Anam Cara
(n.)
A person with whom you can
Share your deepest,
thoughts, feelings and dreams
With; a soul friend.
"WHY DID I COME HERE again?" Austin mumbled to himself as he watched his parents embrace each other. At least it wasn't something else.
Austin coughed awkwardly, making his presence known.
"I'm glad you're alive," Austin deadpaned, "But the next time I enter in a room, please maintain two feet of distance."
But... they were just embracing each other.
"We didn't—"
"I don't care," Austin mused before walking out of the door as quickly as he came in.
"You raised a little shit," Leo grumbled, looking at his wife.
Aurora shook her head in disbelief.
"No news about her?" Luc asked, resting his head in his hands. Why were they taking this long? Had something gone wrong? Or maybe he's just going paranoid.
"There was," Sandro noded to his uncle to take the lead.
Luc stayed silent. He didn't want to know. What if the wound had caused esophageal scarring? What if it damaged the wind pipe too?
He was desperate to know but afraid to find out.
"The stab was... nasty," The doctor had said, as if the word itself was a sugarcoat, "it would leave slight scarring in the esophagus, however it can be healed."
Dante and Javier seemed to sag with relief.
"Why do I sense a but coming there?" Sandro hated to say those words, but... shading light was more important than staying in the dark.
"She had lost a lot of blood," He continued, "She needs a transfusion and we are searching for any blood donor to be available."
"What type?" Javier asked.
"AB negative," The doctor replied. Alessandro didn't need to ask after that. AB negative. A rare blood type—
He didn't have it. Neither did Austin, Luc or Dante. Leo has the same blood type, but with his hypertension it was likely that the hospital won't let him donate.
Sandro paced aimlessly in the bland hallways, his mind running a million miles ahead— thinking of anything that could be useful.
His uncle had A positive blood and so did Javier. They weren't particularly useful here.
Who else had AB negative blood?
Not Luc, not Austin, not anyone who he knew...
But—
"I need to make a call," Sandro announced before he left everyone there, ignoring the ways his name had been called.
The ring on the phone filled him with an anticipation he had never quite felt and what if his plan doesn't work?
"Where are you?" He asked, no greeting necessary. Not when it was a life and death situation. Not when Ash's life was hanging on the thread.
"On our way," He particularly young voice answered.
"How long?"
"A few minutes."
Sandro hung up the call, he had no time for bullshit. Maybe this actually work if—
He paced back where The Romano's were waiting, calling out—
"Austin, I need a fake ID."
—
Astrid was dreaming again, or was it all some fucked up fantasy in her head?
She didn't feel much, just the harsh wind slapping against her hair and face and her bloody clothes. When was the last time she had taken a shower?
Was she falling? And if she was, where?
Her throat was pulsing with pain, something damp sliding down the neck of her red-stained tank top. Blood.
Her eyes were barely open, she didn't have the energy or the sense to make out what was happening. Just the peaceful, alluring darkness of... her mind?
She didn't want to go back and face the reality. If she woke up, they'd ask questions and she'd have to answer them and then they'd force her to open up or think that she needed mental help and they'd send her away—
No, she won't let that happen.
She was going to stay here.
—
"Took you long enough," Sandro mused, his expression unwavering.
"A thank you would be nice," Nathan Rockwell scoffed, folding his arms.
"I'd watch my words if I were you," Luc interrupted. He had no intention to play friends with them.
"This is a hospital," Nate said, a bit too calmly, "You wouldn't be stupid enough to kill us here."
"You can't start petty fights, Rockwell." Sandro said. And he never did, not unless it concerned his family or his not so legal business, "Not unless you want to end up under the fucking ground."
"Is that a threat?"
"I don't know, is it?" Sandro winked at him. New York is his playground and he will burn anyone here without thinking.
"That's enough," Alec said, pushing Nathan back by his shoulders, "We aren't looking for trouble, Mr. Romano."
"Calm down," Alec muttered lowly, "We're here for Ash, not for them."
"They started it!"
"I don't care," Al said calmly, "We are in their territory and they'll end you before you can blink, I suggest you play by their rules."
Nathan scoffed and glared at them, but thankfully didn’t push further. Good.
"He's here for Ash," Dante uncoiled his shoulders. He didn’t have the energy to argue with people today, "I'm sure he doesn't want to know how far our connections go. Do you, boy?"
Dante threw a suggestive look towards both the seventeen year old's. Al was thankful he stepped in.
But he heard the unheard words: Cross us and you won't be able to recognize your friend's body.
"Of course, Mr. Romano."
"Good," Sandro said, standing up with a grace that Al was sure it wasn't supposed to be with any mortals, "If you'll follow me."
As if they had a choice.
Al followed Alessandro, Nate right behind him. He stopped in front of the nurse— the same brunette woman with too-dark and cold eyes who had glared at him near the reception.
Maybe she was a Karen.
"Behave Nate," Al warned him quietly. This was neither the place nor the to pick a fight with one of the Romano's. When Nate rolled his eyes, Al added, "I'm being serious."
He listened, thankfully.
The woman was in her late thirties— or early forties?— with darkest of brown hair and slight wrinkled eyes. Her face was a brutal mask of calm, as if being a nurse had taught her to hide whatever emotion she was feeling so the patients won't panic due to seeing hers. Her laugh lines were visible enough to suggest that she was a happy woman outside of her job, and her spotless light blue dress suggested that she was an overly clean person.
The woman coughed and Al looked down, he didn't want to give her the wrong impression.
Fucking People pleasing mechanism.
—
W-what?
"You killed me," The sixteen year old whispered, his voice was a chill in the summer.
"I gave you time to run," Astrid whispered. It was her fault—
Her fucking fault for having emotions.
That was exactly what had gotten Aria killed in the first place.
It always was her fault, somehow.
Three hours before Aria died, Astrid was sent to track down and take out the heir of The Greek crime family. With Aria's life on the line, she had to agree.
It wasn't hard for Astrid to infiltrate their security systems, and being no more than a shadow helped her get into their home. The god damned thing was a labyrinth, with it's huge pillars and sandstone walls and despite being in Greece, it had adopted the Victorian architecture.
But, Astrid had yet to do the hard part— kill the boy. Ajax.
He wasn't innocent, but he was polite and he didn't beg for his life when Astrid had pointed her too-heavy glock to his forehead. He didn't blink or grovel like a worm when Astrid had draw blood from his jaw with the end of her gun.
No.
He stood there, with regret in his eyes and a fire that promised something Astrid had never known— Something she still didn't know.
It was either her or him, and she chose herself. Selfish, selfish wishes to live the dreams of being free.
But, was it worth the guilt she had to carry?
Or the amount of times she hid when she had the chance to become what she was made to be?
She had lowered her gun and gave him time to run, to hide. To live.
There was something so similar in him that Astrid saw every time she observed Aria laugh, or when she practiced to smile in front of the mirror.
Something just like her.
So, she let him go. Only to realize that the agency had sent someone to follow her— to make sure she did her job.
When Ajax smiled and opened the door, he didn't do anything to fight it, to fight his fate or to run from death. He let the bullet pierce through his heart and his head.
Maybe he knew someone had followed her here. Maybe he wanted to die. Maybe he didn't want to cheat death.
Unlike Astrid.
She had cheated and ran and fled so many times from death that she wondered if it was fair for anyone.
"It was borrowed time anyway," He said again, "I hope your guilt consumes you."
And he left.
—
"All done," the nurse sighed, "He's going to need rest and make sure he gets a proper diet." She left with the blood.
"How do you feel?" Al asked, taking a seat beside him and holding his hand.
"Like I just lost blood."
Al snorted.
"Thank you," Alessandro said and left the room, too. Al had a feeling it was as shallow as his eyes were.
—
It had been a few hours since Ash's been transfused with, and according to the doc, she should be waking any moment now.
Austin had been impatiently, trying not to bounce his leg or bite his nails. Why she taking so long to wake up?
The blue light on top of Ash's uh, room buzzed with an alarming defeaning sound, and Austin could have sworn Luc jerked awake in fright.
"What the hell's happening?" Luc asked frantically, but to who?
The hospital staff was rushing into Ash's room, their faces frantic from panic and confusion. It was a blur of human figures jogging around, and Austin himself couldn't make much of it.
"She's crashing!" One of the male nurses yelled as she rushed into the room, "Quick, get the Doctor!"
Luc forcefully the same nurse by his shoulders, his eyes wide with panic, "What do you mean she is crashing?"
"I– we don't have time, sir," He pushed himself away from Luc's grasp and ran into the Ash's which was swarming with staff.
Austin was deaf over the panicked yells and shouts of the staff and his ears still rang from all the noise. Why were they being so loud here?
Austin couldn't contain his curiosity, and as he rushed into Ash's room, he had to nudge and push the people out of his way.
The staff nurses grunted and cursed him, but thankfully didn’t stop him.
"Someone grab her!" The woman yelled pointing her finger towards someone.
And that was when Austin's gaze followed her pointed direction.
Astrid was there, lifting the petite woman by her throat from the ground. The moment was almost effortless and graceful, and if it weren't for the pain on the woman's face, Austin would have wanted to try the move out by himself.
"Where. The. Hell. Am. I?"