Fic: Re-Animator/From Beyond, "The First Step is Admitting It"
Title: The First Step is Admitting It
Fandom: Re-Animator/From Beyond (Bro'verse)
Pairing: Herbert/Dan
Rating: PG-13 (language, some blood)
Word Count: 4777
Summary: Dan spends Thanksgiving with Herbert, Crawford, and their older sister, Jeanine. There's food, fighting, and awkward emotional revelations.
A/N: This Thanksgiving I am thankful for wemblee who is an awesome beta.
Bro'verse Master Post: HERE
Dan awoke in a large, soft bed. Stark, autumn sunlight streamed through the window. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The blurry, half-remembered images came back to him: Practically falling out of the car, being greeted at the door by a small, dark-haired woman in glasses, and that was about it.
With a heavy groan he turned on his back. He was still in his jeans and shirt, didn't even bother taking off his shoes. What time was it? There was an alarm clock on the nightstand. Well, he missed breakfast.
Dan sat up and took in his surroundings. The room was a sort of modern minimalist. A small dresser, the night stand, the bedding, curtains, walls and carpet were all slightly different shades of off-white. He got to his feet to investigate the three doors. He found the closet, the way out, and an en suite bathroom. Dan sniffed himself. Bathroom first.
He found his bags at the foot of the bed. After he showered and changed clothes, he felt much better, more human again. He stuck his head out the bedroom door. The hall was quiet. More whitish walls, four other white doors, and eggshell carpeting. Dan didn't feel exactly comfortable wandering around a foreign house on his own. Maybe Herbert or Crawford were still abed behind one of those doors. But not wanting to accidentally disturb the wrong person, Dan decided to strike out alone.
He found the staircase easily and went down. The foyer was vaguely familiar. Yes, last night, being pulled inside and watching the woman take Crawford in her arms in an enthusiastic hug. She then turned to Herbert with a little less enthusiasm and simply said, "So, you came after all." Then finally her attention was pinned to Dan. "You must be Dr. Daniel Cain."
"Yes, uh-"
"Dan, Jeanine. Jeanine, Dan." Herbert interrupted. "Now sleep."
And yup, it was about there things blurred out. Dan had no memory of making it up the stairs and collapsing in bed.
"There you are." Dan turned around at the sound of Herbert's voice. "I was sent to check your vital signs. Come on, lunch."
Herbert went back the way he came without waiting. Dan quickly followed him. He was led to the dining room where the rest of the household was already eating. Crawford had dark circles under his eyes; his previous day's coffee intake had made it difficult for him to sleep. Herbert sat down across from him, looking exceptionally annoyed at the salad he'd been eating. But his expression was more to do with the company and less with the food. At the head of table was Jeanine. She stood when Dan entered.
"Dr. Cain," she greeted, coming around the table. "I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you."
She smiled and gestured for him to join them. Jeanine West stood no taller than her brothers, but a pair of black pumps put her an inch above their heads. She wore a white blouse with dark jeans, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. Slightly magnified by a pair of glasses, a pair of familiar eyes glittered up at him. "I hope you don't mind a cold, light lunch, Dr. Cain."
"Just call him Dan," Herbert interrupted.
"But, we'll want to save our appetites for the main event later."
"There's coffee on the sideboard," Crawford drowsily said.
Dan topped off Crawford's cup before pouring one for himself from the silver coffee service. He sat down next to Herbert. "This is a very nice house you have. Very neat, very, uhm-"
"Boring."
"Clean," Dan finished, ignoring Herbert.
Jeanine's button nose crinkled when she smiled. "Thank you. I try."
"You don't have to try when you can hire people to clean for you."
"That's very true, Herbert. I cannot take all the credit."
Herbert muttered something and stabbed a cherry tomato.
"I suppose," Jeanine said, "I should congratulate you all for surviving the journey and in one piece. Although, not entirely uninjured." She titled her head and narrowed her eyes at the small, red mark on Crawford's cheek.
When Crawford realized where her attention was, he was quick to say, "It's nothing."
She shifted her gaze to her other brother. "What? He said it's nothing!" Herbert said, defensive. "Is it my fault he tears so easily? He should get 'Fragile: Handle with Care' tattooed to his forehead."
"But by your logic, he'd probably die from ink poisoning," Dan said, dishing salad for himself.
"I know." Herbert grinned.
"I'm not getting any tattoos."
"Of course you're not, dear."
Dan flashed a playful grin across the table. "Come on, it doesn't hurt that bad, Crawford."
Herbert frowned. "How would you know? You don't have any tattoos."
"Who said I don't?"
"I haven't seen any."
"There are parts of me you haven't seen. At least I hope not. You haven't been doing anything creepy to me in the night, have you?"
Herbert's frown deepened, and he want back to viciously attacking the vegetables on his plate.
Dan glanced up and saw their host giving him a thoughtful, assessing look. It wasn't wholly unlike the expression Herbert wore when examining a corpse for experimental purposes. Dan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "So, uh, I suppose I'll be receiving the grand tour? Make sure I don't get lost, accidentally find some embarrassing family photos..."
"All in good time," Jeanine assured him with another nose-crinkling smile.
The rest of lunch was spent with some pleasant conversation. Jeanine took interest in letting Crawford talk about his work, but never once asked Herbert about his. Dan also learned some more family history and how Jeanine acquired her wealth.
She had inherited their parents' pragmatism. The kind of pragmatism that led to giving up one of their newborn twins up for adoption because the unexpected second baby did not fit into their budgetary plans. And where Herbert's and Crawford's genius leant itself to the harder sciences, Jeanine's was for economics and finances. She had been a quickly rising star in the business sector, and was now an executive at a prominent Chicago-based company.
Lunch over, Jeanine stood. "Before the tour you requested, I would like to have a little chat with you in my study, Daniel."
"What? Why?" Herbert immediately protested.
"When I wish to have a private conversation, it means the business of it is for myself and the other person. None of yours."
"Dan's business is my business."
Jeanine arched an eyebrow. "Really?"
Dan quickly assured her that was not the case at all.
"Well, what am I suppose to do when when you're monopolizing Dan?"
"Help Crawford with the dishes."
Herbert watched Crawford who was already up, clearing the table. "I don't want to."
"You will help Crawford with the dishes," she repeated. Her tone was firm, brooking no refusal.
Herbert opened his mouth, then closed it. With a grunt of disgust, he pushed himself away from the table.
"And any broken dishes come out of your allowance," Jeanine threatened, taking Dan's arm and escorting him from the room.
She led him through the main floor, pointing out the living room, the library, and other rooms. The whole house kept with the cream, whitish motif, but with enough varying shades and textures that it actually had a calming, ambient effect. It was nothing like the antiseptic stark white of a hospital or padded cell. All the same, there was an obvious lack of decoration. Dan commented that he had not seen any pictures, vases, or other artwork.
She smiled. "Some people feel the need to display their wealth by cluttering their homes. And what I don't spend on frivolity, I set aside for the possibility of needing to post an exorbitant bail or pay an expensive lawyer." Dan just nodded. Jeanine stopped and opened the door to her study. "You know, when I say that to others I entertain here, they laugh. But you know it's no joke."
Dan felt a chill prickle at his skin, wondered just how much she knew about what Herbert did, what he has done.
The study had a little more character to it. The furniture had dark, wood trim. The cushions had a hint of color, a light blue. She motioned to a pair of facing armchairs. "Don't worry, Daniel, if I'm satisfied with this interview, I'll make sure any legal costs will be extended to include you as well. Would you care for a drink?"
Interview? Is that what this was? And for what, whether she'll continue providing funds that help him as well as Herbert. Or maybe to determine whether or not Dan would be allowed to continue to associate with her younger brothers? "Uhm, sure."
She poured brandy from a crystal decanter and handed him a glass. "This ought to help you relax a little." She chuckled. "This isn't the Spanish Inquisition."
"What do you think she wants to talk to Dan about?" Crawford asked, following Herbert down the stairs to the basement. The dishes hadn't taken long between the two of them. Drying his hands, Herbert had said something about wanting to find some old documents he may have left years ago. And since he was here, Crawford ought to make himself useful.
Herbert switched on another light. The brick room with concrete floor had been Herbert's temporary workspace between graduating from four-year college and leaving to study in Switzerland. On a dusty table sat a small chemistry set and microscope. There were a couple bookshelves and filing cabinets.
"She's probably grilling him for details on how exactly we are spending her money so that she can make excuses for giving me less."
Crawford idly wrote in the dust with his finger. "Maybe he'll charm her into giving you more."
Herbert yanked a rusty drawer open. "He better keep his 'charm' out of it."
"Maybe you should just, I don't know, tell Dan how you feel."
Herbert tried to to angrily slam the drawer shut, but it stuck. "And what exactly are you assuming I 'feel'?"
"How you never want him to leave, to always be part of your life?" Crawford suggested meekly, taking a couple steps back.
Herbert pushed around some old books, picking one or two up to flip through. "Of course I don't want him to leave. He's been an incomparable help. And he listens to me."
"Well, yes, but there's also, you know, the other things..."
Herbert narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I see. You're talking about soft, girly feelings." Crawford shrugged. "You know full well I am completely incapable of such nonsense."
"Because ruining Dan's dates, trying to convince him to stay away from me, has nothing to with jealousy."
"I need his help. Can't have some woman or you distracting him."
"You could always find another assistant. Why is Dan so special?"
"Because... Just because!" He pounded a fist onto the table top.
Crawford smiled a little. "Because you lllooo-"
"Crawford! You dare use that word, I'll autopsy you in your sleep."
Jeanine settled into the chair across from Dan. "At first I wondered what kind of man Herbert West would attach himself to. But lately, I've wondered more what sort of man attaches himself to Herbert West."
"I- I'm not sure what exactly you want to know."
"Over the past year I have received many letters from my brother. He asks for money, legal advice, the usual. At first it was only for himself, but quickly and consistently it has gone from just 'I' to 'Dan and I.'"
"So? I don't see the significance."
"Significance? This is huge! Herbert caring about another living, human being other than himself?"
"'Caring' is somewhat of a strong word."
"These sort of feelings are new for him. Doesn't quite know how to handle it. He's always been a bit awkward, it must come out all wrong."
"Feelings? You're talking about feeling feelings? That Herbert has. For me."
Jeanine blinked at him. "Of course. It's obvious."
Dan leaned forward, covered his face with his hands. "No no no no. That's just... That's impossible. You're wrong."
"I've read the letters, and from what Crawford's told me; no, I think not."
What exactly has Crawford been telling her? Probably about the incident at Halloween. Herbert's jealousy. How quickly Dan forgave him. "Okay, maybe you're not wrong. Maybe I've been ignoring it."
"Did ignoring his feelings make it easier to ignore yours?"
"Whoa! Okay, I don't know when this turned into some kind of therapy session. But I am not having this conversation." He launched himself from the chair and made for the door.
Jeanine sighed heavily. "The tension at lunch was quite uncomfortable, Daniel. I had hoped some airing of your issues would make dinner easier."
"I thought your area of expertise was business, not psychology."
"Business is psychology, Daniel. Knowing what the consumer wants before they know they want it. What makes an employee happy and efficient. It's learning your competitor's weaknesses and exploiting them. It's reading body language in meetings and deals."
"Okay, I get your point."
"Daniel," she came up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Daniel, you are an intelligent, attractive young man. You could have many prospects ahead of you. And yet you bounced from a police investigation to a Peruvian war zone, where you almost died, then back to the same town of your greatest loss. You stay with someone you've convinced yourself doesn't even care about you as a friend. I can only think of one thing that makes a man behave so irrationally."
Dan felt as if all his internal organs had melted. "If... If it was that. I'd have to be insane."
Jeanine spread her arms and grinned. "We're all mad here."
With that stewing in his brain, Jeanine gave him the full tour of the house so he wouldn't get lost later. There would have been a tour of the grounds as well, but the garden was covered in a layer of snow. Herbert and Crawford they ran into again, just as the twins were coming out of the cellar.
"Childish?" Herbert was saying. "You're the one being childish."
"And what have you two been up to?" Jeanine brushed dust off Herbert's shoulder and plucked cobwebs from Crawford's hair.
"I was helping Herbert find some of his old notes."
"Oh, and did you?"
Herbert held up a yellowed notebook. "Even more embarrassing than it is useless. Going to toss it in the fireplace.
"I'm just happy to see you two spend some time together and emerge unscathed." She gave Crawford another glance-over to confirm her statement. "Well," she clapped her hands together, "lucky me, I have three capable young men at my disposable to help in the kitchen." She hooked her arms through Dan and Crawford's, pulling them down the hall.
Behind them, Herbert made a disgusted noise. "Do we have to?"
"Knowing you helped prepare it will make the meal all the more enjoyable and satisfactory," Jeanine said over her shoulder.
Like a little military commander, she marched them to the kitchen. She halted just outside the swinging door, and did an about-face to look at Herbert. "First things first. Turn out your pockets."
Herbert rolled his eyes. "I don't have anything on me."
"Your pockets." The "now" was unspoken, but clear.
Herbert gave a resigned sigh and turned his pants pockets inside-out. He turned around and did the same for the two at the back. "Satisfied?" He asked, stuffing the pocket lining back in place.
Jeanine nodded and without another word pushed open the door.
"What was that all about?" Dan was asking Herbert, but it was Jeanine who answered.
"When he was eighteen, he slipped an experimental chemical into the meal. Our parents were still alive at the time, and I had a few business associates over as well. It was not pleasant."
"It was very informative," Herbert countered.
Jeanine's kitchen was the kind that Dan had only ever seen on cooking shows or idly flipping through the old magazines left around the hospital. Like the rest of the house, it was absolutely pristine. Stainless steel shined, and copper pots gleamed from their hooks. Jeanine opened a cupboard and removed a set of aprons. One for each of them. As she handed them out, she also gave them their assignments. "Crawford, dear, start washing the vegetables. Daniel, ingredients and instructions for dressing are on the counter there. Herbert," she shoved the frilliest apron at him, "you may gut the turkey and stuff it once Daniel's done."
Herbert's eyes brightened at the chance to play in a dead animal's innards. He even took the proffered apron, but promptly and forcibly switched with Dan. Herbert rolled up his sleeves, tucked in his neck tie and looked disturbingly like he did when working in his lab.
Pleasant homeliness was not something Dan had expected to experience at the West household. But as everyone was set at their tasks, Crawford and Jeanine chatting quietly by the sink, it was relaxingly normal. Perhaps, Dan thought, it wouldn't be so terrifying to be more intimately connected to these people.
"You and Jeanine have a nice chat?" Herbert asked, clipping his consonants more than usual. Dan had trouble looking at Herbert. "You look sickly," Herbert observed. "What did she make you confess to?"
"What," Dan paused, cleared his throat. "What do you think she'd want me to confess to?"
"Details. What we do. My behavior. Anything that can give her an excuse to cut me off. You didn't tell her about the time I experimented on Crawford, did you?"
"No! Nothing like that. She was more interested in me."
"What do you mean 'interested'?"
"I mean stop being so damned suspicious and jealous any time I, God forbid, talk to another human being! It's stupid and unnecessary."
"And what is that suppose to mean?"
"It means you can stuff it, Herbert!" He slammed the mixing bowl down in front of him and stormed out.
He only went so far as the dining room, and sat heavily at the table, face in hands.Stupid, frustrating, crazy... Damn him, damn Jeanine, damn them all for being so, so-
The kitchen door squeaked open. Dan looked through his fingers to see, of course, Crawford standing there in his strawberry-print apron, looking concerned.
"How did you do it?" Dan asked tiredly. "After what, twenty years, of a perfectly normal life, perfectly normal, if adopted family. How did you accept this?" He gestured back to the kitchen where it sounded like Herbert and Jeanine were arguing.
Crawford narrowed his eyes, thinking. "At the risk of sounding cliché, you know how in movies and books, identical twins can have a sort of psychic connection?"
Dan stared at him, disbelieving. "Really? You met Herbert and honestly felt 'Yes, this is a part of me that's been missing all my life'?"
Crawford glanced away, sheepish. "Sort of."
Dan chuckled. "You're adorable, you know that?"
Crawford started and blushed. "Don't let him hear you say that! He'll disfigure me in the night."
"Don't worry. I'm sure he wouldn't dare do anything untoward while in your sister's house."
"Oh." Crawford relaxed. "I suppose you're right."
Voices from the kitchen grew louder.
Crawford said, "There's a chess table in living room. We could play a game or two while they sort things out."
Dan agreed, especially when they could clearly hear Herbert shout, "And what would an old spinster like you know about it?!"
They had barely started their first game when Herbert came storming into the room. He held a dish towel to his nose. It was covered in blood. "The woman's a lunatic! We're leaving. Now."
Dan immediately went to him, tried to get Herbert to let him look at his nose. Crawford gaped. "What happened?"
"The bitch hit me!" Herbert hissed as Dan prodded his face. The nose wasn't broken, but blood was still streaming, and it would leave him bruised for some time, especially if they didn't ice it soon. Lucky that his glasses weren't broken, too.
"But, why would she?" Crawford asked.
Jeanine strolled in casually at that moment. There were a couple flecks of blood on her blouse; she must've not noticed them yet. "I assure you, I am normally not a violent woman. But when someone pulls a knife on me-"
"A knife!?" Dan none too gently shoved the towel back over Herbert's nose.
"OW! She slapped me first!" Herbert's shout was muffled under the cloth.
"A knife is not an appropriate retaliation for a slap."
"Ob khorse. You know ahl abow beink slabbed."
Dan pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh at how silly and kind of cute Herbert sounded with his nose blocked-up.
"Is he going to be okay?" Crawford made a face at the blood-soaked towel.
"He's fine," Jeanine said. "Crawford, be a sweetheart and finish preparing the turkey. I'll be in after I change my shirt." She plucked at the red spots she now discovered. "Daniel can take care of Herbert. Please try not to get blood on anything."
She left the room. Dan, with Herbert in tow, followed Crawford back to the kitchen. While Crawford did as his sister asked, Dan emptied a couple ice trays into a plastic bag and gave it to Herbert. Dan took the towel and threw it away. "You're going to look like a raccoon, later," he said, sitting next to him on a stool at the island counter. Herbert set the ice on the countertop and planted his face on it. Dan put a comforting hand on his back.
Crawford anxiously looked over at them as he put the turkey in the oven. Jeanine wandered in a few minutes later in a new blouse. Herbert immediately got up and, icepack in hand, left the room. Dan started going after him, but Jeanine stopped him.
"Let him have his sulk. Dinner will be ready in about three hours. He may have calmed down by then."
Dan drummed his fingers worriedly against his thighs. Personal experience said she was right. But there were the other things now. Dan was itching to be more proactive to make everything right. Crawford and Jeanine kept him distracted, though. He and Crawford finished their interrupted game of chess and played a couple games more. Jeanine sat with them, working on papers, and playing one of her classical music records. She left occasionally to keep an eye on the supper.
They even talked a little more about the family history. How Crawford was told early on he was adopted, but never had an interest in seeking out his birth family. That had changed when his parents were killed in a small aircraft incident. He had been a junior in college. That following summer he made contact with Jeanine.
Tragically, he never had the chance to meet his natural parents. The two of them died coincidentally in an accident only a couple months before Crawford wrote the letter to his real family.
"Wow, that really sucks," Dan said lamely.
"In some ways it was perfect timing," Jeanine said. "What perfect way to recover from such losses to gain whole new family members?" She petted Crawford's hair like a favorite son.
She checked her watch. "Dinner's almost ready. Daniel, perhaps you can see if Herbert's ready to behave himself."
Dan made a stop back in the kitchen first, before making his way to Herbert's room. He knocked. No response. He tried the handle. To his surprise, it was unlocked. A small bedside lamp was on, casting a low orange glow. Herbert's room was clearly his own, and not just another guest room. The walls had anatomy posters and notes tacked up. Herbert was lying on his four-poster bed, stretched out on his back, ankles crossed, hands folded over his stomach. His face was obscured by the bag of ice, now mostly melted.
"Hey," Dan quietly spoke, thinking maybe Herbert might have fallen asleep. "I brought you a proper one." He hefted the blue bag so that the ice cubes inside clattered together. Herbert tossed the old bag aside and blinked up at him.
"Whoa!" Herbert's nose had swollen a bit, and the skin around his eyes had already darkened to an alarming shade of purple. "Jeanine's got a mean jab."
Herbert sat up and reached for the icepack. Dan handed it over, but Herbert just held it in his lap. He looked up at Dan again. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"The tattoo you claim you have."
"Herbert, it's not important."
"It is! I don't like not knowing something about you." He shifted his gaze away to some unfixed point on the wall. Herbert was embarrassed. Dan recognized that now.
Dan leaned against the bedpost, crossed his arms, and smiled. "Guess."
"What?"
"If you can guess where it is and what it is, maybe I'll even show you."
Herbert grabbed his glasses and gave him a thorough look-over, calculating, deducing. "Well, I've seen you with your shirt off, and there's nothing on your arms, chest or back. So it must be lower... Your thigh, then. And it's probably something stupid like an ex-girlfriend's name in a heart."
Dan shook his head. "Nope. Keep guessing. I'll even tell you if you're getting warmer."
There must have been something in Dan's tone that made Herbert's expression shift to suspicious. "You're being coy about this. Why?" His eyes widened for a second. "Is this... Are you flirting?"
"Maybe." He sat on the bed, looking straight into Herbert's bruise-surrounded eyes, projecting that he was serious. He flicked his gaze down, drawn to where Herbert had nervously licked his lips. In for a penny, Dan thought. He leaned forward.
Herbert leaned back. "Don't. She's put you up to this."
Dan put on a hand on his shoulder, gently stopping the retreat. "No one's put me up to anything. Only that maybe they're right, and we just need to stop fighting ourselves, each other, this."
Herbert swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Dan thought he could feel him tremble a little. "Herbert, can I kiss you?" And God, it was even more terrifying and awkward than when he was twelve and asked the same thing of Jenny Thompson under the playground slide.
"Yes," Herbert croaked out.
"Oh. Okay then." Dan slid his hand from Herbert's shoulder to his neck, pulling him slightly forward. He paused, feeling Herbert's breath against his lips, he wanted to give him one more moment to move away if he really didn't want it. Herbert didn't move. Dan started with the lightest brush of lips against lips, tentative, testing. Dan increased the pressure, mindful of the unfortunate circumstance that they reached this point in their relationship while Herbert's face was sore.
At first, Herbert didn't respond. Just as Dan was starting think that this had all been one big mistake, Herbert moved, pressed back. So this was it. Dan Cain was kissing Herbert West. It had to have been the most chaste kiss Dan experienced since hitting puberty.
Dan pulled back, tried to read Herbert's expression. Herbert hadn't closed his eyes the entire time and continued to stare at him.
"So?" Dan asked.
Herbert licked his lips again, and cleared his throat. "That was...different."
"Different?" A thought struck. "Herbert, have you not been kissed before?"
"Yes. Just not by anyone who bothered to ask first."
What the hell was that about? But the look on Herbert's face was more of a dare to ask than an invitation. "But it was okay, right? Now I mean. Not then."
"It was pleasant, yes."
A glowing recommendation. "So, you'd like to do more?"
"I would. Some time later." Herbert removed his glasses again, put the icepack on his face, and laid back down.
"Wait, that's it?"
"What do you expect, Dan? Now we tear our clothes off and ravish each other?"
"Well, no, not exactly. But surely we should talk."
"I've done nothing but talk today, and get punched. Tired of talking. Won't risk more punching."
Dan stood and leaned over the bedside, looking down at Herbert. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'll stop. Seeing other people, I mean. And so you can stop getting jealous. No one's taking me away." He lifted the ice pack to make Herbert look at him. "Herbert?"
"I'll... Try."
That was something, at least. "Now are you coming downstairs or not? I rather not eat Thanksgiving dinner with your family while you're up here alone. I mean, awkward."
"So, you've said." He sighed and sat up. "I'll come. For you."
BONUS: Nine Letters Inside a Manilla Folder in the Bottom, Left Drawer of Jeanine West’s Desk
Fandom: Re-Animator/From Beyond (Bro'verse)
Pairing: Herbert/Dan
Rating: PG-13 (language, some blood)
Word Count: 4777
Summary: Dan spends Thanksgiving with Herbert, Crawford, and their older sister, Jeanine. There's food, fighting, and awkward emotional revelations.
A/N: This Thanksgiving I am thankful for wemblee who is an awesome beta.
Bro'verse Master Post: HERE
Dan awoke in a large, soft bed. Stark, autumn sunlight streamed through the window. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The blurry, half-remembered images came back to him: Practically falling out of the car, being greeted at the door by a small, dark-haired woman in glasses, and that was about it.
With a heavy groan he turned on his back. He was still in his jeans and shirt, didn't even bother taking off his shoes. What time was it? There was an alarm clock on the nightstand. Well, he missed breakfast.
Dan sat up and took in his surroundings. The room was a sort of modern minimalist. A small dresser, the night stand, the bedding, curtains, walls and carpet were all slightly different shades of off-white. He got to his feet to investigate the three doors. He found the closet, the way out, and an en suite bathroom. Dan sniffed himself. Bathroom first.
He found his bags at the foot of the bed. After he showered and changed clothes, he felt much better, more human again. He stuck his head out the bedroom door. The hall was quiet. More whitish walls, four other white doors, and eggshell carpeting. Dan didn't feel exactly comfortable wandering around a foreign house on his own. Maybe Herbert or Crawford were still abed behind one of those doors. But not wanting to accidentally disturb the wrong person, Dan decided to strike out alone.
He found the staircase easily and went down. The foyer was vaguely familiar. Yes, last night, being pulled inside and watching the woman take Crawford in her arms in an enthusiastic hug. She then turned to Herbert with a little less enthusiasm and simply said, "So, you came after all." Then finally her attention was pinned to Dan. "You must be Dr. Daniel Cain."
"Yes, uh-"
"Dan, Jeanine. Jeanine, Dan." Herbert interrupted. "Now sleep."
And yup, it was about there things blurred out. Dan had no memory of making it up the stairs and collapsing in bed.
"There you are." Dan turned around at the sound of Herbert's voice. "I was sent to check your vital signs. Come on, lunch."
Herbert went back the way he came without waiting. Dan quickly followed him. He was led to the dining room where the rest of the household was already eating. Crawford had dark circles under his eyes; his previous day's coffee intake had made it difficult for him to sleep. Herbert sat down across from him, looking exceptionally annoyed at the salad he'd been eating. But his expression was more to do with the company and less with the food. At the head of table was Jeanine. She stood when Dan entered.
"Dr. Cain," she greeted, coming around the table. "I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you."
She smiled and gestured for him to join them. Jeanine West stood no taller than her brothers, but a pair of black pumps put her an inch above their heads. She wore a white blouse with dark jeans, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. Slightly magnified by a pair of glasses, a pair of familiar eyes glittered up at him. "I hope you don't mind a cold, light lunch, Dr. Cain."
"Just call him Dan," Herbert interrupted.
"But, we'll want to save our appetites for the main event later."
"There's coffee on the sideboard," Crawford drowsily said.
Dan topped off Crawford's cup before pouring one for himself from the silver coffee service. He sat down next to Herbert. "This is a very nice house you have. Very neat, very, uhm-"
"Boring."
"Clean," Dan finished, ignoring Herbert.
Jeanine's button nose crinkled when she smiled. "Thank you. I try."
"You don't have to try when you can hire people to clean for you."
"That's very true, Herbert. I cannot take all the credit."
Herbert muttered something and stabbed a cherry tomato.
"I suppose," Jeanine said, "I should congratulate you all for surviving the journey and in one piece. Although, not entirely uninjured." She titled her head and narrowed her eyes at the small, red mark on Crawford's cheek.
When Crawford realized where her attention was, he was quick to say, "It's nothing."
She shifted her gaze to her other brother. "What? He said it's nothing!" Herbert said, defensive. "Is it my fault he tears so easily? He should get 'Fragile: Handle with Care' tattooed to his forehead."
"But by your logic, he'd probably die from ink poisoning," Dan said, dishing salad for himself.
"I know." Herbert grinned.
"I'm not getting any tattoos."
"Of course you're not, dear."
Dan flashed a playful grin across the table. "Come on, it doesn't hurt that bad, Crawford."
Herbert frowned. "How would you know? You don't have any tattoos."
"Who said I don't?"
"I haven't seen any."
"There are parts of me you haven't seen. At least I hope not. You haven't been doing anything creepy to me in the night, have you?"
Herbert's frown deepened, and he want back to viciously attacking the vegetables on his plate.
Dan glanced up and saw their host giving him a thoughtful, assessing look. It wasn't wholly unlike the expression Herbert wore when examining a corpse for experimental purposes. Dan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "So, uh, I suppose I'll be receiving the grand tour? Make sure I don't get lost, accidentally find some embarrassing family photos..."
"All in good time," Jeanine assured him with another nose-crinkling smile.
The rest of lunch was spent with some pleasant conversation. Jeanine took interest in letting Crawford talk about his work, but never once asked Herbert about his. Dan also learned some more family history and how Jeanine acquired her wealth.
She had inherited their parents' pragmatism. The kind of pragmatism that led to giving up one of their newborn twins up for adoption because the unexpected second baby did not fit into their budgetary plans. And where Herbert's and Crawford's genius leant itself to the harder sciences, Jeanine's was for economics and finances. She had been a quickly rising star in the business sector, and was now an executive at a prominent Chicago-based company.
Lunch over, Jeanine stood. "Before the tour you requested, I would like to have a little chat with you in my study, Daniel."
"What? Why?" Herbert immediately protested.
"When I wish to have a private conversation, it means the business of it is for myself and the other person. None of yours."
"Dan's business is my business."
Jeanine arched an eyebrow. "Really?"
Dan quickly assured her that was not the case at all.
"Well, what am I suppose to do when when you're monopolizing Dan?"
"Help Crawford with the dishes."
Herbert watched Crawford who was already up, clearing the table. "I don't want to."
"You will help Crawford with the dishes," she repeated. Her tone was firm, brooking no refusal.
Herbert opened his mouth, then closed it. With a grunt of disgust, he pushed himself away from the table.
"And any broken dishes come out of your allowance," Jeanine threatened, taking Dan's arm and escorting him from the room.
She led him through the main floor, pointing out the living room, the library, and other rooms. The whole house kept with the cream, whitish motif, but with enough varying shades and textures that it actually had a calming, ambient effect. It was nothing like the antiseptic stark white of a hospital or padded cell. All the same, there was an obvious lack of decoration. Dan commented that he had not seen any pictures, vases, or other artwork.
She smiled. "Some people feel the need to display their wealth by cluttering their homes. And what I don't spend on frivolity, I set aside for the possibility of needing to post an exorbitant bail or pay an expensive lawyer." Dan just nodded. Jeanine stopped and opened the door to her study. "You know, when I say that to others I entertain here, they laugh. But you know it's no joke."
Dan felt a chill prickle at his skin, wondered just how much she knew about what Herbert did, what he has done.
The study had a little more character to it. The furniture had dark, wood trim. The cushions had a hint of color, a light blue. She motioned to a pair of facing armchairs. "Don't worry, Daniel, if I'm satisfied with this interview, I'll make sure any legal costs will be extended to include you as well. Would you care for a drink?"
Interview? Is that what this was? And for what, whether she'll continue providing funds that help him as well as Herbert. Or maybe to determine whether or not Dan would be allowed to continue to associate with her younger brothers? "Uhm, sure."
She poured brandy from a crystal decanter and handed him a glass. "This ought to help you relax a little." She chuckled. "This isn't the Spanish Inquisition."
"What do you think she wants to talk to Dan about?" Crawford asked, following Herbert down the stairs to the basement. The dishes hadn't taken long between the two of them. Drying his hands, Herbert had said something about wanting to find some old documents he may have left years ago. And since he was here, Crawford ought to make himself useful.
Herbert switched on another light. The brick room with concrete floor had been Herbert's temporary workspace between graduating from four-year college and leaving to study in Switzerland. On a dusty table sat a small chemistry set and microscope. There were a couple bookshelves and filing cabinets.
"She's probably grilling him for details on how exactly we are spending her money so that she can make excuses for giving me less."
Crawford idly wrote in the dust with his finger. "Maybe he'll charm her into giving you more."
Herbert yanked a rusty drawer open. "He better keep his 'charm' out of it."
"Maybe you should just, I don't know, tell Dan how you feel."
Herbert tried to to angrily slam the drawer shut, but it stuck. "And what exactly are you assuming I 'feel'?"
"How you never want him to leave, to always be part of your life?" Crawford suggested meekly, taking a couple steps back.
Herbert pushed around some old books, picking one or two up to flip through. "Of course I don't want him to leave. He's been an incomparable help. And he listens to me."
"Well, yes, but there's also, you know, the other things..."
Herbert narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I see. You're talking about soft, girly feelings." Crawford shrugged. "You know full well I am completely incapable of such nonsense."
"Because ruining Dan's dates, trying to convince him to stay away from me, has nothing to with jealousy."
"I need his help. Can't have some woman or you distracting him."
"You could always find another assistant. Why is Dan so special?"
"Because... Just because!" He pounded a fist onto the table top.
Crawford smiled a little. "Because you lllooo-"
"Crawford! You dare use that word, I'll autopsy you in your sleep."
Jeanine settled into the chair across from Dan. "At first I wondered what kind of man Herbert West would attach himself to. But lately, I've wondered more what sort of man attaches himself to Herbert West."
"I- I'm not sure what exactly you want to know."
"Over the past year I have received many letters from my brother. He asks for money, legal advice, the usual. At first it was only for himself, but quickly and consistently it has gone from just 'I' to 'Dan and I.'"
"So? I don't see the significance."
"Significance? This is huge! Herbert caring about another living, human being other than himself?"
"'Caring' is somewhat of a strong word."
"These sort of feelings are new for him. Doesn't quite know how to handle it. He's always been a bit awkward, it must come out all wrong."
"Feelings? You're talking about feeling feelings? That Herbert has. For me."
Jeanine blinked at him. "Of course. It's obvious."
Dan leaned forward, covered his face with his hands. "No no no no. That's just... That's impossible. You're wrong."
"I've read the letters, and from what Crawford's told me; no, I think not."
What exactly has Crawford been telling her? Probably about the incident at Halloween. Herbert's jealousy. How quickly Dan forgave him. "Okay, maybe you're not wrong. Maybe I've been ignoring it."
"Did ignoring his feelings make it easier to ignore yours?"
"Whoa! Okay, I don't know when this turned into some kind of therapy session. But I am not having this conversation." He launched himself from the chair and made for the door.
Jeanine sighed heavily. "The tension at lunch was quite uncomfortable, Daniel. I had hoped some airing of your issues would make dinner easier."
"I thought your area of expertise was business, not psychology."
"Business is psychology, Daniel. Knowing what the consumer wants before they know they want it. What makes an employee happy and efficient. It's learning your competitor's weaknesses and exploiting them. It's reading body language in meetings and deals."
"Okay, I get your point."
"Daniel," she came up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Daniel, you are an intelligent, attractive young man. You could have many prospects ahead of you. And yet you bounced from a police investigation to a Peruvian war zone, where you almost died, then back to the same town of your greatest loss. You stay with someone you've convinced yourself doesn't even care about you as a friend. I can only think of one thing that makes a man behave so irrationally."
Dan felt as if all his internal organs had melted. "If... If it was that. I'd have to be insane."
Jeanine spread her arms and grinned. "We're all mad here."
With that stewing in his brain, Jeanine gave him the full tour of the house so he wouldn't get lost later. There would have been a tour of the grounds as well, but the garden was covered in a layer of snow. Herbert and Crawford they ran into again, just as the twins were coming out of the cellar.
"Childish?" Herbert was saying. "You're the one being childish."
"And what have you two been up to?" Jeanine brushed dust off Herbert's shoulder and plucked cobwebs from Crawford's hair.
"I was helping Herbert find some of his old notes."
"Oh, and did you?"
Herbert held up a yellowed notebook. "Even more embarrassing than it is useless. Going to toss it in the fireplace.
"I'm just happy to see you two spend some time together and emerge unscathed." She gave Crawford another glance-over to confirm her statement. "Well," she clapped her hands together, "lucky me, I have three capable young men at my disposable to help in the kitchen." She hooked her arms through Dan and Crawford's, pulling them down the hall.
Behind them, Herbert made a disgusted noise. "Do we have to?"
"Knowing you helped prepare it will make the meal all the more enjoyable and satisfactory," Jeanine said over her shoulder.
Like a little military commander, she marched them to the kitchen. She halted just outside the swinging door, and did an about-face to look at Herbert. "First things first. Turn out your pockets."
Herbert rolled his eyes. "I don't have anything on me."
"Your pockets." The "now" was unspoken, but clear.
Herbert gave a resigned sigh and turned his pants pockets inside-out. He turned around and did the same for the two at the back. "Satisfied?" He asked, stuffing the pocket lining back in place.
Jeanine nodded and without another word pushed open the door.
"What was that all about?" Dan was asking Herbert, but it was Jeanine who answered.
"When he was eighteen, he slipped an experimental chemical into the meal. Our parents were still alive at the time, and I had a few business associates over as well. It was not pleasant."
"It was very informative," Herbert countered.
Jeanine's kitchen was the kind that Dan had only ever seen on cooking shows or idly flipping through the old magazines left around the hospital. Like the rest of the house, it was absolutely pristine. Stainless steel shined, and copper pots gleamed from their hooks. Jeanine opened a cupboard and removed a set of aprons. One for each of them. As she handed them out, she also gave them their assignments. "Crawford, dear, start washing the vegetables. Daniel, ingredients and instructions for dressing are on the counter there. Herbert," she shoved the frilliest apron at him, "you may gut the turkey and stuff it once Daniel's done."
Herbert's eyes brightened at the chance to play in a dead animal's innards. He even took the proffered apron, but promptly and forcibly switched with Dan. Herbert rolled up his sleeves, tucked in his neck tie and looked disturbingly like he did when working in his lab.
Pleasant homeliness was not something Dan had expected to experience at the West household. But as everyone was set at their tasks, Crawford and Jeanine chatting quietly by the sink, it was relaxingly normal. Perhaps, Dan thought, it wouldn't be so terrifying to be more intimately connected to these people.
"You and Jeanine have a nice chat?" Herbert asked, clipping his consonants more than usual. Dan had trouble looking at Herbert. "You look sickly," Herbert observed. "What did she make you confess to?"
"What," Dan paused, cleared his throat. "What do you think she'd want me to confess to?"
"Details. What we do. My behavior. Anything that can give her an excuse to cut me off. You didn't tell her about the time I experimented on Crawford, did you?"
"No! Nothing like that. She was more interested in me."
"What do you mean 'interested'?"
"I mean stop being so damned suspicious and jealous any time I, God forbid, talk to another human being! It's stupid and unnecessary."
"And what is that suppose to mean?"
"It means you can stuff it, Herbert!" He slammed the mixing bowl down in front of him and stormed out.
He only went so far as the dining room, and sat heavily at the table, face in hands.Stupid, frustrating, crazy... Damn him, damn Jeanine, damn them all for being so, so-
The kitchen door squeaked open. Dan looked through his fingers to see, of course, Crawford standing there in his strawberry-print apron, looking concerned.
"How did you do it?" Dan asked tiredly. "After what, twenty years, of a perfectly normal life, perfectly normal, if adopted family. How did you accept this?" He gestured back to the kitchen where it sounded like Herbert and Jeanine were arguing.
Crawford narrowed his eyes, thinking. "At the risk of sounding cliché, you know how in movies and books, identical twins can have a sort of psychic connection?"
Dan stared at him, disbelieving. "Really? You met Herbert and honestly felt 'Yes, this is a part of me that's been missing all my life'?"
Crawford glanced away, sheepish. "Sort of."
Dan chuckled. "You're adorable, you know that?"
Crawford started and blushed. "Don't let him hear you say that! He'll disfigure me in the night."
"Don't worry. I'm sure he wouldn't dare do anything untoward while in your sister's house."
"Oh." Crawford relaxed. "I suppose you're right."
Voices from the kitchen grew louder.
Crawford said, "There's a chess table in living room. We could play a game or two while they sort things out."
Dan agreed, especially when they could clearly hear Herbert shout, "And what would an old spinster like you know about it?!"
They had barely started their first game when Herbert came storming into the room. He held a dish towel to his nose. It was covered in blood. "The woman's a lunatic! We're leaving. Now."
Dan immediately went to him, tried to get Herbert to let him look at his nose. Crawford gaped. "What happened?"
"The bitch hit me!" Herbert hissed as Dan prodded his face. The nose wasn't broken, but blood was still streaming, and it would leave him bruised for some time, especially if they didn't ice it soon. Lucky that his glasses weren't broken, too.
"But, why would she?" Crawford asked.
Jeanine strolled in casually at that moment. There were a couple flecks of blood on her blouse; she must've not noticed them yet. "I assure you, I am normally not a violent woman. But when someone pulls a knife on me-"
"A knife!?" Dan none too gently shoved the towel back over Herbert's nose.
"OW! She slapped me first!" Herbert's shout was muffled under the cloth.
"A knife is not an appropriate retaliation for a slap."
"Ob khorse. You know ahl abow beink slabbed."
Dan pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh at how silly and kind of cute Herbert sounded with his nose blocked-up.
"Is he going to be okay?" Crawford made a face at the blood-soaked towel.
"He's fine," Jeanine said. "Crawford, be a sweetheart and finish preparing the turkey. I'll be in after I change my shirt." She plucked at the red spots she now discovered. "Daniel can take care of Herbert. Please try not to get blood on anything."
She left the room. Dan, with Herbert in tow, followed Crawford back to the kitchen. While Crawford did as his sister asked, Dan emptied a couple ice trays into a plastic bag and gave it to Herbert. Dan took the towel and threw it away. "You're going to look like a raccoon, later," he said, sitting next to him on a stool at the island counter. Herbert set the ice on the countertop and planted his face on it. Dan put a comforting hand on his back.
Crawford anxiously looked over at them as he put the turkey in the oven. Jeanine wandered in a few minutes later in a new blouse. Herbert immediately got up and, icepack in hand, left the room. Dan started going after him, but Jeanine stopped him.
"Let him have his sulk. Dinner will be ready in about three hours. He may have calmed down by then."
Dan drummed his fingers worriedly against his thighs. Personal experience said she was right. But there were the other things now. Dan was itching to be more proactive to make everything right. Crawford and Jeanine kept him distracted, though. He and Crawford finished their interrupted game of chess and played a couple games more. Jeanine sat with them, working on papers, and playing one of her classical music records. She left occasionally to keep an eye on the supper.
They even talked a little more about the family history. How Crawford was told early on he was adopted, but never had an interest in seeking out his birth family. That had changed when his parents were killed in a small aircraft incident. He had been a junior in college. That following summer he made contact with Jeanine.
Tragically, he never had the chance to meet his natural parents. The two of them died coincidentally in an accident only a couple months before Crawford wrote the letter to his real family.
"Wow, that really sucks," Dan said lamely.
"In some ways it was perfect timing," Jeanine said. "What perfect way to recover from such losses to gain whole new family members?" She petted Crawford's hair like a favorite son.
She checked her watch. "Dinner's almost ready. Daniel, perhaps you can see if Herbert's ready to behave himself."
Dan made a stop back in the kitchen first, before making his way to Herbert's room. He knocked. No response. He tried the handle. To his surprise, it was unlocked. A small bedside lamp was on, casting a low orange glow. Herbert's room was clearly his own, and not just another guest room. The walls had anatomy posters and notes tacked up. Herbert was lying on his four-poster bed, stretched out on his back, ankles crossed, hands folded over his stomach. His face was obscured by the bag of ice, now mostly melted.
"Hey," Dan quietly spoke, thinking maybe Herbert might have fallen asleep. "I brought you a proper one." He hefted the blue bag so that the ice cubes inside clattered together. Herbert tossed the old bag aside and blinked up at him.
"Whoa!" Herbert's nose had swollen a bit, and the skin around his eyes had already darkened to an alarming shade of purple. "Jeanine's got a mean jab."
Herbert sat up and reached for the icepack. Dan handed it over, but Herbert just held it in his lap. He looked up at Dan again. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"The tattoo you claim you have."
"Herbert, it's not important."
"It is! I don't like not knowing something about you." He shifted his gaze away to some unfixed point on the wall. Herbert was embarrassed. Dan recognized that now.
Dan leaned against the bedpost, crossed his arms, and smiled. "Guess."
"What?"
"If you can guess where it is and what it is, maybe I'll even show you."
Herbert grabbed his glasses and gave him a thorough look-over, calculating, deducing. "Well, I've seen you with your shirt off, and there's nothing on your arms, chest or back. So it must be lower... Your thigh, then. And it's probably something stupid like an ex-girlfriend's name in a heart."
Dan shook his head. "Nope. Keep guessing. I'll even tell you if you're getting warmer."
There must have been something in Dan's tone that made Herbert's expression shift to suspicious. "You're being coy about this. Why?" His eyes widened for a second. "Is this... Are you flirting?"
"Maybe." He sat on the bed, looking straight into Herbert's bruise-surrounded eyes, projecting that he was serious. He flicked his gaze down, drawn to where Herbert had nervously licked his lips. In for a penny, Dan thought. He leaned forward.
Herbert leaned back. "Don't. She's put you up to this."
Dan put on a hand on his shoulder, gently stopping the retreat. "No one's put me up to anything. Only that maybe they're right, and we just need to stop fighting ourselves, each other, this."
Herbert swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Dan thought he could feel him tremble a little. "Herbert, can I kiss you?" And God, it was even more terrifying and awkward than when he was twelve and asked the same thing of Jenny Thompson under the playground slide.
"Yes," Herbert croaked out.
"Oh. Okay then." Dan slid his hand from Herbert's shoulder to his neck, pulling him slightly forward. He paused, feeling Herbert's breath against his lips, he wanted to give him one more moment to move away if he really didn't want it. Herbert didn't move. Dan started with the lightest brush of lips against lips, tentative, testing. Dan increased the pressure, mindful of the unfortunate circumstance that they reached this point in their relationship while Herbert's face was sore.
At first, Herbert didn't respond. Just as Dan was starting think that this had all been one big mistake, Herbert moved, pressed back. So this was it. Dan Cain was kissing Herbert West. It had to have been the most chaste kiss Dan experienced since hitting puberty.
Dan pulled back, tried to read Herbert's expression. Herbert hadn't closed his eyes the entire time and continued to stare at him.
"So?" Dan asked.
Herbert licked his lips again, and cleared his throat. "That was...different."
"Different?" A thought struck. "Herbert, have you not been kissed before?"
"Yes. Just not by anyone who bothered to ask first."
What the hell was that about? But the look on Herbert's face was more of a dare to ask than an invitation. "But it was okay, right? Now I mean. Not then."
"It was pleasant, yes."
A glowing recommendation. "So, you'd like to do more?"
"I would. Some time later." Herbert removed his glasses again, put the icepack on his face, and laid back down.
"Wait, that's it?"
"What do you expect, Dan? Now we tear our clothes off and ravish each other?"
"Well, no, not exactly. But surely we should talk."
"I've done nothing but talk today, and get punched. Tired of talking. Won't risk more punching."
Dan stood and leaned over the bedside, looking down at Herbert. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'll stop. Seeing other people, I mean. And so you can stop getting jealous. No one's taking me away." He lifted the ice pack to make Herbert look at him. "Herbert?"
"I'll... Try."
That was something, at least. "Now are you coming downstairs or not? I rather not eat Thanksgiving dinner with your family while you're up here alone. I mean, awkward."
"So, you've said." He sighed and sat up. "I'll come. For you."
BONUS: Nine Letters Inside a Manilla Folder in the Bottom, Left Drawer of Jeanine West’s Desk