Fear Itself

After Dean left, I flopped down on the bed and leaned against the wall, trying to compose myself. Little time passed before I heard the door began to slide open again, and I had to wipe desperately at my face as it lifted to reveal Casper leaning in the frame. I didn’t understand why he would have come in here after all that. Why was he smiling at me? He had every right to want my head on a plate, but there he was, in the doorway, smiling.

“How did you find me?” I sniffled.

A wide grin stretched across his face. “Not that hard, Queen Cassidy.” He shrugged. “Just asked the giant pop-up out there.”

I had to remind Alfred not to tell people my whereabouts, considering it was getting to be a little imposing. “You’re a lot nicer than I thought,” I muttered with a tiny smile.

“And you’re much more terrifying than you look,” Cas joked. A throaty chuckle rose from behind his teeth. “Can I come in?” I nodded, and he took a seat beside me on my bed, hunching forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His hands were clasped between his legs, dangling just below the dog tags hanging off his neck. “You’re a brave one, kiddo.” He chuckled again and lifted his eyes to me. They were cold and shiny, like metal under a light. “Not many are willing to take on an operative discharged from League militia on fifteen counts of murder.”

“Huh,” I mused quietly. “Didn’t know that, actually.”

“I’m kind of a big deal,” he explained, shrugging.

“I spent eighteen years locked up without a telly,” I told him. “Besides, knowing that makes what I did foolish, not brave.”

“Is there a difference?” A smirk graced his features. “Some of the bravest men I know are fools. Being brave means taking a risk, and frankly, takin’ a risk is foolish. Puttin’ your life on the life—fucking stupid. All human instinct would tell you to run and hide. Every man for himself. Survival of the fittest. That’s science. But brave men don’t think about that. It’s like they act before they think, and that’s foolish. Take Landon Cassidy, for example.”

A groan slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Not him. I didn’t want to talk about Landon. “Yeah, he’s a fool alright,” I huffed. “Haven’t seen much brave about him, though. Just a stubborn, selfish fool.”

Casper shrugged again. “I see why you would say that,” he agreed. “What you gotta understand though… Landon’s acting outta self-defense. First off, he’s surrounded by people who don’t like him. He’s got opposition from every angle, except for one of his sons. Only one of his boys will even turn in his direction. Second, and what I personally think is the hardest for him, him walkin’ down here is like livin’ in a tomb. Surrounded by memories and ghosts of his past.

“See, Landon ain’t the conventional kinda brave. You wouldn’t look at him and ask him to guard you with his life, but he’d do it. That’s the best kind of brave—the selfless brave. The kind where you’d lay down your life for your fellow man without even knowin’ him, simply because he exists, simply because it’s the right thing to do. That’s the kinda brave Landon is, and I know ‘cause I seen it first hand.”

“My assumption is that he saved your life,” I commented, anticipating the rest of the story.

“You assume correct, your majesty,” Cas laughed. “He saved my ass when I was running from the militia. They would’ve blown my head off in the square for entertainment if he hadn’t helped me get outta dodge. Hid me out there with him. He was livin’ in an old bank vault, y’know.” Casper scratched at his nostril. “You wouldn’t believe the things we did in there. We spent years gathering parts from scrap yards and trash heaps. Found a 1992 Corolla once, man. You know know what he did with that shit? Outfitted it with armor and canons. He turned an antique car into a tank. Without him, we never woulda won.” A gentle smile crossed Cas’s face, and his eyes glimmered in the light. “A very brave man. Like father, like son.”

“Well,” I huffed. “His son’s acting like a complete moron. Or maybe he just is a moron. Maybe ‘stupid’ is his default setting.”

A hearty, booming laugh shook Casper’s shoulders and made his eyes squint up. “Well, Mrs. Cassidy, as they say, behind every idiot is a great woman,” he joked. “That’s a sayin’ somewhere, I think.”

“So, are we okay? Are we cool?” I asked, eyebrows raised and head tilted toward Cas.

He simply grinned at me. “Your majesty, we ain’t just cool. We’re ice cold.” We both fell into calm laughter before the door opened again, and Avery was standing there.

“Princess,” he grumbled, paying Casper no mind. “I think Chandler’s lost it.”

“Like how, Mumbles?” I laughed. “Chandler’s always crazy. Don’t be daft.”

“No, he’s—“ Avery’s voice was cute off by the sound of Chandler shrieking from outside my room.

“Dean, what are you doing?” he shouted. “Dean, you stop this right now!”

Avery’s head turned over his shoulder for just a moment, and with the way his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, I knew this must’ve been a big deal. Whatever was happening even had Avery shocked, and I had never once seen look legitimately surprised. This was bad, this was very bad.

I was the one who sent Dean in to talk to Landon. Whatever this was, it was my fault, wasn’t it?