How lovely the silence of growing things

[Ripper Nightshade]

What now? What was he supposed to do now that he found Brayden Smith? Rip wanted to run away like a frightened wild animal. He didn't feel right about any of this. Whatever words he was hearing were bad and they weren't meant for him, and the real Jack probably wouldn't like them, either, because they were terrible!

But he was afraid to run away because this was his directive--find Brayden Smith--and he found him. But now what? He had to tell Pax. How did he tell Pax? Following the new psychic lead between them, he sent the message along to him, not even sure if it would reach him. Pax...? Sir? I found Brayden Smith. What do I do with him now?

What did he do with him? Did he just... report that he found him? Did he give a location? No. No need for that. Pax could find him wherever he went.

Rip stood where he was, wringing his hands and standing with uncertainty, wanting to be smaller than he was. As if that would help. As if Brayden Smith would stop looking at him like that, reaching for him like he was every bit the skittish wild animal that he felt like in that moment.

"You're giving up."

He moved back, away from Brayden's touch. His hands went over his ears and he shook his head, as if he could move it all away from his mind and his memory but he still had them, silly childish memories of kids. A first kiss. Playing tag. Climbing up a hill he remembered back at the dark king's castle, on the grounds. Keith took him there once, but in the memory, it was him and Brayden. Jack and Brayden, hurrying up the hill to see... stars, laughing and talking the whole way up.

But there was that dream, too. Brayden was gone. Jack's sadness was so profound that even this sliver of his soul could feel it, as if the grief was so big that there was no part of his soul untouched by it.

"You can't give up," he said, touching his chest, where the soul inside of him pulsed. "He will never move on. I will never move on." He held tight to the front of his button up shirt. Something hot filled his chest and it wasn't a good kind of heat; it was venomous. A moment later, his vision swam in front of him, Brayden and the room around him waving funnily before everything went black.

[Brayden Smith]

"Jack?" Bray tried to hold him but Jack was not having it. He kept... moving away, running from Bray and saying strange, confusing things. He won't move on... I won't move on... But who was he? Who was Jack referring to? And Jack was so distressed that it was obvious he wasn't entirely himself, but Bray didn't know what to do to reassure him. Should he not have told Jack to try and move on? To be happy?

But Bray didn't want him to be miserable his entire life. He wanted Jack to find happiness in some shape or form. His greatest desire was not to possess or to own Jack but to see him contented, happy, secure. Jack's happiness was his own; that was what it meant to truly love someone, to be able to place their well-being above one's own. And Bray, oh... he loved Jack so much. So, so much that not even words could describe the depth of feeling he had.

"Jack? Jack please come sit down. We can—we can talk about this."

The feeling of Jack being different suddenly hit him like a tidal wave and he stopped, stiffened like an animal in the headlights. Jack's eyes were... not his eyes. He blinked and the hazel turned dark blue. And for a split second, something flashed through those blue eyes that made Bray's heart quiver and sink in his chest.

"Keith."

He knew those eyes—they were the eyes he last saw before the golem that Keith created in his own image tried to kill Bray. And damn near accomplished that, too. Those were Keith's eyes staring back at him with a mixture of triumph and venom and unfiltered hatred. Bray hurried to get to the opposite end of the room, fear causing his mouth to run dry, his throat to close up.

"What do you want?"

[Ripper Nightshade]

"What do you think I want?" Keith drawled as he looked Brayden Smith over. A little nothing, a thorn in his side from the moment he was born to the moment he kept stealing what didn't belong to him. Keith was the elder son of the house but no, not when his bloodline was tainted with the blood of another. Did it matter that it was also royal blood? No.

He had never hated anybody as much as he hated Brayden and all of his incarnations. Every single one. Every single fucking one. Always getting in the way, no matter whether he lived or died, he was still always in the fucking way. Even his own goddamn golem was catching feelings for him.

Slowly, he moved the golem body toward Brayden, each step deliberate. Look at him, cornering himself. Keith made sure to put himself between Brayden and the door, in case he had any brilliant ideas about escaping.

"You'd think dying prematurely in every lifetime would be enough to discourage the two of you but some... fucking... how, you keep finding ways to meet one another. Even when I get to Jack first, you still taint him. Honestly," he said, moving in closer and oh-so-casually wrapping a hand around Brayden's throat. "I'm getting really sick of this game. You need to die now."

[Brayden Smith]

"You want... you want me dead," said Bray with more calm than he felt in the moment as his back hit the wall. He reached behind him for some kind of weapon but there was nothing. His fingers encountered the AC unit just underneath the window and unless he wanted to cool Keith to death, there was nothing to use in self-defence.

And Keith, he was approaching, enjoying the hunt—the way he stalked Bray with evident relish was clear indication that he was having himself a blast. Meanwhile, Bray's eyes flicked to the door beyond him. If he could get out... If he could scream or shout, maybe draw some attention to himself...

But

Keith was talking now, giving him clear insight into what it was that he had been trying to do. So Keith was the one who did this. He was the one who set off the chain of events that led Bray to set up an infinite loop of lives. But that meant Keith was aware of what Bray had done, wasn't he? It meant he knew the original Brayden, the one whose death was so tragic that his spirit could not bear the injustice?

And he had come around to kill Bray every time. Every life...

"J-Jack. Jack please... please I know you're in there. Fight him, Jack!" Bray was cut off by the hand at his throat, squeezing meaningfully. Keith was toying with him, he knew that. His hand flew up to try and pull Keith's hand away but he was so strong! He was inhuman! Bray desperately clawed at him, still trying to reach Jack. Jack had to be inside! He could fight this and kick Keith out! He—he didn't want to be the one who killed Bray...

"Fight him, Jack! P—Plea...se...!"

[Ripper Nightshade]

"That's fucking cute," Keith sneered as he tightened his golem hand around that delicate little throat. "But there is no Jack here."

No, there was no Jack, just a stupid golem. Smarter than most of them, but he would have preferred his Keith golem be the one here right now. But this wasn't the worst of his golems to use. In a way, it was kind of a poetic end to this Brayden's life, being killed by the face of his lover.

All the games were over. As much as Keith loved toying around with his victims, there was little time for it now. The king was dying and before he died, Keith would have his place, his throne. And no little Brayden would stop him this time. As he tightened his grip, he attempted to corrupt him but no, still not corruptible.

"I was his best friend, you know. I was his first love. And then you came along. We were going to rule together... And you threw a wrench into the plans with your fucking smile and your sweet potions and your goddamned good nature. He was born a dark fae, like his father. Darkness was supposed to be a part of him. And you wiped it out. And you kept. Fucking. Wiping it out. But it's ending here. Even this one is covered in his grief. And this time, when you die, he won't be able to deny it... He will finally embrace the darkness..."

[Brayden Smith]

Jack was in there! Bray knew he was; his soul resonated with the soul inside of Jack's body, even while it was being taken over by Keith and used by Keith to assault him. The hand tightened around his throat and he briefly felt corruption trying to seep in, but he fought it. He fought it with the love that refused to be dimmed, with the strength of his feelings for Jack. Those who experienced true love could never be corrupted and Bray's love for Jack was the truest force in this dimension or any others.

"You're... wrong..." he gasped, trying to shrug off his glamor. If he could access his full powers, he could... he could fight Keith somehow. "He never lo-loved you!" The 'love' Jack felt was not true love. How could it be when Bray was his soul mate? How could he love a foul, vile, hateful man like Keith? Love scorned had burned Keith's heart into a blackened stump. He was incapable of loving and undeserving of being loved!

"Jack..." Bray's glamor finally fell and his wings unfurled, but he was already beginning to lose consciousness. Now Keith wasn't playing around. Perhaps he sensed that his time was limited, or perhaps he had finally had enough. Bray didn't know, didn't care. He tried to gather mana in his wings, tried to force his magic into Keith, fighting the darkness that encroached.

"Jack is... mine...!" The edges of his vision clamoured with darkness and he felt himself losing strength in his limbs. Everything swam hazily; Jack's face with Keith's eyes, that awful, terrible triumphant smile on the face of a man he loved so, so, so much that he refused to die... He refused to die for good unless he could die having lived a full, happy life with Jack.

Maybe Brayden—the first one—wasn't as meek or soft as Bray was in this life. Maybe he, too, felt a certain way about Jack, was enamored with him enough to force him to endure all these lifetimes of pain and suffering. It took an enormous amount of power to change fate. It took a man who loved another so fiercely that the sheer force of his emotions forced fate to step aside.

"I will... I will come back." His last breath rattled in the back of his throat as his light dimmed. "I will... never... lose... Jack..."

[Ripper Nightshade]

"Fuck-- fuck off!" Keith growled as he felt something tearing at his consciousness. That little sliver of soul inside this golem was really fighting against what it saw, what it felt, what it heard. But Keith was determined to make it happen this time.

And he was sure that he did, when Brayden finally took in a final breath. His smile was pure evil, the darkness inside of him fulfilled as he let go of Brayden and let him fall unceremoniously to the ground at his feet. To add insult to injury, he spat on his prone body.

"You're not coming back this time," Keith said through gritted teeth. He grasped the body by the hair and dragged it into the middle of the room. Biting the thumb of his current body--living clay, living blood--he drew a symbol on Brayden's forehead. But halfway through it, Rip--the damned fool--finally clawed his way back, pushing Keith out of his body.

Gasping in horror, Rip stared down at the dead body of Brayden Smith. The grief in his heart blossomed and he let out a sob from the back of his throat. If he had known calling out to Pax would lead to calling to Keith... Squeezing his eyes shut, he could feel the heat running down his cheeks.

Scrambling to his side, Rip attempted to get his heart starting hands above his heart, pumping energy into him.

"Wake up, wake up, please wake up...."

[Brayden Smith]

"Well... you fucked it."

Brayden let out a long sigh as he reclined in his throne, gazing at the prone body laid at his feet. It was Brayden, of course. Another Brayden—the latest Brayden. Which one was this now? He had gone through more than a hundred of these, he was sure. Maybe close to two hundred.

"You really, really fucked it. Too bad... I had high hopes for you. Me."

With a slow shake of the head, he got off the throne and knelt by his own dead body, gently touching the cold cheek. Half of a rune on the body's forehead formed an incomplete seal. He rubbed it off, puzzled as to why Keith only drew half of it. Not that it would have done any good; it would only prevent Brayden from returning in this life. After Jack passed on, the cycle would reset and another Brayden would be born, to start the song and dance all over again.

Unless Jack fell, but... he wouldn't. He hadn't in close to two hundred cycles. Dear, wonderful Jack. He realized his love every time, as Brayden counted on him doing. Their love was stronger than anything his vile half-brother could conceive.

To his surprise, as he touched the cheek of his own body, it stirred. Brayden actually let out a sound of shock. "What? The hell?" He leapt back as the eyes opened and gazed confusedly up at him. This had never happened... Never! "Brayden? Brayden!" He leapt forward again, reaching out to slap his cheek gently. "Brayden say something!"

"...wha?"

"Oh thank god! You—I could kiss you! Me! Us!" Diving upon himself, he hugged... himself. "You realized your powers! Finally! Finally you did it! He didn't kill you! Well—he did. But. Oh. This is fine. We can still save this. Come on. Come on sit up. Up up up! Right now! Up!" He dragged his confused self up and pulled him over to the throne, pressing him down onto it hard.

"I'm going to need you to sit here and not. Leave. Understand? I'm going to borrow your body for a little while. I need to..." His gaze softened and he cupped Brayden's cheek. "Let me speak to Jack. I'll be back after I tell him what he needs to know. Okay?"

"...okay." Brayden didn't seem to understand but he nodded trustingly. Well, he had to—he had to trust himself!

Slowly, he took off the crown on top of his head and transferred it to Brayden on the throne. The darkness began to seep in again and he smiled as he fell to the ground.

GASP!

Brayden came to with a loud gasp, convulsing against the ground. He grappled with somebody hovering over him, eyes wide open but seeing nothing at all. Not until they focused, and— "Jack!" He clung to Jack with tears forming in his eyes. The ache of his heart was so poignant and so deep that it nearly tore it into pieces.

"Oh Jack. Jack my darling. My prince!" Brayden hugged him, latched onto him, laughing and crying in the same breath.

[Ripper Nightshade]

His heart was broken; he killed him. Even if it wasn't technically his wish or intention, it was these terrible hands that killed him. He killed Brayden Smith. And no matter how much energy he tried to dispense into Brayden's heart, he... he... he wasn't coming back. He was never coming back. His face was warm with tears and his heart clenched into a tight ball.

"I'm so sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I..."

A gasp. Rip stared as Brayden's eyes opened and his breath caught in the back of his throat. It--it worked? He was alive?! The tightness in his chest unfurled and he took in a shuddering breath of his own as Brayden spoke. It didn't matter that he called him Jack--all that mattered was that he wasn't dead.

"Oh!" Brayden clung onto him with sweet words and such emotion. Swept away with relief and the throb of fear only just beginning to dissipate, Rip held him tight.

"Brayden," he said breathlessly. "You're... you're alive!"

Nuzzling him, cheek to cheek, he closed his eyes and breathed him in. The shiver in his heart was still quite prominent. Never before had he experienced something in real life that rivaled that dream where Brayden disappeared. The feeling of it was terrible. The worst thing he had ever felt in his relatively short life.

[Brayden Smith]

"I'm--"

No... He wasn't alive. Brayden wasn't alive. Death had claimed him but his soul hadn't moved on yet--it was merely being kept in that other realm in which he had been biding his time, waiting for one of his reincarnations to figure out the puzzle and to bring it all to an end. In a little while, he would be forced to vacate this body and the connection would be severed.

But both Braydens would still exist! That was the important thing--both would exist and both could still be saved!

He kissed Jack fervidly, passionately, but then swiftly pulled back to look at him. This was Jack, but... not all of him. Brayden held his face in both hands to keep him still, looking into his eyes, then looking at his heart.

"Darling. You're not Jack." His tone was soft, though, musing over the revelation. This wasn't Jack but it was someone who had Jack's soul inside--or part of it. "A golem? Keith made a golem..." This presented... unique opportunities though. Maybe Keith thought that if he made one with Jack's soul inside, after Jack passed, the cycle would be broken. But that worked in Brayden's favor too because if there could be two souls linked to Jack, then both would have to be corrupted equally in order to bypass the loop that he forced all three of them into...

"What's your name, my darling?" He stroked the golem's cheek no less fondly than when he had embraced who he thought was Jack. If it contained some part of Jack, it was no less deserving of all of his love.

[Ripper Nightshade]

There was a kiss, a kiss of passion, relief, affection. But before Rip could properly melt into the next kiss, it was abruptly halted and Brayden moved back to study him. Rip blinked, staring back, almost squirming under the scrutiny. He parted his lips as if to speak but he wasn't sure what to say because he didn't know what Brayden was thinking.

"I'm..." He lowered his gaze, his hair falling into his face. "I'm not."

He didn't even have to explain himself because Brayden knew. How smart he was, to figure it out after only a long stare. How he hadn't seen through him earlier, Rip didn't know. Pulling at the golden sleeves of his coat, he still felt uncomfortable under his stare--and shamed by his deception.

Brayden didn't sound angry, though. He didn't look angry, either, when he stroked Rip's cheek and Rip chanced a look up at him.

"...R-Rip. Ripper. Nightshade. That's the name I was given." He lowered his gaze again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to deceive you. I was just... I just..."

[Brayden Smith]

Brayden smiled but it held no amusement. "My brother was never good at names," he said wryly with a roll of the eyes. Ripper Nightshade. How dare he name a golem made after Jack's image, with Jack's beautiful soul inside, Ripper Nightshade! The surname took no imagination but Ripper? Ripper?

Regardless of the name, Ripper still bore so much of what made Jack Jack that it was next to impossible to stay angry. Brayden stroked the curls and waves away from his brow, in order to see more of his face. Those eyes, those lips, that chin, the resemblance could not have been more perfect. Keith always had a way with golems; he was an artist of the highest level when it came to living clay.

"You were only following orders," Brayden finished for him softly, leaning in to kiss him again. "I know. I know what Keith is capable of, and I know that you fought him as hard as you could. It's all right... Rip." Mm. Not an ideal name, but it would have to do. "I don't blame you, darling. But I need your help now. I need to find Jack. I have something very important to tell him before I have to... go."

Brayden grasped onto his hand. "Please help me find him, Rip. I need you right now."

[Ripper Nightshade]

Huh. Another person who didn't like his name. Rip was so accustomed to it that it simply felt like his name. Plus, it differentiated him from Jack, whom he swore up and down he was not. But he had never before wished to be him than he did in that moment when Brayden said he loved him.

Brayden was really studying him again, hands swooping his hair from his eyes. Rip felt as if he must come in second to Jack but whatever it was that Brayden was thinking, he kissed him again. Even though... he knew he wasn't Jack. Rip's gaze darted up afterward, surprised.

"Oh." Help. The least he could do was help Brayden find the real Jack. "Um... Um... I... I..."

He wasn't sure how to do that. Something important to tell him. He didn't know what that meant--that he had to go--but the important thing seemed, well, important. And Rip liked being needed by Brayden. Of course he would help.

"Oh!" Rip's eyes lit up and he put his hands together. "You have his number in your phone, right? Let's call him!"

[Brayden Smith]

"Please?" He thought Rip hesitated and stammered and stuttered because he was thinking it over. A golem was bound to obey their creator, that was their prime directive, but the soul inside of Rip belonged to Brayden. It belonged to him as his own soul belonged to Jack—and to Rip. To Brayden, who had been longing for and pining after his lover for all these untold centuries, any single shred of him was a priceless treasure in and of itself.

"Phone?" This world was not his own; he was not accustomed to anything here and he was painfully out of place. Brayden felt through the strange clothes that his latest self wore and found pockets—pockets were timeless, thankfully. He turned them out, placing the items onto the bed. A small rectangular object with a flat glass surface, an aged folding leather piece which contained strange papers and hard yet lightweight cards, metal objects strung through another metal coil, jingling musically.

"Is it one of these, Rip?" Brayden stayed close to him, loathe to leave his side—his Jack's side—for even a second. Keith might try to take control of Rip again but he knew that it might take a moment; total control over a golem was tiring and Keith's magic was not as strong as that of a pureblooded prince.

"Can you ask him to come here, to us, darling?" His arm slid around Rip's waist.

[Ripper Nightshade]

"Yes," he said, reaching for the phone that Brayden fished out of his pocket. "This is it."

He thought it was a little strange that Brayden didn't even know which of the objects was a phone; even Rip knew what a phone was. But he tried to open it and found that there was a facial recognition gate. His own was like that, too. But his face did not open Brayden's phone. So he lifted it.

"Just look at it... like... there!"

Triumphant, Rip found the contacts and it was not a surprise that Jack was in the top contact list. He hit the call button and held the phone to his ear. Why did Brayden not call him and tell him the important news, he wondered, but there was no time to think because Jack's voice--his voice--answered with a cheery, "B! Where are you? Long line at the store...? Or was that wink you gave me before you left supposed to mean something?"

"Um..." Rip cleared his throat. "J-Jack? I need you to come see us. Me and Brayden." He glanced at Brayden. "Brayden and I."

There was a strange silence on the other end before Jack asked, "Who is this?" in a suspicious sounding voice.

"This is... is... a friend... of Brayden's!"

"Where is he? Why isn't he talking? Why do you have his phone?"

Rip's eyes widened and he pushed the phone toward Brayden. "He doesn't believe me! Say something!"