Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You've got the devil on your shoulder
You better shut your mouth just like I told ya
You've been controlling me through fiction, it's obvious
I've got to break you like a bad addiction

Now I can't say no, I'm losing control
I'm having bad dreams
And nothing you can do will keep the bad things
Away from me until I fall asleep, bad dreams
Despite your good intentions
That girl is like an architect
And I am just the new invention
I am just the new invention
I am just the new invention

You've got to choose between your faces
Feels like you're running out of holy places
And now the room is getting quiet
Oh, what a shame
Nobody taught you how to read and riot

Oh, bless my soul, I'm losing control
I'm having bad dreams
And nothing you can do will keep the bad things
Away from me until I fall asleep, bad dreams
Despite your good intentions
That girl is like an architect
And I am just the new invention
I am just the new invention
I am just the new invention

It's a miracle I'm standing
You're dragging me back into having
I'm having bad dreams
And nothing you can do will keep the bad things
Away from me until I fall asleep, bad dreams
Despite your good intentions
That girl is like an architect
And I am just the new invention
I am just the new invention
I am just the new invention
I can't sleep
I am just the new invention
I can't sleep, I can't sleep
I am just the new invention

***

The clock started anew with a lonesome, feeble tick.

It sounded through the once silent void like a gentle knock against the door of life. With every tick, it grew just a little louder, just a little more confident as if to command the entity behind the door to open it. The cold, precise device pulsed and squeezed his once static blood with ever-increasing strength, learning the rhythm of his body and transforming into the instrument of all of his love and his inhibitions. It pounded against the door, harder and harder until a thunderous series of contractions vaporised death itself and the door crumbled, revealing a prize on a broken pedestal. The machine pounded in his chest, shouting its triumph to the world as the victorious surrogate claimed its prize; life itself.

With flowing blood, he began to wake. His muscles twitched, his ears rang, and breath flooded his lungs. He sputtered and coughed as saliva filled his mouth. His lashes fluttered; his eyes unable to withstand the light. Joseph blinked back tears, colour rushing in and removing all memory of the dull, infinite darkness from before. The plainness of the ceiling, the grain of wood, the gleam of a camera’s eye all appeared spectacular.. The feel of air entering his lungs became a novelty, he touched his face, feeling the warmth of his skin as if he had been born anew. As he listened to the song of birds outside, he couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t supposed to be alive. He placed his fingers to his wrist, but his skin was firm and cold to the touch. He lifted the arm in question from under the blankets, revealing something unfamiliar to him. 

His hand was not his own flesh and blood, rather, it was an appendage of brand-new polished steel. It bore an extraordinarily similar appearance to his organic arm, with the same proportions. The hands differed significantly, with a sleek palm, small, subtle plates on the back serving as knuckles, completed by segmented fingers with smoothened, pointed tips. He flexed the fingers, bending them forwards and backwards, discovering that their range of movement greatly exceeded human hands. He failed to recall how he had lost his arm in the first place. Nor did he remember who had built this one for him.

He kicked the blankets off, revealing one leg of flesh, and another of heartless metal. It matched his hand, in that it bore an elegant, complex design, with a defined thigh, knee, calf and a foot complete with individual, pointed toes. He flexed his foot first, discovering a striking range of different possible movements before moving on to the leg itself, which was surprisingly weightless despite its intricate design. He stretched out, cracking what was left of his waking body.

He crawled over to the edge of the bed and eased himself onto his feet, placing his arm on the wall for balance. He took his first step with his mechanical leg, and nearly stumbled. He outstretched his leg, removing himself from the wall, somewhat confident that he would not fall in a pathetic heap. He was unsteady at first, but with each step, he grew more and more stable. He paused in front of the tall mirror, curious as to what he looked like.

His reflection startled him, but it was not his surrogate limbs, nor was it the thick cables flowing from the back of his neck that made the hair on his arms stand on end, rather, it was the fully visible, beating, moving machine in his chest. It pulsed rhythmically, like a heart but it lacked the biological imperfection of one. It was akin to a trophy behind a pane of polished glass for all to see and admire. His nude body was a deliberate work of art, for an inventor to show off to anyone and everyone who would lay eyes upon him. He placed his hand on the casing around his chest, feeling each and every beat of his surrogate heart pound against it, begging him to be let off the stage, for just a moment. It thumped faster and faster, responding to his rising panic at his unfamiliar appearance. 

He prodded at the wiring in the base of his neck, wanting to know if they could come out. He tugged the opaque cable first, theorising that it had to be some kind of support for his prosthetics before attempting the second, which was transparent with nothing inside, like a tube. The two refused to move even a little bit, and when he tugged at them a touch more firmly, a warmth gushed against his hand. He turned to see a colourless fluid rushing towards his neck through the confines of the tube, like a crystalline serpent lunging towards its prey. His breaths quickened and he tried desperately to rip the cord from his neck before the poison could reach him. He pulled and tugged but it refused to come loose. He tried again and again to tear it free to no avail, now knowing for certain that he was supposed to be dead. His throat tightened, as if to squeeze itself closed, terrified of the thought of returning to that quiet place. He did not want to go. Not ever again.

But even as it trickled into his blood, Joseph did not go back to the cold, skeletal hands of the void. He remained right where he was and yet, went somewhere far better.

It flowed inside of him, entering his arteries and rushing throughout his body. His panic faded fast, and an overwhelming giddiness overcame him. Emotionlessness was ripped away as sensitivity and intense feeling took its place. His mind raced with the simple yet euphoric idea that he was alive . His every thought overflowed with excitement and appreciation for his second chance. His memories were stitched back together by unseen hands and seeped with bliss. His heart ached as it remembered the delight of receiving flowers, the comfort of hands interlocked with his own, the addictive taste of another on his lips and the unique reassurance of sleeping beside someone else. His new heart recalled every moment of happiness and delivered it to him in warm, joyful colours, reddening his cheeks and bringing a smile to his lips. 

The coldness of his room warmed until it was familiar and comfortable, with furniture he could recognise as his own. Joseph peered into the wardrobe to pick an outfit from tantalising rows of potential candidates, he found his fingers tracing the spines of the books that he loved so much and all at once, a name came to him.

Dell.

He recalled his charmingly round face, the sweet sound of his voice, the suppleness of his skin, the greyness of his eyes, the gentle patterns of his shirts, his smells, his calloused hands, and every moment by his side. The finest details of his memories returned, like the sweet aroma of the roses, the watchful, protective eyes upon him, the soft kisses upon his forehead as he slept and his chest tightened, this time, not with fear but with smothering, overwhelming love. 

He realised that he was finally home. 

Chapter Text

The curtain swayed slightly in the cramped office, giving away a sliver of gold from behind it, a wink from the rising sun.

But Joseph hadn’t risen with it. 

Dell slumped forward in his chair, fighting to keep his eyes open so that they could remain on the monitors. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep, not when Joseph needed him to be there when he woke up. After staying dead for so long, the rude awakening would terrify the poor thing. He needed a kind, soft voice to reassure him that everything was alright. He needed tender kisses, gentle caresses, and countless reminders that he was so very loved. Only then could he rediscover his place in the world; right here, with him.  

But even despite his mission, his lashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his eyes remained fixed on the flat, dead line on the screen. Dell let out a yawn, the tiredness overcoming him. He drooped forward, sleep crawling ever closer to him, wrapping its soothing arms around him, whispering in his ear that he could get away with just a moment of rest. He slumped over his desk, his eyes finally closing. Just a second would be alright. 

He shook himself awake. Any moment now, the flatline would jitter, dancing and skipping in perfect rhythm. Any moment now, he promised his tired body for the thousandth time. He couldn’t afford to rest, not even after days of constant labour, innovation, and creation. He did not matter in this, not one bit. Joseph needed him.

He sipped at his lukewarm coffee, in hopes of waking himself up. He rubbed his eyes, glancing to the camera feed, which showed the man neatly tucked into bed, disappointingly still and motionless even after all this time. He checked his watch, doubt festering in the back of his mind like a swarm of insects growing in numbers by the second. Surely his machines could not be to blame for Joseph’s current state. After slaving over every single inch of their design, from the planning phase all the way to construction, there was no chance of even a single imperfection. But then again, anything was a possibility, especially in uncharted territory such as this. For all he knew, bringing a man back from the grave was an impossibility – even for his brilliant mind. Maybe he’d been cocky in thinking he could be the one to crack the puzzle. Maybe the universe forbade such a thing. He grimaced, disgusted with the idea of storing Joseph away again. It felt so cruel to do that to such a beautiful and perfect man, even if it was to repair the devices that would save his life. 

…The life he took from him.

His mechanical fingers unfurled, the heartless metal trembling from the memory of what it had done to Joseph. He touched his face, remembering every drop of warm blood that had splattered against it and he licked his teeth, copper echoes passing by. His heart sank, cold with guilt as Joseph’s final smile flashed before his eyes. Even though he did not deserve it, the man had the heart to smile at him in his very last moments. He wasn’t far gone enough to think that it had been a loving smile, no, it was sharp with loathing but something about it stuck with him, like a locket around his neck. The fact that Joseph had felt so deeply for him in that moment – though it had been nothing but hatred – meant so much.

It wasn’t like Joseph would remember the pain, but Dell did. He feared that he would never forget how that first gunshot made his lips curl, how his entire body tingled upon watching Joseph’s hand burst, how the stench of burnt flesh made his heart race in his chest like nothing else, how such terrifying power surged through his hand as it ripped through Joseph. He attempted to shake the memories away, unable to bear the sickening flutter of his heart but it only intensified, thumping harder and faster until he felt sick. He refocused his attention on the monitor, begging for his new heart to start, for anything to happen. He couldn’t bear thinking about this over and over again. He couldn’t say how many times he had seen Joseph break under his grasp, how many times he had fired that gun, how many times he had hollered and given chase. His fingers dug into his face as he counted every passing second, attempting to clear his head by force. 

Thankfully, a shy, miniscule beep vapourized every thought for him, and Dell leapt up from his slumped position, clutching the monitor. He watched eagerly, forgetting to blink in favour of seeing every increasingly powerful thump that followed. He glanced over to the security monitor, to see the man twitching and shuddering, awakening despite all odds. In moments, the data for the rest of his vitals fed themselves into his monitors, revealing beautifully normal signs, just as he had hoped for.

He stopped himself from dashing out of the office, even though he wanted to more than anything else in the world. There was more to do before he recklessly dived into the man’s arms and peppered kisses all over him. He idly touched the scars on his throat, remembering the teeth that had so viciously torn into his neck and the hands that had choked him so spitefully. He opened the hatch in his mechanical arm to administer the medicine. He pushed down the button, biting his lip with anticipation and he watched his monitors, waiting for the correct response. At first, the man’s heart rate rapidly increased, panicking in response to the new, unknown stimulus and Dell’s own followed, terrified that his innovative drug would fail him when he needed it the most. But in mere moments, it slowed significantly, all the way down to a resting rate, even calmer than when he first awoke – a clear sign that it was doing as it was supposed to. 

Shortly after, another monitor flicked on, revealing Joseph’s brain activity as it too, responded to his creation. He crossed his fingers, here was the true hurdle. Even though he’d gone above and beyond to preserve his darling’s brain, chances were that there could be some damage or anomalies. He watched carefully, paying attention to every single miniscule piece of information with bated breath. But even as the minutes passed, it all appeared so… normal. Nothing had withered away, not even in death and still, his soulmate was utterly him. Tears filled his eyes as a relief unlike any other flooded his body, freeing him of the horrible burdens on his shoulders. He was alive! He shook uncontrollably, knowing that now he could keep Joseph forever, and no one could take him from him – Not death, not God or the devil himself! He’d beaten the lot of them, with nothing but his own two hands. And Joseph awaited him, ready to be showered in his love.

He let out an embarrassing squeal with giddiness at the thought of finally reuniting with Joseph despite the fact that he looked like a wreck, with dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the beginnings of a beard on his usually shaved face and skin covered with oil, grease, and dirt. But none of that was of any concern, not when Joseph was alive and waiting for him. Delaying this for even just a moment longer would surely drive him mad. 

Dell abandoned his office entirely and rushed out into the morning sun, blinking back tears as his eyes adjusted to the brightness after days of dreary, yellowed lights. Dell ripped the door open so quickly that it slammed against the wall, causing nearby birds to fly away.

He halted completely as he met eyes with the man he adored, who looked at him in the way he had only seen in his sweetest dreams. He wept, overwhelmed by that simple, yet infinitely complex expression of longing. He became weak at the knees just seeing him again. In death, the man had been little more than a broken doll to remind him of his purpose as he spent his nights sealed away in his workshop, pouring every ounce of his love into the metal he shaped, but in life, he was maddeningly pretty, with mechanical wonders to match his near angelic form. Joseph hadn’t changed a bit, and at the same time, he looked like a completely different man. His face lacked the bitter hatred he had grown used to, rather, his eyes were patient, his posture open and everything about him seemed to welcome his presence, instead of violently shoving him away. It was then when he knew that it had all worked. Not a single flaw hid within the intricate machine before him, he was all perfect, now, because of him, just as he deserved to be. 

Joseph approached him, unable to stand the sight of his tears and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly with pity on his features. “Please, don’t cry.” He said softly, without even a hint of bitterness in his tone. It couldn’t be real and yet it was. He sobbed on the man’s shoulder, comforted by both Joseph’s loving embrace and the warmth of his body. 

“Sorry, I must be the ugliest crier you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He choked out, leaning into his touch. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just really gosh darn happy to see ya alive again.” He said, the words shaking with the rest of him. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you.” 

“I don’t even remember dying but… you saved me, Dell.” Joseph said, running his hands through his short, prickly hair. “I’m not even sure how I can possibly thank you for this.”

Saved. Oh, how that word made him smile. “You don’t need to.” He reassured him. “All I want is for us to be happy together. That’s enough for me.” 

Dell’s hands curled effortlessly around Joseph’s, holding them both and their fingers – both natural and mechanical – interlocked as if they had been tailored to fit one another… at least, the latter had been. Butterflies swarmed his stomach, their wings beating rapidly as Joseph squeezed his hands, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

And though he was utterly surrounded by the man he loved, he quickly discovered that he wanted something more. Dell wanted a confession, that he had been right all along, that Joseph had always known that he loved him to bits, that he wasn’t mad, that they had always been destined for one another, that Joseph had been so wrong to resist fate, and now he loved him too.

“Joseph, honey,” He breathed, unable to find the words simply because there were too many of them. Dell gripped the smooth fabric of Joseph’s vest, the material crumpling at the strength of his grip as he looked up into the man’s eyes, begging for an admission. “Please tell me you love me like nothin’ else, that you don’t think I’m stone cold crazy, that you want to be with me forever, just tell me that this ain’t a dream” 

The taller man’s lashes fluttered as he processed his words. “I’m not sure how I could possibly explain any of that to you.” He said quietly, his eyes not leaving his in a mix of nervousness and fondness. “At least… not in words.”

Joseph pulled him in by the nape of his neck and he leant in, tilting his head up so that Dell would be able to meet the taller man’s lips. Their lips brushed and Dell felt so light that he could faint. Joseph kissed him gently and insistently, giving him the passion he so craved and he returned every one of them, their hands separating in favour of finally exploring one another. It was so different than before. It wasn’t tainted by lies, or by fear – it was genuine and real, so much so that the thought of stopping never crossed Dell’s mind. Joseph grew more and more confident, confessing to it all with just a kiss.

Chapter Text

Joseph nuzzled up against Dell’s shoulder, put at ease by the lingering smells of oil and metal. The smaller man wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, allowing him to simply enjoy his company. Joseph held the Dell’s comfortingly large, calloused hand, receiving gentle, sweet squeezes that each elicited nervous, yet gleeful flutters of his heart. 

Dell kissed his forehead. “Your tea is goin’ cold, honey.” He reminded, offering him his now lukewarm tea, which he had completely forgotten about, despite it being made exactly how he liked it.

“My apologies, I seem to have gotten lost in thought.”

“That’s alright, Joseph. You must have a lot to think about after… y’know.” 

“…I do have an uncomfortable number of things to process, but now is not the time for thoughts of death and darkness.” He said cheerily, glancing up at the picturesque blue sky, laden with sluggish, fluffy clouds, welcoming him back into the world with their beauty. “We should be celebrating.”

Dell squeezed his hand tightly, a warm smile spreading on his lips. “Funny you say that,” He began, his eyes vibrant with excitement. “I was thinkin’ the same thing.” He said. “Wait here for a tick, I’ve got somethin’ for you.” He kissed his hand before parting from him.

Joseph took the opportunity to sit back and sprawl out on the blanket, seeing as he no longer had to share with the engineer. He sighed out, enjoying the gentle caress of the breeze on his face, refreshing him as if he had merely been asleep. The rhythm of muffled clinks and clanks within the nearby house alongside the pleasant heat of the sun brought him to a sleepy, relaxed bliss.

Dell returned shortly, holding an adorable picnic basket with a rose-red cloth and a dark weave that begged to be opened. He placed it down and the inviting, homely smells of food coaxed Joseph’s stomach into rumbling.

“I must ask what you have brought for me. It smells delicious.” He commented, his hands daring to peel back the lid, curious as to what wonderful treats awaited him.

Dell blushed from his compliment. “It’s nothin’ fancy, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate a good feed after a day like today.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “You must be starvin’.”

“That I am.” He chimed in, his stomach gnawing at itself, demanding to be filled and soon. 

Joseph opened the lid of the basket, unable to hide his grin as he discovered the feast hidden within. The ideal picnic awaited him, with sandwiches, grapes, cheese, crackers, biscuits and more. Though Joseph was admittedly, rather hungry, there was no way he and Dell could eat all of it. 

“I have the slightest inkling that you may have overpacked.”

“I reckon it’s better to have too much than not enough when it comes to food.” 

“I can tell.” He gave Dell’s pudgy belly a playful squeeze.

The engineer looked down at his touch in a mix of surprise and glee, his cheeks reddening. “Ya don’t mind it, do you?” 

“Not at all.” He said, squeezing again, loving the way Dell eased into it. “I quite like it, actually. A bit of roundness suits you.”

“You reckon?” His eyes lit up.

“Mm, and if I remember correctly, you are very nice to cuddle.” He added, now rummaging through the basket for the sandwiches. He picked both out, knowing that Dell would want one.

“Shucks, Joseph, you really know the way to a man’s heart.” 

“And you know all the ways to mine.” He replied, twisting his voice in all of the right ways. “One of which being through my stomach, of course.”

“I really hope ya like the food then.” The engineer laughed nervously.

“So far,” He said, nibbling at his sandwich, delighted when it easily surpassed his expectations. “No complaints.” 

Once finishing the most substantial item in the basket, he moved on to the littler things, like the grapes and crackers. He held a plump grape between his robotic fingers and nearly placed it in his mouth when he had an idea. Out of curiosity, he began to peel it, the movement effortless and incredibly precise, as if he were stripping the skin from a far larger fruit. He showed off the pale, nude grape to his partner, smiling from ear to ear.

 “Hm, it seems that this is an upgrade, not a mere replacement.” He said, offering the pale grape to the Texan.

Dell ate it from his hands, meeting his eyes as Joseph popped it in his mouth. “You deserve only the best.”

“Are you going to upgrade yours as well?” He asked, holding Dell’s robotic hand in his own.

“Oh, nah. They’re both on par as far as the technology goes. I’m not fussed about aesthetic differences.” He said, his jagged fingers rubbing the back of his hand. “I took extra care to make yours as pretty as you.”

“Stop it, Dell. You’re going to make me blush.”

“And like yourself, it’s more than just looks.” He started, his fingers gliding down to his wrist. He released a small hatch, revealing three switches. “To be frank with ya, I wasn’t goin’ to show ya these features yet, but I can’t help myself.” He said, his fingers hovering over the first of the three before flicking it, a nervous, almost mischievous smile spreading on his lips.

A repetitive pulse ran through his hand, buzzing rhythmically. Joseph couldn’t say that he was surprised by this… feature. “My, my, someone has a dirty mind.” Joseph snickered, placing the vibrating device against Dell’s thigh, teasing him without relent. “And now I am very curious if you have tested it… you said that our prosthetics share the same features, did you not?” 

He revelled in the way the Texan could only let out a choked sound.

“I will take that as a yes!” He grinned madly, loving the power he had over his infatuated partner. “And by the look on your face, it seems that it works as intended.” To torment Dell further, he pulled his hand away and flicked the switch, forcing it to be still once again.

The engineer breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed at his neck. “Had enough of teasin’ me, have ya?” 

“For now, yes.” He said. “What’s next?” He gestured to the other switches.

“Ah, the rest aren’t really for fun.” The engineer said sombrely, his features suddenly turning startlingly serious. “These are only if you get into trouble.” He said. “I’m gonna press this one here and don’t panic when you see it, alright?” 

The engineer activated this feature with such care, as if he too, was anxious of what would happen. The end segment of Joseph’s robotic fingers popped open, sliding back as long, elegant blades emerged with little more than a whisper. 

Joseph stared into his own reflection in each of the gleaming, sharpened knives in horror. “Oh my.” He breathed out, both startled and amazed. “Dare I ask why you added these?”

“As I said before, Joseph, you might need them.” He said coldly. “I’d hate for anythin’ to happen to you.”

“I don’t understand,” He muttered, flexing the weapons at his fingertips, “I am safe here, why would I possibly need something like this?” 

“Joseph, there’s dangerous folk out there.” He outstretched his hands, gesturing to the world that existed outside of their humble farm. “I know what people are like, maybe even more than you do.”

“Don’t talk like that, please.” He pleaded. “I’m afraid the world is not conspiring against you.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. “You’ll believe me eventually, honey. Folk have a habit of meddlin’ in places they don’t belong and makin’ all sorts of assumptions.”

“You mean that someone may stumble upon us and think what exactly?” 

Dell opened his mouth to answer him but stopped himself, instantly losing the anger. “Look,” He sighed, relaxing his tone. “Hypothetically, let’s say someone stumbles into the farm right now, what do you reckon they see?”

“They see two men in love.” He responded. “Sure, that may irritate more people than we would like to admit, but I don’t believe that we would be in grave danger because of the fact, seeing as we have been keeping us to ourselves.” 

Dell shook his head, his expression shifting into slight disgust. “No, they’ll see all of your fancy prosthetics. People are scared of things they don’t understand and they sure as hell won’t understand your tech.”

“So?” He asked. “It’s none of their concern.”

“They’ll start askin’ questions.” He grew a touch agitated again, revealing his teeth in a snarl. “Questions you don’t have the answers to.”

“Then give me the answers.” He said, leaning in close.

“That’s not my point.” He spat the words out. “They’re going to think that I’ve done somethin’ to you.” Dell shuddered all over. “And then they’ll take you away from me.” He grabbed both of Joseph’s hands, the blades unpleasantly scraping against his robotic hand as he latched onto him for dear life. “Promise me you won’t let ‘em.” 

Joseph looked down at the gleaming, pointed blades that had locked themselves between Dell’s metal fingers, goosebumps lining his skin at the thought of them covered in blood. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, Dell.” He uttered timidly, his voice little more than a whisper.

“I know ya don’t.” He said, letting out a shaking breath. “But you have to understand that sometimes, makin’ a mess is the only option.” He insisted. “And if that happens, I can make sure it gets cleaned up real quiet-like.” 

The idea of bloodying his hands was not exactly light on his conscience, but the concept of being ripped from Dell’s loving arms was devastating. On the surface, at least, the choice became heartbreakingly simple.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing. No matter what happens, I’ll look after you.” 

“I know you will.”

Chapter Text

Dell awoke in nothing short of heaven. 

All men had a different definition of paradise, but having Joseph wrapped around him, in a deep, peaceful sleep and so intoxicatingly close to him was his. Dell shuddered all over, goosebumps lining his skin as he drowned under the fading, smoky aroma of his cologne, his subtle sweetness, and the unpleasant, but homely smells of the morning. He pressed his nose against his partner’s neck, sucking in those scents with a newfound desperation, forcing the next thrilling rush of stupefying aromas down his throat, willingly choking himself on it. He licked his lips, stifling a satisfied groan at the resultant pulse through him, like a circuit finally allowed to close. He shifted slightly, inching closer to his partner until he could bury himself in his dark, messy locks. They tickled his nose as he inhaled deeply, tears filling his eyes at the deliciously intense burn from within.

He ran his fingers through Joseph’s hair, the silkiness of it making his inhibitions melt away. It occurred to him then that he hadn’t even asked Joseph to keep him company… he had simply decided to do so for himself. He paused on that thought, a lock of hair caught between his mechanical fingers, ensnared in his unconscious, wanting grasp. He thought for little more than a second, before opening the latch on his wrist and freeing the dainty, pretty knives from within. Not a peep escaped Joseph as he cut out a small lock of hair. He stroked his prize lovingly, glancing at Joseph as he hid it away, never to be discovered.

What Joseph didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And if he did know… Dell wouldn’t allow it to hurt him.

Dell snuggled up to Joseph, and a violent twitch rippled through him, sending a gush of heat and wetness out of him, tempting him to do all the things he knew he shouldn’t. He dared to look at the man he loved, though it would only make things worse. Every man had his vices, be it girls, drink, or smokes and his so happened to be a man who could make his heart go pitter-patter without doing a single thing. Though ordinary folk would frown at him like he’d gone and insulted their mommas for his particular weakness, it was arguably the most harmless of the lot. 

He brushed a cowlick from Joseph’s face, muttering that he’d do anything for him, far more than he would ever know. The taller man began to stir from his sleep, disturbed by his incessant touching. Dell would feel guilty if not for the smile Joseph offered to him and to say it was easy on the eyes would be an awful understatement. He looked at him warmly with those vivid, steely blue eyes of his, coloured like the shining scales of an indigo snake. His stern, angular features almost appeared soft with fondness.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He said gently, affectionately ruffling his hair.

“Good morning,” He mumbled sleepily. He had only endured a few hours without it, but hearing his voice, light and kind with the thrilling, exotic bite of his accent behind it grabbed his attention in an instant, trapping him in its perfection, as if he had caught the tones of a singing bird. “How was your sleep? I imagine it must have been rather nice after working so–” He let out a yawn, covering his mouth. “–Hard.”

“Ah, nothin’ beats well-deserved rest, especially when there’s someone like you keepin’ me company.” He smirked at Joseph as he said it. “I might have to fix you up with somethin’ to eat, comin’ to think of it. I may as well treat you for lookin’ so gosh darn cute.”

“Breakfast in bed?” He asked excitedly.

“Of course, honey.” He replied just as eagerly, hiding the fact that his mouth was going dry at the thought of feeding his lover, filling him up and truly satisfying him. He’d look gorgeous like that, so supple and worshipped to a near excessive extent. He lovingly petted Joseph’s tummy, unable to control his wandering mind, so much so that he caught himself mumbling all sorts of indecent things, which were thankfully too soft to be heard.

Joseph gently pulled his hands away, opting to instead kiss them – both of them. Dell could never get over the fact that Joseph fancied his mechanical hand. Most men took one glance at it and used it as a clue to stay far, far away, much to his dismay. But Joseph willingly held it, kissed it, and stared in awe of it as if it were a piece of art.

“What were you saying before?” Joseph blurted, cocking his head like a curious bird, asking genuinely. 

“Nothin’ you should worry your pretty little head about.”

“If it was nothing,” He said, leaning in close, his gaze knowing in that cruel sort of way. “You wouldn’t be bright red.” He pinched his rapidly warming cheeks. 

He could only muster a nervous laugh, burning hotter at Joseph’s touch. “You’ve got it all wrong,” He said, his hands now wandering to Joseph’s thighs, right where he wanted them to be. They shuddered under his touch, anticipating more. “It wasn’t what I was sayin’, it was what I was thinkin’.”

Joseph played along, much to his ever-loving delight. “And what were you thinking of?”

“Y’know more than well that subtlety ain’t my specialty.” He groped at his thighs, feeling himself getting unbearably hard just touching him like this.  For a fleeting breath, his hands landed on Joseph’s abdomen, daring to toy with the dark curls before deciding to palm the man shyly through the thin fabric of his briefs, feeling him up. There was so much he wanted to do, so, so much—

“—Dell,” Joseph said suddenly, losing the slight suggestiveness to his tone and startling Dell. “…Maybe we can do this later.” He uttered politely, rejecting him gently. Joseph pried his hands away and his heart sunk, contracting uncomfortably with disappointment.

Dell took in a deep breath, calming himself. “Right… yeah.”

Joseph smiled uneasily, stroking his pudgy cheek with his thumb. “How about some breakfast? You are a man of your word, are you not?” He broke the uncomfortable atmosphere just as quickly as he had created it with his usual charm.

Looking at Joseph’s sweet little face, he could almost forget all about the painful turndown of just moments before.

“Sure thing, Joseph. Sit back and relax while I get it ready for you.”

Chapter Text

The uneasy butterflies in Joseph’s stomach abruptly dropped dead, birthing a churning, nauseating storm of worry. It worsened, enraged by the clinks of pots and pans, the popping of toast, the sizzling of eggs and the crackling of bacon. He clutched himself tightly, twirling his hair in his fingers, guilt joining the raging storm as he knew that this horrible feeling had no place within the perfect dollhouse he called home. Never in his life had he felt so endlessly and unconditionally loved and yet, he had pushed Dell away as if he had been disgusted by him. It was not as if he had been forceful or rude, in fact, every movement had been soft and sweet, if not slightly exploratory. Dell was allowed to be. The man had brought him back from the dead, the least he could give him in kind was the privilege of a few touches!

He unconsciously ran his hands along his body yet again, recalling the way Dell’s had done just the same moments ago. Joseph had liked it just as much as he had, at least at first. He had basking in the warm glow of his love, allowing its heat to seep into his skin, his mind, and his heart but in the blink of an eye it had turned cold, as if he had fallen into the void yet again, freezing him completely and filling him with that same, suffocating dread. 

Joseph adored everything about Dell, and that included his tendency to excessively dote on him and yet, just then it had made him sick in a way he could not quite comprehend. He sucked in a shuddering breath, his chest filling with ice at the mere memory. He had not meant to upset him or feel disgusted by him but that awful, chilling terror had misfired within him, screaming that something was wrong when everything was as it should be. 

Oh, but he was lying to himself. A breathy chuckle escaped him as the void’s hands crawled all over his body, grasping and groping at his flesh, its stubby fingers digging into him, as if to rip his skin apart with how much they desired him. Fingers of cold static traced his skin, chilling it as they went, bringing him back into the cool of the grave. These were not mere innocent, prodding touches, rather, they were complete, sensual acts of indulgence, bastardised by eagerness that latched onto his skin like starved leeches, sucking more and more from him. Those silver, deathly eyes bore into him yet again, their shaking pupils wide with thoughts of frenzied, fanatical love that consumed all else. More wanting hands emerged, this time curling around his neck, grasping it tightly, squeezing his life from his very flesh, its claws of twitching metal tearing him apart—

“Joseph?” A voice said, urgency tainting the usually laid-back nature of his Southern drawl. “Are you alright?” His warm hands had him by the collar, as if he had been shaking him awake. 

He blinked rapidly, the dream fading from his view, melting away like sand captured by the sea. “Yes… I think so. I must have drifted off.”

“It didn’t look much like driftin’ to me, more like… I don’t know.” He trailed off, scratching absentmindedly at his stubble as if he had wanted to say something but refrained from it.

“I’m fine,” He reassured Dell with his best smile. “I’m awake now.”

The concern on his features quickly softened and he patted Joseph on the back. “I brought you breakfast.” He said, fetching the plate from the bedside table. 

Joseph licked his lips as Dell placed his meal on his lap, the anxiety beginning to fade after waking from whatever nightmare he had just been in. The portions were generous, as always and a coffee had been delivered with it, made exactly how he liked it. He quietly thanked the engineer and took a sip to drown the last of the worried thoughts nibbling at him. His eyes wandered away from him over to the window, escaping the fading remnants of the dream with the idyllic, sunny scene before him. He placed his mind there for a moment, hoping that the sight of the farm, warmed by the sun and teeming with life would ease his mind. And it did, until Dell placed something else before him, reminding him of his reality.

“I also brought a surprise with me.” A stark, blue sheet of paper with an illustration on it rested before him, one that looked awfully familiar. Dell tapped the page, making a thoughtful sound as he did so. “I dug this up and just couldn’t help but notice that it was one of yours.” He said, his eyes skimming over the diagram. “It’s a heck of a lot different to my designs, but I’d be lyin’ if I said it wasn’t a pretty lil’ thing.” 

Joseph blinked, once, twice, walking his mind back to all that time ago when he had drawn it. He faintly remembered creating that blueprint, but he did not recall bringing it here. “Ah, I remember now and I must agree with you. It is rather beautiful, or at least it would be if it wasn’t merely a crude, amateur sketch.” He poked fun at himself, aware of how ridiculous his design must have looked to the far more experienced engineer.

He waited for his work to be mocked, as it always was, it never came. “Amateur? Naw… It’s oozin’ with potential.” He tapped it again. “I was thinkin’,” He said, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, appearing nervous or perhaps, excited. “Maybe we could build it?”

“I have no idea if this can be built, Dell. it was merely an idea.” He explained, gesturing to his design. “For all I know, this is an impossible task. I would hate to waste your time on something that cannot be done.”

Dell laughed. “Oh, honey…” He wheezed, pinching his nose and out of breath as his laughing fit settled down. “This is hardly any trouble at all as far as impossible goes. I reckon we could get this done today if you wanted.”

“Today?” He said, shooting up from his slumped position with excitement. “I was expecting years of planning, prototypes, tests, and hundreds of failures… not a single day with a completed, functional product.” He spoke quickly, thrilled by the idea of holding the machine he had been dreaming of in his hands. “I suppose I should not have doubted the man who brought me back from the dead.” He chuckled, the storm inside of him finally fading away, taking its false warning with it.

“You shouldn’t be doubtin’ yourself either,” Dell reassured, rubbing his shoulders. “I don’t love you just ‘cause you’ve got a pretty face. You could easily be makin’ miracles happen with your smarts and this is one of ‘em.” The excitable glint in Dell’s eyes suggested that he was serious and with a delighted grin accompanying it, it was so much more – a promise. “And if we put our heads together, who knows what we could create.”   

Joseph couldn’t help but mirror his smile. Having his work recognised as more than the scrawls of a mad doctor brought him a happiness unlike any other. This single machine had the power to change the world forever, by healing all matter of wounds in seconds, from the the smallest scratches to the most lethal, devastating damage the human body could possibly sustain, and Dell understood that. Unlike his colleagues, the man wasn’t terrified of innovation, rather, he embraced it. 

Joseph pulled Dell in and planted a lingering kiss on his lips, revelling in the way he was warmly welcomed in with a hand on the nape of his neck. “Gott, I love you.”

Dell turned bright red in moments, his mouth slightly agape from his words, unable to speak and stunned completely. He kissed Joseph back, with stunning enthusiasm, as if he had been waiting an eternity to hear those words from his lips. “I love you too,”

“Oh, I know.”

Dell pulled Joseph in closer, entrapping him in a gentle kiss, his silver eyes gleaming with unrelenting desire, just as they had moments ago.

Chapter Text

Dell planted a kiss on Joseph’s neck and looked over his shoulder, watching him work with both a professional disinterest and the fascination of an enamoured lover. Though his attention should have been on their half-finished machine, it fixed itself upon Joseph’s partially unbuttoned shirt, his rolled sleeves and the thick hair running along his arms. He ran his hands over his partner’s rounded belly and all the way up to his chest, thinking, quietly, that this was a good look for him. He hoped to see the rest of him, pink and hot to the touch and even hotter by the time he’d be finished with him…

Joseph’s focus didn’t falter for even a second, despite the near constant touching. His busy hands slotted the nozzle into the open end of the machine’s midsection and twisted it in, only for the end to fall off again. He tried multiple times, only to get the same result. He paused, his features stiffening, realising that he had made some sort of mistake along the way. Dell of course, had noticed his error a while ago. He knew exactly how to fix it, the urge to meddle and interrupt not unlike a bothersome fly buzzing in his ears. He stopped himself, reasoning that this invention was for Joseph, not for some prissy company with money to burn and expectations so high you’d break your neck trying to look up at them. It didn’t have to be perfect, nor did it have to be made quickly, and there was something freeing – and yet constricting – about that.

Despite that, however, he managed to keep his thoughts to himself by busying himself. He shifted slightly, allowing for his robotic hand to slip unnoticed into his pants, easing in ever so carefully into his boxers. “You’re doin’ so well,” Dell lauded, tracing Joseph’s chest with his fingertip, resisting the urge to grope and grab at all the places he shouldn’t.

“I don’t think so,” Joseph said, none the wiser to what was going on as he picked at his pile of disorganised parts. “It has fallen apart at least a dozen times now.”

“You’re a very bright man,” He uttered softly, nuzzling against his darling, reacquainting himself with the stiffness of his starched shirt and more importantly, the warm, beautiful body beneath. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.” He kept his voice steady, despite how each teasing touch brought out the urge to whine, gasp and plead.

“I will, yes… undoubtedly with a lot of trial and error.” Joseph mumbled absentmindedly, barely present. “Some help would not hurt, however.”

He thought to give the man a hint. “Use this one.” He whispered, offering Joseph the correct part.

Joseph bolted it to where he had been attempting to attach the nozzle just moments before and he cautiously locked the end into place, waiting for it to fall off. When it stayed perfectly in place – even when shaken – the beautiful man before him practically jumped with joy. He wanted to tell him how irresistibly clever he was, how unbearably gorgeous his smile was when he got something right and god, tell him about all of the terrible things he made him think about… It was a special form of torture, to be aching for the man all night and all morning. Though he liked the sweet pain it’d been squeezing out of him, drop by drop, he was about to snap from the pressure. He needed to let off some steam, just enough so he wouldn’t burst.

He took in a deep breath and pressed his lips to his sweetheart’s ear. “Do ya have any plans for this when we’re finished?” He whispered, trying to divert his attention back to his machine rather than the obscene things he was doing to himself.

“Experiments. Lots of experiments.” He muttered, indicating he was still in his own little world, or even deeper in it than before.

Dell nodded, approving of the idea. Inventing for the sake of it, now that made him melt. If he was a tad more responsive to signals, Joseph would be well on his way to becoming Mr Right. He grew bold, his hand sliding under the German’s shirt, exploring him, and finally meeting the warmth he so craved. Dell stifled a moan, his lashes fluttering as his cock hardened under his fingertips, wetness spilling out from him in hot gushes.

Joseph peeled away from his touches ever so slightly and didn’t even give him the pleasure of turning to face him. “Dell,” Joseph said, taking on that stern tone he really didn’t like – though he did look jaw-droppingly gorgeous when he was mad. “I can’t focus with you touching me.” He rejected him gently again, though it stung just as much as it had before.

“Sure, honey, whatever helps.” He muttered, stilling the hand busy jerking himself off in case the movement caught any unwanted attention. Sure, they were having a little bit of fun together, but he was all too aware of the limits he was carelessly stomping on. He didn’t enjoy the idea of getting his ear scolded clean off, so erring on the side of caution was for the best.

Joseph returned to the task at hand and Dell nearly let out a sigh of relief as he resumed. He panted soundlessly, rubbing his swelling clit with his fingers, unable to keep himself away from his companion. It shouldn’t have felt so good to do it in front of the man that dominated his every thought, but there was simply nothing like it. He had to wonder what would happen if he knew. Perhaps he would be gently told off, be gawked at in awe, receive encouragement, or the most tantalising of them all – be shoved onto the table and finally get what he'd been asking for. He’d waited long enough for it, and while it was an implausible fantasy, he’d also grown terribly bored of waiting.

Through his stupor, he caught a glimpse of another error. “That there ain’t right, Joseph,” He said, a hint of desire escaping him, betraying his strictly business tone. “Your handle’s loose, see?” He guided Joseph’s hands to the handle on the bottom of the device, lingering on the soft skin of his fingers, tracing along the back of his palms. His dick throbbed upon touching him like that and the urge to buck into his hand tore through him, testing his resolve.

“Oh, danke..”

“What’ve we got left to do?” He asked quickly, unable to stop himself from thinking about all the things he wanted to do to Joseph. He was so close, and yet so far out of reach. It’d be so easy to snake a hand down and fondle his cock through his pants, though he’d get a lot more than a stern talking to for that.

“We’re almost done, actually.” Joseph said cheerily. “We just have to attach the hose and mount it to the base.” The excitement bled into his voice, as at last, the light had shone through the end of the tunnel. “It will not be portable, but we can work on that later. Really, it’s quite impressive that we have been able to build it at all.”

A man after his own heart. Dell hoped to spend many more afternoons in the workshop with Joseph and improving this device would be the perfect excuse. For now, however, he finished it off, connecting the hose to the back and then neatly into the base that would power the device. Dell gave it a look over, tearing his eyes away from Joseph to ensure their creation wouldn’t explode – it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

It was even prettier than the initial sketch, though he had half a mind to question Joseph’s choice of paint – a stark red. It had a handle at the top that could be pushed to intensify the beam, a sturdy, metal midsection with only a few cords dangling out, an extra handle at the bottom so that it could be held with two hands and a spout at the end. Dell could think of countless ways to improve upon it both aesthetically and in practical terms, but because Joseph had made it, he could only stare at it, thrilled by its very existence. Joseph tilted the completed machine towards them, his shaking hands over the lever, too nervous to pull it down.

“Go on, don’t be shy, try it out.” He breathed in Joseph’s ear.

Joseph mustered the courage to pull the lever down and it stuttered and stammered, stalling. After another hard pull, it started, whirring loudly as it came to life, announcing its arrival into the world, a faint, red hue shining from its core. As the seconds passed, the light intensified, burning brighter as it charged up into a brilliant red sun, the whirr becoming a roar. The glow flowed out of the nozzle elegantly, curling and twisting in the air, wrapping around them both as if it were alive. Its stunning radiance surrounded them, bathing their flesh in it, warming, and cooling it simultaneously. He looked to his hands, knowing he had a distinct slice in his ring finger from a slip up with a saw. He watched in awe as the scar shrunk before his eyes, reducing to a small line before disappearing entirely. He turned to Joseph, his mouth agape. The other man had fully regressed into German, blathering, and blubbering like a chipper songbird, unable to quiet himself for the world. Dell took it that it had worked for him too.

But then Joseph stopped, looking to his hands – both of them – and then to Dell, a manic, gleeful laugh escaping him. “My prosthetics,” He said breathily. “My prosthetics, Dell!” He exclaimed, his eyes bright with happiness.

Dell froze, unable to respond as dread overcame him.

“I don’t need them anymore.” He began to fidget with his mechanical arm, tampering with it, searching for the way to remove it so that the beam could reach his absent limbs. “We don’t have to worry about the medicine, the wires, the repairs, the constant hiding...” Joseph continued to run his ungrateful little mouth, the words spilling out faster and faster, though Dell failed to hear them over the thunderous drum of his heart. His robotic arm finally came loose and dropped to the ground, clattering as it went. It laid there, neglected, a single spark running through it before it deactivated completely. 

The other man looked at him square in the eyes, wearing a wide smile after throwing away the gift he had made just for him. He offered up his stump to the maw of his ugly machine. The beam burned brighter upon making contact with the damage, casting a blinding red sheen over the entire workshop. The machine shuddered violently and the workshop itself shuddered with it, screws clittered, tools clanked and distantly, something fell. Joseph shielded his eyes from the red glare as a shape formed within it, extending, and taking form, creating distinctive, human fingers that flexed and curled as they reformed. Joseph yelled out; the words smothered under the bellow of the entire room.

The whirr slowly quietened, and the light dimmed down, revealing exactly what Joseph had done. He stood there, breathing heavy, his eyes wide with his regrown hand up, as if in disbelief. “Come look, Dell, it’s… it’s incredible!”

He approached, a grin running from ear to ear, his mouth aching from the strain of it. “Show me, Joseph.” He asked softly, outstretching his hand for Joseph to take, willingly celebrating this betrayal with him. Trembling fingers interlocked with his and he squeezed them gently, the only apology he could muster for what had to be done.

Dell’s mechanical hand locked around Joseph’s throat, lifting him high and slamming him down on the table with a resounding crash.

He pulled a handsaw from the rack, raising it high, the teeth of the blade gleaming under the flickering lights, mirroring his own smile. He held Joseph down as he squirmed, his blue eyes fixed on the sharpened teeth of the saw, widening in horror.

He placed the saw to his arm and a sharp, petrified breath escaped his victim, the only breath he got before he ran the saw over his skin, drawing blood. He ran the saw back and forth, over and over again, a scraping sound following every repetition.

Joseph screamed, reaching a piercing pitch like the dying shrieks of an animal. He tried to get away, tears streaming from his eyes, only to be shoved back down and held even tighter. He wailed, breathing hard, fighting to escape him, thrashing, and kicking at him to no avail.

“Stop movin’.” He snarled, gritting his teeth at the uneven cut. “It’ll hurt less if ya just stay still.”

At the sound of his voice, Joseph began to plead. He demanded that he stop, whimpering, and whining and sobbing in pain. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer.

Blood shone on the blade as it chewed away at his flesh, tearing it apart, layer by layer. It seeped out of the wound, coating his fingers, staining his skin, condemning him. But Dell felt no shame, he merely gazed into the well of dark blood overflowing and leaking out onto the table. He steadied his hand, going at it harder, intent on cutting through bone.

The man below wheezed, gasping from the pain and utterly exhausted, so much so that his kicks were little more than taps against his legs. “The drugs!” He rasped as loud as he could muster. “I need them—” His demand changed now that he knew Dell wouldn’t stop. A smart move, but not nearly smart enough. If he was clever, he would have known better than to spit in his face in the first place. “Bitte, bitte!”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth!” He roared.

Joseph tensed under the blade, stunned. And then came the sobbing, now tinged with emotional anguish. It was more than just the pain now; it was a whole lot of hurt too, just as it should be. Dell had gotten under his skin, in more ways than one. Soon he’d be apologising, repenting with everything he had. It wouldn’t make him stop, of course, but he’d like to hear it nonetheless.

All it took was the scratching of bone to make Joseph grovel. He wailed louder, the broken mess of English and German just oozing with remorse. He told him he was sorry again and again, as many times as he could, until only raw, cracked fragments of apologies escaped Joseph’s dry lips. He stammered and slurred, delirium beginning to take root from the mounting pain. He wondered if he'd pass out.

The bone began to give way, and when it snapped, a dizzying rush of satisfaction flowed through Dell, bringing back fond memories of installing his own prosthesis. And just like with his own arm, he was relieved by the softness of muscle and skin that followed.

A sloshing sound accompanied the sawing now, a reminder that he’d nearly made it to the end. Dell’s arm ached from the strain of sawing so much, but he couldn’t care less as the unadulterated pleasure of putting Joseph back in his place burned even hotter, getting him hard all over again. It melded perfectly with the euphoric sensation of flesh succumbing to metal, and he found himself licking his lips as tissue snapped rapidly now. With a final bite of the saw, the last stringy, bloodied thread holding it together gave out completely.

Joseph’s arm fell into the growing pool of blood on the floor beneath it, its fingers still twitching, dying as it was cut from its owner. Dell helped it along by crushing it under his boot.

Chapter Text

Joseph couldn’t fight back against the warm, kind arms coiling around him – the same arms that had punished him just moments before. His exhausted mind and body immediately surrendered to the mere suggestion of comfort, and the overwhelming fear of saying no. He blindly slumped against Dell’s shoulder with a soft, yielding wheeze.

“There you are.” Tender whispers burned against his ears.

He trembled all over, both from the sheer relief of a loving presence and the chilling aftershocks reminding him that it had been real after all. His freshly attached, unbreathing, unliving prosthesis did not shudder with the rest of him, far too busy gloating to pretend that it cared for his pain, or the blood that stained his memory. All the things he wanted to forget arose from the spreading discolouration, casting momentary illusions of cutting screams against his throat, sharpened metal teeth, and silver eyes reflecting an undulant ocean of blood. His tired rasps quickened, clashing against Dell’s easing breaths like the gentle whisper of the wind against the hoarse roar of a hulking structure on the brink of collapse.

“It’s okay, honey.”

Joseph broke apart with a resounding wail, unsure if he wanted to tear away from Dell’s grasp or bury himself in his softness. No matter what he wanted, he could only let the tears flow against the skin of the entity that had delighted in his screams moments ago. That same being clutched him tighter, his hands running up and down his back, soothing him with a mindless rhythm, all the while promising him his forgiveness.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” Dell uttered, tilting Joseph’s head up so that he could watch the tears roll down his cheeks.

He sobbed harder, grief churning within him, sending infuriated twitches through his prosthesis. He wanted to tear it off again and hear it shatter into a thousand components, but at the same time, such a thought made his heart lurch into the cold abyss of shame. He should not do it again, nor could he, or else he would suffer consequences far worse than this. This contraption was a gift and to reject it, not once, but twice was beyond forgiveness.

“I’m sorry,” Joseph mumbled, the words split into breathy, uneven pieces.

“Hush, you just made a mistake, that’s all.” Dell comforted, the faint elation of a smile seeping into his voice. “I’m gonna make it all better now, alright?” The reassuring rhythm against his back slowed and rapidly died out as he talked, until a repetitive sequence of clicks sounded in its place, granting him the calm he desperately needed.

The automated gasp of his wires and tubes followed thereafter as they accommodated the liquid bliss he had been begging for. Warmth flooded the tubes in his neck and soon, that heat smothered his lingering pain, his terrible fear and his festering anger and transformed them into broken words of gratitude. Silky, fluid fingers smoothed the jagged edges of his memory, so much so that they became soft to the touch, like velvety fur. The spreading pool of blood in his mind slowed, eventually freezing over entirely, coated in brittle hoarfrost. The tension in his body melted away and he finally found himself able to breathe, as if he had been released from a cage.

Dell planted a kiss on his head, lingering there for a moment and Joseph practically threw himself at the man, resting against his body as overwhelming relief hit him. “Aw, look at you… right back where you’re meant to be. Feelin’ better already, hm?”

Through the scarlet ice, he remembered it all again, through newly sculpted eyes. The destruction of his skin, muscle and bone was no longer a murder but a ceremonious offering, an exercise in a simple, yet unifying ideology – the flesh was weak, the flesh dies and the flesh rots. He recalled the saw’s teeth, not as the mouth of hatred, or even pain, but as a ravishing caress. The blood, his blood had not been lost or spilled, rather, it had been made into divine art, penance for his transgressions. Even the pain, became a pleasure in hindsight, for it accompanied the snap of tendons, the thrilling blur of adrenaline, the warmth of his suffering and the knowledge that the man before him had loved him enough to do him this brutal kindness.

Dell wiped his tears, rolling his wettened thumb against his forefinger, causing the metal to shine brilliantly. “I’ve missed your smile, Joseph.”

“I…” He breathed out, puzzled by his words. “I smile a lot, don’t I?” He touched his teeth, unaware of the involuntary curl of his lips.

“You’ve got to be one of the happiest men I know,” He replied cheerily. “But y’see this here?” He cupped his chin, his eyes fixed upon his lips, as if awaiting a kiss. “Nothin’s out of line, it’s not lopsided or shy… it’s the beautiful product of mechanical precision.” His hands ran along the intricate wires connected to his neck, lovingly stroking them, full of frantic love for what he saw. “And I reckon that’s got to be the most rewardin’ part of all of this,” Dell’s silver eyes gleamed and a breath escaped him, proclaiming his palpable excitement far better than words ever could. “Everythin’ I’ve done…” He paused, his gaze fogging over, distant for just a second. “It was all to make you perfect.”

With those words, the world returned to him in glorious colour and immense beauty. However, the envy of this heightened reality was not the sapphire songbirds, the endless field, or the golden hues of the sun, rather, it was the dishevelled, stocky man before him, with his collar askew and splattered with red dots, his cheeks flushed from feeling and his expression enriched by desire.

Joseph arose from his slumped, pitiful position and leant in close to Dell, wrapping his hands around his neck and nuzzling against him, saying nothing – as little could possibly explain what he felt. The soft, vulnerable flesh at his fingertips brought static laden images of the stars, icy puffs of air, swaying crops, and momentary flashes of light so clear that he almost feel his pupils contract. They vanished just as quickly as they came, like the faint smell of something from a time long since passed. In its place, the intoxicating closeness washed over him, making it all so worth it. He no longer felt the fluttering wings in his stomach, thumping like drums of doom or the nauseating sense of distance between himself and the man he loved. The fear he once felt lied on the ground, shrivelling, and paling from death.

Joseph kissed him, revelling in the way he froze up against his lips. Dell thawed in an instant, his hands fumbling to pull him in closer. He reciprocated hungrily, as if to devour him and heat surrounded him as their bodies pressed together, their embrace becoming more and more fervid. The smaller man’s hands struggled with his bloodied clothes, eventually opting to tear them off completely with the strength of his prosthesis. Cold steel ran down his chest, lovingly squeezing, groping, and caressing as it went. Joseph parted from him only slightly to tug away at his clothes, – in a far gentler manner than him – starting with his flannel shirt and his pants, leaving behind only his tight-fitting singlet and adorable boxers.

Dell’s excitement just about doubled with his every touch, until he was desperately rutting against him, panting with need. Joseph tugged Dell’s undergarments down, unable to stand the wait any longer. He needed to see him, including all the immodest parts of him he snuck the occasional racy thought to in the dead of night, or the dull moments in the day. Though it was different to all the pretty things he had pictured, it took his breath away just the same. His fingers traced the warm, soft flesh, exploring all of the delicate, sensitive structures in adoration. The ravenous fiend of want inside of him curled with desire as he stroked his partner’s cock, bringing him to his mercy in mere seconds. With every diligent stroke, it swelled, blushing a deeper pink, and gushing with wetness. Joseph’s mind strayed further from innocence, dreaming of pounding the Texan into the table, his needy dick throbbing at the phantom sensations of tightness, wetness, and maddening pleasure.

He hastened his rhythm, eliciting a sharp moan from the other man. “Be gentle with that thing, honey, it’s mighty—” He sucked in a weak breath. “—sensitive.”

“That only makes me want to torment you more.”

“You can torment me all ya like.” Dell panted, the sound almost a plea. “You do a fine job of it.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow and hastily tossed the last of his clothing, revealing his perfect, rounded frame slicked with sweat from the summer heat. The fuzzy hair on his body that grew thick on his abdomen and his stomach made his mouth water and he longed to toy with it. His plump, perky nipples and his flushed cheeks added a picturesque vibrancy to him, one he intended to intensify.

He bowed down, teasing his stout clit with his breaths, causing it to twitch. He lovingly swept his tongue along the length of his shaft, stroking it all over and ravishing the head, making Dell squirm and whine. The smaller man leant back against the table, his palms resting on it, gripping the hard surface so tightly his knuckles turned white. He parted his legs further, his overwhelmed, trembling breaths transforming into lewd, lecherous moans as he enveloped the whole thing in his mouth and pampered it with pressurised suckles. He bobbed on his dick, drawing all the words he wanted to hear out of him, some more unexpected than others.

“F-Fuck, Joseph, just shove it in me.” He had not anticipated that Dell would develop a filthy mouth like this but hearing him devolve into obscenities brought out the desire to wring more out of him.

He got back to his feet and shamelessly rubbed his erect cock up against Dell, coating it in glistening slick. His eyes followed every movement, demanding to have it inside of him. He whimpered pathetically, his cock now fat and tantalisingly sensitive, so much so that Joseph couldn’t help but exploit it further until the man was irresistibly needy.

He lined himself up and eased his cock in, taking it deliberately slow to torment the frenzied engineer. The head squeezed inside first, and Dell let out an unrestrained whimper. The Texan leaned over, trying to see exactly what was happening, no doubt committing this image to memory forever. He pushed it in and with every inch, his partner’s blush grew brighter, his entrance tighter and his voice louder.

Dell’s lips parted as he took it all in. “It’s in, ain’t it?” He whimpered, legs shaking. “Tell me it’s in.”

“There’s just a little bit more…” He said, finally going in down to the hilt.

The engineer bit his lip, raising his legs and arching his back. “Oh, Joseph, you feel so darn good!” He moaned, his tight muscles twitching around his cock in rapid, uneven intervals. “You’re in me…” He breathed, sheer ecstasy turning every syllable into a pleased groan. “It’s even better than I imagined it to be.” He gasped, his voice growing ever louder and keening higher. His hands wrapped around him, pressing him in deeper. “Oh, that’s good.” He sighed, his back arching ever further, muscles twitching and spasming all over his cock. “God, Joseph, you’re everythin’ I’ve ever wanted!” Joseph could only watch, fascinated, and slightly horrified as Dell cried out at a volume he had never heard from the man before. Though his screams were deliciously captivating, he did not feel rewarded by them. He wanted to earn them.

Ignoring the fact that his partner had finished almost disgustingly prematurely, Joseph began to buck his hips, starting a slow rhythm as to not overstimulate him too much. Joseph gradually increased his pace, knowing that soon the engineer would be ready to do it all over again. As tight muscles squeezed around him, he found a fresh well of pleasure to dig into. Perversely wet sounds accompanied every thrust, alongside the occasional deep, enraptured moan, spurring him on.

He clutched his partner, the heat becoming sweltering as he intensified his pace, hungrily seeking more stimulation. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he pounded Dell into the table, revelling in the slap of skin on skin. Dell’s animalistic mewls and whines filled him with pride, now that he deserved them. His legs lifted higher, giving him glimpses of not only his hard cock, but the wetness spilling from him in hot gushes as his cock slammed into the hidden epicentre of pleasure within him. Dell let out a delectably carnal sound, his voice arching high, losing all dignity and restraint. He closed the distance between them and gave the man a rough kiss, his moans humming against his throat as he reached another orgasm, this one far more intense than the last.

With the rising, burning flood of pleasure just about to overflow, Joseph’s rhythm decayed until it was simply a rapid, uneven onslaught of violent bucks and rolls of the hips. He grabbed Dell by the hips and pounded into him with greater strength and vigour. Though the man was visibly exhausted, he still goaded him on with soft praises and sensual sounds. Feeling his impending climax, he began to pull out, wanting to—

Dell’s grip tightened until his nails bore into his skin, tearing it. “Don’t stop,” He stammered urgently. “Don’t you dare stop!” He snarled, his teeth bared. “I need you to cum in me, Joseph, please, I need it!” He begged breathily. “I need to be full of you!”

Joseph slammed into the man, hoping to feed his rapidly approaching orgasm into something unforgettable. He pressed in deep, and it rushed in all at once in the form of incredible warmth, tight pressure and overwhelming release. Cum spurted from his cock, filling the other man, just as he had wanted. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, seeing stars as he was conquered by simple yet incredible pleasure. Dell came shortly thereafter, impassioned, delirious words rushing from his lips even as he settled down.

He turned to Joseph, manic with elation. “How about we keep your dosage up like this?”

Chapter Text

Sleep’s numbing, inspiriting embrace did not come for Joseph.

The curtains swayed, the alabaster glow of the crescent moon creeping out alongside the cool night air, casting a soft outline around his skin as he fidgeted endlessly. He turned over for what felt like the thousandth time and instead of being met with soothingly cool, untouched blankets, he discovered the warmth of himself from just minutes prior. He rubbed his burning eyes, only aggravating them further and let out a long exhale out of frustration, utterly exhausted.

He counted Dell’s breaths, giving himself something to pass the time until rest arrived, that was, if it ever would. The engineer lied beside him with an unconscious arm draped over on Joseph’s side, reaching out to touch. Slow rasps of air passed through him, alongside the occasional snore. His chest rose and fell over and over again, bloating full of air before emptying again. The chirps of crickets interrupted the little world they shared from within this room, mocking him for his inability to sleep.

It was then when it struck him – all of this was familiar somehow.

A cold, nauseating feeling swelled within him, settling in the pit of his stomach. But this fear was not new, no, it was old and suffocatingly familiar. His heart thumped in his chest, its mechanical components responding to the panic flooding his entire body, prickling up the hairs on his neck. He held himself for comfort, his breathing hastening as blurred yet agonisingly familiar images shot through his head, tearing him apart in an instant. They went by too quickly to clutch on to them, but in their wake, echoes of haunting emotion curled and danced within him, biting at his mind, threatening to break it. The smells, shattered pictures, and faint flavours from before flowed through him, again and again slowly developing into vivid sensation. 

He strained to remember what had come before, his fingers digging into his temples to force anything out from the depths of his memory. Those feelings sharpened themselves as if they had been put into focus under a microscope – cold air in his lungs, mechanical wails piercing his eardrums, the wet kiss of the grass beneath him, blinding lights in his eyes, burning pulses of agony, screams booming through the air and then… nothing.

There was a void in the epicentre of it all, a place without warmth, without colour, without the intake of breath. A bottomless sarcophagus made of ice, where he had once rested, devoid of all volition and life. Though his mind held no memory of the end, his insides spoke of unwanted preservation, violation, and forceful reconstruction.

Joseph clawed at his skin. He was not making sense. Sleeplessness had to be driving him mad. But… at the same time, something continued to gnaw at him. Something remained forgotten, neglected and alone.

Not something. Someone.

Joseph tuned into the depths of his mind, searching for a face, a voice, anything to jumpstart his memory. He needed to remember. There was someone missing. Someone important. Someone he loved.

It came so close to surfacing, but crystalline hands pulled it under, back into the depths, leaving only the scattered fragments of a name on his tongue, unable to be put together.

Scheduled drugs flowed through the cables in his neck, a small dose intended to prevent any possible withdrawal symptoms that could disturb him before dawn. After upping his dose, the cables were a constant part of his life, whether he was awake or asleep – much to his dismay. The discomfort was not the cause of his sleeplessness, as Joseph could doze off on just about anything. Many times in his working life, he had passed out over his desk, or on cheap couches – both of which had often rewarded him with a crick in his back. He was more than capable of doing the same with a few wires to annoy him.

This had to be in his head, like an illness.

That word stung more than it should have, with more meaning than he could possibly comprehend. It hurt him in the way only nostalgia could. A part of him mourned the time associated with that simple yet heartbreaking term. More than that even, it pined for it. He overturned both of his hands, examining them both under the shine of the moon, unable to stop himself from wondering…

Had he been ill once?

That line of thinking bore diseased fruit, with soft, penetrable skin and black craters in their bruise-coloured faces, their once saccharine mouths too full of larvae and rot to respond to his question.

The feeling of perturbation from within beseechingly reminded him that some things were better left forgotten – especially this, whatever it may be. He could not remember this, for it was dangerous, like the horrors stored within Pandora’s box. It would be unwise to bite into the fruit and poison himself.

Joseph slumped in the bed, pulling the blankets back up, covering himself in hopes of finally getting some rest. He would forget about this in the morning. He snuggled up to his lover, interrupting him mid-snore as he gave him a featherlight peck on his cheek, kissing him goodnight, or perhaps more accurately, good morning.

Consequently, the Texan began to stir, though he had not intended to wake him. “What’s the matter, darlin’?” He asked groggily.

“I can’t sleep.” He said flatly, his frustration with the matter coming through in his emotionlessness.

Dell rolled over to face him, pressing his forehead to his. “C’mere, Joseph.” He said softly, just a hint of worry bleeding into his tone.

The smaller man slowly closed the distance between them, kissing him gently and sweetly, the taste of the morning accompanying every movement. Pleasantly rough stubble brushed against his face, easing his nerves while Dell’s hands wandered all over him, metal and skin working as one to soothe him into sleep’s embrace. Joseph’s fingertips met the softness of his partner’s body, following all of his lovely curves, his skin warm like love itself.

But he was gravely mistaken, wasn’t he?

This love was a mere taste of what lied within. His hands affectionately explored Dell's form, his body remembering something his mind did not – the intense heat of one’s innards, the wetness that used to kiss his skin like a thousand tongues, seductively velvety flesh, and the intimacy as thick and sweet as even the most luxurious cream.

That was love.

Joseph stiffened, missing his every cue as if he had forgotten his lines during a performance. He pulled away from Dell, violently forcing that unnatural, putrid thought from his head. They did not belong here, not with this man, not with what they had made together.

“Is everythin’ alright?” Dell reached in to touch him, and he shied away from it, beyond consoling.

He could not lie to him, not when he cared so, so much. “I remembered something awful. And… I’m beginning to realise just how much I have forgotten.”

The man he loved froze, his eyes moving in the dark, calculating, judging. “You’ve been through a heck of a lot, honeypie. It’s natural to forget. Hell, maybe it’s for the best.” He wrapped his arms around him with the intention of comforting him, but Joseph could only feel entrapped. “Would you like to talk to me about it?” He swallowed thickly, giving away the fact that he was just as frightened as him.

The words were in his throat, but fear had hardened them and lodged them in his throat. “I can’t.” He hissed through gritted teeth. “It’s too fucking awful, Dell, I can’t.”

Engineer held him closer, protecting him from himself. “Alright…” He sighed out. “Just promise me you’ll come and talk to me when you’re ready. Whatever this is, I can fix it.” He said, his voice low and soothing, but not in the way that false promises were. He meant those words.

“I promise.” He mumbled, burying himself against Dell. “I just need some sleep.”

He gave a nod, allowing Joseph to close his eyes and sleep against him. Time crawled by, leaving a dark residue behind where nothing moved, and nothing changed, slowly blurring into a smear of emptiness. Breaths swelled and collapsed against his body, blankets rustled, and birds chirped, waking with the coming sun. Slowly, Joseph sunk into a dreadfully light sleep, so light in fact, that it could hardly be called sleep at all.

Dell, however, lied awake.

Chapter Text

Dell put a smile on for him, though it felt oh so wrong.

He didn’t understand – he’d done everything right. He’d been attentive, affectionate, doting and so, so patient. He coddled Joseph, loved him, and told him so repeatedly – but despite it all, this secret remained, like a nail lodged deep in his skin. He didn’t care how supposedly terrible this memory of Joseph’s was, he would always adore him. No matter how much pain he had caused, no matter how many people he had cheated, no matter how much misery lied in his wake, Dell did not care one bit, he’d accepted him for it already. Regardless of what he had done, or who he had been before, he was still perfect. For all he cared, the boy had never sinned in his goddamned life.

The only thing he couldn’t stand, however, was watching Joseph suffer. Though he tried to hold his hand through this, he was pushed away, again and again until he was completely and utterly alone, with only the marks of nails in his skin to remind him of the man he loved. Now, with cold, empty air and heart-wrenching silence in his palms, the question lied on his lips, only swelling with time, until it would inevitably burst.

What did you remember, Joseph?

One thing he knew for certain was what whatever it was, it was a problem, one he despised leaving unresolved. The shadow of this puzzle yet to be solved lingered behind every thought with its clues scattered across the vast, ceaselessly ticking components of his mind. He already had some potential solutions, some far more invasive than others. At this point, he was considering administering another dose just to help him forget it again, though doing so would be dangerous, for several reasons. He could build more mechanical replacements, ones that could render his drug regimen obsolete while providing stable, consistent results. But then again, there were methods outside of robotics and chemicals… practical solutions, tried, tested and far more reliable. Methods that rested deep within his very blood, dating back generations – The Conaghers were well known for their efficiency with machines, after all.

And that sentiment included machines made of flesh and blood.

Though the desire to poke and prod at Joseph like he would with a malfunctioning robot nagged at him, he refrained from it, recognising that efficiency was not the answer here. Such a thing would be insensitive and downright cruel. Impatience would only make things worse, if that was even possible. He had no desire to frighten or upset his lover with things he didn’t understand – while yes, they were… drastic to put it lightly, they were for his own good.

For now, however, he had to wait and observe, though it made his skin crawl with impatience. There was no harm in it – other than of course, the time wasted with this approach – as for now, Joseph’s sudden recollection appeared to be benign.

If this mutated, it’d be a different story.

Dell clutched the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply to reassure himself. He wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t. This little defect wouldn’t destroy everything he had built, maybe it’d go away on its own if he just… waited instead of meddling as he always did.

“Off in wonderland, are we?” Joseph mumbled with a dry inflection that was uncharacteristically mocking, and not the fun kind. “You didn’t hear a single word I said.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” He said apologetically, surprised that he’d allowed himself to miss a single sound from his lover’s mouth. “Would you mind repeatin’ what you said to me?”

“It wasn’t important.” He said flatly, though a twitch of his lip conveyed that it had meant something to him. “I was just saying that I think there’s a page missing.” He tapped his index against the morning paper.

He put on a skin of slight confusion, but also a tactful acceptance of the fact. “Ya reckon?” He leant over to Joseph’s side, looking over the newspaper. He flicked the page back and then forward again and nodded. “So there is. It must’ve come like that.”

Joseph said nothing, but his face betrayed the annoyance he felt, and he suddenly wished he’d prepared a better explanation. Luckily for him, Joseph resumed clicking his pen and reading, with the jitter of his irises being far slower than usual, a dead giveaway that his brilliant mind had dulled overnight without the nourishment of sleep.

His expression lacked its typical quiet enthusiasm, for the weighty purplish bags under his eyes prevented any light from coming in, allowing dread to fester like rust. This alone would have set off some alarms, but worse yet, Joseph had barely bothered to dress himself, wearing only a silky robe and fluffy slippers with the clearest indication of his decay being his distinctive lack of grooming. His hair shot off in all different directions from sleep, or rather, the lack thereof and a dark shadow of stubble had begun to grow over his features, intensifying the downward shape of his frown.

Dell thought not to bring it up.

***

Joseph withered before his eyes like a corpse in the sun. Three sleepless nights rendered him sickly, exhausted, and pale, as if he had never been alive at all.

The worst part of all of this was that he could see himself from the perspective of the world’s damning eyes. He could almost hear what everyone else would think – he wasn’t caring for his partner properly, starving him until he was skin and bones, tormenting him until he inevitably snapped and if Dell yelled and screamed that he loved him to pieces, it’d still be taken as a lie from his countrymen. He’d be deemed a crazed lunatic and a sinister force, one only interested in perverse lust and reaping the rewards of the poor boy’s suffering. He’d be locked up, with the real monsters where his genius would be forcefully stomped out, his money ripped from his hands and his only love taken from him.

He shuddered. He couldn’t wait for much longer. He needed to fix this and soon.

The German picked at his food with disinterest, barely bothering to eat anything at all. He failed to appear enthused by anything, not the intricate and often mildly entertaining details of his day, his ideas, his opinions and not even his usual flattery could get a reaction out of his partner. He merely stared vacantly, his eyes an irate pink, shiny with fluid and his expression eerily similar to the moue of the dead. He remembered those eyes well, unseeing, and empty, only, glassier and tinted with a silvery mist. His lips were not quite as pale as they had been then, nor were they splattered with crimson droplets, but they were dry all the same.

“You’ve lost weight, honey.” He said, realising how his wrinkled, unloved clothes draped just a little from his skin. How long had this been going on?

“I’m aware.”

He clicked his tongue, looking to his still full plate, which had begun to go cold. “Can’t you just eat half of what I gave you?” He begged. “Just half. That’s all I want. I can’t have you starvin’ on my watch.”

“I’m not hungry.” His face didn’t change even a little, uncaring for his pleas. “You can’t buy an appetite, Dell.” He pushed his plate towards him, giving up entirely.

His heart fell into his stomach at the thought of discarding a full plate of food. “Darlin’,” He insisted. “You’ve got to eat and you know that a heck of a lot better than I do.”

Though his lover’s eyes met his, he said nothing at all, conveying his annoyance.

The gunslinger’s fingers splayed and flexed, imitating the horrific motions playing out in his mind’s eye. He ignored his urges, as he always did. He merely collected their plates and washed up, whistling a deceptively cheery tune.

***

He couldn’t smile anymore.

Lying in an empty bed sickened him. His fingers, though they longed for Joseph’s warm, ample skin, only touched cool, fluffy blankets, utterly devoid of his presence. He rolled onto his side, facing Joseph’s half of the bed, and pulling his pillow towards his chest, hugging it tight. The fabric lacked the pleasant smells of coconut, musky aftershave, and the distinctive kick of cinnamon. Instead, death met his senses, its smell as sweet as it was foul. He threw it aside, disgusted by it and he clutched his own body, foolishly seeking the tangible beauty and warmth only Joseph could provide for him.

He stared at the ceiling for hours, just as his lover had done every damned night this week, waiting for him to come to bed.

But he never did.

Dell sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes as he eased himself out of the warmth of the blankets. The door squealed as he opened it, similarly mourning the loss of Joseph’s company. He flicked the lights on, grimacing at the sudden brightness as his eyes adjusted to it.

He beelined for the kitchen, expecting to see Joseph there with a book in hand and the radio chittering away. Only an empty table and a steadily ticking clock awaited him, as if a hole had been punched into a familiar image, rendering it alien and unnerving. He stumbled through the house, poking his head into the bathroom, wondering if he’d taken a late-night bath, knowing him to be partial to them. But the porcelain’s pristine surface had dulled from unuse, with dust and stray hairs residing in the bottom. The shower too, remained as dry as a bone and he shook his head, muttering under his breath, vowing to drag the boy into the bath tomorrow whether he liked it or not – this had gone on too long. He checked all of his partner’s usual spots, wondering if maybe, he’d fallen asleep in one of them.

Now standing in a hallway of opened doors and empty rooms, worry crashed over him with such tremendous force that the world seemed to spin. His heart pounded in his chest, pumping concentrated adrenaline into every vein, muscle and thought.

Something clattered nearby, as if it had fallen, putting a sudden stop to the panicked storm raging within him.

He turned in the direction of the sound, relief slowly rolling throughout his body, its featherlike touch calming him. He approached his office, a space he’d never seen Joseph in before, simply because it was for him and his private business matters only, or at least, that was the assumption. He gently turned the doorknob, and peeled the door open, allowing for a slit of light to peek into the hallway. He peeked through to see a figure slumped over his desk, face firmly planted against the wood, snoring away. The desk lamp remained on, its single eye glowing in the dark, casting barely enough light to work in.

Dell stepped inside, tiptoeing as to not make a sound. He gave Joseph a gentle smile, glad that he’d finally been able to sleep, though his back would be making him sorry tomorrow. He nearly tripped as an object slid underneath him and he stopped to see a pen skittering along the ground. He ducked down to pick it up, placing it back on the desk.

He paused, realising that Joseph was lying on top of one of his journals. He craned his neck to see what he’d been working on, but his partner’s dark hair covered most of the details. All he could see were the scattered fragments of words, all of which in German and the scratches of hastily drawn lines, neither of which were enough to sate his curiosity.

He stroked Joseph’s hair, waking him. “Joseph,”

“Mm?” He raised his head, curious as to why he’d been woken up, but oddly enough, he didn’t sound at all annoyed.

“Come to bed, darlin’, I miss you.” Dell uttered gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Alright…” He groggily rose to his feet, yawning.

Dell wrapped his arms around him in a tight, loving hug and looked over his shoulder to the open journal.

He met the stern, disapproving blue eyes of a face he too, had forgotten. This man had been redrawn several times, gradually becoming more and more lifelike as the artist fought to accurately capture his ebbing memory. The last, the only one that hadn’t been crossed out, bore his distinctively round, bald head, thin lips permanently scarred by years of hardship, deep wrinkles across his forehead and low, bushy brows, all culminating to create an unmistakably unique individual.

A small arrow pointed to the giant, granting him a name, one that had been lost until this moment.

Misha.

Chapter Text

Steam billowed from the kettle as Misha filled each cup with enormous, shaking hands. Amber curls flowed through the water, spreading, and reaching for him like liquid tongues from the deep mahogany depths. The colour only intensified as he spooned a generous heap of honey into his cup and he very nearly reached for the milk, a distant memory flickering before his eyes, one far warmer than reality and frighteningly easily to get lost in.

“Just a splash, bitte. You always put too much in… You’re too generous for your own good, Misha.”

He held himself for comfort, gazing into his reflected, distorted face in the well of the cup. He looked as though he had aged a thousand years, with tired eyes, cheerless lips, and deepened wrinkles. He stirred his tea, dispelling his grim reflection in favour of a dark, spinning swirl, creating an invitingly sweet aroma in the process, one that soothed his racing mind.

“How do you like tea?”

His guest, who had made himself at home at the dining table, looked up from his notes, his icy cobalt irises strikingly vivid against the maroon balaclava. “Black, thank you.”

He presented the cup on one of his prettier saucers, hoping it would be up to the other man’s standards – though he knew deep inside that it could never be, as told by the slight but unmistakably demeaning smirk on his lips. Misha took great care not to spill a single drop on the other man’s priceless suit, causing the ceramic to clink and clatter together, as if they too, were frightened of what was to come.

“Relax a little, mon ami.” He waved him off with a gloved hand, as if to dismiss his nerves from service. “I understand the nature of my profession is enough to make even a man like you nervous, but please, you have paid me handsomely. I have no intention of harming you, or insulting your tableware for that matter, though it is a touch garish.”

“I am not scared of you, little René.” He was well aware that wasn’t his real name – a man like him wouldn’t give away such valuable information willingly – but he used it to be polite. “I worry about what you found.” He explained, taking a seat opposite to him. The chair creaked under his weight, and he leaned over the table, resting his elbows on it. “You understand. I have been waiting every day for news about Joseph. Some things… I do not want to hear.”

“…You fear that he is dead.” The assassin said exactly what was on his mind without any care for sparing his feelings.

Misha gave a solemn nod, willing himself not to show the ache in his heart.

René reached into his coat pocket, popping open a cigarette case and placing a cigar between his lips with habitual finesse before remembering his manners. “Do you mind if I have a cigar?”

“Is okay.” Misha reassured, though he despised the smell.

He flicked open a lavish lighter, one with gold accents and a serpent carved into its body. The flame graced the tip of his cigar and the end glowed, releasing a proud puff of smoke. He inhaled, closing his eyes as he savoured the sensation, unwittingly drawing attention to his long lashes.

He exhaled with the dignity of a king and searched through a different pocket, this time procuring a black envelope with damask patterning. René peeled it open with ease, not tearing even an inch of the paper, revealing a neatly sorted collection of photographs inside, all of which had been numbered.

“In this envelope, I have included all of the evidence I have gathered thus far.” He plucked the first of many out and slid it over to Misha.

The Russian reluctantly scooped the polaroid up, swallowing down the horrid thoughts encircling his mind like opportunistic vultures. It was a snapshot of Joseph’s apartment, or more accurately, its rotten corpse. Books lied open, dishes remained dirty, the curtains wide open and food decomposing on the table. Small bugs had infested the room, feeding and breeding in the leftovers. He could only imagine the smell. Misha shuddered, unnerved by the picture.

In his minds eye, he could picture a body, grey and bloated, with fog laden blue eyes. He shook the image away, promising himself like he did every other day that Joseph was still alive and maybe even finding his way back home.

“Believe it or not, Misha, this is a good thing.” The assassin tried to reassure him, though coming from him, it sounded practiced, artificial, even.

“How? This is… very bad. Joseph is neat. Always.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette and wordlessly handed him the next photograph.

A foul, cold pang rippled through his chest as he read the label, written in flowing cursive: Admirateur. The photograph focused on a tall vase of dead flowers in the entryway, something Joseph never bought, often regarding them as a waste of money. In the rows of dead, brown decay, a white card shone like a jewel, and he resisted the urge to snap the table in two and scream. Without prompting, he outstretched his palm to accept the succeeding photo, which had masterfully captured the writing on the card.

Joseph,

The sickeningly sweet words of adoration crawled under his skin, their meanings too perverse to stand. The perfectly neat, evenly spaced letters only worsened the sick churn of his guts. Misha had seen neat handwriting in his time, but this was obsessively meticulous. Almost inhumanly so.

He swallowed thickly, feeling as though he was about to throw up. “Someone was buying him flowers?”

“Oh, more than just flowers.” René chuckled, oddly amused by this. “Seeing as you paid me so well, I did you the service of rifling through your friend’s garbage. His admirer bought him drinks, cards and even a few personalised sweets, things that were not necessarily a safe bet, but he knew he would like them. Do you see what I am getting at?”

“What is the point of this… secret admirer?” He cocked an eyebrow, failing to understand how this was a good thing.

“Misha,” He said in a haughty manner, almost scolding him for failing to connect the dots. “Joseph was being stalked by someone who was how shall I put it, madly and utterly in love with him. Almost as much as you are, non?”

Misha turned red up to the ears and chose not to respond to that.

“This is further corroborated by the evidence I discovered around the home.” He handed him several photos, one of an opened luggage bag full of clothes, including singlets, flannel shirts, overalls, shoes, thick work socks, and some gloves. “You may have noticed that these clothes are very unlike your friend’s choice of dress. They are also several sizes too small, suggesting we are dealing with a person of a short, stocky build, likely a man.”

The next showed another assortment of things, and at first, he cocked his head, puzzled. “What is this for? It is Joseph’s things.”

“Indeed, they are Joseph’s things.” René agreed. “But look carefully. His unwanted guest was hoarding them. I believe it was a compulsion of his, something he could not resist doing whenever there was an opportunity for it.”

“I don’t understand why this is important. Tell me what happened now, little man.”

René took another drag, chuckling to himself. “Patience, Misha. We are almost there. I would prefer that you have the full picture before we move on.”

He was handed several more pictures, this time of Joseph’s bedroom. The closet doors had been swung ajar, the bed unmade as if he had just gotten up and the wall phone hung from its slot, dangling from the cord and in the display were two numbers – an incomplete call. One picture was different to the rest, a close up of the wall and the carpet below, which had been stained a dark, purplish colour.

Blood.

He paled, forcefully turning the photograph over, in hopes of unseeing it, though he never would. He waited for the Frenchman to tell him the news he had been dreading for so very long now, bracing himself as though he was about to be shot.

But only a calm breath passed between them.

“I believe your friend was attacked in this room while attempting to call the authorities.” René leant over and tapped the shiny surface of the polaroid. “I assume that his admirer was discovered, and, in a panic, he resorted to attacking Joseph to keep him quiet.” His lashes fluttered, seamlessly remembering every detail. “Judging by the blood spatter, it was a single strike by a blunt object and not a particularly forceful one, meaning our assailant did not intend to kill him.”

Misha realised that he had been holding his breath and he finally released it in a long, relieved exhale. “He is okay?”

“I cannot promise anything, but I have reason to believe that he is alive. Knocking your dear friend unconscious would be an excellent opportunity to abduct him, non?” He picked through the envelope, finding the next, but he hesitated, deciding not to give it to Misha just yet. “If it is any consolation, I have been hired for many situations like this and in my experience, this breed of delusional individuals are unlikely to kill the object of their obsession.”

“Unlikely…” Misha sipped at his drink, hoping the sweetness would help him to relax. “Is still possible?”

“In the rare cases where it does happen, they only kill their lovers if they refuse to play their role in their sickening fantasy.” He raised air quotes, his nose scrunching in disgust. “You said that your friend was—is an intelligent man, did you not? He would have learned to play along eventually.”

“He is also very independent man.” Misha squeezed his hands together for emphasis. “He doesn’t like being told what to do, not even by me. Might be problem.”

The spy swished the tea in his cup, taking a modest sip. “I hope for his sake that he learned to behave.”

“Do you know where he took Joseph?”

“That,” René raised a finger. “I still need to find out.” His gaze softened, though it did not suit his angular, cruel face. “Don’t look so glum, I do have some good news.”

“You do?”

He fetched what looked to be a small stack of folded paper, tied together with a tasteful ribbon, almost like a gift. “Joseph originally thought that you were his secret admirer.” He handed the package to him. “He never quite finished his letters, but I think you will appreciate them nonetheless.”

He clutched the paper tightly, gently stroking the soft ribbon, its pristine surface appearing miniscule in his grasp. He wiped his eyes, not wanting to sob in front of him. He couldn’t muster the strength to read them now, not like this. He would wait until the dead of night, when his pillows were already soaked with his tears and his body trembling from the pain of it all. That way, it couldn’t hurt any more. Maybe then, Joseph’s sentimental words could wrap around him in the dark and heal his wounds.

“Thank you, René. This means very much.”

“Don’t thank me, you might just make me feel guilty for taking your money.” He snorted a little. “Ah, but I deserve it, non? Especially after what I found...”

He fell for the other man’s bait, as obvious and prideful as it was. “What did you find?” He asked quickly, desperate to know.

“Look at this, it is… excellent.”

By now, the photographs in the envelope were running thin. A reproduction of a set of fingerprints was pressed into his palm, with each finger labelled in French.

“What is so good about fingerprints?” He scoffed, examining those belonging to the right hand first, some of which were incomplete or smudged.

He ended up eating those words as he looked to the prints from the left hand. His eyes widened and he brought the photo closer, examining the almost non-existent smears and marks, which only bore a few indents and scratch like patterns, He sputtered in Russian, in awe of this turn of good fortune.

To his surprise, René understood him. “You’re right, mon ami, your luck is astonishing. Mine, not so much, seeing as this cuts our business together rather short. In most cases I would be doing far more digging to whittle down our potential suspects, but I would say a prosthesis is rather unique, wouldn’t you?” He tapped the ash of his cigar into the saucer. “I have done my research and none of our existing consumer grade models come close to this. This one appears to be one of a kind.” He smirked. “On the back, I sketched what I believe our suspect’s prosthesis to look like, based on impressions, prints and pre-existing models. I doubt that it is perfect, but I would say it is reasonably accurate.”

Misha froze entirely upon seeing the clean, tidy sketch, his mind cycling back to the last time he’d seen Joseph. At first, only silver eyes appeared to him, their gaze intense with bitter, burning jealousy. Then, he saw it – the newspaper, or more importantly, the advanced robotic hand effortlessly clasping it. He remembered it simply because he never seen anything like it, and of course, because he’d caught Joseph glancing at it.

“I met this man.” He breathed out, wishing he had only known. “I need his name.”

“Now this, I am proud of.” René grinned, straightening his tie. “He is an elusive little rodent, which is ironic because—”

“—His name.”

“Will you let me finish?” He hissed, glaring at him.

“Hurry.”

“As I was saying, it is ironic because he is a brilliant inventor.” He reclined in his seat and smiled, revealing the crow’s feet by his eyes. “He is the genius mind behind many of our modern appliances, tools, weapons and even our newest, most luxurious tech, such as my equipment.” He boastfully tapped his watch, showing it off. “He prefers to remain faceless, nameless. As far as the public is aware, he doesn’t even exist.”

René reminded him of a cat with the way he endlessly preened his own image. Misha sat back and endured it; his arms crossed with impatience.

“But you see, well placed coin does wonders to loosen the lips of even the most loyal men. It didn’t take long to find him with the right questions, and of course, the appropriate connections.” He snuffed out his cigar, marking the end of their time together for today. “His name is Dell Conagher. Remember it.”

Misha nodded, forcing himself to attach a name to the monster haunting his dreams, granting it even more power.

The assassin downed the last of his tea. “Ah… there is one last matter to resolve before I leave today, Misha, being my payment for how shall I put it… a thorough search for Joseph, seeing as we have established that he is likely still alive and the identity of his captor.” He rose from his seat, dusting off his suit with his hands. “Of course, I will assess whether or not a rescue will be possible.”

“And if not?”

“You know what happens.” He said coldly, his expression startlingly serious. “And it will not be cheap.”

Chapter Text

“Sit down, Joseph.” Dell said, his fingers impatiently tapping against the table, betraying the patient, worried expression on his face. “There’s a little somethin’ we’ve got to talk about.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “…I think you know what it is.”

“I have a feeling, yes.”

Joseph, by all accounts, had slept wonderfully, but now that he was awake, he longed to fall into the world of dreams, where nothing could harm him, not even this. His legs resisted every step, demanding that he stop and turn around before it was too late, but despite it all, he made it to the table. He stood uncomfortably behind his seat with his hands resting on the backrest, looking towards his partner, begging for an end to this oppressive, dreadful quiet between them. Silver eyes, once dull with endless kindness, had been set alight with a dangerous, volatile gleam, further stressed by the heavy bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept at all.

It had been made more than clear; Joseph would be the one doing the talking, the justifying, the repenting. “This is about Misha, isn’t it?” How long had he spent with that name on the very tip of his tongue, on the very precipice of being spoken? It flowed out oh so naturally now, as if he had uttered it hundreds of times before and would soon be spoken thousands more.

Dell continued to stare, the shapes and colours of his pupils becoming too much to bear, as if they were closing in on him, entrapping him in chains. “This is all about him.”

“I thought you would have been happy for me. You must have known that my memory was – and still is – affected… does it really bring you no joy to see me coming back to my former self?”

“Not when you’re thinkin’ about another man.” The tapping stopped, and its absence was almost as hurtful as the Texan’s growl. “You’ve been drawin’ him all night and day, fawnin’ over him like you’re sweet on him… and you say you don’t understand why I’m losin’ my temper?”

“He’s merely my friend! I am allowed to have that, aren’t I?” He snapped back. “But then again, I suppose not, seeing as you didn’t even think to remind me that Misha existed.”

“It was better that way ‘cause I didn’t have to stay awake at night worryin’ that he’d take you from me.”

“Dell, please, it’s not like that and you know it.”

“You think I’m crazy, do ya?” The Engineer’s grip on the table tightened, drawing a pained groan from the wood. “You’d run off with him in a heartbeat, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I love you too much to throw it all away with someone else!” He pleaded, the accusation hitting him under the skin, deep into a nerve like the head of a well-aimed arrow.

“Then just forget about him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Dell stood up tall, meeting his level, his posture tense with almost animalistic rage, as if he could lunge at any moment.

Joseph doubled down, despite his every instinct begging him to simply submit. “I… I haven’t seen him in months, Dell. I can’t hurt him like that any longer.”

“Oh, ain’t that cute, you don’t wanna hurt him. Let me tell you a secret, darlin’, he hurt you.”

His heart fell into his guts, kicking and screaming on the way down. “I know him. He could never do so much as lay a finger on me. You can’t say the same.”

“You don’t wanna go there, boy. Don’t you dare make this about me.” He warned him through both gravelly tone and austere expression that such a terrible assault would not go unreciprocated.

“Or what, Dell, you’ll pump me so full of drugs that I can’t sleep? Or maybe you’ll rip both of my arms off this time?”

A crackling, crunching sound erupted from the gunslinger as it crushed the corner of the table, the shards passing through its robotic fingers like dust. Dell did not seem to notice, not even when a flighty gasp escaped Joseph’s lips. “Everythin’ I’ve done was for your own good!”

“Tell me how the totally unethical and lest I forget, completely unmedicated amputation was for my own benefit? There were so many risks and potential complications, but you did it anyway, without training, without anything at all but your own ego to guide you.”

“I was fixin’ you!”

“I am not one of your fucking machines! I am a human being; I don’t need to be fixed.”

“Joseph, you’re not hearin’ me. He was the one to break ya in the first place.”

“I’m not going to allow you to fill my head with lies again. I—I am not turning against the man who has done nothing but help me!”

“I don’t care what you think you remember, but let me tell ya, you’re wrong about him.”

He swallowed thickly, his throat closing up. “There is a lot still missing, but I remember Misha completely – his laughter, his smile, his voice, it’s all there. Not once did he harm me in all of our years together.”

“Darlin’, it’s not me who’s lyin’, it’s that pretty little head of yours.” He said. “You don’t remember, do ya?”

“Remember what, exactly?”

His gaze lost its firmness in favour of an inexplicable sentimentality, but the latter was far more frightening due to the pity hidden in his glistening sclera. “That damned hospital.”

He blinked, once, twice, static undulating behind his eyes, cold, dry, and hypnotically dull like the depths of space. Faintly, from a distant star, he recalled the pricks of needles, the fizz of dissolving, bubbling powder on his tongue, the metallic taste of tools, all of which promised an end to his pain.

“You kicked, screamed and begged, but it didn’t matter. Misha dragged you right to ‘em, right where he wanted you; in a cage, like some kind of animal.”

Joseph weakly stumbled back, his body colliding with the wall, slowly shrinking towards the ground, unable to fight back against remembrance’s onslaught of voices, yellowed and faded with age, bouncing between his ears, distorted, and muffled, as if he were drowning. Faceless men asked him the same old questions, designed to probe, and poke at his fracturing, splitting mind, to name the monster running rampant in his head in hopes of someday leashing it, or perhaps, killing it altogether.

“He told you that you were sick in the head. He couldn’t see that you’re different, just… curious.”

Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill as a minute yet vivid sound pierced the low rumble of men, the hum of machines and the wails of patients through the mazelike, spiralling halls. Drip, drip, drip – seductively thick, ruby droplets, the very essence of life carved from the flesh, the only beauty in that hell of soothing greens. And oh, the feeling of them falling against his tongue, so delicious and so flavourful compared to the gruel they served him. 

“He tried to kill you then, usin’ the hands of doctors and nurses to shove drugs down your throat until you lost everythin’ that made you brilliant.” 

It all came back to him in blinding, brilliant colours, as if the sun were exploding before his eyes, causing the first of many tears to fall on his lip. The taste was tangy like that of the gloved digits pressed against the sensitive tissue of his throat, forcing his burning muscles to swallow down his new pernicious regimen of medicine, hoping to remedy the previous’ meagre results.

“And the worst part? He never visited. You’d cry for him every damned night, thinkin’ your tears could bring him back, but he was always too afraid of what he’d see.”

He sobbed loudly and uglily, with only the coarse kiss of fabric to stifle his screams and hungrily drink his tears; an inadequate substitute for the comfort of another’s shoulder, but the only option in that cold, lonely eternity. The sound and sensation of breath passed through him, rattling and stuttering, as if he were dying, but the sun rose as it always did, beaming from behind the curtains, mocking him from afar, for it had the moon to keep it company.

“They kept you there for years, toiling away in one of their partner’s factories as cheap, disposable labour under the pretence of rehabilitation. The money was just a number, slowly risin’ by the hour. You were just interested in passin’ the time like everybody else.”

Eyes, grey and unrelenting like the metal components he assembled into meaningless shapes bore down upon him, judging his pitiful, grief-stricken form. Joseph worked without complaint, his hands blistered, reddened and clammy from the suffocating skin of his gloves, passing finished parts along to the next man in line. The occasional defective component arose from the man before, who was perhaps too tired, or too delusional to recognise his mistake and though most discarded them, Joseph instead filled his pockets with them – New toys, made of jagged edges and sharp malformations, engraved with stimulatingly rough lettering: Conagher Robotics.

“Somehow, after who knows how darn long, you passed their assessments and met their criteria, all of which had seemed impossible once. They deemed you of sound mind – whatever that meant – and sent you on your way.”

He collapsed entirely, just as he had done at Misha’s feet on that day, wailing and fighting to breathe through the bittersweet agony. He was lifted into the car and delivered into a carriage of novel sounds – the crunch of gravel under wheels, the distorted songs of the radio, the purr of an engine and the long-forgotten voice of his best friend. The fantastical colours of the world that had gone on without him failed to seem real in that moment, as if it had all been a dream and he would soon wake up in his cot in a pool of his own tears.

“Misha took ya home, looked after you even, and made sure you weren’t gonna start hurtin’ nobody. And then… you slowly picked yourself back up. You found yourself a job, a proper place to live, and ways around that mind of yours, all the while forgettin’ who had sent you to hell in the first place.”

Dell’s hand wiped his tears, a cruel mockery of the happiness he had shed when he was given the power to forge a pleasant, reinvigorating routine with his own two hands. He worked as a nurse – something he did with a smile – occasionally visited his doctor for a progress report, saw Misha each and every week – the highlight of it all – and slept soundlessly, with dreams of love fluttering about his exhausted mind. But there was something… someone more, cut out of the picture, unable to fit.

“It didn’t last, ‘cause nothin’ ever goes right for you, does it?”

His breath hitched, stifling a scream, the same scream that had been bubbling in his throat when shadows scuttled in the dark of his apartment, breathing down his neck with his belongings in their claws. With them, came the stifling presence of malaise in the place he called home, like a poison leaking from the mind, birthing paranoia, and delusion – madness itself.

“You got sick,” He spat the word out, repulsed by it. “And you tried desperately to hide it, knowin’ it’d only cause you trouble. But Misha found out and it was different this time around. He was angry, angrier than you’ve ever seen him.”

“Stop it, please, Dell, stop. I can’t—”

“—One day, you both drove right past the hospital. He didn’t think to tell you why.” His pleas fell on deaf ears, becoming nothing but noise to be talked over. “He stopped the car and told ya to get out. You walked for a little while, into the fields and it got real quiet all of a sudden. There was somethin’ about his eyes, that just screamed at you to run… but you weren’t fast enough.”

Images, broken, muddled, blurred, and bloodied crossed his mind far too quickly to be caught, like fireflies in a storm. Screams, dissected and rearranged, split across his temples, in tones shrill enough to be his own. The taste of copper melded with that of the dirt, and of primal, unimaginable fear – the fear of death. The moon hung above him, its face twisted and bloated into a smile in his withering, shrivelling memory, reflected in the eyes of the man pursuing him.

“And then, he ripped you apart, like a broken toy.”

His heart wailed in his chest, the metal remembering the violent, lamentable end of its predecessor as it too, was torn apart, this time by betrayal’s powerful, merciless hands. He had been a glorious fountain of life, gushing blood and living tissue until he had nothing more to give, but in this moment, he transformed into a hideous outpour of death, wailing, screaming, gasping to breathe. The pain, too unfathomably tremendous to comprehend then, was somehow equally as devastating now. He begged to be returned to the world below, his fists pounding against the tiles again and again until warm, reassuring blood ran over his skin.

“Why—” He rasped, shaking hands clawing at the ground to find purchase. “Why did you bring me back?” He choked, a fresh flood of tears spilling from him, like gushes of blood from an open wound.

“Because you deserve to be here, safe from him.” Dell crouched down to him, holding both of his hands, his warmth as oppressive as it was comforting.

“I don’t want to live without him.” Somehow, through the hiccupping, choking, and gasping, the words made it, scarred, and dismembered, but still comprehendible. “What reason do I have if he wants me dead?”

He was held tighter and Dell’s tone, once rough and cold, melted into total and utter love, like the stinging, yet kind touch of healing. “You have me, Joseph. I love you, and I always will.”

That phrase, rich with meaning, turned to dust upon leaving the Texan’s lips. “I-I just want him, even—” He bared his teeth, tasting salt on his tongue. “Even after everything he has done. I… I must truly be mad.” He laughed pathetically, the sound a wet, bubbling gurgle. “But I can’t have him, can I? I may as well just ask for death!” He cackled, emptying his lungs until he heaved. “Would you be so kind?”

The Engineer stopped in place, the loving strokes of his fingers ceasing as he processed that enormous, unthinkable request. His lashes fluttered, the paleness of horror spreading across his face, like a curtain of clouds parting to reveal the alabaster surface of the moon, only its smile had long since died. “Oh, darlin’…” He breathed, pulling him in for a hug, granting him the shoulder he had been so desperate for. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore, but that… that ain’t the way to do it.” His voice cracked, as if he too, had begun to weep. “I can take the pain away, all I need is for you to ask.”

“Help me, Dell. Please…”

A hiss sounded from the cables in his neck, and slowing, slowing, like wax cooling as it ran down the side of a candle, his consciousness faded, a mere whisper in the wind to be carried away. Dell lifted him into his arms, planting a shaky kiss on his forehead, promising him an end to his pain at last; one final procedure.

Chapter Text

The file, full to the brim with photographs, journal pages and pilfered blueprints fell heavily against the table. The binder could hardly contain it all, the evidence of Conagher’s madness threatening to break free of its own volition. Unlike their previous, more conversational meeting, René lacked the time to procure flashy envelopes and pristine documents. He had just a file, hastily organised for his needs. He had so little time, in fact, that dirt still resided in the soles of his shoes, and likewise, in the back of his mind, niggling at him. He flicked through the pages with urgency, taking care to retain his grace, though such a thing proved difficult with the tick of a clock reminding him of every wasted second.

The Giant was quick to pick up on his haste. It alarmed him, as it should. “You find many things.” He tapped the file with an enormous index. “That is problem, da?” One would expect a man like Misha to be all muscle and no brain, but he connected the dots rather well, despite lacking the proper words to fully explain his thought process.

“The situation is much more complex than I initially anticipated.” He said, bringing his cigar to his lips. With a showy flick of his lighter, he lit the end, taking a long, well-deserved drag, the smoke clouding the memory of that horrid farmstead. “I conducted a thorough search of one of Conagher’s residences, and what I found…” He shook his head, still in disbelief of it. “It may seem antithetical to my profession, but you will have to take my word as the truth. We do not have much time.” 

Misha averted his eyes, his enormous hands interlocked, fidgeting with one another. “You found Joseph?” The phrasing of the question was deliberately open ended, not wanting to utter the word body.

He hesitated, the sickly, bedridden doll appearing in his mind’s eye. A weak, pitiful thing, only permitted to fall through a winding staircase of dreams. He couldn’t truly call him alive. He was a prisoner, bound with a cocktail of drugs, a plaything made to smile for his master’s pleasure.  “Yes, and your friend is still alive, but – and it brings me no joy to say this – he is not as you remember him.” 

He plucked a photograph out from its protective sheet, an unsightly portrait of Joseph, not as a man, but a machine. He had been outfitted with tubes and wires, pouring into his neck, invading the flesh. He lied in bed, tucked in carefully, like a body prepared for an open-casket funeral. He was pale, no longer loved by the sun as he had been in all of Misha’s pictures. His hair uncut, ungroomed and his face unshaved. One of his arms, and similarly, a leg had been forcefully converted into a metal replacement, both much more elegant than what his captor wore.

Misha held the photograph in trembling hands, his icy blue eyes fixed upon the vinyl surface. His mouth drew tight, curling back into a snarl, the fury on his features a poor mask for the grief in his eyes. He crushed the polaroid in his hands, his chest heaving. “Why do you show me this?”

“I’d hate to think what would happen if I didn’t.” He argued back, a tinge of humour in his voice to hide the unease churning within. “It is rather drastic, non?”

A slow, rumbling breath passed through Misha, designed to hold back his emotions, to put on a face of calm long after his face of porcelain had cracked. “He looks like monster.” He had taken to fidgeting with the wool of his sleeve, a soft, fluffy comfort. “...I do not understand why this happen.” The crumpled ball slipped from his fingers, rolling slowly across the table, like a great and terrible boulder.

“There is no delicate way to put this,” The Spy began, dreading this part of their talk. He did not want tears dirtying his jacket, the blood was difficult enough to clean. “Conagher amputated both an arm and a leg from Joseph. He is his own breed of sadist, one that favours tradition and simplicity. The evidence points to him using little more than a common handsaw to do the job.” 

He collected the next photograph and handed it to the wide-eyed giant. It depicted a collection of flesh, unsightly and damaged, but perfectly preserved. In storage, the pieces had formed an atrocious mass, joined by coagulated, frozen blood.

“It was slow.” He continued. “Beyond what either of us can imagine in its… barbarity.”  He said. “I personally think it’s a testament to Conagher’s passion, but he very well may just be mad.” 

That word, ‘passion’, only seemed to infuriate the other man further. “This is body part. There is no love here.” A flash of disgust ran through his mouth, stiffening it.

“If that were true, how could our perpetrator justify all that he has done? He loves deeply, Misha. So much so that he is willing to become a monster in its name.” He said, his eyes darting to the clock. “He did not stop there, either. Soon after abduction, Joseph failed to fulfil his role in Conagher’s fantasy. He spat in the face of his admirateur and attempted to escape. That drove the man to kill.” René clutched his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his jacket. “He took Joseph’s heart, ripped it out of his chest while it was still beating as some kind of…” He twirled his cigar in the air as he spoke, the smoke forming thick, silver curls. “...symbolic killing.”

Misha tensed, growing quiet. “Nyet. Is not possible. That would–” Panic darted across his features. “He would be dead.”

He took a long, drawn-out drag, preparing to utter the most ridiculous sentence of his career. “He was, and not for a few minutes, but days.” 

The storm raged outside, the rain battering the windows and the wind drawing a howl from the tired complex. Misha said nothing, suddenly still, a storm within him, too, left to brew. His breath had caught and was yet to return.

“That photo,” He unfurled the crumpled picture of Joseph, sliding it over to his client. “It doesn’t seem real now, does it?”

A solemn shake of the head was all he received.

“Conagher’s writings support the impossible, that is, if we are to believe the word of a lunatic.” He said. “However, the blueprints for Joseph’s mechanical ‘enhancements’ as they are so eloquently put, are more tangible proof, though admittedly, I am not an engineer and cannot attest to their credibility.” He withdrew a blueprint and laid it out neatly before Misha.

The stout man put on his reading glasses before taking it from him. He took a moment to absorb all the details, his brows creasing, deepening the wrinkles on his forehead. “He did this to hurt Joseph more.” Misha added, folding his glasses, appearing tiny in his hold. “Death would be freedom.” An inflection in his voice suggested that he would have almost preferred that for Joseph. The Spy doubted he would ever admit it.

“This is the kind of monster we are dealing with, mon ami.” The Spy had driven a blade into the backs of all matter of indisputably vile men without fear, both those who ruled from above visible to all, and those below, unseen by the world. But little compared to the systematic, methodological cruelty on display, inflicted upon just one man. Alone, in a universe of punishment. The thought slithered under the seasoned assassin’s skin, whittling away at his composure.

A tremor found its way into his hand as he placed a finger on Joseph’s chest, where his heart should be. “It’s after this reanimation that he reduced Joseph into what he is now – a puppet. He strategically stripped him of all memory of his life before this; his aspirations, his grievances, the faces and names of those he loved.” He spoke passionately, to put a fire in the other man, which hopefully, would inspire the opening of his wallet. “But it seems Conagher has grown dissatisfied. He plans for more. He requires perfection, lest he wake from his fantasy.”

The Spy withdrew his last piece of evidence. A series of photographs, showing an incomplete machine, its purpose yet unknown, but its implications horrific all the same.

“This is?”

“I’m unsure, but it seems final.” The frustration of not knowing was ceaseless, an itch he could not scratch. He had obtained what he could, but because this was an active project, he could pilfer little without being detected. “Our perpetrator shows all the signs of a deeply jealous, paranoid man. He believes his captive to be disloyal, simply because he remembered your name. You are his competition, and he fears that he has lost.”

That got a stir out of Misha, a flicker of hope, once lost to the rain, returned to him. “He could not forget me for long.” He looked to René, the beginnings of a smile on his lips, likely a reflex from relief. “It is not too late to save Joseph?” 

“In his current state, if we wean him off his regimen of drugs and return him back to society, he might make a full recovery.” He affirmed. “But there is just one problem remaining.” He extinguished his cigar as the clock struck the hour. They were out of time; decisions had to be made. “Conagher.”

“He will not give up, this I know.” Misha agreed.

“He must be put down.” 

The Giant cracked his knuckles, a newfound resolve emanating from him; Vengeance, perhaps even more powerful than love itself. “I take his heart and crush it.” He tightened his fist, no doubt envisioning Conagher’s demise. 

“I like your passion, Misha, but I’m afraid I cannot advise that.” He involuntarily put on a demeaning smirk. “With the complexity of this situation, you need a professional, such as myself to do the job, available for a generous fee, of course.”

“Hiring you cost everything.” He gestured broadly to his modest apartment. “I cannot pay any more.”

“I suspected as much.” He said, having peeked at the man’s records long before meeting him. “Luckily, I do have an… arrangement for the less fortunate.” He said, leaning forward on the table, meeting his client’s eyes. He had done this transaction many times before, and it was perhaps the most lucrative of all. A life of toil was more valuable than coin after all. “You are a strong man, Misha. Perhaps one of the strongest I have ever met. I know of an interested party, who could make great use of you. A brief tenure with them could pay for the swift resolution of this problem of ours.”

Misha considered it, but declined, firmly shaking his head. “Nyet. You will not trick me.”

“But then how will you pay for Joseph’s safe return?”

“I do not need you.” He growled. “I will bring him home.”

“You think you, a common, untrained man can take down a highly intelligent, homicidal multi-millionaire?” He scoffed, unable to restrain a laugh.

“Da.” Misha’s hand landed on the file, dragging it over to his side of the table. 

“I look forward to seeing your obituary in the papers.”

Chapter Text

Joseph’s heart pulsed in his chest, glowing a striking blue in the darkness of the room, illuminating his pale skin, making it appear alien, immortal in the way only divinity could be. His perfect machine laid still, his chest rising, filling with slow, soft breaths before emptying and easing down, like the waves of a calm sea. The tubes in his neck let out a hiss as a fresh dose flowed through them, glimmering as it poured into him, extending his sleep for just a little while longer. Dell ran his fingers through his lover’s dark, overgrown locks and cupped the side of his face. He did not stir. Such a touch was only felt in his dreams, a whisper from the outside world that it was time, and moreover, that everything would be alright. Dell kissed him, and took his hand, surrounding himself with the warmth he had abandoned for far too long to finish his last machine.

“I hope you’re ready, ‘cause I sure as hell ain’t.” There was no reply from the other man of course. 

Dell pulled the blankets back, and positioned the taller man so that he could be lifted into his arms. With the strength of his prosthesis, it felt effortless, natural, even. He took the man through the house, his body limp in his arms, just like the very first time he had brought him here, when there had been a fine, almost picturesque trickle of blood flowing from his temple and onto his brow. It also evoked memories of the second, memories he had failed to slash into facelessness, into obscurity. He forced himself not to see it, the body he had marred, destroyed so carelessly, so thoughtlessly only to put it back together. 

And the Engineer would do it again today, all for the promise that they would be happy, bound to a blissful domestic eternity now and forevermore. The law forbade promises of forever between men, but it wouldn’t stop him, not at all. Once Joseph was awake and well, a pair of golden bands awaited them, and so would a ceremony. He’d lavish his lover with anything he desired and more, to make him feel truly loved . After this, there would be no more suffering, no more fear, no one else. Only him, forever, until the end, should he allow it to come.

He stepped into the workshop, and laid Joseph out onto the table, taking great care to set him down gently. It looked awfully uncomfortable, but there was no other way. He scooped up the nearby remote, his face reflected in the metal surface, eyes hidden by the darkness of his goggles. Countless levers and buttons stared back at him, the on switch flickering dully as it waited to be activated.

Dell flicked it, and a panel opened in the ceiling of the workshop, revealing a great and terrible machine. It bore steel arms, outfitted with drills, saws, scalpels, blades and a vast array of surgical tools, all of which were freshly polished and glittering under the lights. His heart lurched at the sight of the man he loved so dearly surrounded by sharp instruments with dreadful implications, but even so, he steeled himself for what was to come.

He tilted Joseph’s head, ensuring that it was in place for the machine to operate on. He knew the man’s body inside and out, and yet, he feared the worst. He had faith in his work and in his mind, and yet, the possibility of an error at any given moment during the procedure gnawed at him. What was he to do if a knife slipped and rendered his lover braindead? Little could be done to reverse such a thing. He breathed out. He couldn’t let worry cloud his judgement, not at this crucial moment. Joseph was depending on him to fix him, and he would, that was all that mattered.

His mechanical thumb hesitated over the button marked ‘Start’. He did not feel ready to rip Joseph apart all over again, to see his blood, his very essence pour from him like red tears from the eyes of an angel. But there was no other choice but happiness. 

~***~

The farmstead stood atop of the hill, a lone amber light pouring out from it. The car came to a slow halt by the gate, and Misha put it into park, ripping the key from the ignition. Rain lashed the windshield, flowing downwards and blurring the view before him into a hazy mix of yellows and navy blues. He buttoned his coat, feeling for the weight in his pocket, and all of its future consequences. He had not killed before, but in his time, he had come close, justified by the promise to himself that it had been the only way to protect someone he loved. The adrenaline celebrated the idea of shooting a hole through Conagher’s temple, but the heart mourned it. A confliction that had pushed and pulled back and forth inside of him since he had loaded the gun. This was the only way, he felt– knew it to be true. The deepest evils were born from love, and this man had fallen far, all the way to the depths of hell in his twisted love for Joseph. There was no reasoning with a monster like him, no appeals to reason, no bargains, no threats. His death was the only option, the only way to save Joseph.

Misha stepped outside, braving the cold. He pushed the gate open, the metal bitingly cold against his fingers, leaving them wet. He strode forth, his every step sinking into the mud. A winding path led up to the house, walled by swaying shadows of corn on both sides. He shielded his face from the rain with his hand, the water dripping from his nose. The Russian’s gaze remained fixed on the structure ahead, his breath a fine mist in the air, growing heavier the closer he got. His heart made itself known, beating rapidly, as if to reassure him that it knew best, that his brain should not be trusted. The latter told him that this path would lead only to his own destruction, that this was suicide. He did not listen. He merely walked, his clothes sagging on his back.

He passed by a small shed, the door swaying back and forth in the wind. It was not far now, and the temptation to run manifested in his ankles, with the illusion that he would be light, swift. But in truth, he would only alert the occupant to his arrival. He was a large man with a heavy gait, that he understood well. He could not sneak around, but he could certainly catch Conagher off guard. Surprise was all he had to work with, and he couldn’t bear to lose it. 

He chased the light, his eyes adjusting as he reached the source. A workshop, an attachment to the house, came into focus, the humming of machines able to be heard from within. Above, an enormous device, almost spider-like in design with fangs of saws, blades and electronic drills came into focus. And below it… was Joseph. He was hardly the man he remembered, but somehow, his brain still recognised him, and called him by his name. Joseph laid bare, stripped of his dignity, his skin corpse-like in complexion, with blueness beneath his eyes and a sickliness to his once broad, statuesque form. His body had been mutilated, just as it had been in the pictures, with mechanical intrusions – an arm, a leg, winding wires in his neck. 

Standing over the German was a small, stout man, cupping his face with his fat, cruel fingers. He bore a round, short face, one he recognised instantly as Conagher’s. He was too absorbed in the man he called his lover to notice him. It was only fitting; his infatuation would be his undoing.

Misha drew the gun, turning the safety off and pointing it into the light, towards Dell. He did not think, nor did he hesitate. He pulled the trigger, and a resounding boom sounded from the weapon. A blink passed, and the remote in the man’s hands clattered to the ground. The Engineer clutched his shoulder, head turning to the source of the sound, his gaze meeting his, his lips pulling back in a snarl, his teeth carrying the indefatigable anger of an animal. 

Dell pulled out a pistol of his own faster than Misha could comprehend, the weapon, held in a robotic hand, was pointed directly at his temple. “What’re you gonna do now, boy? This hand won’t miss, I can promise ya that.” He growled, a sharp twinge of pain in his voice as his body registered the bullet lodged within it. “And from what I’ve seen, you ain’t much of a shot.”

“You want to take chances?” Misha stepped closer, startling the smaller man. He had the feeling that it was a bluff. A little lie to frighten him – at least, he hoped so. 

“How about you turn around and back away real slow-like? You’re makin’ me nervous.”

“I am not leaving without Joseph.”

“I thought you might say that.” He said, the blot of blood only expanding by the second. “Thing is, he’s not interested in leavin’. He wants to be with me. He loves me. Are you really gonna waltz in here and break his heart?”

“He never loved you. You tricked him. You changed him.”

“Then you know he ain’t gonna just change back.”

“He wants to. He knows my face, my name, even though you wanted him to forget forever. He can remember who he is, Joseph is…” Too many pretty words came to his lips, in every language he knew.

“There’s a big difference between what a man wants to do and what he’s capable of. You could drag him home, show him all the things he’s been missin’ out on, and sure, he might give you a smile, tell ya that he’s happy to be home. But when you lay him down in bed and switch the lights off, I’d bet my bottom dollar that you’ll hear him wailin’, cryin’ out my name all night. Do you reckon you could live with yourself?” 

“Da, because he will be away from you.” His eyes flicked to the dreadful device hovering above them, the very danger he feared. “With time, he will forget you, he won’t think about you anymore, and if he does, he will hate you. Idea is upsetting for little man, yes? I can see it on your face. Without Joseph, you are nothing .”

“You’re no different, Mikhail.” He spat out his name, the taste bitter, poisonous. “You’re willin’ to kill a man, an act that’ll empty your goddarned soul and make you hate yourself, all for Joseph.”

“You speak like you know this pain.” He said, fully meaning the implications. 

“You couldn’t possibly understand the sacrifices I’ve made, the things I’ve done for that man.”

“This is true. I do not understand.” Misha conceded. “But it is because you are selfish. You hurt Joseph because he would not listen to you and he wanted to be free. You caged him with your machines, the only things keeping him alive. Look at him. He is dead.” 

“I’ve just about had enough of you.” He snapped, his metal digits hovering over the trigger, threatening to squeeze. “You’ve got one last chance to back away, son. If you turn back now, I’ll forget this ever happened. How’s that sound?”

Misha did not move.

“Look, buddy, I don’t want to shoot you unless I have to. I don’t think your momma or your sisters would be too happy to be receivin’ your casket.”

He stiffened. “You will not talk about them.”

“Or what, you’ll shoot? This mechanical wonder here is faster than you could possibly imagine. Pull that trigger, and there’ll be a bullet in your head less than a second later.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. A second, and then nothing. “Without you, those girls will suffer, and not only from the grief. You’ve been keepin’ the lights on with the money you send ‘em, and puttin’ dinner on the table.”

His words wormed their way inside of his resolve, wearing it down, but he held his ground. “They are strong. They will survive.”

“Oh, but it’ll be hard on ‘em, won’t it?” He spoke with a smugness, the belief that he would survive this encounter. “But I can make it easy. Walk away, and I’ll write you up a real pretty sum, enough for you and your family back home to live comfortably. All I need you to do in return is to forget about little old me. This is your last chance.” 

“I do not want your money.” He snarled, the illusion collapsing all around him, restoring his confidence. Misha took another step, trying his luck. “Little man is scared.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You talk about my family. You offer me money. All are actions of a man who is scared to die.”

“And you’re not?”

“For Joseph, I will die without fear. That is what makes us different. You are coward.”

“Ain’t that sweet.” He drawled out, a haughty smile on his lips, something even Misha recognised as the bless your heart expression. “You and Joseph are alike in that way. I think you’d find that he’d die for me. And he won’t be scared, that’s for sure.” Dell opened a latch on his mechanical hand, inputting a series of numbers faster than Misha could track. “If that isn’t love, what is it?”

Joseph sat up, a sharp gasp escaping him as the cables in his neck stood to attention, filling with fluid. He twitched, spasming, his eyes wide, simultaneously awake, and yet, dreaming. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he coughed and sputtered, saliva spilling from his mouth, foamy from the air he struggled to breathe. 

“What have you done?”

Misha rushed to Joseph’s side, his mind racing for something– anything he could do to help. The very second he laid hands on him, the man’s eyes met his, his pupils dilating. There was no feeling in them, no emotion, only emptiness. The fingers of his prosthetic hand split open and from within, long metal blades rolled out, clicking into place. Misha wanted to back away from what he now recognised to be a cruel trick, and he willed himself to move, but he froze, unable to act, mesmerised by the horror that presented itself in the shining edges of each metal talon. 

Joseph lunged, claws of sharpened steel meeting his chest, tearing through his coat and slashing his skin, digging in deep as his dearest friend, his whole world, pulled back for another swing. When the second came for Misha’s gullet, he caught the smaller man’s arm, cutting his hand open. Red flooded the Russian’s vision, and his body burned, throbbing with pain. His instincts demanded that he strike back, that he pulverise his opponent, but his heart failed him. Looking at that face, the man he had so missed, delivered echoes of the past to him, flashes of warmth from the sun, feathery touches and laughter. A time he could recapture. It wasn’t too late.

He blocked Joseph’s every strike, his flesh tearing, splitting under the merciless blades. The smaller man reached high, aiming for the eyes, talons outstretched. Instinct took hold, and he stepped out of the way, causing Joseph to leap high, slashing one of the arms of the machine. It snapped upon impact, thick gushes of sparks flying from the severed wiring. Joseph did not stop. He swung again and again in a flurry, sending dust flying, which ignited as it fell, forming a cloud of smoke. Joseph fumbled, coughing after failing to connect his hits. Misha grabbed the smaller man and forcefully restrained him, grasping his prosthesis tightly to stop it from swinging. He lifted the smaller man and held him against his chest, using Joseph’s body to cover his own. It was an underhanded tactic, but it had never been a fair fight to begin with.

“I thought you were above that shit.” Dell said, his voice airy, wounded. It seemed the blood was beginning to catch up with him. He lacked the same bravado, the same energy as before. “How reckless of you, riskin’ his hide just to protect yourself!”

“You will not shoot.” He hugged Joseph closer, covering his own most vital places. “Not when there is chance – even tiny little chance – of hitting Joseph.” He patted the transparent casing over the German’s mechanical heart. “His heart is delicate, yes? And it is big target. You are too proud, Conagher. You did not want to protect it with steel and metal, no, you used this so you could see it beating for you. But unfortunate for you, bullet will go through.” 

Dell turned a striking shade of red. “I oughta beat that smug tone out of you.” 

“You do not have time.” He nodded his head towards the space behind Dell, where a fine spray of sparks had set an oil rag – and its residue – alight. It was rapidly engulfing nearby blueprints, growing hotter and ever brighter. In mere seconds, it would be beyond containment and inevitably bring down the entire property. There was fuel for a fiery end in every corner; propane, petrol, varnish, lubricant, and countless machines, both finished and unfinished.

Dell seemed to realise it, too, halting completely, overtaken with grief for what he would lose. “No, no, no, no…”

Misha took a chance, releasing Joseph to run at Dell and grab him by the throat, knocking the gun out of his hand in the process. He squeezed his neck, relishing in the sound of him choking. That metal hand of his fought to get purchase, but Misha knew better than to let it. He grabbed his arm, and with all his might, snapped it, drawing a strangled scream from his opponent. The fingers twitched, rendered inoperable by the severed connection. He watched the man’s face contort, his eyes reddening, watering as he drew nearer to asphyxiation. But from the corner of his eye, he caught a flickering tendril of orange, edging ever nearer to a shelf of accelerants. He ached to see the man die by his hand after all he had done, but if he were to see it through, he too, would meet his end. In a split-second decision, he threw Dell to the ground, leaving the man gasping for air through the smoke and scrambling to get to his feet to give chase.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this.” He rasped, barely able to be understood. “You were s’posed to die. We were s’posed to be happy!”

The giant turned and ran, scooping Joseph into his arms as he sprinted for the night air, to the safety of the infinite blackness before them. He could feel Joseph beginning to drift away, becoming heavy in his arms as he lost consciousness, the drugs wearing off. He held him tight, his lungs burning as he moved as fast as he could, willing himself to get as far away as possible before–

An explosion rang out from behind him, thunderous like fireworks, and immediately after, came a shockwave of raw, hot energy. He shielded Joseph from it with his body, allowing the hot, scorching air to pour over his skin, but he felt no pain. It crackled, roaring in his ears, making his hair stand on end and his heart pound in his chest, faster and faster, as though it would soon burst. In just a breath, the heat had fizzled out into the night sky, now glowing a vivid, blood red, crackling with power.