(no subject)
A small stream of light marked its path through the room, falling on the floor, the wall, the cot, and toes atop to bedding. Part of that path was sliced off, suddenly, by a human face obscuring the light. A blue eye scanned for a dark silhoette in the dreary room. "Craig? Are you alright?"
Nothing answered him except the muffled, weak sound of an accidental whine. David knew his brother; Craig took pride in the strength of his pokerface. If it was crumbling, David wasn't about to believe for one instant that the problem at hand was as minor as a broken bone.
David turned away from the void chamber to glance at the rest of the underground members. Terry, Lena, and Bends all held the same type of concern, and Nicola was wringing her hands, fearful for whatever was wrong with her trio-mate. Only Cooper held a blank face, neutral to whatever was wrong. David glared at the whole bunch, motioning for them to leave earshot before taking himself into the joint bedroom and closing the door behind him.
In the darkness, the dolphin-alter could only rely on memory, letting it guide him towards Craig's bed. Before touching him, David haulted, hestitant.. "Craig, it's just me. Talk to me. ..Please?"
...david..
It could barely be considered sound, but then again, he wasn't normal, even as a human; Solo picked it up with ease. In the short run, it was permission enough and David slid his hand gently up Craig's folded arm, coaxing him into a calm mind. David climbed into the bed, spooning himself against Craig's back; anything to put him better at easy.
"Craig--.."
"Does God hate me?"
It came out of the blue, silencing David. Did God hate him? Craig asked variations of the question in the past, concerning himself and his mutation. Concerning general wounds. Concerning them all. But never had David hear him say it with a raw bitterness. There was no pity or mourning, only hate, sadness, and disturbed desperation. David did nothing but lay his cheek on Craig's hair.
Craig was trembling; David began to fear just why Craig never came home 'til two minutes ago, why he was acting upset, why God might hate him.
"What happened?"
Craig flipped around, putting them chest to chest on the small bed and David suddenly his brother's face buried in his shirt...with hysteric sobs heaving harshly out of him. David wrapped his arms tightly around Craig's back, holding him like a mother would her ailing child.
But through his weeping, Craig managed to crack out, "Am I disgusting to you?"
"What--?"
"Don't," he pleaded weakly, fisting David's shirt. "Please don't hate me, David. Please, please don't be disgusted. I didn't mean it! Oh god, please don't hate me!"
"...I won't. I promise I won't be."
Craig seemed unconvinced, but in that unnecessary feeling, he curled into his older trio-mate, needing to be protected from the ghosts that haunted him. "You will be. You will be, I know it! I just do!"
"Craig!" In his arms, the mix-hybrid stiffened, made quiet, and David pulled him closer. "Dammit, I won't. We've been stuck together for 20 years. If any person you could think of, you /know/ I can be trusted....I can't judge my reflection without putting myself on trial; I've told you this."
******
David sat at the computer; everyone else was fast asleep, the tunnels and the doorless chambers empty. With the lack of noise, he'd been sure he could've completely one game of Free Cell.
"I.... I was out. And then... then...Dyrun. He..came-- I didn't know..."
As it stood, no card had been moved in 20 minutes. All David saw infront of him was the bewildering confession Craig brokenly gave him.
He... He...-- And I, I gave up..! But he,...and then it was morning. He...He said I'd, I'd..I'd come back to him."
It made not a drop sense at first, but David had his ugly, black suspicions. Tears and ragged speech, he wished it were something else. But never had a wish of David Bolton's ever been granted.
"Like a begging 'slut'."
It hurt. A single word made for a world of pain, and David held strong his rage. There was no reason for him to let a dangerous emotion like that override his priorities. He had to remain the pillar from the triplets, for the tiny organized team of resistance. Because he'd be their leader someday....and leaders were not driven by revenge.
"And I liked it."
The mouse cracked under his fingers; he didn't hear it.
"I /enjoyed/ it...M'just a sick faggot."
His shirt was still wet with expelled saltwater. It hadn't sunk in at the moment what Craig was implying, since David was more preoccupied with another crushing thought.
"I don't want it to be like that! I'm a dirty freak...and God's laughing at me."
He'd stayed with his brother until Craig fell into a restless slumber, for there was little else David could do for him. When he emerged, Nicola wasn't that far away, just outside the anteroom. She had looked to him with such... agony and a hopeful prayer. David could only ask her to wait for an answer, that he had to think first. The older adults also wanted to know what plagued the triplet....David's heart constricted and he shook his head, murmuring, 'later'.
The last hour was lost in time, as he felt numb to the world and his mind. However, he was now assaulted and ravaged with a looping confession.
"Fess up, Solo. I need to know what's wrong with him."
Cooper Bolton. Surogate father, ally, mentor, sage. Asshole. David caught the luteofulvous shark out of the corner of his eye, insulted by what he saw.
Cooper acted cold, indifferent; only lately, however, a starting change and one David declined to trust. This man wasn't the one who raised them, informed them, helped them. No, this one was a stranger. A threat to David's security. "No one has the right to know what Craig's going through. It's personal."
"Was he raped or fucked, David?"
The statement was flat, bored, and it's blunt crudeness startled a scarlet blush onto David's cheeks. He was offguard enough to start stuttering. "Who-- what the hell gave you that idea?!"
Cooper held up his hand, subtling counting all his evidence off on his thick fingers. "He's in one piece /and/ made it back home, meaning he wasn't mortally injured." One. "He wasn't covered in blood -- anywhere -- again meaning no injuries." Two. "It had nothing to do with death, as that leads to traumatic numbing and he was more confused than traumatic." Three. "He ran to his room, past all in his way, proof of mental confusion, as any psychologist would tell you that confusion seeks familiarity. Back to the death, however. Death /is/ confusion, as with the crying." Four. "And I smelt it." Five.
David didn't inquire about exact /what/ Cooper had smelled; it was quiet obvious what he meant. But that would explain why Cooper had any sort of a clue, since Nicola and himself had /not/ been in their alter forms when Craig burst in.
Cooper had. Cooper always will be.
Although, this information did /not/ make David feel any better. It only tugged at his irritation. "Fuck off," he stated harshly. "I'm not about to betray him to satisfy your own inquiries."
"You aren't on top of the foodchain just /yet/, David.
"I need to know...so /you/ can help him."