Family Matters
A Halloween Fiction

Written: October 6, 2013 11:08 am
Finished: October 6, 2013 7:07 pm
Rating: T
Warning: Implications of murder, unpalatable actions
Pairing: None

It was the first day of Knuckles' Guardianship, and the Brotherhood had come together in ceremony to officiate the passing of the duties from Locke to the boy. Knuckles was busy tuning out the long-winded speech to watch his father, who was busy white-knuckling the seat of the chair and frowning in concentration.

"Do you accept the duties laid before you?" Spectre asked, eyes blazing down at him. "Do you take Guardianship from Brother Locke until such a time as you can reasonably pass it on to your heir?"

"Yeah," Knuckles agreed, itching to get up close and personal with the one thing he'd been trained to protect. It stood there within range for the first time in years. If he reached out, he could touch it.

"Good. Brother Locke, do you give up Guardianship to your son, Knuckles, in full understanding of the responsibilities and consequences of the position? Do you feel he's been adequately trained for the position?"

Locke nodded, and then looked around with a gasp. For the first time since the event started, the others broke their stoic expressions and held their arms out to welcome him. He stumbled into their embrace with noises of relief from some great affliction.

"What's going on?" The new Guardian looked from tight-lipped family members to the clear display of restoration and profound happiness from the younger members of the Brotherhood. 

Sabre stepped forward after several long, meaningful glances, and offered his most sincerest of apologies.  "It's to my understanding that Brother Locke neglected to inform you of the family curse. This is a burden that all active Guardians have dealt with since the time of Rembrandt. And to relieve yourself of it, you must pass it along to your son, and he to his son, and so forth."

This didn't clear anything up for him, and he tried again, ignoring the looks of pity that they were giving him. "What family curse? What are you talking about?"

"Rembrandt was supposed to protect a village of frog people. He swore, on his honour as Guardian, that they would be safe from harm. The wise woman of the village offered to foresee any troubles or mistakes he might make, but he said that there would be no need." Sojourner's brow furrowed. "The frog people were all massacred the next day, big fire, and he woke up to the gatch. And it was the old woman for him, but then, when his kids were born..."

"The gatch," Knuckles repeated doubtfully.

"It's the physical embodiment of your worst mistake. Or mistakes." They leaned forward earnestly, trying to convince him. "It doesn't matter what you do. Even if you manage to avoid the first thing, there will be another gatch, maybe even worse. And it will just-- it keeps haunting you, reminding you, regardless of whether the event has happened yet or not. Aaron was the only one who didn't have a gatch." They paused for a moment in memory of him.

"Only two of us have changed our gatch," Sabre said quietly. "And what they're replaced with is worse. Because to have handled that big mistake successfully only leads into a larger mistake. We're sorry to leave you to this, Knuckles. Know that you only need endure long enough to pass it to your son... and only have to watch him endure it for... twenty to thirty years of his own."

"That sounds horrible," Knuckles hissed.

"Not everyone is made to be a Guardian," Tobor sneered back. "Consider your options, though. Athair abandoned his own mother back to the gatch. I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't hack it either. And who could blame you, when your own father neglected to tell you? The gatch, hounding you relentlessly for every waking second of your life as Guardian? You really think you could take it?"

"Yeah," Knuckles shot back. "Yeah, I think I could deal with a spook. What's your reason to be so scared of it?"

"I'm the only one who has a living gatch," Tobor crowed. "And I have to see him each and every day." Spectre almost invisibly snuck back, body language a retreat.

"I dunno, the kid might have a chance." Thunderhawk shrugged. "I actually made friends with my gatch." 

He was elbowed by his father, who saw the chance to make a joke out of it. "Your gatch was your first wife, and for good reason! You thought she was going to be a good mother for your child? A groupie??"

"My gatch is still alive," Locke murmured quietly. "But I believe that the future can be changed." He refused to comment any more on it, outside of clarifying that no, it was not his wife, and that he felt the circumstances did not necessitate revealing things, despite having lied to them all.

"How do you see the gatch?" He looked around for any ghostly sort of figure to tell him that he was part of the club. They directed him to the emerald, to touch its surface and assert his Guardianship. Its power was alluring and overwhelming, and for the first time, Knuckles felt truly connected with every living thing.

He should see it by now, they whispered. If he was a true Guardian, if they'd passed it along to him properly with no reservations, he should see it. But with a scan of their faces, there was nothing. Knuckles stepped forward with a smile, trying to assure them that the curse was broken, when he heard a crackle beneath his feet, and stopped to look. Across the even silt surrounding the shrine were sharp-edged fragments of eggshell, and smears of pulp and blood. He stumbled back against the solid surface of the emerald, and began to realise, for the first time, what they were so concerned about.