Make It Stop

     Fang groaned and rolled his eyes, but otherwise, his body language was passive. “Brody,” Fang acknowledged him plainly. What the fuck did he want with him now? Punch him? Call him a liar? Have him arrested? Just fucking get it over with. 

     “Hey, Fang,” Brody greeted him quietly. As big as the man was, he wasn't standing at his full height. Not proud. Either being around Fang or being part of this situation. Both. Who knew? Fang could see it and it made him scowl harder. “I… just wanna talk. You and me. We ain't had the time to do that… in a very long time.”

     “Ever,” Fang corrected him sharply. Although Brody wasn't as shitty as the other Brannon brothers, he still never really made an effort to reach out to Fang when he first got pulled back to the ranch. It was always on the shoulders of someone else. And before long, it was no one's interest to make Fang feel welcome. “Just say what the fuck you want and then leave me the fuck alone. I'm fucking tired of repeating myself to all you shitheads.” 

     Brody simply nodded and stepped closer to take a seat on a stone bench near Fang. It was quiet here, away from the main hub of the Park. “Would ya sit with me? I don't feel comfortable sayin’ what I think I ought to with ya so far away.” 

     “Ew, why? I'm not fucking marrying you.” Fang huffed but plopped down on the same bench.

     Brody chuckled at the remark, “Naw, I don't love ya like that. Just as my lil’ brother.” Then silence came. It wasn't easy to just dive right into the mess that was Fang's life. “Heh, ya know, I've had all this time to think what I wanted to say to you when I finally found you. I guess I want to say sorry I wasn't the one that found you. I- well, it sounds selfish, but I really always wanted to be the one…” Brody took a deep breath, steadying his emotions. “I never wanted you to leave us.”

     “Bullshit,” Fang spat. “I distinctly remember you not doing a fucking thing while four of what you call brothers beat the ever-loving shit out of me on the front porch.”

     Brody hung his head shamefully, recounting the day they lost Fang to the depths of his sorrows. “I know.” Between hearing his mother sobbing painfully in the kitchen with her face swelling from her assault and the thundering shouts of his brothers viciously reprimanding Fang for laying a hand on their mother… Brody had shut down. He was the big brother. He was supposed to know what to do. “I've regretted my actions that day ever since. I never made myself a brother you could trust and I'm sorry for that.” 

     Fang glanced sideways, seeing Brody clench his hands together. He never knew what a softie Brody really was. Had he always been this way? Truth be told, he had always been too focused on surviving the others picking at him to even notice. Brody had always been in the background but always absent at the same time, busy with a wife and kids of his own. Like he just watched from afar and hoped for the best. Maybe their age gap compounded the feeling of separation between them too. 

     Brody left his head hanging. “I really thought you'd come back. I should have gone to the police. Now I feel so dumb I never did and feel like I never can... with all that we messed up."

     “That's your grave to lay in," Fang refused to be a part of it. "Why the fuck would I come back? I didn't belong there; I didn't want to be there. I hated everything about that fucking place. They could have dragged me back and I would have been out of there the next day. Nothing you could have done would have stopped me. I wanted to disappear and I did a pretty good fucking job of it until all this bullshit happened.” 

     Brody sighed, sinking even deeper, “Yeah. You did. I, uh,” he finally pulled himself together and sat up straight again, looking over at Fang. “I didn't mean to stir up bad memories for you. Was all that true? ‘Bout Mama and Jo?” 

     Fang leaned away slightly, scowling harder. “Yes. Unlike you, I don't have anything to gain by lying. In fact, I told the truth so you would all leave me alone. I'm a fuck up and I'm not a good person. I just want to leave everything of that hell hole - both of them- all of it, I just want it all left in that dump of a town and I never want anything to do with it again. Stop fucking tracking me down. Stop fucking apologizing and stop-” Fang flinched, jerking his shoulder down and shifting back to shake Brody's hand off of him. “Just stop, asshole.” 

     “It's okay, lil’ Bub, I understand.” He plopped his paw back into his lap, not at all offended his touch was rejected. Fang could just get up and leave but he was still seated. “I wanna be able to leave all that behind too. I've just been stuck thinkin’ ‘bout everything we coulda changed. Like havin’ words rather than guns blazin’, bullets flyin’. We were just minutes behind Jo. If we coulda stopped him-”

     Fang turned his head away, his hair falling over his eyes as they darkened. His whole demeanor stiffened. Not out of discomfort but some deeper, darker loathing feeling. A kind of hate that had festered over many years. “Brody, he was never leaving alive. It didn't matter what you did.” 

     “No, I think we coulda talked it out. We woulda had the upper hand with police and-” Brody fell quiet as Fang's sharp glare cut through his thoughts. He didn't remember the last time he had the look of innocence. It had been taken from Fang too soon. It wasn't fair. It hurt Brody's heart that he could never get that back to Fang. 

     “He was dead the moment Em and I were taken. We were bait. And that dumb fuck took it.” Was it not that obvious? Jo had killed Ray. “They let his mind fucking rot until he walked right into his own death sentence.”

     Brody slumped his shoulders, understanding the set up. It all made sense. Revenge was so cruel. Jo killed Ray to avenge Brandy. The Polks killed Jo to avenge Ray. Did it end there? “You shouldn't have been caught in the middle of it,” Brody responded quietly. “You were just a kid. They…could have done the same shit and left you out of it… it ain't right.” 

     “I know what you want to ask, Brody,” Fang cut right to it. “You don't think I did it. You don't think I killed Jo. You don't believe me.”

     Brody shook his head, both of them not looking at the other. “I'm just worried you're taking the blame for somethin' you didn't do and I can't figure out why.” Why take the blame for something the Polks did? Even if it was true that Fang was half a Polk, which Brody still refused to believe too, why would Fang owe them any loyalties for how they treated him? “I was there. He was shot. It wasn't your fault. Even as bait-”

     “Brody," Fang cut his speech short, "I fuck up a lot. But when I fuck up, I own my shit. When I say I fucked up, I fucking mean it. I'm not trying to be some fucking victim carrying someone else's torch. You don't know what happened. You know what you saw. Do you want to know what actually happened or do you wanna keep telling me what you think happened?” Fang was sharp and to the point, feeling himself retract to a kind of automated response. It wasn't enough to simply share the truth to make him leave. He wanted excruciating details. 

     Brody was quiet for a moment. He looked over at Fang, seeing him so tense and rigid. Where was he even looking anymore? He was so far away even sat right next to him on the bench. This kid spent all of his life so far away from the people right next to him. He finally nodded, “Tell me.” Fang deserved the courtesy to speak for himself. 

PICK UP FROM DEVIANTART

     Fang swallowed first, cracking open the charred remains of an ugly book. Try as he might to destroy that book, the words on the page could never be changed. This was his life. “They lied to me all the same, the fuckin’ hillbillies,” Fang said, feeling a kind of numb come over his body. “It took me a long time to realize as I started to put everything together on my own. They made me into their own weapon. They separated me from Em right from the start and kept me in the shed with a few of their other kids. The kids would beat the shit out of me until I could finally beat the shit out of them to make them stop. Then they'd learn to beat the shit out of me so I'd stop beating the shit out of them. It's all we learned to do out there. They told me Em had left me there. That wasn't true but I believed it at the time.” Fang felt his spine go cold but he didn't shiver. He wouldn't let past anxieties have control over him now. He wasn't four anymore. 

     “Then they'd start telling me Jo was just outside the walls. That he was here to kill me because I made Em leave. Every time Jo showed up, I got the shit beat out of me because Jo was a killer. Killed my dad. They told me how he killed Ray. Stuffed a gun into his broken jaw and blew his brains out. Do I know if that's true? Not a fucking clue. But how does a kid know any better at the time? They told me to stop making Jo come for me. Like it was my fault. I didn't know what the fuck I could even do - it wasn't like I was asking him to be there.” Fang unclenched his fist, wiping his sweaty palm on his leg. To this day, it still got his nerves up. They really got him good as a kid. Polks were stupid people but if they could do one thing right, it was screw up a child in the worst of ways.

     “This is shit I know I wouldn't fall for now. Jo wasn't actually there. They were just brainwashing me to turn me into a feral fucking dog whenever I even thought about Jo. They were weaponizing me. They knew eventually Jo would actually show up. And they had me so fucking wound tight, they knew I'd uncork-” 

     Brody looked up with a deep, sad frown. He knew when he saw the state of the place that it was bad. Those poor kids. What were they teaching them to aspire to be? What future did any of them have? They were all a little older than Fang now… what were they doing now? Were they even alive? “If it's too much, you don't-”

     “What you saw,” Fang carried on, “Was my nuclear meltdown. When I saw Jo, he had just shot and killed a second Polk. I knew it was true, then. He was a fucking psychopath. I had to make sure he never left that place alive. I was his bait and I was the one that they trained to want only one thing - for it all to stop. So I ran to my shed to get a crowbar to bash his fucking head in. Those fucking dumbass rednecks opened fire on him. Change of plan. I slammed the door shut, knowing he was right behind me. At the time, I thought he was trying to kill me next. So I held the door shut as he screamed to be let in as a hail of bullets dropped his ass.” 

     Fang swallowed again, his mouth had gone dry. Did he actually say the next part? That was the most he ever told anyone before. Not even Durant could squeeze it out of him. No one would really blame him for it, given the circumstance. He was scared out of his mind, manipulated and if Jo wasn't going to kill him first, the Polks would second. But that wasn't the whole story. “I-” Fang cleared his throat, startled by how his voice cracked. Weird. “I let the door open and he dropped to my feet. He was still alive, looking up at me. Blood and- he reached for me- I- I- had to make it stop.” Fang grabbed his own hand that had started to shake but he did all this subconsciously. At some point, he hadn't realized that his concious had retreated as a means of self-preserverence, leaving a vulnerable and distraught version of Fang left to fend for himself. “I had to make him stop. He wouldn't stop. I took a piece of glass from the door and I- I made him stop. I had to cut his throat again and again, I couldn't get it right." His skin was so much tougher than he imagined and his child hands were so much weaker than he was lead to believe. "He was choking and- I had to make him stop- and-he had to stop-”

     Brody's whole body went cold, putting together what Fang must have willed himself to do. He was just a kid. He was just an innocent kid. He shouldn't even know what taking a life was. He shouldn't even be thinking about death. This was sick. Disgusting and tragic. Why the hell did they ever let this child destroy the one person that spent his every waking day trying to save Fang!? This was too much! 

     The impact was too deep. He saw Fang shivering uncontrollably. This wasn't a lie. “Shhh, stop, no more,” Brody begged. When he saw a streak roll down Fang's cheek, he knew they had gone too far; too deep into the trauma that destroyed a child; a person. Brody grabbed Fang's shaking body and pulled him into his chest. “You're okay,” he assured him but even as he said it, he wasn't sure he'd ever be okay. The only time he had ever seen Fang this terrified was that day they took him home from that hell. Right after he had committed this very act...

     “I will never be okay,” Fang muttered into Brody's chest, grabbing his shirt. “I made him stop. I fucking killed him. Slit his fucking throat. I was bait. I was gonna go next-”

     “Wha-”

     “Why did Buck stop me? I didn't want to be stopped! Finish what the bullet failed to do. I was next-”

     “N-no, no, no, lil’ Bub, calm down. It's okay.” Brody squeezed tighter. Fang had only been six years old and not only cut open a man's neck, he was going to turn on himself next!?

     “I could have been gone all this time,” Fang sobbed. He still hadn't actually realized he was crying. Or that he was even being hugged tight. He had been swallowed deep into a dark, dark place where all the monsters prowled. They had grabbed him and dragged him down while he had been off guard. For so long, he thought he had everything under control. He learned so fast that drugs and alcohol kept everything locked up nice and neat. But stone cold sober unlocked all the jail cells. All of his emotions had their hands on him. He was spiraling.

     “I-I fucking destroyed- divorced!? That's what you'll tell them!? I got Em tortured and murdered. I killed Jo with my own fucking hands. I'm no better thasn any of them! I was the fucking problem because Brandy fucking Saint Brannon didn't want to see my fucking disgrace in her house! She threw me away! I am poison. I am-”

     “It's okay, Bub,” Brody kept repeating to him softly. He felt a tear of his own slide down his cheek. He didn't know what to do for Fang. He never unraveled like this before. He always thought he was a tough kid. He always thought he was just being stubborn and that ran in the family. But he was just taught to fight. And when someone fought back, he had to come back stronger… So when Brandy used her rather old ways of reprimanding Fang, he probably had a break just like this that sent him into attack mode. It never made sense why he attacked her until now. Durant was right. He had a sickness that couldn't be cured with some soup and bed rest.

     “I'll never be okay!” Fang refused, trying to tug away from Brody. He had to go. He'd kill every dog he had to, he'd die trying, he didn't care. He had to disappear. He had to get the drugs- they wouldn't let him do the horrible things - they'd let him forget. 

Leave. Run. Get away.

Kill yourself.

You won't know a day you don't think it.

You never finished.

     “You are okay, Bub,” Brody assured him with a calm voice but his grip was strong. So strong Fang could hardly budge. He wasn't going to let Fang disappear on him again. Not now. “Look what you've been workin’ at. You got clean, sober, you have a job, you have someone lookin’ out for you, you have a life to live, Bub. And people around you that want you to live it. I know yer hurtin’, Bub. I can't make that go away for you. You were robbed of what should have been. None of us can get that back for you. We so wish we could but what's gone is gone. We don't want it to take what you have left too. You will see some beautiful days, Bub. I promise you.” He ruffled his hair, keeping him squeezed tight.

So much had changed since he last knew Fang. Marriage and fatherhood had gentled him to a kinder, patient man. His boys, Austin, in particular could be a hot head at times and taught him how to redirect his feelings. It didn't take much. Some physical touch like ruffling his hair and then changing the subject to bring his emotions down to something he could cope with. “What’s the happiest you've been since you left the ranch?” 

     Fang grunted, still resisting and trying to wrestle away. He wasn't strong enough. He was trapped. Trapped only made him want to flee more! Fuck. Anxiety. There to feed on his fear like death's vulture. “I've never been happy,” he growled.

     “That ain't true. Now yer jus' pickin' a fight," Brody chuckled ever so lightly, desperate to turn this ship from the storm. "One happy thing. That's all ya gotta say and I'll let ya go.”

     “Blew a lotta dicks, made mad cash, let me the fuck go-” Fang coughed, only just now noticing he was breathing hard for no reason. 

     Brody laughed but didn't let up. “That's makin’ someone else happy. Tell me what made you happy, Bub.” 

     “I told you- nothing!” 

     “What ‘bout yer music?” Brody offered the thought, patting his head gently. “You do anything with music?”

     “No, I fucked over every band I ever played in,” Fang growled. 

     “Oh, you did play! Great! Were they not good ‘nough?” 

     “No, I was too fucking plastered to give a fuck.” Good, now he could just feel guilty about that all over again. 

     “Did the drugs make you happy?” 

     “N-....” Fang caught himself as he was about to resist just out of instinct. Of course they made him “happy” but it wasn't real. “Fuck no, that's not even the point. Would you just fucking give up? I am not like you.”

     “‘Course you aren't,” Brody agreed and slightly relaxed but not enough to totally let him go yet. “But I'm proud of you. You grew up so fast, Bub. Yer so self aware of what ya gotta work on and when you need help. That's why yer here today. Some people never will learn that.” There. He finally felt Fang relax in his arms just a touch. Brody smiled and let Fang go, giving his shoulder a heavy pat. 

     Fang coughed harder until his heart stopped fluttering about. He gave Brody a disdainful up, down look, scooting away from him. He had succesfully jostled his feelings because before he was sure to flee immediately, now he was just confused.

     “Here,” Brody offered his shirt as a rag, pulling it from his chest, “Wipe yer face off.”

     “Fuck off,” Fang snapped, still not realizing that his whole meltdown had manifested ugly tears. He really had no idea. Reality was only just slowly trickling back to his senses as before eveything was just static.

      Brody chuckled, figuring he was still just being tough. Now, that, he was used to from all his brothers, maybe apart from the soft-soul Anson. “Fine then, let me wipe my tears from you,” he laughed, smearing his shirt across Fang's face anyway. 

     “Ugh, fucking gross,” Fang slapped his arms away, finally feeling how wet his cheeks were and the stains on Brody's shirt. Fang wiped his own cheeks angrily, scowling at Brody while he did. He glared at his smile and how he wiped his own tears he had cried. Who the fuck was this guy? Sure, Brody hadn't been too bad but he just never really knew him growing up. He never would have guessed he was such a pussy! “I didn't say anything that made me happy. You let me go. Are you fucking stupid?” 

     Brody kept his chuckle to himself. “I know. I ain't never been good at makin’ anyone do somethin’ they don't wanna. That's what Guth is for, right? But,” he swiped a finger through the air between them, “You did think ‘bout it. Thank you for considerin’ it for me. I only wanted to calm you down a lil’. I'm sorry for makin’ you walk through all that again. I don't think nothin’ less of you-”

     “Which was nothing to begin with,” Fang grumbled to clarify. “The fuck do I care?” 

     “Noooo, that ain't true. I jus’.... always thought you were tough enough. You didn't need me and I had my sons that did need me. I didn't understand you. What I thought was tough was the wall you built to keep us out and-” he held up a hand, knowing Fang was coming in with a rebuttal quick, “And I don't blame ya. We didn't do good by you, Bub. I know, I know, you want me- us, out of yer hair… I just… I don't know what I should say here…”

     “Say goodbye, get up, and fucking go home already. Don't come back. There's a fucking start.” 

     Brody shook his head. He wasn't quite over the shock of Fang's outburst. He glanced over at Fang's hands and saw he still had a slight tremble. “Will you be okay?” 

     “No,” Fang answered flatly, not even sure what he was really referring to anymore. 

     “I don't think I'll tell the others what you've told me…I dunno.” He scratched his head, absolutely twisted around with what he should do or not do. 

     “I don't fucking care.” 

     “But I do,” Brody admitted honestly. “Why don't you care? If you…ya know…you could get into a lot of trouble. You could have gotten us all in trouble. Why didn't you?” 

     Fang scooted his foot out, kicking up some gravel with it. “Don't think I didn't consider. I don't have any proof. I don't know where any of the bodies are. Not Em, not Jo, not Ray, not any of the Polks that Jo shot up. Brandy wouldn't say fuck all. My word against hers. And she's not going to soil her fucking robes for her miscreant she never wanted. And none of you shitheads would back me up either. That would break your stupid fucking truce and you'd be accessory after the fact at minimum, thus landing your own ass in hot water. What fucking ground do I stand on?”

     Brody raised his brows, impressed how detailed Fang's response was. “Oh…you really have thought ‘bout it.”

     “Bottom line is, I don't want any part of it anymore. I got away and I want to stay away. My mind is my prison sentence. Is that concept so fucking hard to grasp?” 

     Brody shuffled slightly, tapping his fingertips together while he processed it. Guess if Fang did report anything, it could ultimately turn back on him about taking that glass to Jo’s neck too. What could a charge on a six year old taken against his will and then brainwashed to do such a horrible thing even be? He couldn't actually face charges on that, could he? It was self defense... Then again… what did Fang feel walking around every day knowing what he did and “got away with it?” Brody sighed deeply, unaware of how he should feel or think at all. It wasn't like he was afraid of Fang. More like…afraid for him. He was starting to understand what Durant meant about his struggles not being all on the outside. “QuiQui and I talked to the boss ‘round here: William,” Brody clarified, remembering that Tequila was unsuccessful in getting a family meal planned. “He's a good man, really. You should meet him one day if you get the chance.”

     “Fuck no,” Fang flat out refused. And walk right into Tequila's spider web of manipulation? Hell no. 

     “He agrees it's best for you to stay here, despite knowin’ what he knows on you now. Which is everything up to what you told me jus’ now,” Brody explained. He wasn't going to describe how it was partially to benefit in Pemberley’s name to keep a hot source of drama close to the vest to protect themselves against further scrutiny from the press. “But, they want to run a lie detector test on you.”

     Fang scoffed, rolling his eyes, “No one believes fuck all that I say.” He wasn't surprised by the notion or even all that pissed off about it. It was stupid. 

     “I think…” Brody shuffled a bit, tapping his fingers together, weighing what he should say. “I think you should lie…” he said very quietly. 

     Turning towards Brody, Fang eyed him up, trying to understand where he was coming from. “Hey, smart ass. It's a lie detector. The whole point of it is to catch a lie. I'm not fucking doing it anyway. It's bullshit and it's not even accurate.” Brody looked up, holding eye contact with Fang. Did he hear what he just said? Fang leaned back a touch. “You want me to lie and get away with it…”

     Brody nodded solemnly. “If they think yer lyin’ ‘bout killin’ Jo, that'll be everything they need to see. They'll leave you be. Think yer all smoke. But I don't know what they'll do if they find out the alternative, Bub.”

     Fang shrugged. “Probably nothing at all. What the fuck can they even do to me that hasn't already been done. Throw me out?” Fang scoffed again. Granted, even if they managed to do that… it'd probably be a pain in the ass for Durant. He was pretty damn adamant about “his word” or whatever. Would mean he'd have to try handling Fang from the outside or possibly quitting on his behalf and that was just… stupid. Guess it would be different if Fang could actually make good decisions and stick to them for once.

     “I know it means more lyin’ but if you want this all buried- well, we're all starin’ at the skeletons you dragged up for us to look at. How are we s'posed to look away from that?” Brody came down as gentle as he could, pointing out that while trying to shove them away (mostly Tequila) by scaring them, he only made the target on his head bigger. 

     Fang scoffed, leaned back, and scoffed again. Fuck, he was right. “Fuck,” Fang muttered, crossing his arms. It was one thing for it to be on his shoulders and use it as a weapon. It was another to have it all on display and have others use it against him and the people around him. “Fuck me…” 

     “If you say what you told me and figure out how to make it look like a lie-”

     “I discredit myself, look like some fake punk ass making shit up,” Fang huffed. 

     “And things go back to how they were a couple days ago,” Brody assured him, plopping a heavy paw on his shoulder. 

     Fang shook his hand off violently, “Yea, back to a heap of bullshit.”

     “You said yourself, you didn't want anything to do with it anymore." Brody pointed out.

     “I know what I fucking said. I'm just pissed off you're right and-” Fang sighed that turned into a growl. “This is how it'll always be with me. Just one dirty fucking secret after another.” Chris was right not to trust him. As much as Fang wanted Chris to open up to him, what fucking right did he have to even ask that of anyone around him if all he could do was live in the filth he kept burying all his shit under? 

     “Bub, if you really don't want to,” Brody immediately felt bad for putting him in this position. Maybe he did want the whole truth out there. Just after the breakdown he had just witnessed, he didn't know how many times that soul could go through that before it couldn't heal from it. Maybe truth was the cure. Maybe it was the poison. “I can vouch for you.”

     “Oh, yea, great. Tell everyone I'm a psychopath and a murderer. Cool. Thanks, bro.” It wasn't fair of Fang to keep jerking back and forth but it wasn't like this kind of stuff was easy. 

     “You were used. They treated you like a tool. You really tellin’ me that you did cuz you wanted to?” 

     Fang almost swept his eyes over to Brody. What difference did it make? He still did it. Of course he wanted to at the time. Because he really thought he was going to die if he didn't… “...no,” Fang answered quietly. “I didn't want any of it…”

     Brody set his hand gently over Fang's shoulders this time, not getting brushed away immediately. “Then let's leave it behind. For now. And if… someday, you want to go back and pick up what's yours again, I'll go with you, Bub.”

     Leave it behind. That's what Fang did all his life too. But this one still had a thin strand of string still attached to his ankle that cut like razor wire. Things just didn't go away. Fang tried so hard for it all to go away. But for now… he could stop pulling against it and rest. Let his wound heal until it would yank his footing from underneath him again. Fang nodded slightly, acknowledging Brody said something to him and let him know he'd at least try. After all, that's what he was supposed to be learning to do here. Try. “Whatever.”