Crossover - Cliffton/Meeting of Breccan & Finbar: Not So Divine: Chapter 6
This is a crossover fanfiction of my The Meeting of Breccan & Finbar and n3m3sis43's Cliffton universes. For context, it might help to read n3m3sis43's piece, Everything You Touch.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
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After our aborted training attempt, I couldn't fucking sleep. Not even for a few minutes. Not after what I'd fucking done. I stayed up all night. What happened in that gymnasium should not have fucking happened
But it fucking did. I wish I could pretend it didn't. Would love to fucking erase ever meeting Egan. If I can't have that, I wish I could at least erase last night. But with the way everyone's looking at me as we sit at the meeting table? I can't fucking erase it. Didn't want to come to this meeting, either. But Wes said he had findings. He sounded so fucking proud of them, too. I can't let him down, even if he keeps shooting these looks like he's scared of me.
When did he even have time to research? He must have been up early. It's already fucking late. I need some fucking SynthBrew, but I still can't drink it. This sucks. Wes better have some kind of miracle in this research of his. Can't stand sitting here.
“You'll never believe what I found!” Wes shouts.
“A cure for Egan's case of Terminal Pathetic?” Calla asks.
Egan tries to glare at her. It doesn't fucking work. He looks terrible. I guess he would be pretty if he weren't such an ass. And if he weren't so fucking pathetic.
“People on this side have actually tried to use mind control! The Splinternet says they abandoned the project, but they tried to make people more violent and aggressive by messing with their heads. Can you believe it?” Wes' eyes are huge.
I could not have fucking heard him right. Why's it so hot in here? Gotta fix the air conditioning.
“That's - ridiculous, Wes,” I mutter.
Maris says, “I don't think it's so ridiculous. People back where I'm from would attempt similar things. Egan himself used divine manipulation to seduce poor Breccan.”
Don't know why my chest hurts all of a sudden. Want to get away from this stupid fucking topic of conversation.
Kalen wonders, “But what does that have to do with returning Egan's powers to him? What, do you want to work some kind of mind control on Devin and Egan so the power switches back?”
I can't get enough air, even though I don't fucking need any. My vision goes funny. Wonder if there's mold in the basement. Something's not fucking right.
Wes says, “I just thought it was interesting, but maybe there's some way to make it work so we can fix Devin and Egan.”
“Mind control won't fucking fix anything,” I mutter.
“You don't know that,” Kalen says.
“And you don't fucking know anything, Kalen,” I hiss as I glare at him.
I want to get out of here. The air is all fucking wrong. Don't care that I don't need to breathe it. Want to get out of here. I feel that sense of electricity again. Remember what happened last time I felt like that. I try to calm the fuck down. That can't happen again. Not even to Kalen, who fucking deserves it for talking about shit he knows nothing about.
“I don't know anything? Really, Devin, it's not like you have any personal experience with mind control,” he huffs.
“You better shut up now, if you know what's good for you,” I spit.
“You're ordering me around? I'm the leader!” Kalen fucking whines.
Maris tries to glare at the both of us. “There's no reason to fight. Wes can keep researching, and we can try to find something else if Devin really has a problem with the mind control idea. It's just a lead, nothing to get so worked up about.”
“Yeah, Devin, you should calm down. Mind control really isn't a big deal,” Kalen mutters.
Not a big fucking deal? The fuck? Asshole knows fucking nothing. Fucking. Nothing!
“I am fucking calm,” I growl.
Kalen says, “There's no need to be so immature. You should listen better. And you're clearly not calm. Maybe taking a few deep breaths would help.”
I glare at him. “I can't fucking breathe anymore, you fucking asshole.”
Maris suggests, “Why don't we move on and discuss something else?”
“Because Devin needs to check his bad attitude, is why,” Kalen mutters.
I can't fucking believe him. “My bad attitude?”
“D-devin?” It's Wes. His voice is shaking, fucking terrified.
Of me. He's fucking terrified of me. I don't want that. Gotta try to be calm. For Wes.
“Are you okay?” Wes asks.
Okay? I'm not fucking okay. But I'll try to be.
“I'm - I'm fine,” I manage. I'll be fine for Wes. I can do that. I have to. I won't have him being fucking afraid of me.
I let myself think things will be fucking okay when a news bulletin flashes through my neurovision implant. Dangerous Terrorist At Large - Threat to Our Society! Reward for Information rolls across my vision. Along with an update about how five military police were fucking killed in Kalen's old high school gymnasium.
The fuck? That can't be. With the way people are looking at me, they got the update, too.
For the longest time, everyone is fucking silent.
Kalen says, “Guess we need to be more careful.” He fucking looks at me. No mistaking his meaning, there.
“Yeah,” Maris agrees, “but we could have been arrested or killed if Devin hadn't saved us.”
Fucking saved us? The fuck? I didn't fucking save anybody. I killed five fucking people. Didn't even fucking mean to. I killed them with power I shouldn't even fucking have.
Five. People. Dead. Because of me.
Wes stares at me, his eyes huge. I can't fucking look at him. It hurts too much, to see that fear in his eyes.
“Is that everything? I want to get a snack,” Kalen says.
Maris glared at him. “We have more important things to deal with than your stomach. You're right, though, that we do need to be more careful. If they're asking for what sounds like a lot of money for information, we ought to place an extra emphasis on stealth. And possibly wait to do any missions.”
I don't hear much of what's said after that. Can't fucking concentrate. Or even think. Nothing is right, anymore. Not when Wes keeps fucking looking at me like that. It seems like he thinks I might blow up at any second. I would never fucking hurt him, though. How can I deserve someone like him when I scare him so much?
* * *
I play a bunch of SimFighting, but it doesn't exactly help much. Feels fucking weird to kill virtual avatars when I had killed actual people. Still don't wanna think about how I killed five people. It's too fucking much. Don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight, either.
Doesn't fucking help that Wes keeps looking at me with those huge, fearful eyes. Fucking hate how I do that to him. I want to make him smile. I don't want to make him look like he might fucking cry.
Night comes all too fucking soon. Don't want to go to my room. Can't look Wes in the eye. How can I share a bed with him after what I did? After I became this? It's not fucking safe for him. I don't want to drag him down with me.
I don't want to hurt him, either. And telling him we can't be together is going to fucking hurt him. But it's better I hurt him now than later. Don't want what happened to - no, will not think about that. I have to do what's fucking right, as much as I fucking can, anyway. Even if that means pushing Wes away. I want him, but I can't fucking have him. Not as I am now. Not when I'm this fucking dangerous and wrong.
Can't avoid going to my room any longer, though I do take a long shower. Don't want to face Wes. Don't want to break his heart. Have to break his fucking heart if I want him to be okay. I'm not fucking okay for him. Not even close.
When I get out and go to my room, Wes sits on the bed, still fucking looking at me like that.
“It's going to be okay, Devin,” he whispers.
How can he fucking say that?
I sigh. Look away from him. “No, it's not.” I pause. Gotta do this. Just gotta fucking do this before I lose the nerve and drag Wes down with me. “Wes, I - I can't do this.”
He doesn't understand. “Do what?”
Not gonna fucking cry. Don't deserve to when it's me doing all the hurting. “This. Being together. I can't do it.”
I chance a look at him and regret it. His eyes are shiny. “Why not, Devin? Did I do something?”
“ I just - can't. Not after what happened at the gymnasium. Just can't, okay?” I manage.
He whimpers, “I still love you, even after that.”
“It's not safe, Wes,” I snap.
“You would never hurt me.” He looks so fucking small. Breaks my heart. And I did this to him.
I growl, “You don't know that. You can't know what I'll do. I just can't do this.”
But I want to. I fucking want to, more than anything. I love him just like he loves me. That doesn't mean I can be with him, though. Not if I want to do the right fucking thing, this time.
I'm not looking at him, but I think I hear Wes sobbing. He whispers, “Is that what you really want?”
No, it's not even fucking close to what I “really want.” Not even fucking close. But it's the right thing to do. I will do the right fucking thing. Even if it fucking sucks.
I nod. “It's what I want, Wes.”
“I'll sleep on the floor,” he says.
“No, I'll take the floor. Not arguing with you about this.” I glare at him to make my point. Can't break Wes' fucking heart and make him sleep on the floor.
I've done enough wrong, already. The least I can fucking do is let him have the bed. Wish there were some way to fix all my terrible mistakes. Can't bring back the dead, though. Right?
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written for the hc_bingo prompt "Death"
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
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After our aborted training attempt, I couldn't fucking sleep. Not even for a few minutes. Not after what I'd fucking done. I stayed up all night. What happened in that gymnasium should not have fucking happened
But it fucking did. I wish I could pretend it didn't. Would love to fucking erase ever meeting Egan. If I can't have that, I wish I could at least erase last night. But with the way everyone's looking at me as we sit at the meeting table? I can't fucking erase it. Didn't want to come to this meeting, either. But Wes said he had findings. He sounded so fucking proud of them, too. I can't let him down, even if he keeps shooting these looks like he's scared of me.
When did he even have time to research? He must have been up early. It's already fucking late. I need some fucking SynthBrew, but I still can't drink it. This sucks. Wes better have some kind of miracle in this research of his. Can't stand sitting here.
“You'll never believe what I found!” Wes shouts.
“A cure for Egan's case of Terminal Pathetic?” Calla asks.
Egan tries to glare at her. It doesn't fucking work. He looks terrible. I guess he would be pretty if he weren't such an ass. And if he weren't so fucking pathetic.
“People on this side have actually tried to use mind control! The Splinternet says they abandoned the project, but they tried to make people more violent and aggressive by messing with their heads. Can you believe it?” Wes' eyes are huge.
I could not have fucking heard him right. Why's it so hot in here? Gotta fix the air conditioning.
“That's - ridiculous, Wes,” I mutter.
Maris says, “I don't think it's so ridiculous. People back where I'm from would attempt similar things. Egan himself used divine manipulation to seduce poor Breccan.”
Don't know why my chest hurts all of a sudden. Want to get away from this stupid fucking topic of conversation.
Kalen wonders, “But what does that have to do with returning Egan's powers to him? What, do you want to work some kind of mind control on Devin and Egan so the power switches back?”
I can't get enough air, even though I don't fucking need any. My vision goes funny. Wonder if there's mold in the basement. Something's not fucking right.
Wes says, “I just thought it was interesting, but maybe there's some way to make it work so we can fix Devin and Egan.”
“Mind control won't fucking fix anything,” I mutter.
“You don't know that,” Kalen says.
“And you don't fucking know anything, Kalen,” I hiss as I glare at him.
I want to get out of here. The air is all fucking wrong. Don't care that I don't need to breathe it. Want to get out of here. I feel that sense of electricity again. Remember what happened last time I felt like that. I try to calm the fuck down. That can't happen again. Not even to Kalen, who fucking deserves it for talking about shit he knows nothing about.
“I don't know anything? Really, Devin, it's not like you have any personal experience with mind control,” he huffs.
“You better shut up now, if you know what's good for you,” I spit.
“You're ordering me around? I'm the leader!” Kalen fucking whines.
Maris tries to glare at the both of us. “There's no reason to fight. Wes can keep researching, and we can try to find something else if Devin really has a problem with the mind control idea. It's just a lead, nothing to get so worked up about.”
“Yeah, Devin, you should calm down. Mind control really isn't a big deal,” Kalen mutters.
Not a big fucking deal? The fuck? Asshole knows fucking nothing. Fucking. Nothing!
“I am fucking calm,” I growl.
Kalen says, “There's no need to be so immature. You should listen better. And you're clearly not calm. Maybe taking a few deep breaths would help.”
I glare at him. “I can't fucking breathe anymore, you fucking asshole.”
Maris suggests, “Why don't we move on and discuss something else?”
“Because Devin needs to check his bad attitude, is why,” Kalen mutters.
I can't fucking believe him. “My bad attitude?”
“D-devin?” It's Wes. His voice is shaking, fucking terrified.
Of me. He's fucking terrified of me. I don't want that. Gotta try to be calm. For Wes.
“Are you okay?” Wes asks.
Okay? I'm not fucking okay. But I'll try to be.
“I'm - I'm fine,” I manage. I'll be fine for Wes. I can do that. I have to. I won't have him being fucking afraid of me.
I let myself think things will be fucking okay when a news bulletin flashes through my neurovision implant. Dangerous Terrorist At Large - Threat to Our Society! Reward for Information rolls across my vision. Along with an update about how five military police were fucking killed in Kalen's old high school gymnasium.
The fuck? That can't be. With the way people are looking at me, they got the update, too.
For the longest time, everyone is fucking silent.
Kalen says, “Guess we need to be more careful.” He fucking looks at me. No mistaking his meaning, there.
“Yeah,” Maris agrees, “but we could have been arrested or killed if Devin hadn't saved us.”
Fucking saved us? The fuck? I didn't fucking save anybody. I killed five fucking people. Didn't even fucking mean to. I killed them with power I shouldn't even fucking have.
Five. People. Dead. Because of me.
Wes stares at me, his eyes huge. I can't fucking look at him. It hurts too much, to see that fear in his eyes.
“Is that everything? I want to get a snack,” Kalen says.
Maris glared at him. “We have more important things to deal with than your stomach. You're right, though, that we do need to be more careful. If they're asking for what sounds like a lot of money for information, we ought to place an extra emphasis on stealth. And possibly wait to do any missions.”
I don't hear much of what's said after that. Can't fucking concentrate. Or even think. Nothing is right, anymore. Not when Wes keeps fucking looking at me like that. It seems like he thinks I might blow up at any second. I would never fucking hurt him, though. How can I deserve someone like him when I scare him so much?
* * *
I play a bunch of SimFighting, but it doesn't exactly help much. Feels fucking weird to kill virtual avatars when I had killed actual people. Still don't wanna think about how I killed five people. It's too fucking much. Don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight, either.
Doesn't fucking help that Wes keeps looking at me with those huge, fearful eyes. Fucking hate how I do that to him. I want to make him smile. I don't want to make him look like he might fucking cry.
Night comes all too fucking soon. Don't want to go to my room. Can't look Wes in the eye. How can I share a bed with him after what I did? After I became this? It's not fucking safe for him. I don't want to drag him down with me.
I don't want to hurt him, either. And telling him we can't be together is going to fucking hurt him. But it's better I hurt him now than later. Don't want what happened to - no, will not think about that. I have to do what's fucking right, as much as I fucking can, anyway. Even if that means pushing Wes away. I want him, but I can't fucking have him. Not as I am now. Not when I'm this fucking dangerous and wrong.
Can't avoid going to my room any longer, though I do take a long shower. Don't want to face Wes. Don't want to break his heart. Have to break his fucking heart if I want him to be okay. I'm not fucking okay for him. Not even close.
When I get out and go to my room, Wes sits on the bed, still fucking looking at me like that.
“It's going to be okay, Devin,” he whispers.
How can he fucking say that?
I sigh. Look away from him. “No, it's not.” I pause. Gotta do this. Just gotta fucking do this before I lose the nerve and drag Wes down with me. “Wes, I - I can't do this.”
He doesn't understand. “Do what?”
Not gonna fucking cry. Don't deserve to when it's me doing all the hurting. “This. Being together. I can't do it.”
I chance a look at him and regret it. His eyes are shiny. “Why not, Devin? Did I do something?”
“ I just - can't. Not after what happened at the gymnasium. Just can't, okay?” I manage.
He whimpers, “I still love you, even after that.”
“It's not safe, Wes,” I snap.
“You would never hurt me.” He looks so fucking small. Breaks my heart. And I did this to him.
I growl, “You don't know that. You can't know what I'll do. I just can't do this.”
But I want to. I fucking want to, more than anything. I love him just like he loves me. That doesn't mean I can be with him, though. Not if I want to do the right fucking thing, this time.
I'm not looking at him, but I think I hear Wes sobbing. He whispers, “Is that what you really want?”
No, it's not even fucking close to what I “really want.” Not even fucking close. But it's the right thing to do. I will do the right fucking thing. Even if it fucking sucks.
I nod. “It's what I want, Wes.”
“I'll sleep on the floor,” he says.
“No, I'll take the floor. Not arguing with you about this.” I glare at him to make my point. Can't break Wes' fucking heart and make him sleep on the floor.
I've done enough wrong, already. The least I can fucking do is let him have the bed. Wish there were some way to fix all my terrible mistakes. Can't bring back the dead, though. Right?
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written for the hc_bingo prompt "Death"