Brallon Oneshots

Let Me Go

Blood.
Ash and filth films the ground.
What's left of the city. Crumbled buildings light the night sky. Chaos as looters scrabble for what's left in the aftermath, others search for family and friends.
Dirty, wounded hands grasping at one another.
Two reunited lovers in the middle of a battle zone.
Blue bloodshot eyes squinting, impossibly beautiful even after hours of fighting for his life. A layer of filth upon his skin, an angrily slitted wounded running from his cheek to his ear. Blood long dried.
Brendon pulls Dallon into his lap carefully. Eliciting a horrid cough from the wounded man.
"Dall!" Brendon panics, hands hovering over his husbands chests as the he contorts in pain. Brendon looks him over.
"It's ok." Dallon persist, squeezing Brendon's hand best he can, "I'm ok, really. We need to get moving."
Brendon's about to protest when his eye catches something on Dallon shirt. New blood. Spreading quickly. Brendon grabs at it. Dallon tries to stop him, groaning. But can't in time.
Brendon lifts Dallon's shirt.
Brendon gasp, "Shit. Oh god." Dallon's abdomen has large nasty slash upon it, say six inches long. "Dallon," Brendon breathes out. "Why didn't you tell me-"
"And scare the crap outta ya?" Dallon huffs out, breathing heavily. Rolling his shirt back down.
"We have to get you to a hospital," Brendon starts to help him up.
"Brendon," Dallon says lowly.
"Come on old man," Brendon says standing, trying to pick him up, Dallon doesn't budge.
"Brendon-" Dallon says a bit more forcefully.
Brendon keeps on pulling him up but Dallon keeps his place.
"DAMN IT BRENDON. STOP!" Dallon snaps, his voice croaking.
Brendon steps back. Looking at Dallon in bewilderment.
Dallon sits on the curb with his head in his hands.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd done everything to prevent. But damn was it poetic.
"Dall..." Brendon whispers, inching closer. "What is it." Dallon knows what he's asking. "You can tell me. You can tell me anything."
Dallon sighs, running a hand through his straggly hair. Looking forward to the now abandoned grocery store, looters running in and out of it. If only they knew... he thinks to himself. He can't bare to look at Brendon though.
"You have to get out of the city." He starts but of course Brendon interrupts.
Sitting next to him, voice wavering slightly, "You mean we do."
"No," Dallon shakes his head, "my place is here. It's too late for me. Take the car, pack a suitcase, grab the dogs, and go as far as you can. In fact, go to California. In Los Angeles, find Dr. Patrick Stump, tell him I sent you. He owns a school. He'll know who you are-"
Brendon stops him adrubtly, "STOP IT! Why can't you come with me? Dallon! Look around us! I'm not going anywhere without you! You're my husband damn it! You're not telling me something!"
A piercing ring begins in Dallon's ears, he begins to panic. He needs to get away from Brendon.
"Please. I'm begging you Brendon." Dallon reluctantly turns to him, cupping his face as he continues. "Listen to me... Go. I know what's going to happen here. Leave while you can."
Brendon wants to protest. He searches Dallon's eyes for any giveaway but only finds his lovers oceanic eyes staring back at him.
And that's when Brendon sees it. Specks of gold in Dallon's eyes he's never noticed before today. Incredibly subtly. So subtle they almost move with the light.
"Dallon... I..."
"Please don't say it..." Dallon begs.
Brendon feels his tears roll down his own cheeks, "I'm not leaving. Not without you."
Dallon expected this. "If I tell you what's happening, will you go?"
Brendon feverishly nods his head 'no'.
But Dallon still continues. "Brendon... please. This is nothing. It wasn't an earthquake like the news is reporting." Dallon hushes closely. Brendon's head whipping up, eyes wide, "By nightfall tomorrow the city will be crawling with the infected." Brendon tilts his head.
Dallon sighs continuing, rushed. "It was never supposed to leave the computer. But... damn Frank. Frank had this idea. A genetic weapon."
"A... a genetic w-weapon?" Brendon stutters.
"Right. It got shot down a dozen times years ago. But when Dr. Ross came in he saw it in the disposed projects. Decided to let Frank do some research on it. Jon and I thought it was because he was sleeping with Frank's mom. We come to find out a year ago, Ross has had Frank running trials in Africa."
"In your labs?" Brendon questions confused.
Dallon nods, "Right under our noses. We never knew how many trials but... a lot of subjects died."
"I'm gonna be sick," Brendon puts his head in his lap.
"Six months ago, Ross comes to me with a proposal. Release the weapon on an enemy war camp in Iraq. I immediately refused. Told him I never approved of the project and to cut it immediately. He stomped out of my office and never mentioned it again. Until two weeks ago."
"What happened two weeks ago?" Brendon asks wearily.
"The mayoral election," Dallon covers his eyes, thinking hard. "Governor Leto invited the staff because he's a fan of the -of the sciences. Mayor Joseph was up for reelection. It was a good night."
"It was. I know, I was with you," Brendon notices the sweat gathering on Dallon's brow. He hugs Dallon close scooting over to him, realizes how cold his husband is. "And... I remember Ross taking you aside."
Dallon nods remembering, still watching ahead, "I was naive. So naive Brendon."
"Hey, just tell me. What did he do? What did Ross say?" Brendon tries to get Dallon's attention, noticing him staring off.
Dallon coughs roughly, before whispering,"Things have changed. Hold the ones you love. Because in all too soon future, we'll all be mad."
Brendon notices a trail of fresh blood upon Dallon's lips, "Dallon," he twirls his husband towards him. Dallon's eyes start to close as Brendon shakes him. "Oh god, Dall! Please no." Brendon cradles him carefully in his arms. "Dallon, please open your eyes! Come on baby. Just... just stay with me. I'm not losing you damn it!" Brendon sees that Dallon's once light blue cotton shirt is now a inky dark purple. "Oh god," his hand hovers over blood as his presses against it finally. "Come on! DALLON! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!"
Dallon's eyes flutter open slightly, the golden flakes more prominent now. Brendon rest his hand upon Dallon's cheek.
"Stump," Dallon chokes out raspily, blood sputtering from his lips.
"Dr. Patrick Stump in LA." Brendon replies reluctantly through tears.
"Has the... c-- cure," Dallon stutters, squinting in pain, clutching Brendon's hands.
"Ok, ok." Brendon nods.
"P-prom- p-promise m-me," Dallon tries.
"NO!" Brendon cries out. "You're not dying! Don't you dare say goodbye. I'm coming back." His voice breaks. "I'll find Stump, get the cure for... whatever Ross did, and bring it back to you..." Dallon looks up at him weakly. The illness progressing faster. His blue eyes almost gone. His breathing irregular and deep. Brendon whispers, "we don't end like this." Brendon shakes his head vigorously clutching their hands tightly. He rest his head upon Dallon's.
"I-I-I-," Dallon tries but his throat is so dry.
Brendon leans back, Dallon lifts a shaky hand up to his face wiping tears away. Brendon cups Dallon's dirtied hand to his cheek. Closing his eyes for a moment.
He leans down taking Dallon's lips in his own, it's slow with no urgency. Neither caring about the metallic blood exchange or world crumbling around them.
When Brendon breaks away, Dallon makes a palm against his own chest. Tears in his changing eyes, he points to himself, then to his heart, and lastly Brendon.
Brendon laughs shakily, "I love you too. So much Dall." He kisses Dallon's forehead quickly before embracing him with all his heart before standing.
Then Brendon doesn't have a choice.
He runs until he can't feel his feet. He runs without looking back at his husband no matter how much he wants to. He cries into his palms.
He does exactly what Dallon instructed him to do. He packs his suitcase, loads Penny and Bogart and drives. Thankfully so too because by eleven the next morning the city is quarantined. Luckily Brendon had his old California ID on him.
He makes it to LA in record time. Showing up on the good doctors lavish door step to find a bathrobe clad, jet black wacky haired, fuzzy slipper wearing odd ball who looks nothing like the picture on google. The home, if you could call it that, takes Brendon by surprise . Gated with a sprawling lawn and fountain. The multi story mansion looks like something from a movie. Then there's the dude...
"Come on in," the man greets openly.
"I think I have the wrong house..." Brendon sighs defeatedly.
"No. Oh... you're probably looking for the Doc. I'm his lovely assistant. Pete's the name," the man holds out his hand.
Brendon puts down Penny, eyeing Pete.
"Brendon," he reluctantly shakes his hand. This whole situation is just odd.
"Yeah we've been expecting you," Pete smiles,"please," he motions inside.
Brendon reluctantly steps inside. Well it's not like my life can get any weirder or worse, he thinks.
"Awww your dogs are even cuter in person!" Pete laughs. "Penny and Bogart right?"
"Excuse me?" Brendon asks taken off guard.
A ginger haired man at the top of the mahogany staircase grabs their attention, "Mr. Urie-Weekes! We finally meet!"
Brendon whips his head up in the direction of the voice. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?! He thinks to himself.
"It's such a pleasure," the mystery man smiles vibrantly as he reaches the bottom steps. "Dallon has always spoken so highly of you. I've loved your work since I first saw your pieces in the New York."
"My-- my work?" Brendon stutters.
"Your paintings!" The man laughs, grabbing Brendon's shoulder. "Demanded Dallon bring you here but he never did that rascal. I did buy a few though. Death of a Bachelor's around here somewhere, Miss Jackson, This is Gospel, just to name a few." Brendon's taken back.
"But where are my manners! Breakfast on the veranda today Pete?" The man looks to Pete who nods. "Then let's get to business."
And that's when Brendon decides he's obviously dreaming because this shit is too weird.
------
It's minutes later that Brendon learns that this is indeed Dr. Stump's school. The eccentric doctor Dallon had met during his travels. He goes on to tell Brendon his field is genetics and Brendon knows he's in the right place.
After idly chatting through breakfast, it's Brendon who brings up the inevitable.
"Dr. Stump, forgive if I'm too blunt but Dallon sent me here after the attack in Seattle. He told me I could trust you. He was infected after someone named Dr. Ryan Ross released an genetic weapon on the city."
Dr. Stump steps in, "I've seen the news Brendon. I know about Seattle. Your husband is a smart man thankfully. He prepared for this."
"I'm aware sir. He told me you had a cure of sorts." Brendon says.
Dr. Stump sighs, scratching his chin, "Brendon... what do you know of your husband's work?"
Brendon's caught off guard, "What do you mean?"
"What do you think he does?" Dr. Stump reworded himself, Pete excuses himself from the table.
"I... he manages and operates Weekes Laboratories. He working in the labs when I met him eight years ago. His father ran the company until Dall did. They specialize in genetics."
"Ahhh," Dr. Stump says carefully, "Brendon, do you know what a mutant is?"
"Yes, of course. I've seen the debates on tv. I try to keep up with politics."
"I see," Dr. Stump smiles brightly. "Well what if I told you, your husband was one of the most helpful minds in the mutant industry."
"...Come again?" Brendon stares.
"It's alright, it takes some getting used to. I haven't been actually been that honest. This is a school though. A school I operate and run for mutants. Dallon always told me how much you'd love it here. But to wean you in so you wouldn't be overwhelmed."
"I... I... you... mean... excuse me? Can ya just... dumb it way down please?" Brendon tries.
Dr. Stump laughs, "this is a school for mutants."
"Ok... I'm dreaming." Brendon pets Penny and Bogart.
"It's all a lot to take it. Most of the students are in classes are in their rooms right now. But we'd love to have you here Brendon."
"You have a beautiful home -er school," Brendon catches himself. "But I need to get back to Dallon in Seattle. He mentioned you had a cure."
Dr. Stump's cheerful smile drops, "Oh Brendon... my friend. We had weeks. Maybe if we'd made months, or even years we could have developed something stronger but-"
It hits Brendon. "There's no cure is there."
"I'm so sorry," Dr. Stump says genuinely. "If... if there was anything I could do... I would. But I..."
"But you can't." Brendon laughs oddly. Thinking back to Dallon on the streets of Seattle. Bastard! No... No... "I need to be alone." He gets up, walking out and sitting upon a patch of grass in the sprawling backyard.
Pete reappears at Dr. Stump's side, "is there anything-"
"You know I wish I could."
"I had to ask. I'm sorry." Pete eyes the ground.
"Don't be," Dr. Stump sighs, wrapping his arm lazily around Pete.
"It's just a horrible thought. I put myself into his situation and..."
"Pete."
"This is how we have to think. You know more than anyone how dangerous this- this- whatever it is is! What if it gets out of the quarantine, hmmm? Look at Africa. Do you know where Ross is? What his bigger plan is? The dude is border line psychotic!"
"Please, calm down, I can promise you. I'm putting my life into this."
"Just... be careful." Pete whispers.
"Awww you almost sound like you care," Dr. Stump whispers. Pete sticks his tongue out before bolting away once more.
Dr. Stump goes to Brendon's side. "Ryan Ross is a force to be reckoned with Brendon. We'll need all the help we can get. His plans are bigger than we know."
"Why did he do this?" Brendon whispers, looking out.
Dr. Stump sits, fiddling with the grass, "No one knows. We might not ever. But what matters is you don't let the darkness consume you. You mourn the lost... and then you fight."
"... I'll stay here under one condition." Brendon side eyes the doctor. The doctor nods. "We get this son of a bitch, I interrogate him privately."
Dr. Stump thinks about it, before nodding and outreaching his hand.