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Who: Drake Holloway, Liv Moore, Terrence Ephemera
What: a truth or two comes out
Where: Drake and Liv's apartment / Ephemera's apartment
When: 10/13 (post arrivals, pre dreamwalks)
Warnings: discussion of human experimentation and character death, drug use

--> Liv

It's Liv's day off, and Drake is about to ruin it.

He's been hemming and hawing over this since they arrived in Hadriel, and has finally made the breakthrough with Sweets that it'd be worse if Liv found out another way. Harder on both of them. It's better that he breaks it to her himself, as gently as he can, and they deal with it together. Part of him is scared she'll tell him to go, just skip ahead and end things, but he's able to cram that down and gather his courage instead.

He comes home from patrol and calls out a facetious, "Honey, I'm home!" Kicking the door closed behind him and waiting for her to emerge from wherever she is at the moment. "You decent?"

--> Ephemera

There's never going to be a right time.

Drake's accepted that now. There's always going to be something else for them to be dealing with, and this matters too much to keep it secret. Just like with Liv, he knows he can't have Ephemera find out another way. Not that he's dead, and worse, certainly not that Ephemera's dead. It's going to be a mess no matter what but Drake feels like it'll be better coming from him than anyone from Ephemera's world. He might be wrong but he's gonna take the chance.

He doesn't bother texting first, just shows up at Ephemera's door and knocks, with a bag in one hand and a carefully neutral expression.

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Given enough time, Ephemera thinks he'll develop a baseline for normal around here. Between Washington and everything else, but mostly Washington, it hasn't happened yet. He's repainting the walls in the kitchen piece by piece, incorporating the splash of black rather than trying to scrub it away. It happened. Why shouldn't that be acknowledged?

He's stenciled out a series of planets orbiting a blazing sun, drafting them out carefully. The undercoat is starting to dry when he hears the knock on the door, and Ephemera has paint on his hands when he answers it.

"Hey," he says, curious. "Wasn't expecting you."

He was painting? Good, that's... probably the best possible mood Drake could have caught him in, then. He was going to ruin it, but. Better to start from higher ground. Most of the time he's seen Ephemera lately, they've started off somewhere rough and had to work their way back up. That wouldn't do right now.

Forcing a smile, Drake slips inside, the sharp scent of paint filling his nose. He takes in the kitchen walls. Outerspace, huh? Not planets he recognizes, he'll have to ask about that later.

"So. I come bearing gifts... but there's a catch."

Ephemera leans back against the counter, wiping his hands off on a rag. "I love presents. What's the catch?"

He watches Drake curiously, not sure where the conversation is going.

"You have to listen to me talk for awhile. About stuff you're not gonna want to hear." He rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to remember when this first came up -- it was awhile ago. "I promised I'd tell you, it just took me awhile to sort through. And now there's more, so."

Ephemera rests his hands on the counter, watching Drake. It must be important. Drake wouldn't set something up like this if it wasn't. "All right. I'll listen."

And he'll be calm and hear it all out, all of it.

"Thank you."

There's a beat, a moment of silence between them before Drake turns and heads into the living room, claiming what he's coming to think of as his side of the couch. When they drink, when they play cards, he sits on Ephemera's good side and turns to face him. That's what he does now, dropping the bag on the coffee table and settling, waiting for his friend to join him.

"So... should I rip this like a bandaid, or--?" He rubs his face. He put so much thought into how to break it to Liv gently, but Ephemera... it could go either way, really.

So they're doing this thing on the couch. All right. Ephemera sits, watching Drake and trying to think of what it might be. Something important, obviously. Whatever it is, Ephemera knows he can't freak out. Breathe, see it through, pick through all the threads and then answer only when you know all the facts. If he can remember that, then--

Then it'll be all right.

Ephemera touches his knuckles to his mouth, humming. "Yeah. Might as well jump in."

Okay, they're doing it this way. Drake takes a deep breath and a moment to decide whether or not he's gonna crack two eggs at once... decides against it. One at a time in case Ephemera doesn't take the news well.

"I'm dead."

".....huh."

Ephemera isn't quite sure how to take that. Dead is final, all encompassing. No room for error. And right now, Drake's sitting across from him. Breathing, talking, all of it. Ephemera doesn't have his helmet to run a scan, but he's fairly certain what it would say.

"You're gonna have to spell that one out for me."

"Not here, obviously. But Hadriel's kind of it, for me. End of the line."

Maybe he should start at the relative beginning.

"I don't think I ever told you what was happening to me, before I woke up here. You know how I've got that mutation? The shit you saw with the wasps?"

"I remember."

The illness that lowered his heart rate and added some weird shit along for good measure. Ephemera tips his head to the side.

"There's more to it, isn't there?"

"There's a lot more to it, but... if you still want to know I'll tell you after this?" He didn't prepare for that, isn't sure he's comfortable with the idea and really should have Liv's permission first, but. Well. Ephemera's not stupid. Just one thing at a time.

"Anyway, a bunch of us were taken as lab rats. For them to experiment on, see if they could find a cure. That's where I was before Hadriel." He glances away, hands curling into fists. "They started taking us, one by one, to get tested on. And whatever they did... the bodies came back, sure. But there was no one in them. Everybody was terrified and this guy, he was crying about how he was never going to see his son again. So when they came for him... I told them to take me."

"All right."

There's more, beyond the piece that Drake is struggling with. The piece he thinks Ephemera won't like, won't be able to settle with. But he's here and Drake is talking, telling the truth about something difficult, so Ephemera settles in to listen.

It's not good, what he hears.

Ephemera takes a breath. Lets it out.

"Oh."

That was the end. That was how he--

"Do you remember it?"

"Yeah. They led me in on a dog control pole. You know, the stick with a noose on the end that keeps animals at a safe distance? One guy holding that, the other had a cattle prod. In case I decided to fight back. I remember them strapping me down. I remember... they didn't even bother swabbing my arm before the needle slid in. Like they knew there was no point to it. And then I got real cold, and it was hard to focus on anything except the fact that I was starving, they hadn't fed us the whole time we were there and..."

He shakes his head, glances at Ephemera for a split second and then has to look away again.

"That's it. It just goes black, and I woke up here."

There's no coming back from that. A fight is one thing. Ephemera is fairly certain he'll go down in a fight. He's comforted by the fact. It makes a lot of the shit he's lived through bearable, the thought that he'll go out fighting. Maybe it won't be glorious or for anything noble, but it'll be on his terms. Not fading out on a metal table.

He can imagine worse ways to die, but not many.

"Then you..."

There's really only one way it ends.

Ephemera takes a breath. Lets it out slowly.

"I'm sorry. That's fucked."

"It's not like it matters here. But Liv... we woke up here and she was convinced she was gonna find me back home. Save me. It was starting to feel like a lie to keep it from her, and after talking to Sweets I decided it was better she hear it from me now. And I promised I'd tell you once I told her, so."

He looks at Ephemera again, shrugs. "That's it, I guess. But it doesn't matter here."

And that part's important, because he's not done. He's got another secret to spill, this one not really his. "You want me to keep going?"

"It matters."

Because he fucking died. That can't mean nothing. It can never mean nothing.

Ephemera checks himself briefly. Counts his breathing. He's calm. Focused. Trying to work through all the details and what they mean, the fact that Drake is someone both dead and not dead, it's Schrodinger's cat playing havoc and this is not some hypothetical bullshit game. This is real, this is right now, and Ephemera knows if he starts getting angry about this, there's no way he'll go down easily.

Someone hurt Drake. Killed him.

But it's also true that Drake is sitting across from him, breathing.

The two facts meet. Clash. Resolve themselves.

Ephemera meets Drake's eyes.

"Yeah. I do. I'll listen."

Drake presses his lips together, wanting to argue. To say it's nothing, it's no big deal, because they're here now. They can just stay here. It'll be alright.

...

They.

This part is actually much harder to spit out, and he almost wants to bail entirely but. It's better if it comes from him, he tells himself again.

"You're dead, too."

For a moment, Ephemera just stares. It doesn't seem possible. He'd remember dying. Unless it came out of nowhere, that's something a person would remember. And how would Drake even know--?

Oh.

Ephemera touches his knuckles to his mouth.

"Washington."

Washington put him down. In more ways than one, it seems. He'd said things in their fight, and some of those--

Ephemera exhales sharply.

"I don't remember that."

"Washington. He said--"

No. It doesn't fucking matter what he said. Drake isn't going to advocate for him or condemn him, because he wasn't there. He can't just take the stranger's word that things did or didn't go down how he said. He believes Washington, but there could have been another way. He would have found another way, but.

They didn't. And Ephemera was dead back home.

Not here.

Drake reaches out and settles his hand on the back of Ephemera's neck, gripping it in a way he hopes is grounding. Meets his eyes like he couldn't manage when he was talking about himself.

"We're alive here, and we're gonna stay that way. I don't mind being stuck here if you're around."

Ephemera sucks in a harsh breath, leaning forward to press his forehead agains Drake's. This close, there's no mistaking it. He can hear Drake breathing, feel the heat coming off his skin. This is real. They're both alive, fuck the goddamn metaphorical cat, this one is written in stone. This is right now.

"Fuck them," Ephemera hisses. "We're still alive. I don't care what happened. We're alive right now."

Drake nods just a little, enough that Ephemera can feel it but not enough to dislodge him. He closes his eyes and enjoys the closeness, lets relief wash over him as it sinks in just how well this went. For now, anyway. Ephemera didn't yell, didn't cry, didn't set off on another revenge quest. He just accepted it and took the situation for what it is -- kind of what Drake's been doing since he got here. He's alive, he's gonna take advantage of it.

With Liv, it felt more like... setting an expiration date. Taking away any hope that they could be together indefinitely, since she's going to go home eventually and he can't. Nothing lasts forever but there's a difference between knowing that and knowing exactly how, if not when, things are going to end.

This isn't going to end. Not if he can help it.

"Fuck them," he agrees lightly.

Ephemera grins, baring his teeth. Yeah. Fuck them all. "That's the spirit."

It's beginning to settle on him, the idea that some things can change, that inevitability isn't as stone-solid as he'd first thought. There are choices here. And maybe they're only choices because of this impossible place, because of Hadriel and all its bullshit games, but that doesn't matter. The choices are still there.

Washington is here and Washington is still alive. Ephemera's family is still dead. And one day, maybe, he'll make peace with those things. He can't just yet. But there's a chance that maybe, one day, he could. And if that's possible, then why not the rest?

"I'll protect you," he promises. They're not here now, but if it happens....

"You and Liv. Those people won't come near you. I won't let them."

Drake squeezes Ephemera's neck, grateful. It's good to know that somebody has his back, their backs, that they'll be okay if people from home show up. He's not gonna die like that again. Ephemera won't let it happen.

"...thank you." Then, a bit less serious, "I bet they'd piss their pants if you went after them. They wouldn't even face me without the tasers."

"Just for that, I'd let 'em see me coming," Ephemera promises. With his flame thrower. See how brave they are then. People can be cocky when they outnumber their prisoner, but turn the tables and most of them fucking fold like wet paper.

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