Chapter Text
Footsteps clunked up the rickety staircase, the attempt at silence futile. The house was old, not in the best condition and in the middle of nowhere—any onlookers from the highway would merely assume the place had been long sense abandoned. Surrounding the dilapidated structure was a jungle of shrubbery you’d walk out of with ticks aplenty. You could wade through the grass that’d overgrown the dirt path up to the house. The mailbox was bent and rusted shut. Thick forests started a little ways behind, adding a layer of intensity to the land.
However, inhabiting the inhabitable was a family of four. A set of infant twins laid in their crib on the second story, fast asleep as their mother rocked the crib slowly back and forth. She held a book in her other hand, every now and then glancing back at her babies. It was impossible not to. She had everything she’d ever wanted. The solitary, maybe not, but it kept them safe. Her eyes flicked upward at the rattling of the railing. The house was small, and the second story was barely a story at all. It was really more of a loft, so she could immediately see anyone ascending the stairs.
“I’m fucking exhausted, Roxanne—” Roxy shushed him with a silent finger to her lips. The man at the top of the staircase was the father of the twins. Her husband, in every sense but legally. Yet another reason to be living off the grid. They couldn’t marry because Roxy’s black, and they couldn’t be in the public eye at all because he was the one who gave birth. They couldn’t exactly lie about the way they presented. A black woman born to be a father, and a white man born to be a mother. They’d be prosecuted no matter what excuse they gave, whether by law enforcement or something unseen. They weren't sure which option terrified them more.
Roxy closed her book, patting the space on the bed next to her with a gentle hand. He blinked, letting out a soft exhale before admitting defeat and taking up her offer. He carefully got into bed, trying to keep the floor from creaking (or caving.) He laid on his side, letting Roxy run her hand through his hair. “Go to sleep, Dirk,” She whispered. “It’ll be okay.”
“No,” He mumbled, leaning into her hand. “I won’t.”
“You will,” She argued, taking her hand off the crib to wrap it around him. “You haven’t come to bed in days.” Dirk was silent for a moment, the thumps of Roxy’s heart only making his drowsiness harder to ignore. He used everything in his power to not give in.
“There’s much to be done,” He explained. “I can’t sleep. We’re still out in the open, Roxanne.”
“Then we sleep in shifts,” She demanded. “I’ll stay awake tonight. You’re still recovering, darlin'.”
“I’m fine.” He’d been overworking himself to no end, and after giving birth just over a month ago, his body needed a break. It needed rest. And he refused it.
“You haven’t even been eating…”
The sound that came from outside interrupted Dirk’s insistence. He and Roxy sat up immediately, exchanging a glance. Roxy bit her tongue, listening as intently as possible for any other noise. The same sound again, this time rattling the entire house. And then again. Again.
Bang. Bang. BANG.
Someone was trying to get inside. Silence from inside was broken. The babies woke up. Dirk got out of bed, cursing under his breath glancing out the broken window.
He didn’t see anything.
He didn’t see anything.
He nearly stumbled over himself as he backed away from the window, catching himself on the crib and, once he got his balance, immediately scooping up both babies. Their cries might’ve well as been daggers, each one digging deeper and deeper into his chest. It’s like they knew. Roxy looked up at him in desperation, begging for anything but this. No words were exchanged between them as they bolted down the stairs.
On the first floor, Dirk pushed the little ones into Roxy’s arms, backing away from the door and reaching for his sword on the mantle. He finally let himself exhale once armed. He stood in front of his family, not daring to look away from the door as it caved in from each consecutive slam, not even to blink. His hands shook. His chest hurt.
“Roxanne.” He said. “You listen to me, and I don’t want any argument. That door is going to break, and you’re going to run.”
“Are you fucking mental?!” The babies screamed.
The door was ripped from its rusted hinges, ceasing to remain intact as it was sent careening into the house. The last remaining glass pane window was shattered. Dirk’s gut twisted. He swallowed the urge to vomit. There wasn’t just one. Roxy clutched her children close to her chest, forcing herself to breathe.
Dirk stepped backward, his arm outstretched in front of his family, guiding them to the back door. He let himself turn around for a second, swinging the door open with so much force the doorknob dented the wall. Heavy breaths escaped his lungs, each one sounding like it drained him a little further. He tried to speak. The graze of snakeskin touched the back of his neck. His heart skipped a beat. He whirled around, feeling the wind from behind and slashing the air in front of him, stunting the blade with solidity.
The shriek that erupted from nothing echoed through the house, upsetting the babies more than he’d ever heard them scream. He felt the tears in his eyes. He blinked them away. No time. He looked around frantically, the movements of his head unnatural and panicked as he tried to spot the spotless. He held his breath, listening through the cries of his children. He let his guard down for just a second, long enough to secure his plan. His plan that didn’t involve him.
“Roxy.” He didn’t turn around. He didn’t call her Roxanne. “You’re going to go into town and take my name.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Your name is Dirk Strider, now, okay? You’re going to find a phone booth and you’re going to call Jane’s family. You’re going to tell them that you need a place to keep your babies safe. Do you understand?”
“No!!” She screamed, breaking her voice with tears. “I don’t understand! What are you saying??”
“Get out of here, now,” He commanded. “I’m not going to argue with you, Roxy!”
“What about you?!”
“Don’t fucking worry about me!” He hated raising his voice this much. “Your children are all that matter now, get that through your head in the next couple seconds. You’re gonna have to come to terms with this really quickly if you or they are going to survive!"
“You—” She shook her head, unable to even see him with the cloud of tears blocking her vision. “I’m not leaving you here, Dirk Strider!”
“You’re not. Never. I’ll find you,” He lied to her. She knew he was lying to her. “You have to get them out of here.” He backed up into her, trying to egg her to run out the door like he was begging her to.
“Dirk—”
“Roxy, LEAVE!” He glanced back, faltering at the sight of her face. And his infants. “Please… Rox… please go.”
“You’re going to die.”
“I love you, Roxanne,” He smiled. “I love you from the bottom of my heart. Keep them safe for me.” Her lip quivered. Dirk dropped his sword despite the dangers. He turned around, wiping Roxy’s eyes. They stood there, with her face in his hands for longer than they should have safely. He kissed her. This was the last time. He knew it was the last time.
“I love you too,” She whispered against his lips. “From the bottom of my heart.”
He didn’t pick his sword back up after he watched her run. The exhaustion set in. He collapsed against the wall with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. A thud that alerted any straggling hollowgasts inside the house.
Harley,
You haven’t heard from me in a long time, but I thought now would be as good a time as ever. Rose and Dave’s mother was brutally killed last week. I’m sure this information is upsetting to you, and I would apologize if it hadn’t been completely preventable. Jane’s family has graciously taken me and my children in. If you have any conscious at all, you’ll find your way to us and do something helpful for the first time in your life. It’s not only the right thing to do, but an obligation of yours to fulfill. The address is on the back of this letter.
-Lalonde