Chapter 19: Brother Mine

Fresco couldn't speak past his brother's name. He stared, overwhelmed by the sight of Daniel standing not ten feet from him.

The two years had not been kind, although according to what Garris said and Fresco's own condition when he first came to Last Stand, it was a miracle Daniel was still alive at all. Fresco wasn't sure how he knew it was his brother. There was very little about Daniel he recognized. But, even though his outward appearance would have fooled others, Fresco knew it was him to the core of his being, without a doubt in his mind.

Daniel's face was aged past his twenty years, lined with the hardship of life given over to the blue joy. His hair hung long and ragged, but his clothes seemed clean. He either had someone looking out for him or managed to keep a semblance of humanity, some shard of reality. Stunning really anyone could spend so much time in thrall of Wasteland and still be functional. A part of Fresco wasn't surprised to find his brother standing there. His soul was linked to Daniel's for so long he understood he'd know if his brother was dead.

Daniel's body trembled rhythmically as he stood there in the dim light.

"Fres." His voice sounded harsh. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Fres, baby bro."

Fresco went to him, not knowing what to do, but needing to be near him. Daniel backed away a step when he held out his arms. The older brother shuddered violently before settling, going back to his constant tremor.

Fresco backed off, but his heart swelled. "They told me you were dead." The words came out in a guilty whisper he even considered it might be true.

Daniel barked a laugh, the deep lines in his face etched with bitterness, old scars pulling his skin askew.

"Not yet." His statement shivered and hissed, sand over glass. "Done their best, Fres. But not yet." He looked closely at Fresco, swaying a little as the tremor got the better of him. "They get you, too?"

Fresco nodded. "Yeah, it happened to me. But I was lucky, found some folks to help."

Daniel's trembling became more aggressive, his left knee buckling and popping over and over. "Mom and Dad?" Fresco felt Daniel's hunger, and he ached to help his brother.

"They weren't," Fresco told him. "We were right, big bro. We are special."

Daniel choked out that horrible laugh again. "Damned special," he said. He coughed, a tearing sound deep within him, heavy and wet. Fresco wanted to help, but sensed any move on his part would send Daniel running. His brother seized control of the heaving cough and sagged.

"Been worse," he muttered to himself. "Been better."

Fresco waited for Daniel to come back to him. His brother lifted his head eventually. He took one shuffling step forward, coming further into the dim light. It did nothing to improve his appearance. Fresco wanted to look away, but couldn't.

"You got any?" Daniel's voice was low and tired, but there was a longing in it Fresco knew all too well. He saw the twitching in Daniel's fingers, the thumb miming popping the top of a blue tube. He wondered how much of Daniel remained and how much was pure Wasteland.

Fresco shook his head, suddenly tired. "No. I'm done. I don't do it anymore, Danny." Fresco smiled a little at the old nickname. Daniel insisted he lose it when Fresco was ten. "You can stop too, you know."

Daniel's laugh was a howl of misery. "Can't be done, baby bro," he said, madly staggering from one foot to the other in a hopping dance. With a twinge of horror, Fresco noticed his brother's eyes, once chocolate brown, now glowed blue, the exact color of Wasteland. It triggered a memory of another, a man in a diamond embroidered ball cap whose eyes were like that.

Strom, his mind whispered.

Daniel, oblivious to Fresco's revelation, continued his dance. "It has me," he told Fresco. "Has you, too, you just don't know it. Don't see it. Might think it's let you go then, BAM!" Fresco started as Daniel slapped his hands together and lunged forward, clutched in madness. "But I'm smart. Don't fight it no more. Bring it in. Use it for my reasons." The cough returned, gripping Daniel for a long minute before letting him go.

Fresco feared the madness, but Daniel was his brother. He didn't entirely understand, either, but pushed on, trying to keep him talking. "Is that how you stayed alive, Danny?"

Daniel shrugged. "Am I? Are you? Is any freaking body?" He laughed again, choking off into a huge sob. "This ain't living, baby bro. No kind of life at all..." His face fell still.

Fresco had to do something. He reached for Daniel. His brother broke out of his Wasted daze and backed away.

"Thought it was you," Daniel said, voice soft. "Felt you sometimes, tried to keep you safe. Thought I could." He looked down at the dirty ground, tremors shaking him. Amazed gratitude washed through Fresco.

"It was you!" He almost laughed. "They said you died, but I saw you, Daniel. I heard your voice when I was in the City..."

"Lot of good I did." Daniel's voice rang low and edged with anger. "No damned good. Thought I could trick him, Fres. Beat him. Thought I was the strong one." His chuckle was deep and bitter. "Learned that lesson." Daniel shuddered, locked in a memory.

Fresco racked his brain for a way to pull him out of it, but before he spoke Daniel looked up. There was a tear on his cheek, tracking through a nasty scar.

The tear ran blue.

"Had to know. Now I do." Daniel's face twisted into a rictus of a smile, more corpse than man. "But I think I beat him after all," he said in a whisper. "Found a way in, Fres. Going to the City. Get there soon. Just need one more key, then I'm going and never coming back."

Fresco had so many questions. He saw the hunger taking Daniel. In desperation, he reached out and grabbed him.

A pulse passed between them, a line of fire linking their skin. Fresco pulled away in shock. Daniel stared at him, face utterly blank, devoid and empty. Even the tremors stopped. Daniel stood as if frozen, unblinking, unseeing. Fresco felt the presence of an awareness ease itself into his brother's place, as though someone else looked through Daniel's glowing blue eyes. Fresco froze himself, terrified of that presence. Daniel then shook like a wet dog and the presence was gone. He turned and muttered something under his breath. He swayed toward Fresco, as though to speak again and shuffled away a step, still muttering, swatting at an imaginary something with his left hand.

Fresco desperately wanted to go after him, to drag him back to Last Stand by force if necessary, but a soft groan from behind him spun him around. He forgot the rescue. The kid was stirring. Fresco turned back to find Daniel gone. Torn between his sense of responsibility to his brother and his new family, he made the hardest decision in his whole life.

Turning his back on Daniel, swearing to find him again, Fresco lifted the boy back into his arms and carried him home.

***