Flashback Break to Mend

[Gomer Caitiff]

The sixth day of fall 515 AV...

Seven chimes had passed since he'd arrived at Godric's door, and he had done little else but stare blankly at the simple wooden bevels and listen to the dull, heavy rhythm of his heart beating faintly in his chest. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Gomer balled his fist, telling himself this would be the time he would knock, but his hand remained at his side, as useless as if it had no astral strings to puppet it the way he imagined he ought to.

It had been another year. Another year and nothing to show for it but his own frustrations. He had spent even less time with his elder brother than the year prior, putting off their dinners and avoiding his concerned stares in the halls. He had thought that if he could foster the small spark of jealousy he felt towards him, perhaps it would be enough to attain the impossible title of Craven. He had become so tired, so angry, and so lonely - and he continued to fail.

If anything, he had come to respect Godric even more with his forced segregation from him: the man was perfect and only ever continued to become more so. He couldn't hate him for being better, and it had only served to further impress upon him his own worthlessness. Godric was everything he strove toward, still vainly hoping that if he could just attain it, his mother might come rushing back. He knew it was idiocy. Godric and others had told him such before, but just knowing something was true was not the same as feeling it was true - though it certainly helped to weigh his heart down all the more.

Earlier in the day, Godric had pulled him aside, quite literally, and pinned him to a wall with hands on either side, a brotherly concern swimming in his eyes. He'd forced Gomer to promise that he would spend his evening with him, not taking any answer but that of firm acknowledgment that he would do so. Now, it was time to follow through, and he felt far too nervous to face him.

As he considered for the thousandth time just turning away, the door was pulled open with a sharp rush of air, and his brother looked down at him with a concerned frown. "I would have preferred you come in on your own, little brother, but..." He sighed, putting a hand on his shorter sibling and gently pulling him through the doorway. "Sit. Please."

Godric's room was very much a reflection of his self. His bed was neatly made, carpet clean and unwrinkled, bookshelf neatly tidied, and desk without clutter, all its contents organized and placed exactly. Taking his place on the edge of the bed, Gomer stared down at his hands, tracing the lines of his familiar scars with his gaze, not certain of what to say after having avoided his brother for so long. Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on the approach one took - he did not need to speak, not yet.

"I've let you have your space, Go. I understand you needed time. But this..." He drew a breath in through his nose, his blue eyes closing for a moment as he slowly exhaled through his mouth. "This has gone on long enough."

Like a child being reprimanded, Gomer kept his face down, cheeks already a bright shade of pink. "I..."

"Wait." Godric's command came off a bit harsh, and Gomer flinched. Another, exasperated sigh escaped as Godric joined him, putting a warm hand on the back of his brother's neck, squeezing a gentle reassurance. "I apologize, I'm just... frustrated is all."

Gomer nodded, eyes still downcast.

"It's been two years, Go." The hand moved from Gomer's neck to his hand, moving in a slow, comforting circle. "I know its been difficult. I know better than anyone." Letting his hand settle onto the bed, he leaned back, the shift in weight making a little divot in the bed between them. "But you've got to stop blaming yourself, and you've got to start relying on me."

It was Gomer's turn to sigh then, running an exhausted hand through his hair and letting his eyes shut. He imagined Godric only wanted what was best for him, but what he wanted from him felt impossible. Logically, rationally, he knew he was not responsible for what happened to his mother, but it didn't make any difference in his heart. Eyes still downcast, he did not see the frustration in Godric's possessive glare as he watched Gomer uncertainly shake his head. "I don't... know how."

"Well you can start by looking at me." There was an impatience in his voice that Gomer felt compelled to redress, and he did as he was told. His sea-green eyes, dull and empty, were held in a firm stare by his brother's bright blue. Taking one of Gomer's hands in his, Godric turned it so that the scars caught in the lantern light that illuminated his room. "You trust me, don't you, Go?"

The question wasn't rhetorical. He could see it in his brother's searching gaze, a fair amount of hurt behind it. For once, his words came quickly, "Of course I-" He found himself half shouting before he regained some composure and found a more appropriate volume. "Of course I trust you."

Giving him a gentle squeeze with a reassured smile, Godric nodded. "Good." He set Gomer's hand back into his lap and took a steadying breath, straightening his back. "It was my mistake not doing this sooner. I've been a mockery of a brother to you, and I ask you now to forgive me for that."

"Y-you haven't-" Shaking his head, Godric stared back at him insistently. "I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, Godric, you haven't-"

Shifting his body so that he directly faced Gomer, Godric gripped him by both shoulders, turning him so that they were face to face. He spoke clearly, definitively, and stared directly into Gomer's eyes with firm determination. "Our mother is gone, Go."

[Gomer Caitiff]

Coming from his brother, the words pierced through him like fine needles. Trying to break away from Godric's gaze, the grip around his shoulders tightened painfully. "Look at me, Go." With effort, Gomer met his brother's stare once more, his own eyes swimming with a poorly damed swell of emotion. "She's gone. She's not coming back."

"But I-"

"Gomer." For the first time since they had been young children, playing silly games, Godric raised his voice, a terrifying spark of something violent in his eyes. No words came to Gomer then, and he stared cowed and muted, shaking in his brother's grip as he clenched his jaw to keep himself from crying. Softening, Godric pulled him into his chest, his warm arms wrapping around him, a hand running through the back of his hair, as he whispered far more gently, "She's gone."

A year ago, he had wailed himself into exhaustion, alone upon a stone bench in the manor's garden. He had thought it a bearing of his soul, an emptying of the pain, guilt, and frustration he had felt. But it had been alone; it had been incomplete. He had tried to mourn as a half, not a whole, and there, in his brother's arms, as he gently rocked him, murmuring quiet words into his ear, he felt everything he had left within him rush fourth.

His tears were not the tasteful sort, cleanly falling from his lashes to bloom wet, salty flowers against the clean white of his brother's shirt. His sobbing wracked his body, made it difficult to breath, and his thoughts came to halt, having room only for the unfathomable sadness he felt as he pressed into the strong, comforting chest. His tears and snot and spit all found their way onto Godric's shirt as he continued to run his hand through his brother's hair, staring down at the mess with a mix of relief and, had Gomer been able to see through his bleary, hysterical sobbing, a glint of triumph.

He cried and cried, and Godric never once tried to stop him. The more he cried, the warmer he felt, until he finally calmed, puffy eyes closed and wet cheek pressed comfortably against Godric's chest. As his keening had grow more pacific, Godric had released him from the forced embrace. Instead, he had wrapped an arm around his brother, gently squeezing his upper shoulder. When Gomer quieted save for his sniffling, Godric ventured a soft question, his chin resting on the top of Gomer's head. "Now, I'm going to need you to try something."

Gomer nodded, the vibration in his brother's chest as he spoke tickling his ear, but the words themselves carrying with them an implication that whatever Godric was going to ask of him wasn't going to be easy.

"First, you're going to have sit up. Is that all right?"

Letting a slow, calming breath of air leave his lips in a steady stream, Gomer pushed himself out his brother's cradling comfort, wiping his running nose with the cuff of his shirt and nodding. Though his eyes were ruddy and swollen, they had more life within them than had been there in a long time.

"There's a good boy, Go." Godric smiled warmly, looking a bit disheveled now that his once pristine, white shirt was stained with the aftermath of Gomer's long overdue outburst. "Now, I want you to say it."

Sniffling again, Gomer's brows knit. "Say what?"

"You know what, little brother." His voice was soft and coaxing.

"She's..." He gulped, closing his eyes and trying to find his breath. "She's-" Shaking his head, he felt the tears threaten to overtake him once more. "I-I can't, I..."

Godric's own eyes flashed with a brief glare of annoyance, but it was gone by the time Gomer's opened, apologetic and pathetic. "Let's... Let's try something else." Gomer nodded, the prospect of anything but what he'd been asked to do sounding a far better alternative. "Who am I?"

[Gomer Caitiff]

Though Gomer waited for some sort of impression to follow, Godric gave no indication that he was planning on impersonating any one or thing. With a confused frown, Gomer replied with a tentative, "You're... Godric? My brother?" He shook his head uncertainly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt to help dry the tears.

"That I am." The confirmation in Godric's tone indicated Gomer had given the correct answer. "And what makes me Godric? What makes me your brother?"

Blinking in thought, Gomer's eyes unfocused as he considered the question, glad to have something else to think about other than the past year, but uncertain as to what his brother was trying to get him to say. "Our... blood?" Shaking his head, Godric waited for another try, and Gomer sniffled again, though this time it merely to keep his still running nose from dripping. "Your... erm... you? The... the way you are? Look?"

Holding up a hand to stop him, Godric tried a different approach, "Do I appear the same as I did when we were children?" There was no humor in his voice, though his tone did have a warm, teacher-like quality to it.

Not needing time to consider his answer, Gomer shook his head, brows still knit in puzzlement. "No, of course not."

"But was I still Godric then?"

"Well, yes. I... suppose so. Maybe not the same Godric, but you were still... Godric. Are Godric."

"Yes, but what made me Godric then that still makes me Godric now?"

The question was a leading one, and Gomer did his best to follow. "Our... experiences?"

Nodding, still coaxing his brother down his trail of thought, Godric replied, "And what are experiences, once they've been... experienced?"

"...memories?" Gomer offered up the word after a beat or two of consideration.

"Precisely. My experiences, my memories, all that I am." He again picked up Gomer's hand, his fingers gently tracing the myriad of thin, exact scars. "If I couldn't remember where these came from, how they got there, would I still be your brother?"

Frowning, Gomer looked down at the hand, his eyes following his brother's finger as it slowly moved over his skin, almost caressing the slivers of lighter tones. "Well..."

"If I couldn't remember your name, your face, the sound of your voice," As Godric continued, Gomer realized where the conversation was going, but said nothing, listening closely to what his elder brother had to say, hoping it might help him where he had been unable to help himself. "Would I still be your brother?"

The question this time was firmly stated, an answer expected, and Gomer grit his teeth, knowing the right answer but unable to give it. "To me... you would be."

"Why?" For once, not even a hidden frustration was concealed on Godric's face, the current order of events well within those he had expected.

"Because I... I would remember. I would remember your name, your face, your voice. I would remember how much I care for you, and how much you cared for me and-" He caught himself, his eyes threatening to well over, though his chest not nearly as full to bursting as it had been before he'd finally allowed himself to cry into his brother. Swallowing, he completed the thought, doing his best to meet Godric's curious gaze. "And to me, you would still be... my brother."

Nodding, as if he had expected Gomer's answer, Godric spoke, his voice soft but firm. "But to the world, to myself? I wouldn't be your brother. I would be someone different. Whether you accepted that or not, it wouldn't change the fact that your brother was no longer."

"I-"

"You understand this, don't you, little brother?" Though perhaps a tad more condescending than it needed to be, the concern in Godric's eyes removed what little sting the words might have had.

"...Yes."

"Then I believe there is something we can try, but you must promise me, right now, that you will do exactly as I say." There was that same velvety, enticing quality to his words he had used each time they had studied together when they were younger. And while they had stopped when their mother had become distraught over how very careless Gomer had been with his hands and the brambles he seemed to always find his way into, it was a familiar request, and Gomer instinctively nodded his head, though when he spoke it was with all the gravity deserving of such a oath.

"Of course."

Pushing himself up off of the bed, Godric extended a hand to his younger sibling, helping him to his feet before he began to unbutton his shirt. "You too, Go."

Though unsure what the purpose of disrobing might be, he trusted that Godric had some sort of plan for him. Already having removed the draw string from his own shirt, Gomer untucked its hem and pulled it up and over his head, shivering slightly in the open air as his bare chest reminded him that the fall night was one better weathered clothed. Folding his shirt and placing it on the bed, he waited for his brother's next instructions, well trained still.

"Now, I want you to stand there." Godric pointed to the middle of his circular carpet, placing his own shirt in a neat pile atop his desk and proceeding to gently massage his hands. Gomer obliged, moving to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest and eyeing his brother with confusion. "Hands at your side, Go." Doing as he was asked, Gomer held back his desire to speak, knowing full well things would be explained - and that those things would come faster if he was patient and did not ask unnecessary questions.

[Gomer Caitiff]

"Now." Godric stared over at him, his hands falling limp as he continued to speak. "We'll start with something... more manageable." His arms followed suit, hanging slack from his shoulders. "You blame yourself, but it wasn't your fault, Go. I want you to say: 'I am not responsible for her.' Do you understand? Only that, and you must mean it."

"Godric, I-" Without any indication of moment from his brother, he felt a hand slap him across the face. The weight of the blow was enough to send his unprepared body sprawling, and the force enough to knock the sound right out of him. Blinking, dazed, Gomer staggered back to his feet, his hand instinctively moving to massage where he'd been struck, but a force around both his wrists kept him from doing so.

"Say it." His elder brother watched him calculatingly, his eyes alight with a curiosity that was masked by concern and familial compassion. "You can do it, Go."

"I am... not responsible for her." There was no weight behind his words, and he felt sick in the pit of his stomach. For so long he'd borne the weight of guilt that even a lie felt like a betrayal of everything he'd sacrificed with nothing to show for it. This time expecting the blow, Gomer could barely flinch, his body restrained by invisible chains holding him down. The sting of the second slap left a more symmetrical redness to his face, and he blinked back the pain.

"I am not responsible for her." Another slap.

"I am not responsible for her." Another.

"I am not-" Before he could even finish, the open hand had turned to a fist, and it burrowed into his stomach with painful strike that left him gasping for air.

"Again."

Restrained as he was, there was nothing he could do but draw in a couple shallow breaths, his voice lost in the moment. Another slap followed, after which he found the words again, this time shouting them, just wanting the chance to curl into a ball and nurse his aching stomach. "I am not responsible for her!"

Another strike follow, a closed fist to his cheek, splitting the skin and drawing a small trickle of blood. "I am not-!" Another punch. "I am not-!" Another. With his frustration, anger, and guilt all rising, Gomer shouted wordlessly, struggling helplessly against his brother's magic.

"Again."

"I am not responsible-!" He felt a hand around his neck, iron fingers closing around him.

"Your life depends on this, little brother. You have to mean it." Godric's eyes flashed with something dark, but Gomer was too preoccupied with his rising panic to notice. "I-I am-" The fingers began to tighten. Gritting his teeth, his muscles bulging uselessly, Gomer's guilt began to be burned away by his fear and anger. "I am not responsible for her." The words came out as a rasping hiss, but as soon as they left his lips, he felt the grip around his throat loosen.

Repeating himself, Gomer focused on the anger, the pain he had forgotten he'd felt when he'd first heard news of what had happened. She had left him - them - to do Ionu only knew what. It hadn't just been that he'd been upset at himself for being so great a disappointment she thought she might find some way of helping him become more than he was meant to be; he'd felt betrayed that she would do something so reckless and leave the two of them in her wake, without her. "I am not responsible for her anymore." The words burned their way out of him.

Seeming not to mind the added word, Gomer felt Godric's hand remove itself from his neck. "Again."

Drawing a shaking breath through his nose, finally able to breath again, Gomer repeated himself, again and again, the flare of anger slowly receding to a dull ember in the pit of his stomach, sill slowly burning away at the years of guilt that continued to lurk there.

Though he had yet to regain control over his body, the blows had stopped for the time being. He could already feel his face beginning to swell, and small bruises had started to peek their bluish black faces from beneath the bright red skin of his neck.

"Good." Godric pulled his chair out from its place at his desk, the piece of furniture moving as if on its own. Settling into it, his gaze remained steady, and he stared calmly into Gomer's defiant eyes, both brothers knowing what was coming next. "Now, I want you to say," His words were pronounced precisely, each one its own, solid and absolute. "'My mother is dead.'"

[Gomer Caitiff]

Gritting his teeth, Gomer tried to look away, but invisible fingers caught at his chin and forced him to face his brother. "You promised, Go. Exactly as I say."

Recalling his feelings of abandonment and the anger he'd felt because of it had been one thing. Declaring his mother dead, truly permanently gone forever, to the only other person in the world with whom he had shared her was too much. "I ca-"

The strike was hard and fast, leaving Gomer's vision spinning even as he felt the blood start to tickle from where his lip had split against his tooth. "I ca-" He just wanted it to stop, but the next strike landed squarely between his shoulder blades. The force of the elbow would have been enough to send him straight to the ground had he not been held in place. Spluttering out a gasping cough, Gomer shook his head, the tears at the edges of his eyes refusing to fall in spite of the pain. "My mother..."

"Conviction, Go. With conviction." Godric's voice was soft, soothing like a gentle song or the heady scent of perfume in a darkened room. "You have to believe it, or it won't change anything."

Swallowing his spit and blood, Gomer tried again, his breath raggedly shaking within him. "My mother... is dead." The words, while exactly those which his brother had asked him say, were hollow, as void of meaning as they could be, yet even as he heard them he flinched at their sound. The next strike was another slap across his face, this time the back of the hand as he could feel Godric's invisible knuckles collide unwaveringly with the bone of his jaw.

"Again."

"My mother is dead." There was little improvement, and he was rewarded with another strike to his midsection, this one a sharp jab to his side. "My mother is dead." Another slap. "My mother is dead." Once again, the fingers wrapped around his neck, but even the fear of suffocation wasn't enough. "My mother-" They tightened, and Gomer could feel his body's protest that should the hand close any tighter, he would regret it. In a soft, anguished whisper, he managed a final, "My mother-"

"This is... too much." The hand released him, and Godric calculatingly stared at him before he continued. "For now, I want you to just... say it. Over and over again, until it has no meaning."

Coughing and spluttering, the air weakly finding its way back into his lungs, Gomer took a chime to recover, the blood dripping off of his lips, his mouth filled with its coppery flavor. "My mother is dead," Finally having started, even with the blood and spit, his mouth felt dry. He began to repeat himself, over and over, just as his brother had commanded; all the while Godric calmly watched him, his astral limbs gradually releasing Gomer and returning to his own body.

When Godric held a hand up to allow Gomer a moment, his voice had become little more than than rasp, mouth truly dry and face bruised and bloody. Bells had passed, and Gomer no longer said the words with a flinch. They didn't even sound like words to him any longer, just noise, and as Godric calmly poured him a glass of water, extending it to him with a reassuring smile, Gomer gladly took it, gingerly whetting his throat and wincing as it passed through.

Rising from his chair, Godric took the cup from him, and set it on the desk. "Now, little brother," He returned to Gomer's side, extending a hand down to him and assisting him to his feet. "Let's try again."

[Gomer Caitiff]

"You have to believe it, Go. You have to mean it." Godric put his hands on either side of Gomer's tender face, his touch gentle and warm. "Our mother is dead. She isn't coming back. I can't bring her back. You can't bring her back. You need to say it." Every word was clear and emphatic, his eyes staring, searching straight into Gomer's.

Letting his eyes close as he drew a slow, ragged breath, he gripped Godric's forearms, his own hands shaking from the effort. Licking his split lips to wet them, he released the breath, raising his gaze to meet with his brother's expectant one. "My mother is dead."

It sounded strange to him, as if someone else had said the words with his own voice. After having repeated them for bells on end, he had expected them to sound different - empty and void of substance. Instead, they were rich and full, brimming with grief and heartache, but not guilt. Without being bade to, he repeated himself, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. "My mother is dead."

He felt Godric's hands gently rub away his tears, "Can you save her?"

"No." He gasped the word, unable to break from the intensity of his brother's stare. "I can't save her. My mother is dead." He repeated it again, smaller and quieter than before. "She's dead..."

To Gomer's astonishment, he cried out in sudden pain and surprise as Godric's grip pulled his face into the brunt of an unexpected headbutt. He felt something in his nose snap, and he was released, tumbling to the floor, his hands scrabbling at his face as the blood began to flow. "Where is our mother, Go?!" Godric's voice boomed over him, filling the room and forcing him - commanding him - to stare up at him.

Without thinking, without wondering if his words would have the meaning behind them or not, he screamed back, his voice broken and torn but for the first time that night, for the first time in two years, even, there was a conviction in it as solid as stone. "Our mother is dead!"

[Gomer Caitiff]

If any in the house had heard them that night, no one came to disturb them. Permanently ruining Godric's dirtied shirt, the brothers used the fabric to staunch the flow of blood. It was a blur of red and throbbing pain, muffled voices and lights and darkness, but eventually Gomer woke to find himself tucked tightly into a starchy sheeted bed. His throbbing, bruised pulp of a face was properly bandaged, and, while he couldn't move much, he was able to catch a blond head of hair out of the corner of his eye.

Dryly swallowing, he tried to clear his throat, wincing at the rasping pain that rewarded him for his efforts. "Godric?"

The head of hair stirred, and he felt a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'm here, little brother."

"Where-?" Though he knew he should have known the answer, it escaped him. In the moment, dazed as he was, much seemed to be just out of grasp.

"Ionu's Mercy. The healers were able to patch you up just fine." His tone was business-like, warming near the end as if he'd only just remembered his role as a caring elder brother. Gomer was too tired to notice, and with the mountainous bandaging across his nose and a good half of his face, he wasn't able to see the odd satisfaction in Godric's eyes as he stared down at him.

"Oh." It was about all he could manage, and he let out a tired, shallow sigh.

"I know you need your rest, but just listen for a moment." Rather than say anything, Gomer just stiffly nodded, letting his eyes close as he focused on the smooth, calm familiar voice. "When you heal, we're going to find you a house outside of the Manor." Too tired to react, Gomer merely laid there, again stiffly nodding. "I believe... you need time away from everyone else." The implied - everyone else but me - did not need to be said to be understood. "And I'll talk to father about arranging some money for you. You did very well tonight, Go. I merely don't want it to be in vain, you understand."

Gently moving his hand to rest over his brother's, Gomer nodded once more. "Good." Godric continued, patting both their hands with his second. "We're not finished yet, little brother. You promised you'd do exactly as I say, and you will, won't you?"

This time, feeling as though a verbal confirmation of contract was required, he rasped out a quiet but firm, "Yes."

"Good. Good." Godric eased back into his chair, pulling it closer with one of his feet so that he could sit next to his brother's bed. "Now, rest. It's time to rest."

Quietly, Gomer could hear his brother humming a familiar song, one that their mother had sang to them when they were younger. He felt heavy, listening to it, but the weight was different than before. He could still taste the guilt, the pain, the anger, the sadness... It swirled within him, a familiar knot of dark, twisted fibers; while he and his brother had cut through some of it, there was much work still to be done.

The difference was that some of the weight wasn't painful - not in the same way. It was cool, like a stone in spring, and though he felt it pull at his heart, it was gentle, persistent and reminding where his guilt was adhesive and barbed. As he drifted off into sleep, his brother watching over him, he wondered if that was the proper feeling of grief, of what one felt when one lost something irreplaceable without the hope that it might be returned. The last thought that languidly strolled through his fading consciousness was that he very much wouldn't mind carrying that feeling with him for the rest of his life.