that; He likes the fact that he and Daniel had something that connected them. It was so difficult, trying to teach Daniel to respect his power and use it responsibly, but the secret that they shared only strengthened their bond after dad died. He doesn't want to leave that piece of the old timeline behind.

Besides, Sean can understand him even better now, in a way. Sean's got his own powers to deal with, even if he's trying not to use them.

His gaze travels to the backpack on the sidetable, then to his dad, who's leaning back in the chair nearby with his eyes closed. He grabs the bag, rummaging around until he pulls out his sketchbook, setting it on his lap and the back back down on the floor. He switches on the bedside lamp, the light a lot less harsh than the piercing and artificial brightness of the overhead bulb, and he stares at the cover of his sketchbook before flipping it open.

It's newer, so it's only a couple pages in that he finds his most recent drawing- aside from the next page filled with doodles from school. It's a drawing of the living room, done the Monday morning before school, complete with Daniel on the couch, a powerbear toy loosely held in his hand- watching cartoons as he waited for Sean to finish up and walk him to the bus stop.

He could do it. Could stop it.

He grabs the book, holds it so the light hits it better, and stares at the drawing. He feels it- feels the lines start to shake, the odd, nearly-electrical hum that accompanies his power buzzes in his ears, as well as the sounds of whatever cartoon Daniel was watching- distant, sounding as if the tv was playing underwater.

His vision grows foggy, and he's almost there- he can feel the midmorning calm- when dread suddenly grips at his chest.

He stops, blinks away the haze and lets go of the book, dropping it back on his lap as if it burned him.

It's…tempting. Going back. He looks back at the pages. That's what this drawing was for , as well as the one of the garage on Sunday, and Daniel's room on Saturday. He made daily drawings so if something like this were to happen, he'd have a way back. He has the opportunity to go back and save his eye- he should take it, right?

…Right?

So, just do it, Sean.

He looks back down at the sketchbook- but as soon as the feeling of power returns- he snaps it back shut.

What if this is it?

Twice now, Brett's harassed Daniel. Twice now, Sean's stepped into help. Twice now, Officer Matthhews has shot someone in his yard. Twice now, the same officer has died to a 'mysterious' explosion following the shot.

Twice now, Sean has lost his eye.

He had over a year to get used to losing an eye, his depth perception made excellent progress, and while the headaches still happened even months later, they grew more tolerable.

Still, it sucks, being half-blind again. To be completely honest, it's more than that. While he put on a brave face for his dad, and will continue to put on a brave face for everyone, his scarring is pretty intense. He doesn't consider himself particularly vain, spending a year on the road wearing the same trashed clothes with showers and opportunities to groom being infrequent luxuries, it makes you a little more apathetic about appearances.

Still, people stared when it was just an eyepatch that drew attention to him, and it made him incredibly uncomfortable. Lyla used to tease him for being sensitive , and being self conscious. It took a while for him to get comfortable running at track, or practicing tricks at the park, because it always felt like there were eyes on him- judgemental. The neurosis of being a "sensitive" teenager. He doesn't like the spotlight, way more content to sit in the shade and sketch the scene.

His dad has dozed off completely in the chair next to him, snoring lightly, and Sean smiles softly at him, before grabbing Esteban's phone and studying his face again. It will fade, stop being so glaring and red, but still. It will be there forever, especially the largest one, crossing from his cheek to his eyebrow, stitched up. It will be the first thing people notice about him. There will be stares, and awkward questions.

So yes, he's tempted.

But not tempted enough.

Since his initial jump back, Sean has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something catastrophic to happen and send everything spiraling back to where it once was, Daniel and Sean alone against the world.

But maybe, this is the other shoe. Maybe there's a trade, and that there will always be an altercation with Brett, officer Matthews will always pull the trigger on someone, and Sean will always lose an eye.

If it really is fate, then this is the best possible alternative for Sean. God forbid he rewinds again and it's Esteban who is shot again, or Daniel . If this is always supposed to happen, then Sean refuses to risk it for his eye.

His dad is here, living and breathing. Daniel is happy (still superpowered, but happy) and Sean refuses to give that up. One selfish action is all he said he needed, and he's sticking to that.

If his dad knew that Sean is making this decision for himself, would he be angry?

Maybe.

It's worth it.

Notes:

i was fully planning on doing a sketch of Sean for this, featuring his new scar and some drawings of characters where i was trying my best to emulate his style- but last week i grabbed my iPad where i do my drawings and dropped it. it completely SHATTERED (not like, cracked all over, im talking pieces of the screen falling off level of shattered). so, no drawings until i can scrounge up the cash to get a new screen (or new ipad!) so we'll have to contend with just written descriptors for now!

insert pls kudos/comment spiel here! Sorry for the rambling authors notes, i have a tendency to babble. Seeya in 2 weeks!

Chapter 5: Whirlpool

Summary:

whirl·pool
/ˈ(h)wərlˌpo͞ol/
noun

1. a rapidly rotating mass of water in a river or sea into which objects may be drawn, typically caused by the meeting of conflicting currents.

Notes:

More hospital conversations. I realize the pacing might be a little slow (chapter 6 is also in the hospital, but it's the final one there) I just uh, write a lot of dialogue, which- my bad. That's on me.

Uh, enjoy! Once again thank you all for your support, it means so much.

Also sorry this is a day late I've been hitting the job search really fucking hard and it sucks and has completely fucked with my perception of time (genuinely thought its only been a week since I uploaded, not two.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

His sketches aren't really all that bad, compared to the first time. There's still that shakiness, but part of itt is he's still weak from being unconscious for eight days. His depth perception is still fucked, too, but he's used to it, it was only a three day reprieve after all.

He tries not to dwell on how strange it is, tries not to get too existential about fate and inevitability.

Luckily, the door of his room opening snaps him out of those swirling thoughts,the overhead light switching on with an electric hum. Suddenly, there's a Daniel-shaped blur heading towards him, and he barely has any time to respond before his little brother is on his bed and has flung his arms around his neck.

It knocks the wind out of him, and tears spring to his eyes as he hugs him back, pulling him in close and kissing the top of his head. Daniel holds on to him, clings to him even, until eventually Sean pats his back a few times and pulls back. Daniel is smiling at him, and Sean smiles back, sniffles.

He doesn't miss how Daniel's gaze lands on his scars, how that smile falters- and something flashes his expression.

Sean thinks he recognizes it, thinks he knows guilt when he sees it. He hopes he's wrong, he really does.

It's short-lived though, and Daniel is quickly smiling again, rubbing at his watery eyes with the heel of his hand. "You're awake!"

Sean cards his fingers through his hair, similar to how his dad would, grinning. "Of course, enano. You think I'm gonna sleep on you forever?"

"I- no. Of course not, you're stronger than that." Still, Daniel looks away. Like he was scared he'd never see Sean awake again, and that thought turns his stomach. The idea of leaving Daniel without him. He never felt that kind of fear before all this, before dad died. The fear that if something happened to him Daniel would be hurt. He depended on him, and that pressure isn't going away, even if dad is alive again.

It's scary how much he's changed.

"That's right, both of us are. We're like- wolves, fierce predators, nothing can stop us."

Daniel smiles at that. "Yeah, we're super wolves!"

Yeah. They are.

Sean tilts his head up, letting out a quiet "awooo". Daniel tilts his head, laughs, then does the same, howling back.

"It's like you want your dad to wake up." There's a fondness in her tone, and Sean looks up from Daniel to see Lyla leaning against the wall, the ghost of a smirk on her face. Sean doesn't hesitate, opening his other arm as an invitation. She doesn't hesitate either, crossing the threshold and pulling both of the Diaz brothers into a crushing bear-hug.

"You scared the shit outta me, man" she whispers.

"You scared the shit out of me too" Daniel repeats.

Sean snorts at the curse, and Lyla barks out a laugh, loud enough that dad jolts awake. It's such a 'dad' thing to do, startle awake from an open-mouthed nap on a chair. His chest tightens with fondness.

"You can't say that, man."

"Say what?" Esteban says, rubbing his eyes. Daniel flushes, and Sean laughs, rolling his eyes and ruffling Daniel's hair.

"Nothing, it's not important." Sean says, and Daniel giggles, covering his mouth with his hands.

"You wound me, boys. Lying to your papito , after everything he's done for you?" Esteban clutches his chest like he's been wounded, all dramatics. "The betrayal is real and it stings. Lyla?"

"Sorry Mr. Diaz, my lips are sealed."

"Et tu? And here I thought I was your favorite Diaz."

Daniel lets out an indignant squeak at that, whipping his head around to look at dad, then to Lyla. "I'm her favorite Diaz!"

Lyla throws up her hands, as if to say 'no comment', and dad only pushes it. "No way, mijo. You can't puppy-dog-eyes your way into this."

There's a bit of a back and forth between them, his dad teasing Daniel and Daniel rising to it. Sean finally breaks the bickering by shrugging, "Well no matter what, we know it's not me." Daniel quite literally points and laughs at him at that, and it's so absurd that Lyla laughs so hard she starts hacking and wheezing.

It's so stupid. It's so nice.

Eventually, things simmer down. The tv gets turned on as white noise, and Lyla pulls up a chair on the other side of his bed. Daniel doesn't move from his spot on the hospital bed, curling up against Sean's side and leaning his head on his shoulder as he talks animatedly about what's happened while Sean's been out. It's from a nine-year old's perspective, so it's mostly stuff about his friends at school and minecraft, but Lyla and his dad interject with some actual information on occasion.

"Alright Danny-boy, let's go grab something to eat and let Sean and Lyla catch up for a second."

"But I wasn't fini–"

His dad doesn't let the whine finish, instead picking Daniel up and hosting him on his shoulders. "If I remember correctly, there's chocolate cake in the cafeteria downstairs." Daniel whoops at that, pouting forgotten. Esteban and Lyla share a look for a moment, so briefly Sean almost doesn't see it, before he waves and takes Daniel out, leaving Sean and Lyla alone.

There's a lull, then Lyla speaks. "I'll bring your homework by tomorrow, hopefully they'll go easy on you given, uh, everything."

Sean rolls his eyes- eye. "One can dream. I'm totally gonna flunk stats."

"Not if Jenn Murphy has anything to say about it." Her tone is teasing, and she notices when Sean doesn't become a flustered mess as usual. "You good, man?"

"That's a loaded question." Sean says, making a see-sawing motion with his hand. "I'm as good as I can be. Lot of stuff has been put in perspective for me, lately. You know?"

Lyla nods. "I get that. Kind of, I mean. I'm just glad you're still with me."

"I'm glad too." More than you could possibly know.

They fall into a semi-comfortable silence, though Lyla is acting twitchy about something. They watch the grainy hospital tv, some friends rerun playing, a show Sean never really got into, though it makes him chuckle a couple times. Lyla is getting nervous, and Sean is about to ask her what's up when she beats him to it.

"So….did your dad, uh, tell you?"

Sean tilts his head. "You're gonna have to be more specific, Lyla."

"Ah, so he didn't. I didn't think so. Uh, I have your phone here, I grabbed it from your room." She holds it out for him, and he takes it, noting that it's fully charged. She must have charged it for him at some point. "Don't jump on social media, yet, okay?"

"Dude, what's going on? Just tell me."

She scratches the back of her neck, quiet for a moment. "You've…kind of become the face of some protests."

Shit.

"Shit." He sighs, rubbing his right temple. "How big is it?"

"Pretty big," she says, "I'm probably going to go to one in a few days. I haven't shared anything on my timeline yet, didn't know if you'd be comfortable, I know you don't like the spotlight. It's started another major movement about police brutality. Since it went viral."

" What went viral?"

She looks at him, eyes wide. "Oh, right. Uh, it was filmed, what had happened-"

"People filmed it?!" His voice cracks a little on the word, pitched with anxiety.

It makes sense, there must have been people out and about already. Sean didn't notice them at the time, but with it being halloween there were definitely trick-or-treaters and their parents on the street. Still, it's distressing to hear nonetheless. Sean doesn't want this, doesn't want to be the face of anything. He sighs again, holding his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, man. I really am. I know you don't want to deal with this, but people are speaking out for you. I would, um, go private though."

"Why?"

"Kindred Matthews, uh, the cop? He didn't survive the explosion- and, uh-"

Good , a venomous part of him thinks. It's wrong, probably. Twice now this man has hurt him, though, taking his father then taking his eye. "People are…blaming me, huh?"

"Not everyone" she says, in a rush. "Just some really shitty people. It's all unfounded bullshit, obviously, there's nothing in the video that suggests you set off that explosion. It was just a freak accident, a gas-leak, like the news said. Still, people want someone to blame, and to try and justify the fact that that fucker shot you." There's heat in her words, the same protective anger she's had for him since they were kids. "I would have put your stuff on private but I don't know your passcode."

"Right." Sean opens his phone, blinking in shock at the barrage of notifications he missed. Some are expected, Lyla sent him some texts before she found out what happened, then there's a bunch of support coming from Eric, Ellery, and Jenn. His boss was pissed at him for missing his shift on Tuesday night, before a series of apologies were sent about freaking out on him.

His facebook and twitter are private anyway, so for the most part it's clean, just some support posts from classmates. There's some old shithead relatives on his mom's side (pretty sure his like, third cousins) that he has to block, but for the most part they're fine. His instagram is a wreck, though, being completely public since he posts his sketches there, his comments are flooded with discourse and vitriol. Supportive comments, shitty comments calling him a cop-killer, and so much fighting. It makes his stomach turn, so he privates the account and deletes the app. He doesn't have it in him to try and sort through the comments and delete the bad ones.

Lyla grimaces, watching him as he scrolls through his phone.

Curiosity tugs at him, a dangerous pull, and he opens up youtube and finds a clip of a news segment covering what happened. Lyla glances over and reaches for his phone, and he pulls it away, keeping hold of it. "Dude, don't watch that. It's only going to upset you."

"I know," he says, and she's right. It will. "I have to, though."

She bites her lower lip, looking like she's going to object, before she sighs, dropping her hand. "Fine. I'd rather you watch it with me here over watching it alone. But if it starts to trigger you, I need you to turn it off. Promise?"

"I promise."

She nods, and Sean lowers his hand, tapping on the video and watching it buffer.

" Protests break out after a viral video of a police shooting of a seattle teen-"

"Sean Diaz, a 16-year old Seattle resident, was shot while unarmed in front of his home on Halloween evening by an officer of the Seattle PD. Catastrophe followed, as the shot seems to have set off an explosion. Officials are calling it a gas-leak. We must warn you viewers at home, this footage can be disturbing."

Sean grimaces as it cuts to the video, and it's weird, watching yourself from the outside like this. The video starts early in the encounter, Sean isn't even outside yet- someone started filming as soon as Brett started getting in Daniel's face. He scowls, watching as that shithead harrasses his little brother.

He watches himself sprint outside, putting himself between Daniel and Brett. He didn't realize anyone was filming- and he's so relieved he didn't let himself rise to the bait like last time, as tempting as it was. People are still painting him as a thug, of course, but at least there's tangible evidence that he didn't do anything wrong.

He watches as he tries to take Daniel inside, Brett grabbing him and knocking him over, Matthews showing up, pulling his gun on him.

It makes him sick, his stomach twisting. It was fucked up living it, but it's even more fucked up watching it. He was already on the ground when the gun was pulled on him, there's not a second where he could have been perceived as a threat.

The gunshot fires, and just a millisecond later the "explosion" follows, knocking back whoever was filming.

The explosion that followed killed Officer Kindred Matthews, and left 6 injured, including Diaz. He is currently in the hospital in critical condition."

He was in critical condition. Right. Nearly took a bullet to the brain, that's definitely a critical condition.

The news continues, summarizing what has happened and the protests that have followed. When the segment ends, the autoplay kicks out the viral video itself, over 500k views.

Sean lets it play, watching it again. What the news segment didn't include is what happened after the explosion. The video cuts, then starts again, shakily, filming the wreckage. Sean is on the ground, as is Daniel and Brett, and a car comes tearing up the street, screeching to a halt in front of the house.

His dad is out of the car in an instant, sprinting towards them. He goes to Daniel first, holding him- and Sean realizes he was checking his pulse. He watches his Dad looks up, sees Sean, the fear in his voice nearly drowned out by the distant sirens as he screams Sean's name. He carries Daniel over to him, then sets him down, holding Sean.

Upsetting is putting it lightly, watching as his dad holds him, tears off his overshirt and presses it to the blurred-out wound on his face. Daniel wakes up just a few moments later, and Sean hazily remembers what they said to each other, before Daniel runs (stumbles) inside to call 911.

Nauseating, watching as Esteban pulls him to his chest and rocks him, staring up at the sky, saying something he can't hear. Is he praying?

He never meant to put his dad through this.

Guilt wracks through his entire body, his shoulders shaking.

Lyla grabs the phone, "that's enough of that," she says, closing the app.

"Fuck," he says, holding his head in his hands.

"I told you not to watch it, man." Her voice is soft, understanding.

"I know, I know. I just…fuck. Dad had to deal with-"

"Dude, are you for real?"

Sean glances up at her, confused, and she meets him with an equally confused stare. "What?"

"You were shot, and that's what you're freaking out about?"

"...I mean, yeah." He remembers, remembers what it was like, holding a bleeding loved one, praying to whatever might be listening that they're okay. It's not a hell he'd wish on anyone, especially not his dad. "It's more than that, I guess, but seeing him freaking out like that, it's fucked up." He scowls down at his hands, they're shaking slightly still. "You know my dad, Lyla. He's strong. Seeing him cry? And knowing I was the one who did that to him? It feels like shit."

Her hand finds his, laces their fingers together. "Sean," she starts, voice low, "youdidn't do anything to him. A shithead cop shot you, an unarmed teenager. You're the victim here, not the perpetrator."

He's not convinced, and she can tell, an almost exasperated expression taking over her features. "Sean. This is not– in any reality, your fault. You know that, right?" She studies his expression, her voice growing a little softer, upset tinging her tone. "Right..?"

But it is. He could rewind. He could undo it all again- but he's scared.

He realizes this way of thinking is irrational, he's not stupid. She's absolutely right. He can't explain it, though, this compulsive need to shoulder the weight of it all.

"You've been…" she pauses, trying to find the words. "Protective, lately. You've always been a little overprotective of Daniel- even if you'd never admit it, but lately-"

"Lyla-"

"I know. I'm not gonna keep grilling you, I promise. I'm just worried. You've been overprotective of Daniel, and overprotective of your dad. I know something is upsetting you, and you're not telling me. And I think it's because you think you need to shield me from it- and now, you're freaking out over your dad. Like getting shot is solely your burden to bear- like needing anyone is some kind of sin, or failure on your part."

She leans forward, tightening her grip on his hand. "I don't know what happened, Sean, but something did. What happened that made you so- so… vigilant? I want you to be able to talk to me, I want to help."

He stares at her, eye wide. He's not doing a good job, huh? Hiding this.

"I was right, wasn't I?"

She blinks, confused. "What do you mean?"

"That- that something bad was going to happen."

"You couldn't have possibly known-" But he did know, he knew something was gonna give. It wasn't just paranoia.

"But maybe if I had-"

"And if pigs could fuckin' fly, Sean! You didn't. Nobody did, and it's no one's fault but that cop." She sighs, dragging her free hand down her face. "I just want to help you, Sean."

She's been talking to his dad, he can tell. The look they shared, the fact that his dad also noticed something is up. They had a week to catch up on it while he was comatose.

He looks away, shrugs. "I…" don't know, is what he nearly says. It's easy, noncommittal. "Can't, yet. I don't know how to." He looks back to her, and she's staring, eyes shining. "It's not you, Lyla. I just– I'm tired. I promise I'll tell you when- when I can figure out what's wrong."

"Did someone hurt you? Someone- someone else , I mean."

Yes.

"I- not in the way you'd think. I think I just- I don't know. Unresolved traumas."

She doesn't seem to know how to respond to that, like she's racking her brain for whatever possible traumas she might have missed to cause this behavior.

She doesn't seem to find anything, so she sighs. "Okay. But you'll think about what I said, okay? I want to help you. So does your dad. Whatever is going on in that head of yours, it's not yours to shoulder alone."

He tries to respond, but the words die in his throat, so he just nods.

She turns away from him, looking back to the tv, though her fingers are still laced in his. He tries to ignore the guilt burning in his chest for not being honest with her, burying it alongside the rest.

Notes:

While i always intended for there to be a decent amount of Lyla in this fic, she's definitely worming her way into more and more scenes as i progress writing it (like, expect more lyla content in future chapters for sure)

Something about her and Sean's dynamic is so wonderful to me. Like, in the very limited screen time she's granted in the game she shows so much genuine care and love for Sean and his family, and as I write her I've grown to adore her more and more. Like those two love each other so deeply and I just really enjoy exploring that.

Also, poor Sean is in that horrible position where anxieties that could be considered irrational were made true, and like, as someone who has been there, that sucks. Why am I doing this to my boy.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Chapter 6: Confluence

Summary:

con·flu·ence
/ˈkänˌflo͞oəns,kənˈflo͞oəns/
noun

1. a coming or flowing together, meeting, or gathering at one point
2 . the flowing together of two or more streams

Notes:

Warning for brief mentions of Self harm in this chapter. It's in the first scene. The line before it is mentioned is ""Okay, I get it. I'm an asshole and a martyr. Can I go?", and the line after its finished is "You're shielding him again,".

It's only a paragraph and a couple lines, but you know, take care of yourselves!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

" You took care of your brother for some time."

"...Yeah." Sean says, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Like usual, neither of them wants to be here. Dr. Valentino, the shrink juvie dumped on him with weekly sessions, tries to appear understanding. It's clear she wants Sean to open up, and week after week for nearly five months now he hasn't. He's not going to give her shit.

What would he tell her, anyway? The truth? At best it gets him branded as crazy, at worst she believes him, and it causes shit for Daniel.

So he gives her one word answers, scribbles on the lined paper she gave him while he waits for the minutes to tick by. And she pushes, carefully, calculated, trying to open the mystery that is Sean Diaz's trauma.

As fucking if.

"Sean, I know it's hard to talk about this."

"Yeah. It is. Can we not?" His words are clipped, dismissive.

She purses her lips, tense. "I saw you in the cafeteria the other day," she starts, and Sean glances up at her, unsure where she's going with this. "There was a younger boy, I believe his name is Aaron? A few of the other boys started to rough him up-"

"Yeah, okay, I don't want to-"

"And you jumped in, without hesitating. Took a pretty nasty hit-" she gestures to his face, where he knows there's a swollen red mark just above his jawline.

"It wasn't that bad." He says. He's being honest, there. He remembers what it was like, being pummeled by that shithead in the middle of the desert. Or getting pistol-whipped by Lisbeth's deranged lapdog. A graze from another teenager really is nothing.

"No, I'm sure it wasn't. But still, have you spoken to this boy before?"

"Who?" He's being purposefully difficult, but he doesn't care.

She gives him a flat look, and he glances away. "No, you haven't. Yet you still stood up for him."

"It was the right thing to do."

"That's very noble, Sean. And in a way, I agree with you." She tilts her head, tapping her pen on her lap. "But there's a pattern of behavior with you, a pattern of self-sacrifice."

He doesn't say anything, glaring at the cold linoleum. She takes it as a sign to continue. "For children who are forced to take more responsibilities than they're ready for, for ones who find themselves filling parental roles, they often spend all of their time and energy prioritizing those that need them at their own expense." She tries to meet Sean's gaze, but he's hard focused on the floor. "Then, when they don't have to anymore, they find new people to prioritize over themselves; And as someone with PTSD-"

"I don't have PTSD." He says, scowling, belligerent. He doesn't know why this is a point of contention with him, but it is, every single session. He doesn't like how it makes him feel, the clinical term that is supposed to summarize what's exactly "wrong" with him. He's not anti-diagnosis, either. He was really happy for Lyla when she was diagnosed with depression, finally, because she finally had an explanation, and solutions. It's different, though, for him. He can't explain it.

She ignores his comment, seemingly unbothered, she knew the objection was coming. "Part of Post-traumatic stress disorder is hypervigilance, it's constantly waiting to be back in those traumatic situations. Never letting yourself relax. And as someone who played the role of a protector, part of your response is to shield other people- even those who don't need your protection."

"What, did you expect me to just let him get-"

"I expect you to let the staff handle it, as it's their job. Your job is to rehabilitate."

"Okay, I get it. I'm an asshole and a martyr. Can I go?"

"Have you told Daniel about the self-harm?"

Sean's gaze snaps up to her in a second, walls going up. Shoulders tense, hackles raised. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

"He's your brother, Sean. He cares about you, and I think-"

"He's eleven." He bites back, "He doesn't need to know about that kind of thing." His hand goes to his wrist, rubbing the still-itching marks he left. It got him in a lot of trouble, getting his hands on a sharp object is trouble enough- but using it on himself has caused more problems than it was worth. Constant fucking supervision.

He doesn't know why he did it. He doesn't want to think about why. So he doesn't.

"You're shielding him again," she continues, pushing further- much further than she has in the past, like she's forgotten herself, chasing the big breakthrough. "Your brother is strong, Sean, and you've been supporting him for a long time. Shouldn't you ask for the same kindness?"

"It's not that simple-"

"Your brother went through the same trauma as you, he can-"

The comment tips him over the edge, already high-strung- and his vision goes red.

"I know that! You think I don't fucking know that?" He stands, runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the tangled locks. "He went through all of that bullshit, don't fucking pretend like you get it. And it was my job" he points his thumb to his own chest, accusatory, "to make sure he didn't. And I fucking failed at that."

He starts to pace, anxious energy coming off of him in waves. "I failed, over, and over, and over again. I failed to keep him safe, I failed to keep him warm, I failed to keep him innocent. I have done nothing but fail this entire fucking time, so forgive me if I want to do right by him one fucking time-" he doesn't recognize his own voice, tinged with mania. He's shaking, he realizes. "And just, do this. For him. I did everything for him, gave myself up for him. I didn't fall apart on him out there, and I'm not going to let him see me fall apart on him here. He deserves someone strong like-"

Like dad.

The thought snaps him out of his trance, and he chokes, hand going to his mouth to stifle the sound.

He's not dad, is he? He'll never be dad.

There's a beat, and she's staring at him- she clearly didn't expect the outburst. He can't blame her, this is the most he's spoken since he's been locked up.

It's 3:00.

His voice is tight, barely above a whisper, and if he speaks any louder he fears he'll actually start to cry. "Can I go?"

"Sean, I don't think-"

"It's three. I'm supposed to be done."

She glances at the clock, sighing when she realizes the time. "Yes, Sean. You can go. I will see you next Thursday. Think about what I said, alright?"

…

"Fine."

—

"Rise and shine, Sean."

Doctor Hirai's voice cuts through his sleep, ending his nightmare abruptly. He sits up, groggy, rubbing his good eye with his fist. "Wha?"

She chuckles a little at that, "Sorry, Sean. It's time for meds, and for your eye. You can go back to sleep soon, I know how teenagers are."

"S'fine." He yawns, looking up to see her opening up the curtains.

"Your nurse is gonna come help with your eye in just a minute, as well as your vitals check." She pauses, tilting her head a little. "I actually don't think you've met, now that I think about it. He had yesterday off. Don't worry about it, he's a great guy."

"I'm not worried," he sits up fully, turns when he hears the door open, his nurse walking in.

The blood drains from his face.

"Hey Sean," he starts, hands full of supplies, a handsome male nurse with a familiar easy-going smile, "I'm Joey. Good to meet ya, man."

Sean stares.

What the fuck.

Joey was the only person in that god forsaken hospital that kept him grounded.

Sean should be ecstatic to see him again- and honestly, part of him is, but this isn't right. He met Joey in a hospital in Northern fucking California.

What the hell is he doing here?

Life is a series of coincidences- it's a small world. This feels different, scary in its own way. It's like the timelines are bleeding together, maybe things are unavoidable. What are the chances that Sean would lose an eye twice, and have the same nurse twice, despite being in a completely different hospital in a completely different state?

Before all this, Sean didn't really believe in fate. Everything in life is so random, it's hard to believe that some grand design is guiding the path.

This is really fucking with his perspective.

He's been staring too long, white as a sheet, and Joey notices. "You good, Sean? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sean snaps out of his thoughts, he's being insanely rude right now. "Sorry," he scratches the back of his neck, "I could've sworn we've met before, that's all."

Joey relaxes, grins easily. "Maybe, though I've never met any cool one-eyed teenagers like yourself."

Doctor Hirai gives him a sharp look at that, and he looks sheepish for a split second until Sean laughs. Yeah, it's definitely the same Joey.

"I get told I have a familiar face," Joey shrugs, letting Sean's blatant staring slide off his back. "It's probably my chiseled good-looks."

Sean laughs, and his doctor snorts, before disguising it with a cough. Joey looks mock-offended for a moment, and Dr. Hirai ignores it before handing Joey his chart and waving them off with a promise to return later.

Him and Joey fall into small talk as he helps clean his eye, the nurse making jokes to cut any tension. He tells Sean about his little sister, and Sean tells him about Daniel.

"Where are you from, anyway?" He asks, probing slightly. Trying to piece together any information on why Joey is here right now.

"Phoenix, born and raised. Don't let anyone fool you, you don't ever get used to the heat." Joey bundles up the wrappers that held his new gauze patch, tossing it in a nearby bin. Sean knows all too well, those few months in Away were filled with scorching days. That was away from the city too, where the wide open deserts lead to cool night, unlike the suburban sprawl where all of the asphalt clings to the heat and refuses to let it leave.

"What brings you to Seattle, then? Escaping said heat?"

"I'm a travel nurse," he says nonchalantly, "I go where the wind takes me. And where the money is."

A travel nurse, okay. He can't believe he never asked Joey about this.

"How long are you here for, then?"

"You missin' me already, man?" He teases. "Contract is up in January. Then, who knows. I was considering NorCal next, there's a pretty good paying gig there in February."

Sean can't help but frown a little, thoughts whirling. That would line up with everything that happened before, if Joey really was planning on going to Northern California in spring he would've been there.

It's eerie nonetheless. If some things are constant, destined to happen, like his eye or meeting Joey, what else is destined?

Dad dying? Going on the run?

Or is he just being paranoid?

He realizes Joey is trying to get his attention again- and he startles, gaze snapping back to his nurse. The man regards him with a patient smile, and Sean smiles back. "Lost you for a second there, man."

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking. Northern California is super nice," he says, shaking those dark thoughts from his mind. "The redwoods are insane, it's hard to capture just how atmospheric it is on paper."

"Spoken like a true artist," Joey says, sitting on his bed and grabbing his pen. "You'll have to show me your stuff, sometime."

"You can count on it." Sean responds. This time he'll draw a real portrait of Joey, and maybe even let him see it this time. When Sean was recovering the first time, he was so deeply insecure about his drawings that he didn't want anyone to see them- not even himself, really. All those sketches left crumpled in the trash, paper torn and destroyed in frustration and anger at himself, at the situation, at everything, really.

Things are different this time. They will be different this time. Sean has the power now, even if the universe wants to keep throwing him the same curveballs. Whatever he's met with, he will be ready for it.

—-

Joey is as cool as ever, and he proves it again when he struts into Sean's room a few days later with a tray full of medical junk in hand.

Sean's finished a drawing of him, significantly better than his old ones, the lines are cleaner and more confident. Their rapport has been just as good as it was back in NorCal, though there's less of a sense of dread consuming Sean at all times.

Still, Joey is light, and supportive, and just such a good dude to be around.

"Hey man, here for testing?"

"Yep! Not sure why I'm bothering, cuz you're doing so good, dude. Probably gonna send ya home soon at this rate. Teach your dad how to help ya out, so you can finish recovering in comfort."

It's kind of a bittersweet sentiment, he's going to miss him. Won't miss the hospital though, the sterile cold and crappy food.

He sits on the foot of Sean's bed, and Sean closes the sketchbook his dad brought him, setting it to the side. They go through the tests, the same ones as last time, and he's a lot more confident with them- even if it still hurts his head to focus on it for too long.

Joey's taking notes in his clipboard when he speaks again, "No dad this time?"

"He'll probably be around later this evening, I finally convinced him that I'll be fine and he can, you know, go to work."'

"Your dad is super cool, man."

Sean's smile is soft. "Yeah, he is."

"That's a good thing to have," he says, casual, "family is important, you know?"

He knows. Does he ever know.

"Yeah." He stops for a moment, considering, then grabs his sketchbook, flipping it open and carefully tearing out the page where he did a few studies of Joey. "Uh-" he says, trying to be casual. Giving people art is always awkward and nerve-wracking, especially when the subject is themselves. "This is yours, if you want it."

Joey lights up, sitting back on the foot of his bed- and his grin only widens when he sees the contents of the page, taking it. "Holy- Sean, I knew you were good, but man, this is fantastic! That's me?"

Sean nods.

"Well, you got my rugged sensibilities down pat." It's such a dorky thing to say, especially since Joey is lovable and not rugged in the slightest. "These are so cool, Sean." He looks up from the page, his smile wide and contagious. "Seriously, I'm taking this home and framing it."

His heart swells like a balloon in his chest, full of fondness. "Yeah dude, of course. You're a good subject."

"Oh! That reminds me-" Joey looks around, gently setting the drawing down and rummaging through the pocket of his scrubs.

He fishes out a package of chocolate turtle-candies, holding them in the air triumphantly. "I figured you're probably burnt out on bland food by now, so I snagged you these from the vending machine."

He places the candies in Sean's hand, "they're the best option in there, in my opinion."

Sean stares at the chocolates in his hand. It's the exact same kind of candies he would sneak him back in California. An overwhelming wave of emotions surges over him, confusing and disarming. Relief that he's not back there, in that timeline, joy that he got to see Joey again in this life, anger and sadness at the fact that he's here again, maimed because of a jackass with a gun setting off Daniel's powers. Worry, too. About the future. About repeating circumstances.

"You good, Sean?"

He snaps out of it a bit, then nods, curling his fingers around the chocolates. "Yeah, sorry- I spaced out there. These look great, thanks Joey."

"Of course." The nurse says, and Sean can feel expectant eyes on him, waiting for more.

And Sean feels an overwhelming urge to vent, to confide. That sense of trust that formed between them the first time has carried over into this new timeline. "Can I be real with you, man?"

"'Course, that's what I'm here for." Joey shoves his hands in his pockets, shifts on the foot of his bed so he can face Sean a little bit better.

There's a beat, and then Sean speaks. "This fucking sucks." It's blunt, but the words carry weight. Admitting it, the fact that the circumstances are so shitty, when he's been so careful to remain optimistic in front of his family.

"The candies?" Joey is quick with it, but he's trying to lighten the mood a bit, while prodding Sean to elaborate.

Sean cracks a small smile at that, but it goes away as he continues. "Nah, man. The candies are great. It's just…all of it." he gestures to his own face. "All of this ."

Joey's expression is patient, and Sean feels the words spill from him whether he wants them to or not. "I didn't ask for this, you know? The cop who did this is dead and people are blaming me for it." A reality he can't run away from, even with time travel, is that sometimes bad shit happens and the world decides that he has to face consequences for it. "I mean, I'm glad no one else got hurt, and I know that I'm lucky to be alive right now-" lucky that his dad is alive, lucky that Daniel is alive too.

He sighs, leaning back on the bed and knocking his head against the frame. "But it sucks, all of it. They don't want to tell me, but I know people are harassing my dad, probably harassing Lyla too, and there's nothing I can do about it because the same people are itching to blame me for killing a cop with a twitchy trigger finger. Doesn't matter that I've been maimed."

The worst part is the sense of helplessness has returned, an overwhelming feeling that he carried his entire journey south with Daniel. An all too familiar feeling, one that he hoped he wouldn't ever have to deal with again.

He realizes he's forgotten himself a bit, gone on a rant he didn't intend, and moves to apologize, but Joey cuts off the 'sorry' before it can fully escape him.

"Nah man, you have a right to be upset." He stands, then sits closer to Sean, and Sean tries to ignore the feeling of deja vu that clings to the interaction. "You were given a shit hand, and that sucks."

His smile is back, but it's soft, reassuring, "but you're a strong kid, Sean. Insanely strong. And every patient I've had has turned this anger that they feel into energy, and that's exactly what you're going to do. Plus, glass eye tech has gotten crazy these days."

It's a damn near mirror of what he told Sean in the past, but it's so authentically Joey it doesn't surprise him. He clamps his hand on Sean's shoulder. "But it's okay to be angry about all of it. I'd be pissed too, but I know you're going to turn that into something great- and you've got people who love you to be at your side for every step of the way, right?"

"Right," Sean says, choked up. "Thanks, Joey."

His smile widens, and he pulls Sean into a hug- one he gladly accepts, tightening the embrace. "Of course, anything for my favorite patient."

Sean laughs a little as he pulls away from the hug, "That's a high honor."

"Awarded only to you!"

"You'll find another favorite patient once I'm out of here."

Joey stands, dusting his hands together. "Course' I will, doesn't mean your impact didn't exist, you know?"

It feels oddly profound, and he admires his ability to have words that carry such weight with such a light tone. "Yeah, same here. You're definitely my favorite nurse."

"I better be," He says with a lofty grin, grabbing the sketches Sean gave him. "Imma go stash this in my locker to keep it safe, I'll be back in a few hours to help clean your eye, cool?"

Sean feels a sense of contentment wash over him. "Cool."

Notes:

ayoooo final chapter in the hospital! Also, apologies for the lack of Daniel/Wolf brothers content so far. Couple reasons, 1.) it just hasn't shaken out that way yet, as i don't "plan". I start typing and let the power of muse take over until a chapter is finished. 2.) I really struggle with Daniel's characterization. He's such a sweet kid but his attitude/personality/relationship with Sean changes drastically throughout the game based on your actions, and I find it really challenging to find a healthy middle of the Daniel pre-incident, and the Daniel that forms from Sean no longer viewing him as a pest, but as a ward. Like, it's clear from the flashbacks that Daniel really just wants Sean's attention and affection- but it's also clear that he's a bit of a brat sometimes. So I'm trying to strike a balance but it's hard so I've been procrastinating.

Ope, that was a rant. Anyways. Expect some good Daniel content next chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one!

Chapter 7: Blowdown

Summary:

blow·down
/ˈblōdoun/
noun

1.
a tree or trees that have been blown down by the wind at the base

Notes:

sorry for the delay
A wombo combo of being busy with a new job and having bipolar disorder has made writing uh

difficult

but its a longer one, at least! other chapters have averaged around 2.5k words, this ones round' 4.6k

hope yall like it

good chance itll receive some edits in the future (nothing major, my brains just been a mess lately and im certain i missed some stuff in the proofreading, and i might clean up some conversations when my head isnt mush anymore)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

His recovery is going well. Very well. "Miraculously" well. It leaves his doctor short of astonished, how quickly he acclimated to being half-blind.

"You'll still have to work to keep it clean," she says, signing something off on his chart. "Joey can show you how to do that, as well as your dad, so he can help you." Sean nods, antsy. They're letting him out insanely early compared to last time, he's only been here for a week and a half since waking up. It's different this time, though. He's not going to jail after he's out, he's going home, where his dad can take care of him.

"You really are a stellar patient, Sean" she says with a smile, and he can't help but smile back. A weird part of him feels…guilty? For lying, or at least omitting the truth as to why he managed to get used to it so fast. It's silly, since the reason why he's made such a ridiculous recovery is so absurd.

"I still don't want you driving just yet, okay? Cleaning four times a day, and taking it easy at school. I've got a note-" she pulls it off the clipboard, folding it and putting it in an envelope. "Take it to your school's admin when you get back, it'll excuse your absences." She looks at him, stern now, though her tone isn't harsh, just serious.

"Don't play hero or tough guy. If you're getting headaches or dizziness, go to the nurse, take your medication, and lay down for a while. You'll have to clean your socket at school at least once a day, so if you're struggling, have the nurse help you."

"I will."

"I know you will," she says, sitting on a stool at the foot of his bed. "You're a good kid, Sean." He doesn't know why that feels like a knife to the chest. Maybe it's how genuine she sounds, maybe it's because he's gotten used to people assuming he's bad.

There were exceptions, obviously. Joey, his friends in Humboldt. The rest of the doctors, though? The cops, the border patrol, even strangers at gas stations. They assumed he was a lost cause, a rotten apple, a failure of the system. Wasted potential. Just another broken cog in a broken machine. Useless, tossed aside in a box for fifteen years.

His face is wet, he realizes, almost numbly. His hand goes up to touch his cheek, then he wipes the tears away.

"I've got this packet here, for you and your dad." Her voice is gentle, and Sean has to admire her bedside manner. "It's got all the info you need, in case you need a reminder of when your checkups are. I also left a mental health resource line, you call them and give them your insurance and they can set you up with a therapist-"

He shakes his head. "I don't need-"

"Sean. I know you're still in recovery mode, still in fight or flight. But you went through something incredibly traumatic. Someone who was supposed to protect you hurt you deeply. It might not feel like it now, but talking to someone will help." She glances down at her watch, checking the time. "I urge you to at least try a few sessions. I can't force you to do anything, but just know I make this suggestion with your best interests at heart."

"I'll…consider it." He won't.

She smiles at him, then stands. "That's all I ask. Your dad called and said he's gonna be here around one. He'll have to fill out some paperwork, but then you'll be good to go."

He manages to run into Joey before he leaves, and is given a goodbye bear-hug and an affectionate hair-tousle from the man- and it feels so good to leave him in peace, with the promises of good things waiting.

"Enjoy northern California, yeah? Go see the redwoods for me."

"Consider it done." Joey says with a grin, "and take care of yourself, okay?"

"Only because you told me to."

"That's my guy, Sean."

Finally, he's going home.

—-

The drive home is peaceful, for the most part. Dad's quiet, the gentle sounds of the radio filling the car. Sean got to pick the music, which is definitely a "just got out of the hospital" privilege. Sean watches the road for the most part, until the motion causes his head to throb and his stomach to turn, and he covers his face with his arm. He has no idea how he managed to drive to Nevada, or the border. It's easier to tough things out when you have no choice, he guesses.

His dad notices, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I've got a big day planned for us, hijo."

"Do you now?"

"Yeah, I've made some progress on the car, so I figured we'll start with driving practice."

"Of course." Sean says dryly, rolling his eye at his dad's teasing.

"Then we'll head to the fall fair, go on the tilt-o-war a couple times, maybe the teacups."

"Mm."

"And finally, we'll finish the day with a fireworks show."

Sean lifts his arm slightly, peering at his dad with a half-lidded gaze. "You think you're funny."

"Sean, my boy, I know I'm funny."

Sean snorts at that, leaning back in the chair. "It's like you want me to throw up all over your upholstery."

"Never mind. Think happy thoughts, Sean. Ones that don't include vomit."

"Are there happy thoughts that…do include that?"

His dad makes that universal "I dunno" sound, and Sean chuckles in response.

He wonders- when moments like this won't ache so much. He wonders when they'll stop reminding him of all the times he missed this, being around his dad and his lame jokes.

He's gone quiet again, and dad prods him a little.

"You still with me, Sean? You've got that thousand-yard stare, again."

His voice is light- but there's that lingering issue under the question. The desire to know what keeps causing Sean to disappear into his own head.

"Course'. Just ready to be home, sleep in my own bed." He stretches, "if Daniel will let me sleep, anyway."

"He'll probably talk your ear off for a bit," his dad laughs, "but I can always wrangle him back if you need to crash."

"Thanks, dad."

"Of course, kid."

—-

Sean is the one to open the door, which is a mistake, because the moment it's open there's a koala named Daniel wrapped around him. He laughs, stumbling back, still feeling a little weak. Still, he hugs him back, arms shaking a bit. "Dude, you're too heavy."

Daniel lets him go, incredulous, "I'm not too heavy! You're just too skinny."

"Thanks for the warm welcome, flaquito." He ruffles his brother's hair, a chuckle escaping him as Daniel shoves his hand off. "I'm serious."

"Yeah well," Daniel crosses his arms over his chest, looking away, "I'm glad you're home."

A sense of softness fills his chest, a light feeling he wouldn't trade for anything.

For a long time, Sean equated his and Daniel's relationship to the trauma, they were forced to be dependent on one another- and there's some truth to the sentiment.

But the love has always been there, even if Sean rejected it sometimes. Daniel, too. Sean regrets that it took going to hell and back for him to realize the fondness for his brother- and for him to realize that all Daniel wanted was for him to give a shit.

"Me too, dude. I'm ready for some good food, and good tv."

Daniel furrows his brow, "is…the tv at home different?"

Sean snorts, pushing past his brother to sit on the couch, gesturing him over to sit. "Maybe not for you, since all you watch is hawt dog man, and we can stream that. You don't have to deal with ads."

"I watch Power bear too!" He exclaims, looking a little indignant. "And they can't be that bad."

"There's like, ten minutes of ads and twenty minutes of show, that's a third of your time. That's bad ." He falls into the couch, feeling an odd sort of relief in the familiarity of the worn old cushions. "Sitcoms kinda suck nowadays, too, and that's all that's on basic cable. That and like, the news."

Daniel snorts. "Didn't they always suck?"

Sean considers this, tilting his head a little. "Maybe, a couple of them are good. All the new ones are so formulaic."

His little brother tilts his head. "What does that mean?"

Sean clicks his tongue, thinking of an explanation. "Like, it's all the same. Every sitcom is just a crazy mom, a barely-there dad, and kids whose only talents are lying. They all follow the same format, even if the characters are technically different. I don't know why producers think that's the only relatable thing now."

Daniel considers this. "I think I like my shows better."

He laughs, "dude, me too. I'll take binging power bear with you over basic cable any day." That earns him a smile, which he gladly returns.

His dad finally steps inside, carrying the prescription that he forgot in the car, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Do I have to hit you boys with a 'back in my day?' Because I will."

Sean groans, dramatically, flopping his head back on the couch- and Daniel echoes the noise and the motion, acting like a certified mini-Sean. "Back in my day—"

"Dad." Sean interrupts, but he's easily ignored.

"—we only had six channels! The news, the other news, the 'local' news, one cartoon channel, sports, and one channel with real t.v.."

Daniel seems to consider this, tilting his head a little. After a moment of thought, he shakes his head, voice genuine. "No way, you're not that old."

Esteban makes a wheezing noise, like he was just punched in the gut, dramatically holding his stomach. Sean bursts out in a laugh, unable to stop it as his dad staggers away from the counter and toward the couch like a wounded soldier.

Daniel looks between the two of them, wearing his signature scowl. "What? There's no way he's that old!"

Another wheeze as Esteban collapses dramatically on the couch- and at least Sean knows where he and Daniel get it from. "He's killing me, Sean. You're killing your father, Daniel."

Sean tries to stifle his laughs, shoulders shaking as he turns to Daniel. "He's not lying, enano. He's being for real."

Daniel wrinkles his nose at that, something he recalls Cassidy deeming 'his adorable scrunch'. She really was fond of Daniel, even if he was oddly angsty about her. "No way."

"Yes way."

"That's crazy."

"I'm just offended that you thought I was lying to you." His dad pipes up, dramatics forgotten. "You believe Sean, but not me?"

"You lie all the time-" Daniel says, "like when you said that wind was caused by trees sneezing!"

"Oh my god," Sean says with a laugh, "I remember that, you were so little. You used to say 'bless you' to the trees when it was breezy outside." He can picture the memory easily, six-year-old Daniel with his chubby cheeks and perpetually-messy face, saying 'bless you' to the trees over and over until his Dad finally admitted that he made it up.

Daniel looks a little embarrassed, but he catches Sean's smile and seems to note it's in good spirits, because the pout disappears.

"That wasn't a lie, that was a fun fact that wasn't the truth." You know, lying. Esteban gets back up off of the couch, returning to the counter to paw through the take-out menus, "I don't lie that much!"

"Yes you do-" He and Daniel say at the same moment, pausing to stare at each other at the accidental jinx.

"Once again I'm ganged up on by my two sons. Does me giving you life mean nothing to you?"

Daniel screws up his face, sticking out his tongue at dad, and Sean echoes the motion before speaking. "One day I'm gonna use one of your 'fun facts' in a school project and get a bad grade."

He's met with a shrug, his dad distracted by a thai food menu, "That would be your own fault, you know better than to believe the things I say."

Daniel groans, and Sean's laughter nearly drowns out the sound of the bathroom door down the hall opening, before Lyla emerges from the hallway. He nearly forgot- she's been babysitting Daniel during his dad's visits to the hospital. "God, I go to the bathroom for a couple minutes and I come back to some punk sitting in my spot."

He knocks his head back on the couch, looking at her upside-down. She grins back, and he snorts. "It's my house, my spot."

"Yeah yeah, I suppose I'll relent." She moves past him, tapping his nose with her finger before she sits next to him, on the opposite side of Daniel.

"How virtuous of you."

"You know me," she says, dryly, "ever the giving soul."

"I know you're joking," he says, shifting a little, his shoulder pressed to hers, "but you really are. You look out for me."

The genuineness of the compliment seems to take her off guard for a moment- not that they don't share compliments, it's just, most of what they say is often laced with a joke. "Uh, right." She says, "Thanks."

He doesn't flinch. "Course," he responds, "I mean it. And I'm sure Daniel appreciated having you around these last two weeks."

Daniel turns red at that, the tips of his ears scarlet, and Sean has to restrain a laugh in an attempt to not embarrass him further. His dad luckily switches the subject by dropping a pile of menus on his lap, "food." He says, simply. "Pick something out."

He shuffles through the menus with Daniel and Lyla, settling on Chinese food from some local place. His dad places the order, grabbing his keys as he hangs up the phone.

"It'll be about twenty, so I'll head out now."

Lyla shifts, moving Sean's arm so it's no longer placed across her shoulders, and stands. "I'll tag along," she says, snagging her phone and sunglasses from the counter, "it'll be a lot to carry."

"I can help-" Sean starts, moving to get up, only to be met with a stern "NO" from both Dad and Lyla, and he's quickly back on the couch.

"You need to take it easy," Dad says, and Lyla nods in agreement. It's weird, being teamed up on by those two. Seems they've responded to the incident by becoming a united 'take-care-of-Sean' team.

He raises his hands up in surrender, laughing a little. "Okay, okay. I won't fight you on it." He turns to Daniel, who has checked out of their conversation and has been reading an old comic book of Sean's. "Looks like it's you and me, enano."

"Wanna play on the playbox?" Daniel asks, setting the comic down.

"Hell yeah man," he says, watching as Daniel jumps up to grab the two controllers, "I've missed playing with you. It feels like it's been forever." It has been forever, he hasn't played a video game since…

Jesus. He watched Daniel play Minecraft for a bit on Friday, but never played. He hasn't touched a video game in almost two years.

The revelation knocks the wind out of him a little bit, a spinning thought, a string that's easy to get trapped following. All the things he's been missing, both big and small, are all here. A moment away, all within his reach. Television, games, junk food, spotify playlists and good showers. Stuff that he's lived without- that in the chaos of his life he didn't even realize how much he missed it.

Daniel's trying to get his attention, and he snaps back to reality to see his brother smiling smugly at him. He tilts his head, "What?"

"Nothinnnnggggg.." he drawls, wearing that signature expression, the one he wears whenever he's trying to poke Sean's buttons.

Sean furrows his brow, trying to figure out why Daniel's acting like he's up to something. He can't figure it out, so he brings his attention back to the co-op shooter Daniel launched, selecting his character.

Daniel's teasing expression shifts into one of confusion when he realizes whatever he was doing to tease Sean has had no effect. He keeps glancing back to the television, then to Sean, then back to the television. Finally, Sean has to ask.

"Dude," he says, exasperated, "what?"

Daniel stares at him, "I'm player one."

"Oh." Sean says, unbothered. It's so mundane, it didn't even occur to him that's something he used to throw a fit over- in fairness to himself, so does every other older sibling in the world. "That's fine dude, I don't care."

Daniel looks at him like he just grew a second head, and Sean cringes a little. Maybe he should have lied and made a big deal out of it, it just doesn't occur to him to fight Daniel on the little things like this anymore. In retrospect, he feels dumb for ever caring in the first place. "Unless you want me to care? I can steal that controller from you-"

"No!" Daniel says, his moment of confusion seemingly forgotten. "I'll be player one."

"Smart man." Sean says, watching the loading screen. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown, though. You sure you're ready for the responsibility?"

Daniel snorts, choosing to ignore the comment.

They play the game for a little bit, and Sean is absolutely sucking hard at it. A combination of lack of practice and his depth perception being messed up leads to him whiffing most of his shots. "Sorry-" he keeps repeating, as Daniel continues carrying him in a game he definitely used to be better than him at.

A little over ten minutes in, he has to pause it, the flashing lights and colors making his stomach twist and turn- and his head to throb. It takes a lot of extra effort to track moving objects with only one eye, the additional strain leading to the repeating headaches. "Sorry man, I'm totally sucking at this." He says again, pressing a hand to his head and closing his eye, trying to shut the light out.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asks, voice small and full of concern.

"Yeah buddy, I'm fine." He shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Sorry, the game moves a little too fast. It's messing with my vision a bit. Don't worry."

He glances over to Daniel, and his expression sucker-punches him. His little brother's eyes are wide and filled with guilt.

"Hey– enano," he says, voice soft, "what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Sean." Daniel says, his voice breaking. "If I hadn't been outside…your eye–"

"Hey, heyheyhey-" Sean says, in a rush to reassure. He turns on the couch, setting the controller down and grabbing Daniel's shoulders, "look at me, dude." Daniel glances up, meeting his gaze, eyes wide and shining.

"Daniel, that wasn't your fault."

"But you went outside to help me, if I hadn't run into Brett–"

"Daniel," Sean starts, voice sincere. "Listen to me, there's no reality where that was your fault. Did you know what would happen?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But nothing. I'm serious, man. There's no way I'd ever blame you for what happened. It's not your fault, at all. You didn't aim the gun, you didn't pull the trigger. You're allowed to play outside." He runs his fingers through Daniel's hair, soothing. "I'm not mad at you a bit, okay?"

Daniel doesn't look entirely convinced, and it's twisting Sean's insides like a knot, tight and painful. "You told me not to go outside when Brett was there, on Friday. But I still went outside."

The fact that Daniel remembered that enough to internalize guilt about it takes him off guard. Getting Daniel to listen to him feels like pulling teeth sometimes, so when he actually does listen, it throws him for a loop.

"Yeah man, but I didn't expect you to never go outside. That would be unreasonable." He sighs, "Just like how it's unreasonable for you to blame yourself for this. You didn't know it would shake out like that, how could you?"

"I guess…" Daniel says, eyes downward.

"Is it dad's fault?"

"What?" He's met with an incredulous tone, and it's almost amusing.

"He wasn't home, maybe if he had been-"

"Of course not!"

Sean sends him a small little smile, "exactly, enano. Is it my fault? If I hadn't gone outside, maybe the cop would've kept driving-"

"Sean!"

"We can do this all day long, point fingers and self-blame. But the truth of the matter is, a bad thing happened, and it was no one's fault but the person who did the bad thing. Sometimes shitty stuff is just that, shitty. There's no point in getting mad at yourself for stuff that's out of your control." Sean isn't blind enough to not recognize the irony of him saying this, considering his own uncontrollable spiral of guilt that's been following him for two years now.

It's different, though. Easier to give advice than take it. Plus, Daniel is a kid. He's allowed to be innocent in all of this- and he doesn't have time-travel powers that factor into the equation.

It's a justification, but he clings to that reasoning. There's something comforting in the familiarity of feeling like shit about yourself all the time.

Daniel's sniffling, and it breaks his train of thought. He pulls his brother into a hug, rubbing his back. "You're good, enano, I promise you. I'm just glad I'm back home, and I can hang out with you and dad again."

Daniel hugs him back, small arms wrapping around his torso. "You promise?"

Sean pulls back, smiling at him, soft and reassuring. "Of course, dude." He glances back to the television, "Look, I'm kinda sucking at this game right now. Do you wanna draw with me instead?" He remembers when Daniel was five and he was twelve, and he and Daniel would sit at the dining room table and draw together, Daniel drawing animals or monsters and Sean working on his characters.

He doesn't remember when they stopped, or why they stopped.

Daniel looks excited at the idea, and he nods. "Cool," he stands, lending a hand to help his little brother up, "I'll go grab my stuff, and your crayons. I'll meet you at the table, okay?"

"Okay, thanks Sean." Daniel grins up at him, and Sean ruffles his hair in response. Sean steps into the hallway, passing Daniel as he sits at the table near dad's laptop.

He slips into Daniel's room, noting the mess of toys on the floor and being careful to step over them so he doesn't trip, trying to find his box of crayons. "Dude!" He shouts, his voice echoing down the hall. "Where's your stuff?"

"I dunno!" He gets back.

He shakes his head, "Seriously?!"

"Check my backpack!"

This kid. He circles the room until he finds the bag, and luckily his pencil box full of crayons is inside. He tucks the box under his arm, stepping back into the hallway. He stops- briefly, in the bathroom, catching a glance of himself in the mirror.

It's hard, still, getting used to the reflection. The swelling and redness has reduced, and facial scars apparently heal very well compared to other areas, but it'll always be there. A reminder.

He's made his peace with it, though. Or has convinced himself of it.

He makes his way into his room, and it looks the same throughout. He's a little relieved, he didn't really have much to hide in here, beyond a weed pipe and his old sketchbook, but his dad and Daniel are both a perfect storm of nosiness that it wouldn't surprise him if they took a look while he was gone.

He's grabbed his spare pencil bag when he feels it.

A shudder.

His overhead light flickers.

For a split second, he thinks it could be an earthquake, but the walls shake again and he recognizes the feeling immediately.

Daniel.

He drops the art supplies and rushes back into the hallway, panicking a bit. Why now? What's wrong?

He's greeted by the sight of Daniel, standing by the dining room table, face wet. The lights are flickering, the walls shaking.

He can feel it, the electricity in the air. He's always felt the rush of power when Daniel uses his powers, but now it's palpable. He feels it in his bones, he can see the way the air around his brother shimmers and distorts.

It's terrifying, electric, destructive.

Familiar.

"Daniel!" He shouts, putting his arms up as he approaches his little brother, voice cutting through the noise. The bookcase is shaking, books falling and photo frames falling to the floor- envelopes and papers swirling around his brother like a tornado.

"Daniel, look at me!"

His brother is staring at dad's laptop, glaring at the screen. "Awful things! They're calling you awful things!"

What?

He manages to get close enough to get a glance at the laptop, his stomach dropping when he sees the page it's open on. A news article from some reactionary website, a photo of him on the sidebar. His dad must've been sent it and forgot to close it before leaving.

"Daniel–"

"They said you killed that cop! It says it's all your fault!"

"It's okay-" he starts, but the words get lost in the noise. He gets close enough to the laptop to slam it shut, and the sound seems to break Daniel's focus a bit, roaring powers slowing, papers falling. "That doesn't matter, none of it matters-"

He glares at Sean, but he's not angry at him, but on behalf of him. "They called you a cop-killer! He shot you!"

"I know! I know" He lands a hand on his little brother's shoulder, "look at me, enano. It's okay, I'm okay. None of their words mean shit, because we know the truth. But Daniel-" he looks around, gestures to the flickering lights and flying papers, "I need you to calm down."

"It's not fair-"

"I know, I'm sorry."

He pulls him into a hug, and the air settles. The last remnants of the episode sizzle out, and the house stops shaking. "I'm sorry, enano."

"I don't get how-" his brother is crying, he can feel the tears on his shoulder, hear the shake in his voice. "How they could s-say those awful things."

"People will always find someone to blame." He pulls away, still holding his brother, presses his forehead against his. "It's okay, I promise. None of what they say can hurt me."

"But-"

"But nothing. I've got you looking out for me, right?"

Daniel sniffles. "Right."

"Right." He repeats, cupping his cheek with his hand, using his thumb to wipe away stray tears. "And I've got you." A bundle of complicated emotions fill his chest, twisting his stomach in knots. Guilt that his brother is upset about this. Anxiety over the powers back in full swing. Relief that it happened like this, and not over something much worse. Warmth, knowing that Daniel cares so deeply.

Love, most of all. Love for his brother.

"Sean…" the voice interrupts his thoughts. He glances up to see his brother looking around the room with wide eyes, a mix of horror and amazement on his face. "Did I– did I do this?"

"…" A pause.

He takes a steadying breath. "I- I think so." A flicker of panic crosses Daniel's expression. "But we're gonna figure it out, alright? I promise. It's gonna be alright."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

And he is.

Notes:

The Reveal™

fun fact that little string of dialogue between sean and esteban during the car ride home is the last thing i wrote before deciding to post this fic. idk why but i just enjoyed it so much i wanted to share it.

some wolf brothers content for you my friends

comments always appreciated :) love u guys

The thing about trees sneezing was directly ripped from my father who directly ripped that from calvin and hobbes, lmao
also the thing about having only 6 tv channels. sorry dad, your life experiences are in my fanfiction now i guess.

next chapter will likely be on the late side as well but i'm hoping within 3 weeks? depends on my work schedule and muse's cooperation