Who: Nat, Tony, and Stevie Wyrzykowski What: Tony needs his sisters. When: Tuesday, May 7, 2019 | 11:47 am Where: Nat's house Warnings: Sad
Nat had no idea what was going on with her brother, but he was not the sort to send a text message like the one he had without something being wrong. She had thirty-two years of Tony experience to be certain of that. She'd immediately let her boss know she needed to leave, not bothering to clarify that it wasn't yet another baby-related absence. Depending on what was going on, she'd find some way to make it up during the week, but right now it didn't matter. The whole process took a few minutes, as she needed to fill in the other keepers on a couple of items, but she still managed to finish up and get home even before she'd promised.
"Tony?" she called immediately from her apparition spot at the front door. She tossed her bag and jacket on the floor and went looking for her brother.
"Hi," Tony said from where he was lying on the living room floor, his phone clutched in one hand and a mostly-empty potion bottle in the other. "Hey, Nat. Thanks. I really need you." He sat up with some effort, and placed the bottle gingerly to the side; when he looked up at his twin his pupils were dilated a bit and his lips had the telltale purplish tint of a dose of calming draft. "I thought I was dying, but it was just a panic attack. I got potion for it." He pointed at the potion bottle. "I'm okay. I mean, I'm not, but I am. But I'm not. She messed with my head, Nat. It wasn't fair."
Nat froze when she followed the sound of his voice around to see him on the floor, of all places. "My god, Tony," she said, rushing to drop to her knees next to him. She'd known something was wrong, but this? Even when he'd been in the hospital with a serious head injury, he hadn't been this. Despite his explanation, she ran a hand over his head and down his cheek, as if she could somehow tell from that touch. For all she knew, maybe she could; there was still so much they didn't know about their connection. She stayed there with her hands cupped around his face, looking into his eyes as she said, "Who messed with your head? Tony, what happened?"
Nat's touch made him feel better, like it always did, which Tony had always assumed was a twin thing but maybe was a crossbreed thing now that they knew that was an option. He sighed, shaking his head between his sister's hands. "Not today, it was thirteen years ago, but I never knew, and it's so… fucking... messed up." He covered one of her hands with his, pressing into that touch, and closed his eyes. "This woman from BACO. Her name's Evelina and I used to date her. For months, she said, back when I was in my first season with the Lakers. Remember when I was in Deseret? But she wiped my mind, Nat. I didn't even remember her at all. Because she made me forget." He sucked in a breath, tightening his fingers over hers. "And she made me… worse. At Quodpot. God, Nat, thirteen years, my whole career, and all those injuries and all that bad luck a-and-- maybe it was all because of her. I don't even know."
Tony hardly ever cried (at least, not unless there was something really emotional going on on TV), but he screwed up his face now as the wetness behind his eyelids threatened to spill over.
Nat gaped at him, barely comprehending what he was detailing. The words were all in a logical order and had meanings she understood, but the story was so out-of-the-blue, broken, and unbelievable that it was going to take her more than those few seconds to parse through it. And, really, the details weren't entirely relevant right now anyway. What mattered was that someone had hurt her brother, apparently intentionally, and not in a way that he could shake off—and Tony could always shake it off.
Rather than attempt any coherent response, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed like she had when they were kids, when Tony had been her only lifeboat, and she his.
The hug was what set off the waterworks. Tony tucked his head into the crook of Nat's neck, wrapped his arms around her in turn, and cried quietly, in shuddering sobs, into her shirt.
Tears ran out eventually, as they always did, without making him feel a whole lot better, and he really had to blow his nose but he wasn't ready to let go of his twin, so he kept an arm around her as he reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table. After swiping at his face with a handful of them and blowing his nose, he sighed and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Sorry, Nat," he said. "I don't… I don't know what I should do. What should I do?"
About three seconds in, Nat was crying, too, though not nearly with the force of her twin. Seeing him upset always hurt her, but this was far above some minor annoyance, and that embrace was just as much for her own equilibrium as it was for his. When he grabbed the tissues, she stole one for herself and swiped at her eyes.
She ignored his apology; it was a testament to how serious this was that she didn't even have the heart to make a quip about payback for all the times she'd cried on his shoulder lately. "What did you mean that your injuries were because of this witch? I mean, messing with your memories is enough." She gritted her teeth, because she couldn't quite vocalize what it was enough for. The thoughts crossing her mind were far darker than she'd ever carry out, and saying them aloud wouldn't help anything. "But I don't understand the rest."
He sucked in another shuddering breath, closing his eyes. "I don't either really, but she's… she says she's part siren. They can do things, like, with their voices. And she…" He bit his lip, trying to remember exactly what the witch had said. "She said she put me off my game when it mattered. Whenever it really mattered. Like a curse. And, god, Nat -- my whole career. I don't know anything anymore." Tony scrubbed at his face with his hands. The shock and anger he'd felt may have been dulled by the potion, but that just meant there was room for the pure self-doubt and agonizing regret to sneak in. "Did I just -- waste my life on Quodpot? For nothing? And what could I have been if she hadn't-- if it wasn't for that first crash in the middle of my best season--" He sucked in another difficult breath, his throat closing up on that fruitless ache for something he hadn't even known could have existed and was years out of his reach now.
"Okay, hey, first of all." Nat put her hands on either side of his face again, forcing him to look at her. "Your life has not been a waste, no matter what some bitch did to you. You are amazing, and people love you, I love you, and you are pretty much the happiest person I know. Whatever your career wasn't, there's plenty that it was. Don't let her take that, too."
The whole time she was speaking, her mind was racing, trying to catch up with the information he'd related. A Siren. How was it that only a couple of months ago she'd barely ever given much thought to cross-breeds, and now not only did she seem to be inundated with the subject, she was one? "This may be a stupid question, but is there any chance she's lying? She shows up and just dumps all this on you after thirteen years? Why now?"
Tony shook his head helplessly. "I don't know, but why would she make it up? That doesn't make s--"
There was a soft pop as Stevie apparated into the room, box of cookies in her hand. It had been her day off, and after seeing Tony's reply texts, she hurried to Nat's house as fast as she could. Something was clearly wrong &endash; not something with the baby, probably, but something else. Which might even be more scary since it was so unexpected.
Stevie's apprehension didn't abate at the sight that greeted her: Tony and Nat, tissues balled in their hands and cheeks streaked with tears, curled into each other on the floor and looking… absolutely dismantled.
She slowly set the cookies down on the table, trying to be as quiet about it as possible, before crouching down next to them and tentatively putting a hand on Tony's back.
Tony looked up at the sound of Stevie's arrival, and hastily rubbed his sleeve over his eyes, trying a smile at her that failed miserably. "Hey, sweetpea," he said thickly, and opened an arm to pull her in for a hug. "Thanks for coming. I'm having a, a crisis." He couldn't laugh without either sounding hysterical or crying again or both, and he didn't want to scare his baby sister more than she was already scared, so he just pressed his face into her hair. "It turns out my whole career was cursed and I never even knew it. All because I cheated on the wrong siren."
Stevie rubbed slow circles on Tony's back as she listened to his explanation. Try as she might, she couldn't make sense of his words.
“I brought snickerdoodles?” she offered, and the box of cookies levitated toward Tony. Meanwhile, Stevie looked to her sister to see if she had a more coherent explanation.
"Someone changed his memories and otherwise messed with his head, maybe even enough to screw up his career. Because they were dating and he cheated on her?" Nat looked to Tony for confirmation that she'd pieced that together correctly. "She's here with the BACO contingent and apparently decided to unload it on him today, even though she's had thirteen years when she could have done it."
And that was when she really got angry. "Thirteen years? What the hell? She didn't even grow a conscience! She just stumbled across you here and didn't have a choice in case her memory whatsit left any holes. Am I wrong?" She squeezed him tighter with the one arm that was still around him. Then remembering the bit she'd left out, she added for Stevie's benefit, "She's part-Siren. What, do we have targets on our backs now?" She pressed her free hand to the side of her belly unconsciously.
Tony, who had already shoved one of Stevie's cookies into his face in hopes that that would keep him from crying anymore, looked up at his twin with concern. "Hey," he said with his mouth full, and rested his hand over hers, cradling the little baby bump. "Nat…" He swallowed so he could talk without spraying crumbs. "It's not about our… what we are. I didn't know back then, how could she have? Or..."
He had a momentary doubtful look, remembering that draw he'd felt toward Evelina, toward Njall. "I don't know. I don't even know. Maybe she knew from the beginning and that was why we --" He was feeling light-headed again, the panic starting to creep back in under the edges of the potion, and he sucked in a hopefully calming breath. "I don't know anything."
Nat clamped down on her anger as best she could and turned her face against Tony's shoulder. "Sorry, sorry, it's just—" She gritted her teeth. "There's been so much lately, and it all seems to somehow be...Other. I don't even know how to deal with the good and neutral parts of that, much less the bad ones." Because this was definitely a bad one. "She hurt you, and I just—"
She reached automatically for a cookie, pulling her hand back at the last second. "Little girl needs to get over this sweets thing," she grumbled.
Stevie went pale and still as her sister painted a fuller picture of what had happened. It shouldn't be allowed, for someone to do something like that to another human being &endash; or another being, at any rate. And maybe it wasn't allowed, but it had still happened.
“It doesn't matter,” she said, her voice shaky, “If she knew or not, or why she told.” She did a bad thing, and she should be punished. “She can't get away with this.”
She took a bite of a snickerdoodle, more to give her hands something to do than because she really wanted it. “Have you told Dad yet?”
Tony shook his head. "No, I… I went to medical, got a potion, and then I came right home. But I should, right? I'll call him." He eyed his phone, lying on the floor, and didn't feel the slightest urge to pick it up; if he had to tell the story again right now, he thought he'd do more than cry, and he didn't want Jesse to freak out. "I'll text him," he amended.
He sighed, reaching up to stroke Nat's hair. "Thank you," he said quietly, and tipped his chin down to kiss the top of her head. He squeezed Stevie's shoulder, too. "I love you. Both of you. Thanks for being you."
"I love you, too." Nat squeezed him hard enough that she might have been afraid of hurting him, if Tony wasn't as muscled as he was. "And always will."