Big Brother

Participants:

brian_icon.gif gillian_icon.gif

Scene Title Big Brother
Synopsis Whether he's the older twin or not, Brian's certainly playing the Big Brother role with Gillian.
Date May 16, 2010

The Lighthouse: Gillian's Room


A shattered candle holder lays on the floor next to Gillian's bookcase, the main victim of the chair that once could be sat on by the desk (or by the bedside) that got thrown into the bookcase out of frustration. It wasn't the woman in the bed that did it, but her roommate, who fled the room not too long ago.

Gillian's shifted in the bed, pulled the covers back to let some cool air on her. She shouldn't be hot. It's not that hot in the room, even with the fire downstairs working in overtime to keep the house warm. Her room is one of the furthest from it. Surges of augmentation come through the door as she moves, the pain breaking down the knot in the back of her head, making it hard to smash it down.

Her face is pale, one harm heavily bandaged, one shoulder and upper arm bandaged, her hands both bandaged. One of those bandaged hands reaches toward a bedside table, trying to grab something, but a moment later glass breaks, water splashes. She just broke her glass of water. Not on purpose, at least.

"That was my batman glass."

The melancholy tone follows the creeking of the door opening. One hand on the knob, the 'elder' of the twins leans one shoulder against the door as he surveys the damage. All of his concern seems to be directed at the small pile of broken cartoon decorated glass, Brian purses his lips in a momentary depression before moving in. The door is closed gently after Brian enters fully.

Brian is clad heavily, a large green puffy jacket covering his torso. He's been ordering most everyone to be wearing extra layers. Despite having heat and fire, better be safe than sorry. Rather better be sweaty than a popsicle. Speaking of sweaty!

"Hey gorgeous."

Going to sit on the edge of her bed, Brian leans in a little to peer at his sisters face. "Well.. In my opinion you look like you're healthy enough. We need food." A quick pointing gesture suggests that Gillian get to it.

Healthy enough— for someone who was mauled by two dogs. One of her arms doesn't move right, it hurts to sit up, and her skin is hot to the touch, but it could be worse— she could be dead. Like Denisa was.

"If I still had your ability, this wouldn't be a problem," Gillian mutters as she tries to sit up a little more. The bandages around her belly are hidden by her shirt, but she can feel heat there.

"Sorry about your batman glass," she says quietly, voice tired and raspier than normal, almost whispered.

One gentle hand goes to fasten Gillian so she can't sit up. He won't chide or nag her to stay still, just a gentle yet firm command. One that is quickly forgotten, at least by Brian. "If I had a monster truck this wouldn't be a problem." His lips thin out. "But that would be spending our money irresponsibly meh!" His tone goes up several octaves and apparently is what Gillian sounds like in his head. Furrowing his brows for a moment he gives a shrug. "Maybe it would still be a problem. But at least we would have a monster truck."

His hand goes to slide from her shoulder down to interlink fingers with her hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't out there, Gilli." The joking tone flees very quickly and is replaced by the burden laden notes that Brian produces almost as a confession. Eyes going downcast as if a schoolboy admitting he cheated on his math test.

That hand is all bandaged, and makes her grimace a little. Defensive wounds, when she tried to get the dogs off of her, teeth scratching her palms and fingers. "It was my fault," Gillian says, when the joking tone is done, even squeezing her warm fingers against his. For someone who threw off most of her covers, she's pretty warm. "I went by myself, without waiting for anyone… I should have taken you with me…"

She knows that now… but it wasn't even a thought. "I just— I didn't want to lose Hailey too." Not after finding Denisa laying in the snow, ripped into by dogs.

"Do you really want a monster truck?" She asks, trying to laugh a bit, but the laughter turns into a hiss.

"Well that's what younger siblings do. Older siblings are supposed to be there to chide them for their mistakes." A light grin comes up as the young man shakes his head. "You did what you had to do Gilli. I would have done the same thing. I'm not mad at you. I'm proud of you." Brian looks down at their hands and gives a soft smile. "I'm really glad you're okay." The soft tone persists, however. "Gilli…. Of course I want a monster truck. It's on my bucket list."

"So whatsit like getting ripped up by dogs?" He asks right after the laugh hiss which summons a frown. "Laugh inside your head Gilli. I know I'm fucking hilarious but.." He gives a shrug. "Your face is gonna explode if you keep laughing."

"We don't know if you're even older, dumbass," Gillian says fondly, even as she closes her eyes and lays back against the pillow, hand loosening it's grip on his hand. "Brian… I don't— I don't think I'm okay." It's soft, but there's moisture on her eyelids, and despite being very pale, her skin is hot, and she's hot… and there's blood showing through on her bandages in a few spots. On her arm, on her shoulder…

There's that surge of energy again, radiating out of her, before she stomps it back down. Her brother has experienced it enough times he won't pop naked selves out anymore, but he'll know it's there.

"I know." Brian responds easily. His free hand coming up to stroke at his chin. "I know. But you're going to be okay." He assures her. "Don't worry okay? Remember who I am? I'll take care of you, alright?" A very gentle squeeze to her hand before he releases. Going to let his fingers brush over her forehead.

At the surge, his eyes close for a moment. The feeling of complete control, the power to be able to go beyond his normal limits. It's enticing, but he's mastered enough to resist it. Having eleven naked men in his injured sisters bedroom might be on the bad idea side of things. Leaning forward slowly his lips go to press a gentle kiss against her warm forehead. "I'm going to take care of you, okay? Believe me?"

"I wasn't supposed to live past last year," Gillian says quietly, leaning up against the kiss on her forehead a little. It's getting more difficult to stay awake, and she almost wishes… "I don't want you to see me like this," she adds on, reaching up with her wounded hand to rub at the tears in her eyes. In some ways, if she's really dying, she doesn't want him to be there when it happens— or anyone else.

He wants her to believe in him, but all the other people she's tried to believe in let her down eventually… And maybe that's why she whispers softly, "It won't be your fault if you can't…"

Watching her quietly, Brian fights off the feeling of his own eyes welling up. "See you like what? A crying little girl? I'm sre I've seen it before." Maybe. A weak smile is summoned as he leans back away from her forehead. Placing both hands on either side of him, he tilts his head down. "Of course not, it will be your fault. But I'm not gonna let you screw up my life." The smile stays there for a small moment.

"Get some sleep Gilli. Big brother is gonna take care of you." Leaning in again swiftly, Brian goes to plant another kiss this time on her cheek.

"Asshole," Gillian says softly, reaching up to poke him in the cheek with one of her fingers. She doesn't even know that it was something she used to do to him when they were tiny toddlers, a long time ago, before memories even form. It just seems natural.

"I still think I'm older. I was always the big sister." In her adoptive family. The hand goes to rest on her stomach, a little red stain formed on her shirt. The bandages most definitely need changing again soon, if not more than that.

"Read to the kids tonight for me…" she adds softly.

"Bitch." Brian quips back, just as gently. His mouth opens in defense of the cheek poking, teeth snapping towards the finger as if to bite it off. But he goes to stand up rather than press the attack. "I think you make a better little sister." He murmurs, stepping away from the bed. Standing to survey her on the bed. His lips draw down, but are quickly forced back into a smile.

In his own adoptive family he was always towards the youngest. A role he feels like he wasn't fit for. "Already am, beautiful."

The door closes gently behind him. His steps echoing down the hallway then down the stairs. One hand going out to tousle the hair of Joe passing him up the stairs. "Hey buddy. I gotta go see papa Linderman."


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